The girls from Class 1 swarmed her. Two girls dressed in "Gal" style—heavy makeup and flashy accessories—grabbed Haruka’s arms, while the others began ruffling her hair or snapping photos of her face.

  "I knew it! This hairstyle is a total win!"

  "It was my idea! My aesthetic is unparalleled!" one of the Gals bragged.

  "Ugh, she’s so precious!"

  Jun watched from across the table. To the girls in Class 1, Haruka Mochizuki wasn't a terrifying heiress; she was the class cat. No matter how high-and-mighty or "tsundere" she acted, she couldn't escape being pampered by her "owners."

  He thought back to Yuka’s text. If Yuka wasn't the one who started the rumor about him and Haruka, there were only two possibilities.

  A Hater: Someone wanted to stir the pot. (Unlikely, as the rumor didn't really hurt either of them).

  It Wasn't a Rumor: The facts were simply preceding the actions.

  Jun checked his internal compass. He wasn't "simping" for Haruka, nor was he making moves.

  "Jun-kun, you think she’s adorable too, right?" The Gal named Rion suddenly leaned into his space.

  Jun gave a slow nod. Factually, yes.

  "Is your heart fluttering?" she pressed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  "Why are you acting like you’ve known him for years?" Haruka snapped at Rion, her face flushing as she avoided Jun’s gaze.

  Jun didn't nod or shake his head. He didn't nod because his heart was perfectly still, and he didn't shake his head because he didn't want to kill the vibe. In this country, "reading the room" was a survival skill.

  He just gave them his signature, enigmatic smile.

  Haruka, unable to get a straight answer out of him, turned away. "Let’s go."

  They walked out of the cafeteria side-by-side, the peanut gallery of girls giggling behind them. "They look like they’re in a movie!" one squealed.

  As they walked, Jun naturally fell a few steps behind her. He didn't actually know where they were going.

  They eventually reached a pond at the edge of the campus. Jun had never been here; it was common knowledge that this was the school’s "Lovers' Lane"—a notorious spot for secret confessions and make-out sessions.

  However, in the midday heat, the place was deserted. Most couples were likely hiding in empty, air-conditioned classrooms.

  Haruka led him past the reeds to a bronze statue.

  "That’s my aunt," she said. "She’s the Chairwoman of the Mochizuki Group."

  The statue depicted a woman with a gentle, motherly smile. The plaque beneath it read: In gratitude to Ms. Hana Mochizuki for her generous donation of 1,000,000,000 Yen.

  "I know of her," Jun said softly. "I met her a few times at the orphanage. She’s someone I deeply respect."

  Haruka stood with her back to him, staring at the statue. "The doctors say she might only have six months left."

  Jun frowned. "Is she ill?"

  "The last check-up said she’s perfectly healthy," Haruka clarified. "Though she has some acid reflux from skipping meals."

  "Then... is someone trying to assassinate her?" Jun let his imagination wander into the territory of corporate thrillers.

  "If anything happens to her, you have to help me," Haruka said. She didn't wait for an answer; she just turned and walked away.

  Help how? Jun was baffled. Does she have some rare Victorian wasting disease that can only be cured by looking at a handsome face?

  Jun stepped up to where Haruka had been standing. He looked at the statue. Ms. Hana looked like a kind soul; he truly hoped nothing would happen to her.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  As he turned to leave, he noticed the dry dirt at his feet was damp in two small spots.

  It’s common knowledge in the world of high-school fiction that "perfect girls" don't sweat or use the bathroom. Therefore, the only logical conclusion for the liquid was tears.

  Back in class, Jun sent her a text: If there’s ever anything I can do to help, just say the word.

  Haruka: K.

  The girl was still playing it cool.

  Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside Class 1.

  Jun: What’s going on in your room?

  Haruka: The girls are convinced you said something to make me cry.

  It seemed the tear tracks had been spotted.

  Her final message for the day popped up:

  Haruka: I’m still vetting you to see if you’re actually useful. Don't get cocky.

  Jun leaned back. If rumors tend to have a kernel of truth, and he wasn't the one chasing Haruka... then perhaps the "Princess of the Academy" was the one developing a crush.

  ______

  It was Saturday. Some elite private schools in Japan still held half-days on the weekend, usually reserved for "soft" subjects like Music or Health.

  Jun usually played hooky on Saturdays to work extra shifts, but Ms. Kominato had specifically warned him to show up today.

  The first two periods were Music. The teacher, Aya Hirouchi, sat at the front of the room looking like she was suffering from a permanent case of Monday Morning.

  It was sweltering. Even with the AC on, she clearly had zero desire to lecture.

  "The Band Club asked me to do a recruitment drive," she announced sluggishly. "So, instead of a lesson, we’re just going to watch K-On!"

  A girl in the front row whispered, "Ma'am, isn't that just promoting the Light Music Club, not the Band Club?"

  Aya thought about it for two seconds. "We’ll promote both. Whatever."

  Aya Hirouchi was the "Cool Aunt" archetype—nearly five-foot-nine, elegant but incredibly lazy. She was the advisor for the Band Club, but you only ever saw her during her actual classes. Word was she was a prodigy who performed every year at the Cultural Festival, and half the male faculty was in love with her.

  Jun watched six episodes. Right before the bell rang, the anime reached the infamous "striped panties" scene.

  "Ah," Aya sighed, leaning her chin on her palm with a look of pure nostalgia. "When I was in school, I was a big fan of the striped look, too."

  When the bell rang, she stretched, her curves straining against her blouse in a way that made half the boys in the room forget how to breathe. She yawned and walked out. Jun followed her.

  Halfway down the hall, she glanced back. "Matsue, why are you stalking me?"

  "I'm going to see Ms. Kominato," Jun said, overtaking her with a grin.

