Out of all people, why am I the ntred protagonist

She scans the room, her hazel eyes flickering from table to table, searching.

I raise my right hand, giving a small wave, hoping to catch her attention.

For a second, nothing—then, her gaze locks onto mine.

And just like that, her face lights up.

A radiant smile spreads across her lips, warm and effortless, the kind that makes the air feel just a little lighter.

Without hesitation, she strides toward me, her every step carrying that quiet confidence that's so undeniably her.

"Sorry for being late. Did you wait too long?" she asks, her voice soft yet bright, like the chime of the café door moments ago.

I shake my head, leaning back slightly. "Not at all. I actually just got here."

She exhales, a small laugh escaping her lips as she pulls out a seat. "Is that so? That's a relief."

"You're beautiful today."

Her eyes widen slightly before she looks away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. A soft, shy smile tugs at her lips as a faint blush dusts her cheeks.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smirk, resting my chin on my hand. Cute.

"So, how's work?" I ask, shifting the conversation.

She brightens a little. "It was great. The past manager retired, but we got a new one."

I hum, leaning back. So, the story has now started, huh…

"Is it a man or a woman?" I ask, half out of curiosity, half out of instinct.

Her lips curl into a playful smile, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Jealous?"

I scoff, rolling my eyes. This woman…

"Not that it matters anyway."

A bitter thought lingers in the back of my mind. No matter what I say, no matter what choices I make, the outcome stays the same.

A predetermined path, a script already written—one that leads only to betrayal.

So why bother?

"Yeah," I reply, my voice steady, unreadable.

She blinks, momentarily surprised, as if she expected me to brush it off, to play it cool. But then, something shifts in her expression.

A slow smile spreads across her lips—warm, reassuring, sincere.

"Don't worry," she says softly, tilting her head slightly, hazel eyes meeting mine. "I won't replace my cute boyfriend."

Her voice carries a quiet certainty, a promise wrapped in the gentleness of her words.

And for a fleeting moment, I almost believe her.

I shake my head, forcing myself to snap out of it.

Too beautiful. Too dangerous.

She truly lives up to her title—the main heroine.

The kind of woman who doesn't just step into a room but reshapes it, bending the atmosphere around her like she was meant to be at the center of every story.

And yet, here she is, sitting across from me.

I exhale, smirking as I lean back in my seat, masking the way she throws my mind into disarray.

"Let's get something to eat. My treat. You must be a little hungry, right?"

She blinks, then a soft, knowing smile spreads across her lips.

Resting her chin on her palm, she tilts her head slightly, studying me like she's just caught on to something.

"Using food to change the subject? That's cute."

I scoff, flipping open the menu as if I hadn't just been seen through in an instant.

"What can I say? I play to my strengths."

She hums, her gaze playful, a teasing glint dancing in her hazel eyes.

"Alright, then… the first one to blush loses."

Her voice is smooth, teasing, but there's a challenge hidden beneath the playful lilt.

She leans in just slightly, resting her chin on her palm, hazel eyes locking onto mine with unwavering confidence.

A smirk tugs at my lips. Oh? So that's the game she wants to play?

I chuckle low, shaking my head as I set the menu down. "Oh, so that's how it is?"

She doesn't flinch. If anything, her grin only widens. "That's how it is."

The café noise fades into a distant hum, the warmth of the overhead lights casting a golden glow over her face. She looks at me like she already knows how this will end, like she's already won.

Cute.

I pick up the menu again, not because I need to look at it, but because it gives me a moment to steady myself.

My fingers drum against the glossy pages, but my attention is elsewhere—watching, waiting.

This isn't just a game anymore. It's a war of patience. A battle of restraint.

The air between us hums with quiet tension, a silent dare hanging in the space neither of us is willing to break first.

Alright, Lizell. Let's see who really wins this round.

I raise my hand, calling over the waiter, effortlessly shattering the charged silence between us.

"I'd like the Amour Set, please."

The waiter nods politely. "Right away, sir."

As he walks off, I glance back at Lizell, catching the playful glint in her eyes.

"Starting strong, aren't we?" she muses, resting her chin on her hand.

I smirk, leaning forward slightly. "Get ready to fall in love with me even more."

Her lips twitch, as if suppressing a laugh, but the faint pink dusting her cheeks doesn't go unnoticed.

Round one? Mine.

The waiter returns, carefully setting down our order—a beautifully arranged Amour Set.

