I watched Sakamoto Ryuji drag the transfer student out of the classroom and quietly stood up from my seat.
Satoru, sitting in front of me, piped up. "Yo, Kim-kun, done with Jump? Can I borrow it?"
"Go for it," I said, handing over my well-loved copy.
Satoru, chomping on a melon bread, grinned like a kid in a candy store and dove into the pages.
He's one of the few in Class 2-B who knows the wild rumors about me are total nonsense, thanks to being in my class last year. A rare gem for someone like me, who's not exactly Mr. Social.
Ever since I went full gym-bro in my first year, the number of people casually chatting me up has plummeted. Can't imagine why—maybe it's the biceps?
I shut the classroom's back door and stepped into the hallway, instantly feeling eyes on me.
Ignoring the stares, I followed the back of Ryuji's head from a safe distance.
Lunch break had just started, so the hallway was packed with students. But wherever I walked, the crowd parted like I was Moses splitting the Red Sea. Bible-level flex, I guess.
Heading toward the emergency stairs, opposite the cafeteria, I started thinking about what's coming next.
'Ryuji's probably gonna apologize to the transfer student first,' I figured.
Rom-coms have a formula. It's so predictable you could skip the manga and still know what's up.
I never read Scramble Love in my past life, so I'm clueless about the specifics. All I know? The main heroines' faces from the popularity poll and that this story's all about classic rom-com vibes.
So, I decided to play detective. If I don't know the plot, I'll just predict it.
That's why I'm still glued to Jump even as a high schooler. Rom-coms evolve, and if you don't keep up with the trends, you're lost.
Lost in thought, I briefly lost sight of Ryuji and Rika. But I could guess their destination.
A quiet, private spot for a secret chat during lunch? Only one place fits: the courtyard behind the school.
I took the emergency stairs, stepped outside, and spotted them not far off.
'Bingo,' I thought, smirking.
I hid just close enough to barely hear their voices, clutching a random branch for cover.
Right on cue, Ryuji shouted, "I'm sorry! It wasn't on purpose!"
Clap! The classic apology bow! This guy's a rom-com protagonist through and through.
In the two years since I got isekai'd into Kim Yuseong's body, I've never seen anyone pull that move. Respect.
Kishimoto Rika, arms crossed, looked down at Ryuji's bowed head. Her lips twitched—she wasn't actually mad.
After a brief silence, she burst out laughing. "Pfft!"
With a catlike grin, she said, "You're kinda innocent, huh?"
Ryuji, finally catching on, raised his voice. "You!"
Rika just laughed, playfully smacking his chest. "It was an accident, duh. You think I'm so petty I'd stay mad over that?"
"Then why act pissed?" Ryuji asked, exasperated.
"Your face when you saw me was just too good," she teased.
"Argh! Do you know how much I stressed over this?" Ryuji groaned.
"Hahaha! That face! You're hilarious!" Rika cackled.
"If you weren't a girl—!" Ryuji shook his fists, fuming.
"What, you'd hit me if I were a guy?" Rika taunted, hands in her cardigan pockets.
"Anyway, we're done with this morning's drama. Don't bring it up in front of others," she added.
"...Fine," Ryuji muttered, looking like a puppy who'd lost a fight.
Rika, shameless as ever, grinned. "You got a free peek at a cute high school girl's panties and got forgiven. Shouldn't you be thrilled?"
"You're saying that out loud?" Ryuji spluttered.
Rika blushed slightly but smacked his slouched back. "Hey! Proper language!"
Forced to stand straight, Ryuji glared. Rika just giggled, "Nihihi!" and sauntered off.
Once their rom-com showdown ended, I ditched my stealth branch.
My thoughts? Textbook rom-com opening. Perfectly executed.
Kishimoto Rika's your classic bubbly, carefree gyaru-type heroine. The kind who hooks readers with her charm.
Her bright, flawless smile? Totally worthy of her "Popularity Poll #1" status.
I've got no plans to mess with the original story, but that was a fun show. I plopped onto a nearby bench, pulling out my homemade Chinese-style bento.
I'd love to eat with friends in the classroom, but my hulking vibe makes people uneasy, so I'm out here with nature.
Until my classmates get used to me, it's solo dining with the trees.
I picked up a piece of crispy, cold youlinji chicken, ready to take a bite.
"Kim Yuseong! What's the student council secretary doing out here?!"
A familiar scolding voice boomed behind me.
I set my youlinji back in the bento box and cautiously turned around.
"...President, how'd you find me?"
"I tracked your phone. OHOHOHO!" she declared, way too proud of her borderline illegal move.
Black-haired, hime-cut beauty Saionji Kumiko, Ichijo Academy's student council president, stood there, gold-trimmed fan covering her mouth as she unleashed her princess laugh.
A direct descendant of a fancy Kyoto aristocratic family, she runs the student council like her personal empire. The vice president and other officers? Basically her minions.
In rom-com terms, she's the quirky rival or comic relief sub-heroine.
Why she's here, though? No clue.
"Aren't you swamped with start-of-term stuff?" I asked.
"Busy, yes, but I've got time to eat with a lonely subordinate," she said, winking.
She motioned for me to follow. When the president decides something, resistance is futile. I grabbed my bento and trailed after her.
Walking side by side across the courtyard, I asked, "Where's the vice president? You're usually inseparable."
"I sent her to secure a spot at the student cafeteria. It fills up fast," she replied.
The cafeteria? I figured she'd eat in the fancy student council room.
"They don't exactly serve your kind of food there," I pointed out.
She glanced at me, hiding her face with her fan. "Hmph! I can handle commoner food. That jeyuk-bokkeum rice you had last time? Not bad."
Last year, she was slicing steaks in the council room. Now she's casually name-dropping jeyuk-bokkeum? Growth, I guess.
I had to correct one thing, though. "Sorry, but the cafeteria doesn't have jeyuk-bokkeum."
Her eyes widened like I'd just told her the world was flat. "What?! Then what do they have?!"
"Try the gyudon. It's similar," I suggested.
If she's tasted Korean commoner food, why not try Japan's version?
"Gyudon... gyudon..." she muttered, clenching her fists. "I, Saionji Kumiko, shall conquer this gyudon and master the commoner experience!"
"OHOHOHO!" she laughed, fan flourishing.
I sighed, watching her one-woman show. If she'd just shut up, she'd be perfect.
Such a shame for that pretty face.