I Entered the game to save Rose

No." I blinked. Then I blinked again. "No." The silver-haired beauty seated across from me tilted her head. "Geraldine?" No. Absolutely not. This had to be a dream. A very detailed dream. I remembered opening my chat immediately after playing Rose in the garden for the 5th time and complaining to the only person who had suffered through every route with me. The conversation had started with me sending several incoherent messages about Rose's ending and ended exactly where it always did whenever the topic came up. "You're crying again, aren't you?" "I am devastated." "It has been three years." "Three years of suffering." My friend had sent a laughing emoji. Then another message appeared. "If you could actually enter the game, would you save her?" I hadn't even needed to think about it. "Obviously." "Even if you had to deal with all the male leads?" "Especially because of the male leads." A few seconds later, they replied. "Good luck then." At the time, I thought it was a joke. Now I wasn't so sure. Because the last thing I remembered was lying face down on my bed after spending three hours complaining about the ending of Rose in the Desert. I remembered finishing the game. I remembered crying. I remembered calling the ending ridiculous. Then I went to sleep. That was it. So why was I currently sitting inside a luxurious carriage facing the woman responsible for seventy percent of my emotional damage? "Geri?" The woman frowned. "Are you feeling unwell?" I stared at her. Silver hair. Blue eyes. A smile so beautiful it had launched countless online arguments. Rose. The heroine of Rose in the Desert. My favorite character. The woman I had spent years trying and failing to save. My eyes widened. "No way." Rose blinked. "No way." "Geri?" "No way." A pause. Then Rose sighed. "You've started speaking in complete sentences. That's a good sign." I ignored her. Because there was a much bigger problem. I looked down at my hands. Smaller. Softer. Definitely not my hands. Then I caught my reflection in the carriage window. Silver hair. Blue eyes. A face that looked suspiciously familiar. Unlike Rose's elegant beauty, mine was sharper and more mischievous. We clearly looked related. Unfortunately, while Rose looked like a graceful noble lady painted by a master artist, I looked like the noble lady's younger sister who regularly made poor decisions for entertainment. I grabbed my cheeks. The reflection grabbed its cheeks. Oh no. Oh no no no. Rose watched patiently. "Finished?" "No." I grabbed her shoulders. "You're Rose." "...Yes." "The Rose?" "I am slightly concerned that you need clarification." My breathing quickened. Rose. Actually Rose. Alive. Breathing. Smiling. Not sacrificing herself for love. Not breaking my heart. Alive. Before I could stop myself, I launched forward and wrapped my arms around her. Rose froze. Then, as though this happened every week, she simply hugged me back. "There she is." I buried my face in her shoulder. This was unfair. How was she even prettier in person? "Did you have another strange dream?" she asked. I pulled back immediately. "Another?" Rose's expression became cautious. "Last month you insisted a dragon was hiding in the pantry." "..." "The month before that, you accused Father of secretly being a pirate." "..." "And before that..." "Alright, I understand." Rose nodded. "Good." Apparently Geraldine had a history of causing problems. Wonderful. At least that explained why she wouldn't question my behavior. A sudden thought hit me. Wait. Geraldine? Geraldine. The younger sister. The younger sister! I sat upright. "How old am I?" Rose stared. "You forgot your age?" "Answer the question." "Eighteen." I nearly swallowed my tongue. Eighteen?! Not ten? Not twelve? Not fifteen? Eighteen? Rose narrowed her eyes. "Geri." "Yes?" "Should I be worried?" "Very." "That's not reassuring." Eighteen. That meant I wasn't waking up years before the story. I wasn't getting a convenient preparation arc. I wasn't getting extra time. I was already Geraldine. An adult. Which could only mean one thing. I looked out the carriage window. Towering gates stood ahead. Students in elegant uniforms moved in and out of the academy grounds. My stomach dropped. No. No. No no no. The Aurelia Imperial Academy . Rose followed my gaze. "You're nervous about your first day?" First day. First day? I turned slowly. "My first day?" "Yes." I grabbed her arm. "What year are you in?" "Third." The world went silent. Third year. Rose was already a third year student. Which meant The Crown Prince was already here. The heir to the Dukedom was already here. The future Knight Commander was already here. The main story had already started. I had entered the game late. Very late. Rose gently removed my hands from her sleeve. "Geri." I looked at her. She smiled softly. "You'll be fine." No. That was the problem. I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about her. Because somewhere inside this academy were the people who would eventually become the most important figures in Rose's life. And if the game was anything to go by... That was exactly where the tragedy began. The carriage came to a stop. A servant opened the door. Students turned toward us. Rose stepped out first. Instantly, several people waved. Others whispered. Some openly stared. I recognized that look. Admiration. Interest. Curiosity. Rose wasn't just popular. She was famous. Of course she was. She was Rose. The girl every route revolved around. The girl everyone loved. The girl who would someday choose everyone over herself. Rose turned back and offered me her hand. "Coming?" I stared at her hand. Then at her smile. Then at the academy. Fine. If fate wanted a fight, then fate was getting one. I took her hand and stepped out of the carriage. Three things happened immediately. Someone whispered, "That's Lady Rose's sister." Another person said, "The infamous Geraldine?" Infamous? Excuse me? And then, from somewhere in the crowd, a familiar male voice called out And then “Geri.” That voice. I froze. Only one person in this world called me that like it was completely normal. I turned. A tall young man stood a few steps away. Red hair messy like it had survived too many battles. A thin scar cut through his left brow. Amber eyes sharp and amused. A second-year uniform slightly loose on his frame like he didn’t care much for appearances. Rowan Vale. Future commander of the Crimson Falcons. My best friend. And one of the people who would eventually stand closest to Rose’s tragedy. He tilted his head. “You’re late.” Then he smirked. “…Again.” And just like that I realized something horrible. I wasn’t just in the game. I was already surrounded by people who were going to break my sister’s ending. And I had three years to stop it.