Quick Transmigration: Tame the Villainess

Jennie - 5

'How much have they decreased?'

"They surprisingly decreased by ten points. You are back to square one, host. What did you do?"

I smirked, thinking back to all the moments I was having with Jennie for the past whole month.

Letting her grab me freely. Getting coffee for her. Paying for her lunch. And most importantly, talking to her, and boy does she talk a lot.

All these discreet actions sure have assured her of our status. Jennie no more believes that she has to fight for this relationship. Alright, she still would bitchslap another girl aiming for her man. But I feel she has come a long way from the possessive freak she was turning into.

I'm glad I could reinstall that pride and dignity, that every human deserves to have innately, into her. If I had transmigrated a little bit later, these missions would have been a whole lot more difficult. Thank fuck the system knows to time these transmigrations well.

I sit in the class with my feet up, watching over the whole class from my corner desk. The female lead seems to have taken the hint. She no longer bothers me, opting to accompany the male lead instead. As she should.

This is like sitting back and watching my missions solve themselves. Too easy. It's been peaceful for too long. Something is about to happen.

And... I see trouble walking towards me.

I watch as the male lead approaches me, kicking my leg off my table. Son of a bitch.

"I challenge you to a Volleyball match. I'm intending for the official setter's position."

"..."

His jaw ticks when I don't respond. "And the captain's too."

This time I sit up. If there's one thing the previous Wilson cherished, excluding Jennie in a bikini and hand sanitizer, it had to be his Volleyball team.

The Elites High School had an outstanding, I mean outstanding Volleyball team.

Albeit being in completely different and conflicting cliques, each member got along like best buddies on the court.

There was the loud and outgoing ace, the second, now third heartthrob of the school.

Then you have the four wing spikers, who also contend as middle blockers and were the average guys who would be overlooked on a normal day. But on the court, these four dudes could rock it on their accord.

The nerdy gamer boy would usually be quiet but would be all over the court, saving balls left and right. Best libero ever.

Then you have the germaphobe setter who controlled the team and made sure all worked well. The one and only, Me.

Needless to say, the rapport among each member was good. And as Wilson, his memories gave me very deep impressions of each kid. Wilson was a psychiatrist in his own right when it came to these guys. He knew whom he could trust to be there when he set the ball. He knew each and everybody's strengths and weaknesses.

And I would be a cruel person if I were to destroy that for Wilson. So I accept.

"You are on, transfer guy."

"The names Lawrence Dior." He deadpans.

I shrug. "Alright. My bad." I smirk in his face.

'This is fun.'

"You are asking for a beating, host." The system whispers.

"Get your team ready, Dior. I'll see you on the court." I pat his shoulder before leaving.