  "Sanko only cares about you as a student," Aya noted, her long legs easily keeping pace with him. "Don't go getting any 'Main Character' ideas, okay?"

  "Thanks for the heads-up, Ma'am. I’ll keep that in mind." Aya was a rarity—a person who spoke her mind without the usual social filters. It was refreshing, if a bit awkward. Jun decided to pivot. "Why are you the advisor for the Band Club if you hate work so much?"

  "Because the Band Club has the highest concentration of cute girls," she said with total conviction.

  "..." Jun suddenly understood why she was still single.

  "Don't get it twisted. I’m straight. I just haven't met a man worth the effort yet."

  Jun didn't know why she felt the need to explain her sexuality to a student, but he didn't push it.

  "Hey, Matsue. You want to be the manager for the Band Club?" she asked suddenly.

  "I don't play any instruments, Ma'am." (He’d played the harmonica once in third grade; he didn't think that counted).

  "Who cares? Managers don't practice. If you’re the manager, we’ll attract way more cute freshmen. It’s a win-win."

  Jun politely declined the offer.

  He was surprised to see Aya walk into Ms. Kominato’s office with him. This wasn't her department.

  Before he could even say hello, Aya flopped into the chair opposite Ms. Kominato with a dramatic groan. "Sanko! Saturday classes are a human rights violation!"

  "You literally just let them watch cartoons for two hours..." Jun muttered.

  Ms. Kominato giggled from behind her computer. "Alright, alright, Aya-chan. I’ll take you to that yakitori place you love tonight." She turned to Jun. "Matsue, fill this out."

  She handed him a form. Tokyo Metropolitan High School Geography Competition Enrollment.

  "Ma'am, I only do competitions with cash prizes," Jun reminded her.

  "I know, I know," she said, mock-annoyed. "If you win this, you go to the National Championship. The school board gives out substantial 'scholarship grants' for that. It’s basically a paycheck."

  "In that case, sign me up. And let me know if there are any History or Biology ones coming up, too."

  Jun had been a "mercenary student" since middle school. Because of his "hyper-memory"—a side effect of his reincarnation that allowed him to memorize entire textbooks in a single sitting—the humanities were basically free money for him.

  Aya sat up, looking intrigued. "You’re actually a brainiac?"

  "I’m decent at memorization," Jun said modestly.

  "Huh," Aya whispered. "With a face like that, I figured you spent all your time juggling girlfriends."

  "Aya-chan!" Ms. Kominato snapped, her eyebrows knitting together. "Don't say things like that to the students!"

  She shooed her colleague away and turned back to Jun. "Take the completed form to Mr. Kashida in Activity Room 2. He’s the coordinator. He’ll give you the briefing and study materials. You’re excused from the next period."

  The next period was Health & PE—specifically, the "Sex Ed" lecture. Jun was more than happy to skip a room full of sweaty teenagers being told how to use a condom.

  While Aya continued to harass Ms. Kominato, Jun sat in the corner and finished the paperwork. Occasionally, Aya’s... generous profile entered his peripheral vision, but he kept his eyes on the prize.

  Jun headed to the third floor. He knocked on the door of Activity Room 2 and entered. A man who looked like a younger, more academic version of Grandpa Kashida was sitting at the front.

  "I’m Mr. Kashida. Hand over the form." The man wore wire-rimmed glasses and looked like the quintessential scholar.

  Jun handed it over. He wondered if this man was related to the convenience store owner; the resemblance was striking.

  Mr. Kashida glanced at the form. "Matsue Jun. Freshman. Find a seat."

  Jun scanned the room. Most of the students were wearing the ties and ribbons of upperclassmen. There were very few "Freshman Blue" accessories in the room.

  As he looked for a spot, a hand shot up in the back row. "Jun! Over here!"

  Jun sighed and walked over. The boy grinning at him had an androgynous, artistic face and hair that was just a bit too long for the school code.

  "Ko-senpai. I thought I told you I wasn't doing club activities today."

  Tsushima Ko was the President of the Journalism Club. Legend had it he was a distant relative of the great novelist Osamu Dazai. He was easily the most well-connected student in school.

  "I'm giving you a pass on the club meeting," Ko whispered as Jun sat down. "But don't go home yet. Come to the club room after this. We have a 'Major Announcement.'"

  Jun gave a vague nod and waved him off. Ko didn't mind; they’d known each other long enough that Jun’s coldness was just part of the charm.

  Once the room was full, Mr. Kashida gave a briefing on the competition and the supplemental tutoring the school would provide. "The freshmen are excused. Upperclassmen, stay behind. I need to go over the curriculum changes for this year."

  Jun was the first one out. As he passed the podium, he asked if he could take the textbooks early. Mr. Kashida told him to swing by his office later.

  As soon as the freshmen left, a boy sitting near Ko grumbled, "Look at that kid. Trying to suck up to the teacher on day one. Typical overachiever."

  "Actually," Ko said, a mischievous glint in his eye, "he’ll probably crush you in the rankings."

  "You know him?"

  "I’ve seen his records from middle school. He doesn't just win; he dominates. But that’s not why the faculty knows him."

  "Then why?"

  "Because," Ko whispered, "every time he wins a city-wide competition, at least one girl from the losing schools tries to transfer to whatever school he’s attending. The kid is a walking urban legend."

  The other boy went silent.

  Jun didn't go back to class. Sex Ed held no mystery for him. He headed to the Journalism Club room, figuring he’d see what Ko wanted.

  He knocked and entered. Only one person was there—a girl sitting at a computer.

  She was wearing headphones and staring at the screen. Her face was flushed, and her breathing was heavy and irregular.

  Jun sat down at the conference table and glanced at the monitor.