Night. The streetlights outside the dormitory building emitted a dim, amber glow.
Katsuragi Keima had just stepped out of the dormitory entrance, planning to head to the convenience store for so snacks—he intended to pull an all-nighter conquering a new ga tonight and needed to restock his "ammo."
Elsie hadn't followed him. Today, she had vowed with great conviction to research a new cooking recipe. Keima held zero hope for the results, but at least it ant a mont of peace and quiet.
He walked with his head down, playing his handheld ga, his fingers dancing nimbly over the buttons. The light from the streetlamps poured down from above, casting a long shadow in front of him.
Suddenly, that shadow was eclipsed by another, larger one. Keima stopped in his tracks and looked up.
Yamauchi Haruki stood before him, blocking his path.
His face was still deathly pale, his eyes bloodshot, and his hair was a ss. His school uniform was rumpled; he looked like he had just crawled out of a trash heap. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, and a frenzied light burned in his eyes.
It wasn't the broken madness from this afternoon in the corridor. It was a more dangerous, completely twisted brand of insanity.
"..." His voice was hoarse and low, like sandpaper rubbing against glass.
Keima glanced at him, then lowered his head to continue his ga. "What is it?" his tone was flat.
"You're actually asking what's wrong?" Yamauchi's voice began to tremble, whether from rage or hatred. "You have to make things clear to today."
Keima sighed and looked up again. "Clear about what?"
"About what?!" Yamauchi's volu suddenly spiked. "You damn well know what! About Sakayanagi! What exactly is your relationship with her?! Why did she help you screw over?!"
Keima pushed up his glasses. "There is no relationship," he stated.
Sakayanagi Arisu targeting Yamauchi Haruki was indeed her way of helping him get even. But by the sa token, Keima knew Sakayanagi had deliberately pushed him into the eye of the storm. Perhaps she thought it was more interesting that way, or perhaps she was declaring to everyone else that Katsuragi Keima was her target.
Regardless, Yamauchi Haruki's predicant was entirely his own fault.
"No relationship?!" Yamauchi's eyes bulged further, the whites mapped with red veins. "She would do that if there was no relationship?! You think I'm a three-year-old?!"
"Believe what you want." Keima tried to sidestep him, but Yamauchi grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.
"Don't even think about leaving!"
Keima's hands paused slightly. He looked down at the hand gripping his shoulder, then looked up at Yamauchi. Those eyes were still as calm as stagnant water.
"Let go."
"I won't!" Yamauchi's voice grew so sharp it cracked. "You have to tell today! Do you know what Sakayanagi did to ?! Do you know she made lose face in front of the whole class?! Do you know what she called ?! She called trash! Garbage! A clown!"
His voice grew louder, drawing the gazes of several passing students. So stopped to watch from a distance. Others pulled out their phones, appearing to record.
Yamauchi didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore.
"Do you know how that feels?!" he continued to howl. "Being watched by so many people! Being mocked by so many! And all of it is because of you! It's all because of you!"
Keima was silent for a few seconds. Then, he spoke.
"So?"
Yamauchi froze. "S-so...?"
"So?" Keima repeated. "What do you want to say? 'I'm sorry'? Sympathize with you? Or kneel down and kowtow in apology? Sigh, this is why I don't like the real world."
His tone was as dispassionate as if he were reading an instruction manual.
"Sakayanagi ssed with you because of , but that doesn't an I should be held responsible for your stupidity."
Yamauchi's pupils shrunk. "What did you say?!"
"I am stating facts." Keima pushed up his glasses. "When Sakayanagi gave you the answers the first ti, you didn't refuse. When she gave them to you a second ti, you didn't doubt her. From start to finish, you never once considered that this might be a trap."
Yamauchi's hand was shaking. "..."
"You were too greedy," Keima continued. "You were too desperate for unearned gains. So when soone handed you a ladder, you climbed up without hesitation, never stopping to think if that ladder led to a cliff. If you had used your brain for even a mont, you'd realize: how could soone's affection level increase if you didn't take any actual action yourself?"
He paused.
"Do you know? This is just like using hacks in a ga.
So players, when they encounter a difficult level, choose to research strategies and try over and over until they clear it. The process is painful, but with every failure, they learn sothing. Every ti they restart, they get stronger."
He looked at Yamauchi with a hint of pity. "But there are other players who choose to use hacks. They skip all the traps, ignore all the monsters, and reach the finish line directly. They think they've won, but they never know what those traps look like or how to fight those monsters.
And when the ga updates and the hacks stop working, they discover they can't do anything—they can't even beat a Sli in the first level."
Yamauchi's face flushed a deep crimson. "You're calling a hacker?!"
"Are you not?" Keima countered. "Weren't the answers Sakayanagi gave you just a hack? You got good grades relying on those answers, but did you learn anything? Did you actually master those knowledge points?"
Yamauchi was speechless.
"You didn't," Keima answered for him. "You just morized answers, just like a hacker just skips levels. You thought you were strong, but in reality, you know nothing.
So when Sakayanagi gave you the wrong answers this ti, you were completely finished. Because you never truly learned how to solve the problems; you only knew how to morize answers. And when the answers failed, you couldn't even solve the first multiple-choice question."
Yamauchi's grip slowly loosened. He staggered back a step, his face pale. "How... how do you know..."
"I guessed," Keima said. "But your reaction just now proves I was right. I warned you before not to do such things, but you didn't care. All of this is your own doing."
Yamauchi's body began to shake. He hung his head, his shoulders heaving violently. Keima watched him, thinking he had finally listened.
