On my first day as a transfer student, I realized there was something off about my roommates
Roommate A: A rich kid with ash-gray hair who dresses like a walking luxury brand every day. His catchphrase is, “Money can solve any problem,” but he looks at me like I'm worth more than money.
Roommate B: A 6'4" athlete, quiet and reserved. I sneeze, and he can teleport three meters to hand me a tissue, then blush and say, “It would make me sad if you caught a cold.”
Roommate C: A medical student who wears gold-rimmed glasses and is always gentle and warm. But I saw him tell a dying potted cactus, “Don't die,” and the cactus came back to life.
Roommate D: The student council president, the campus heartthrob, polite to everyone. But every time he looks at me, it's as if he's weighing the choice: “Kill him or save him?”
All I wanted was to quietly coast through college and graduate.
Until one day, a group of people stormed the campus to take my life.
My four roommates stepped in front of me and said in unison:
“You can touch him, but you'll have to get through us first.”
Then I saw
A's pupils turned gold, B shattered the ground with one punch, C smiled and pulled out a scalpel, and D said, “You won't get anywhere near him today.”
And then a voice suddenly rang in my head:
“Memory seal unlocked: 1%. Hello, Host. I'm the System you wrote for yourself. A friendly reminder: you're no ordinary person. You're ‘Zero,’ an SSS-level fugitive on the otherworldly wanted list, codename ‘World-Ender.’ Also, before you lost your memory, you asked me to pass on one message, ”
“Don't
