Out of all people, why am I the ntred protagonist

After parting ways with Max, I found myself aimlessly strolling through the streets, hands in my pockets, lost in thought.

Now what?

Most of the important events I knew about were still far off. It felt like I was just killing time.

[System]: Hmmm, another quest, perhaps?

"Tempting," I muttered. "But… I feel like I'm forgetting something."

A nagging sensation tugged at my mind. Something important. Something worth my attention.

Then it hit me.

I snapped my fingers, a grin creeping onto my face.

"Ah, right—there's someone I need to meet. Someone worth investing in."

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Meanwhile…

The rhythmic tapping of my heels echoed through the sleek office hallway, a soft hum escaping my lips as I made my way back from lunch. My mind was still lingering on the earlier messages with him, and despite the monotony of work waiting for me, I couldn't help but smile.

My Luke.

Just thinking about him made my steps lighter.

Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself properly.

My name is Liz Holloway, 25 years old, a dedicated office worker at the Raiders' Association—a job that comes with more paperwork than I'd care to admit.

But most importantly?

I am the girlfriend of Lukas Villamor.

If someone heard me talking to myself they would think there's something wrong with me.

"Hey, Liz. Just finished work—wanna grab lunch together?"

Liz barely suppressed a sigh before turning to face him. Matt, their new manager, stood there with his usual cocky grin, his golden hair practically glowing under the office lights. His suit fit just right, showing off the body of a man who clearly spent as much time at the gym as he did charming his way through life.

From day one, Liz had felt his gaze on her—lingering a little too long, his compliments just a little too smooth. She had made it clear she was in a relationship, but Matt? He treated that as nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"I already ate," she said, keeping her tone firm yet polite.

Matt placed a hand over his heart, feigning devastation. "Ouch, rejected again. You really love playing hard to get, don't you?" His grin widened. "But I like a challenge."

Liz resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It's not a game, Matt. I have a boyfriend."

"And yet, here I am, still hoping." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Come on, one drink after work. No pressure, just two coworkers unwinding together. Who knows? You might even enjoy my company."

"No, thank you," she said, her voice colder this time. "I have work to do."

She turned on her heel, making her way back to her desk, but his voice followed her, smooth as silk, laced with amusement.

"You can push me away now, Liz, but let's be honest…" A low chuckle. "That will of yours? One day, it'll melt. And when it does…" He paused, his voice dipping into something almost possessive. "I'll be right here, waiting."

Liz's grip on her pen tightened.

Not in this lifetime.

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Lukas POV

[System]: So this is it?

"Yeah, we're here—the Alchemist Guild."

Towering spires of glass and stone loomed before me, an architectural masterpiece reflecting the prestige of the craft within. Alchemists, the backbone of the potion economy, were some of the wealthiest individuals in the world. And today, I was here to meet one in particular.

The future prodigy. The one who would go on to create a 100% health potion. My future goldmine.

A grin stretched across my face as I stepped inside. Immediately, I felt the weight of judgmental stares. Cloaked figures in expensive robes, scholars deep in discussion, and apprentices carrying trays of glowing vials all paused to glance my way.

[System]: Are they… are they looking at you like a hobo?

I stole a glance at my reflection in the glass-paneled walls. My plain hoodie and jeans screamed regular guy who got lost on the way to a job interview.

"Apparently, yes," I muttered.

[System]: I mean… it's not entirely inaccurate.

I scowled. "Oh, shut up."

Shaking off the looks, I made my way to the front desk. The receptionist, a sharp-eyed woman with a perfectly manicured appearance, barely spared me a glance before dragging her gaze over me in silent disapproval.

Great. Another one.

"Can I speak to Samantha Von Nachtwald?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

She scoffed. "Room 102. Down the hall, to your right."

I nodded. "Thanks."

[System]: Yikes. Alchemists are kinda materialistic, huh?

"Well, when a single potion can make you a millionaire, I guess you start seeing people by the weight of their coin purse."

I turned on my heel, ignoring the whispers trailing behind me, and made my way toward destiny—and an unholy amount of future profit.

Here it is—Room 102.

I took a deep breath and knocked.

The door creaked open slightly, just enough for a single emerald eye to peek out. The woman behind it had tousled brown hair, dark circles under her eyes, and an exhausted expression that screamed too much work, not enough sleep.

"What do you want?" she asked lazily, her voice devoid of interest.

"Samantha Von Nachtwald, right?" I gave my best confident smile. "I'm Lukas Villamor."

She blinked once. Then, without hesitation—

SLAM.

Or at least, she tried to slam the door shut.

I caught it just in time, my palm pressing against the wood to stop it from closing.

"Just hear me out, Samantha Von Nachtwald," I said, my voice steady. "I have an offer you can't refuse."

She froze.

Seconds stretched in silence before she finally sighed, rubbing her temple.

"...Fine. Get in before I change my mind."

She pulled the door open fully, stepping aside.

I grinned. Hook, line, and sinker.

"An excellent decision, Miss Samantha," I said with a grin, stepping inside like I owned the place.

She rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind me. "Yeah, yeah. Just get to the point before I regret this."

The room was a chaotic mess—vials, beakers, and potion bottles stacked on nearly every surface. The air was thick with the sharp scent of herbs and alchemical reagents. Scattered notes covered a nearby desk, filled with scribbles that only a true alchemist could decipher.

I took it all in with an approving nod. This is the workspace of a genius.

"Nice place," I said, dodging a precariously placed flask.

"Spare me the flattery and talk," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I don't have time for nonsense."

I smirked. "Then I'll get straight to it."

I met her tired but sharp gaze. "I'm here to make you rich, Miss Samantha. Filthy rich."