But just then—
Yamauchi snapped his head up. In those eyes, there was no gratitude, no remorse. There was only a deeper, more twisted hatred.
"Are you finished?" His voice had suddenly beco calm. Terribly calm.
Keima's brow twitched slightly. "I'm finished."
"Good." Yamauchi nodded. "Now it's my turn to speak."
He dropped his hand and took another step forward, glaring into Keima's eyes. "Who do you think you are? A savior? A life coach?"
His voice began to rise. "What right do you have to lecture ?!
You play gas all day—so what if you're first?! What kind of thing are you?! What right do you have to point fingers at ?!"
Keima looked at him without speaking.
"You say I'm greedy? Stupidity? That I deserve it?" Yamauchi's voice grew louder and sharper. "Then what about you?! Aren't you just relying on Sakayanagi too?! Why would she help you?! Isn't it because you're the dog she's taken a fancy to?!
You think she's actually good to you?! If she can ss with for you today, she can ss with you for soone else tomorrow! What are you so smug about?!"
Keima pushed up his glasses. "Are you finished?"
"No!" Yamauchi roared. "Do you know what's most hateful?! What's most hateful is that you always have that expression! Always so calm! Always so high and mighty!
Do you know what I want to do?! I want to tear that face of yours apart! I want you to taste what it's like to kneel on the ground!"
He gasped for air, eyes red, completely out of control. The crowd of onlookers grew; so whispered, so recorded, so watched with theatrical amusent. Yamauchi didn't care. He pointed at Keima.
"Mark my words, Katsuragi Keima." His voice carried a gnashing hatred. "I will definitely get my revenge for today."
"Sakayanagi screwed over—I accept that. She's powerful; I can't beat her. But you—" He pointed at Keima's chest. "What are you?
You're just a lucky ga otaku who thinks he's a genius just because he has a bit of talent. I'll make you pay. Just you wait."
Keima looked down at the finger pointed at his chest. Then he looked up at Yamauchi. Those eyes were still as calm as water.
"Talent? I don't consider myself talented."
"You clearly play gas in class the whole ti—"
"That is because I finished learning the material in advance during my breaks and holidays. Only by resolving all study-related matters first can I play gas undisturbed."
"..."
"Are you finished?"
Yamauchi froze. "You... you son of a..."
"If you're finished, I'm leaving." Keima brushed his hand aside. "I need to get back to playing my ga."
Yamauchi's pupils constricted. "What did you say?!"
Keima had no interest in Yamauchi.
After all, the person wasn't a 2D beautiful girl. Keima's mood was incredibly peaceful, devoid of any ripples. This was the real him. The one who was completely disillusioned with the real world. He didn't care about anything.
Normally, Keima wouldn't even have bothered to respond. But at that mont, Yamauchi's voice suddenly spiked.
"What do you think you are?!"
He lunged forward, throwing a punch toward Keima's face! Yamauchi gritted his teeth, staring intently at Keima.
Keima's gaze sharpened slightly. He didn't dodge. Dodging was unnecessary; the other party wouldn't give up easily anyway. In Keima's eyes, Yamauchi Haruki was just a stalk of celery. As long as his ga console didn't get broken, it would be fine.
The punch ca too suddenly, the distance too close, the speed too fast—
Just as the fist was centiters from Keima's face—
A slender yet powerful hand suddenly reached out from the side, firmly catching Yamauchi's wrist.
Yamauchi froze. He followed the hand up—
White hair shimred softly under the streetlights. Red eyes held a hint of a lazy smile.
Kiryuin Fuuka.
She was standing right there, appearing out of nowhere, easily holding Yamauchi's wrist like she was holding a chick.
"Oh my~" Her voice was lazy, carrying its usual playful tone. "This won't do~ fighting on campus leads to disciplinary action~"
Yamauchi's face turned bright red. "L-let go of !!" He struggled hard, trying to break free.
But the hand was like an iron pincer, unmoving. Kiryuin Fuuka gave a light push, and Yamauchi staggered back several steps, nearly falling.
"You've got quite a bit of strength~" She patted her hands as if dusting them off. "But, in front of , you're still lacking~ Well, to be frank, you're far off. Your strength is like a chick pecking at grain."
Yamauchi gasped, glaring at her. "Wh-who are you?! Why are you ddling?!"
Kiryuin Fuuka tilted her head, looking innocent. "? I'm just passing by~" She pointed to the nearby path. "I was just going to the comrcial district to buy so things when I saw you trying to bully a little kouhai~"
She smiled. "How could I miss out on such excitent?"
Yamauchi's face went from red to purple. "You f—"
"Shhh~~" Kiryuin Fuuka placed her index finger over her lips in a silencing gesture. "Speak politely~ otherwise, Big Sister will get angry~"
Her tone was still lazy, but a dangerous glint flashed in her red eyes. Yamauchi instinctively took a step back. He suddenly rembered who this person was—he had seen her in a classroom before, but he had almost forgotten her during the rush of exams.
Kiryuin Fuuka. The legendary figure of the second year. The eccentric whom rumors said even Nagumo Miyabi couldn't handle. An existence that no one dared to provoke.
His legs began to feel weak.
"..."
"Mm?" Kiryuin Fuuka tilted her head. "You were saying?"
Yamauchi was speechless. He just stood there, shaking all over.
Kiryuin Fuuka looked at him and shook her head. "In a sense, you should thank ."
"What?"
"With Katsuragi's abilities, he could have laid you out quite easily," Kiryuin Fuuka said with a smile. "But I didn't want him wasting his ti on a boring guy like you."
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