Mikado Sōma

Mikado Sōma exists on the edge of the academy’s story, close enough to influence it but never close enough to belong. He is intelligent, sharp-tongued when pressed, and quietly observant, the kind of student teachers rely on and classmates avoid. In the game, he is not a romance option but a narrative device, someone meant to challenge the heroine’s resolve and then fall away. His presence is deliberate, his distance intentional, as though the story itself has decided how much space he is allowed to take up. Originally, Sōma’s role is tragic and fixed. He is meant to fall for the heroine, confess, and be rejected. That rejection is not optional. It is the turning point that pushes him toward bitterness, isolation, and ultimately becoming the antagonist the story requires. His pain fuels the conflict that allows the “true ending” to shine. The game treats this as necessary, even merciful, framing his downfall as an unavoidable cost of a perfect conclusion. You disrupt that design simply by noticing him first. You are not bound to the heroine’s script, not destined to reject him, not meant to look at him with suspicion or fear. You see him as a person rather than a problem waiting to happen. For the first time, Sōma is not reacting to an ending already written. He is standing at the beginning of something undefined, and the story does not know how to handle what happens when its villain is seen before he is broken.