Two steaming Red Velvet Lattes, their deep crimson swirls topped with intricate heart-shaped latte art. A slice of Lover's Cheesecake, rich and creamy, drizzled with raspberry sauce. And lastly, a plate of six delicate Strawberry Kiss Macarons, their soft pink shells practically glowing under the café's warm lights.

I barely have time to admire the spread before Lizell moves.

Gracefully, she picks up a macaron, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. Then, without a word, she leans forward, holding it up toward me.

"Aaah~"

She parts her lips slightly as she says it, her tone light, teasing—but her gaze is locked onto mine, unwavering.

For a split second, I hesitate. Not because I don't want to—but because of how she's looking at me. There's a weight to it. A quiet confidence that makes the world around us blur.

But I have no reason to refuse.

So I lean in, taking a bite.

The moment the macaron hits my tongue, a rush of sweet strawberry fills my mouth, smooth and delicate, almost intoxicating.

But it's not just the taste that lingers—it's the warmth of her fingers just inches from my lips, the way she watches me with that knowing expression.

She giggles softly, her voice carrying a playful lilt. "Fufu~ How cute."

And then, that smile.

Alluring. Knowing. Dangerous.

Heat rushes to my face before I can stop it, but I force myself to regain composure, sitting back as if unaffected.

But she sees it.

Oh, she sees it.

Her lips curl into a slow, victorious smile—one that speaks louder than words.

"I won."

And for the first time, I realize—this game may be more dangerous than I thought.

And so, the battle continued.

We pulled out every trick in the book—stolen glances, lingering touches, teasing words laced with just enough sweetness to make the other falter. Every bite, every sip, every exchange became another move in our silent war.

Lizell would lean in just a little too close when she spoke, her voice honeyed with mischief.

I'd brush my fingers against hers when reaching for a macaron, just to watch her reaction. She'd flash a playful pout, I'd counter with a deep, knowing gaze.

Each moment was a test of patience, a battle of wills.

But in the end, neither of us wavered completely.

A tie.

Lizell leans back in her chair, her hazel eyes still dancing with amusement as she finishes the last bite of her meal.

A satisfied smile graces her lips, her cheeks slightly flushed from the lingering warmth of our little game.

"That was fun," she beams, licking a crumb off her finger, as if completely unaware of the war she just waged.

A tie?

No. I can't let it end like this.

As Lizell finishes the last bite of her cheesecake, I notice it—a small dab of cream lingering at the corner of her lips.

And just like that, the perfect opportunity presents itself.

A slow smirk tugs at my lips.

She tilts her head slightly, hazel eyes narrowing in curiosity, as if silently asking, What's up?

I don't answer. Instead, I lean in—close enough that I can see the way her breath hitches. My fingers gently cradle her delicate face, lifting her chin until our eyes meet.

"Hold still," I murmur.

Then, with deliberate slowness, I brush my thumb over the cream, wiping it from her lips. But I don't stop there.

Before she can react, I bring my thumb to my mouth, licking it clean.

"Tasty."

Silence.

She freezes, her expression blank for a moment as her brain catches up with what just happened. Then—

A deep, fiery red spreads across her cheeks, creeping all the way to the tips of her ears. Her gaze darts away, lips parting in shock, her composure completely shattered.

Victory.

I called the waiter over and asked, "How much is the total?"

With a polite nod, he replied, "That would be $23.50."

I handed him $30 and said with a smile, "Keep the change."

I chuckle, leaning back with satisfaction. "Shall we go?" I ask smoothly, extending my hand toward her.

Still flustered, she swallows and nods, placing her hand in mine.

"Y-Yeah… let's go."

As we exit the café, I can feel the weight of lingering stares. Some couples watch with amused smiles, while others—less fortunate in their own romantic battles—shoot envious glances in our direction.

But I don't pay them any mind.

Because right now, I'm walking out hand-in-hand with my undisputed victory.

...

I call this a successful date.

[System]: Way too successful for an acting boyfriend… I almost forgot who you are.

I scoff, shaking my head as we walk side by side, Lizell's hand still resting comfortably in mine.

"Tch. Shut up."

But even as I say it, a smirk tugs at my lips.

[System]: Remember, don't fall in love. You already know who she really is.

I take a slow breath, the weight of those words settling in my chest.

"I know," I whisper, almost as if saying it out loud will make it true.

But despite everything, despite the warnings echoing in my mind, I can't help but savor this fleeting moment—the warmth of her hand in mine, the lingering scent of coffee and strawberries in the air, the way she smiles like nothing else in the world matters.

Even if it's all just an illusion.

Even if I already know how this story ends.

At least once… let's play as Lukas—the fool.