I just cut off my finger.

The reason is absurd.

It’s because I felt so good.

I don’t know what my rationality was doing instead of stopping me.

I stared at my severed pinky finger as it rolled on the floor, my gaze trembling.

This wasn’t what I intended.

I just wanted to prick it slightly. Just to let a bit of blood out.

But by the time I came to my senses, I had cleanly sliced off my finger.

What’s even more ridiculous is that I almost cut off my ring finger next before I suddenly snapped out of it.

“…This is dangerous. Really dangerous.”

I muttered in a voice tinged with faint fear.

This is bad. And it’s dangerous. Far more dangerous than I expected.

The sharp, stinging pain radiating from the severed area.

The agony crawling up my spine and piercing my brain.

The body’s cry of distress, so painful that tears welled up without me realizing it.

This is, truly—

“It feels good.”

It hurts.

No joke—it hurts like hell.

But it felt good.

So good that I almost cut off all my fingers without even realizing it.

With tears in my eyes, I looked at the mirror.

A girl stared back at me, her eyes also brimming with tears.

She was a striking beauty with flowing blonde hair and pink eyes.

Like me, she had lost her pinky finger.

But the girl in the mirror wasn’t crying from the pain.

She was crying because of how miserable she felt about her situation.

If you ask me how I know this so well, there’s only one answer.

That girl is me.

If you ask why that girl is me, I don’t have an answer.

Because I don’t know either.

I felt like crying, but I couldn’t afford to.

I was in the academy’s bathroom right now.

It was still class time, but someone could walk in at any moment.

I hurriedly picked up my severed pinky finger from the floor and pressed it back against the stump.

Then I washed the blood off the knife and stuffed it into my inner pocket.

About ten minutes ago—

When I suddenly regained my senses, I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar classroom.

When, how, and why?

I couldn’t figure out what was going on, so I frantically looked around.

And that’s when I realized—

I was inside the world of the novel Dawn’s Blade.

It sounds crazy, but it’s true. Probably.

Otherwise, there’s no way to explain the teacher at the podium giving a lecture about interdimensional monsters and supernatural powers—things straight out of the novel.

Or the protagonist sitting diagonally in front of me.

Unless this was an elaborate prank, which, unfortunately, it wasn’t.

After assessing the situation, the first thing I did was figure out who I was.

It was obvious this body wasn’t mine.

After all, I’m a man.

I don’t have blonde hair, breasts, or wear skirts.

I rummaged through my pocket and found a student ID.

Lucia.

The card displayed the photo of a blonde beauty along with that name.

I made an excuse about feeling unwell and left the classroom.

I lied about going to the infirmary and headed straight to the bathroom, where I was now facing reality.

“Lucia… It’s really Lucia.”

The pinky finger fit back into place perfectly.

Not even a trace of the cut remained.

Rapid regeneration.

Lucia can heal any wound almost instantly.

I had really become Lucia.

Lucia, one of the heroines of Dawn’s Blade.

Elegant appearance.

Flawless manners.

Top grades.

And a gentle personality to top it off.

Everyone considers her an exemplary student.

But Lucia has one fatal flaw.

She has masochistic tendencies.

She feels sexual pleasure from being hurt and abused.

In other words—

To put it simply, Lucia is a masochist.

And now I’m a masochist.

Good God.