The morning after the envelope arrived, Haruki was at the library by 7 a.m.
He hadn't been to this place in years.
Not since his early university days, when he would hide between psychology textbooks just to avoid his classmates. Back then, the library felt like a bunker. Now it was a war room.
Rina was already waiting for him, sipping canned coffee and scrolling through her phone.
"You look awful," she said.
"I feel worse," Haruki replied, setting his backpack down with a tired grunt.
But beneath the fatigue, there was clarity. After the blackmailer's last message, things felt different. Sharper.
Rina slid her phone across the table. "I've been digging. Message boards, old school forums, even Facebook groups. People gossip more than they realize. Especially bullies."
Haruki looked at the screen. A post from five years ago. A blurry photo of their high school's courtyard. In the comments, an argument between students.
And then, a name.
Renji Kagawa.
Haruki blinked.
"I haven't thought about him in forever," he muttered.
"You know him?" Rina asked.
Haruki nodded slowly. "Yeah. He was in our class. Quiet guy. Used to get pushed around by Ryo and Kazuki too, but after a while, they left him alone. Focused on me."
Rina frowned. "Why?"
"I never knew," Haruki admitted. "But Renji changed. One day he just stopped reacting. Like nothing could hurt him anymore. It was kind of scary."
He scrolled further. One comment stood out.
"Whatever happened to Kagawa? After the incident with Takeda, he disappeared."
Haruki's heart pounded.
The incident with me?
That afternoon, Rina dug deeper. Renji Kagawa hadn't been seen since graduation. No college enrollment. No job listings. Barely any social media. Just a dead Instagram account with one post, an empty classroom.
"This guy's a ghost," she said.
"Or he made himself one," Haruki murmured.
He couldn't shake the image of Renji's face. Pale, hollow-eyed, always in the back row. They had exchanged maybe a dozen words across three years. But now, a creeping suspicion was growing:
Was I so focused on my own pain I didn't see someone else drowning too?
That night, Haruki took a walk alone. Past the park, past the station, until he stood outside the gates of his old high school.
The building looked smaller than he remembered. Emptier.
He gripped the bars and stared through them. Somewhere inside those walls, the blackmailer's anger had been born. Maybe his own guilt too.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence.
"You think standing here will change anything?"
Haruki spun around.
A boy, no, a man now, leaned against the fence. Hooded, face half in shadow. But Haruki recognized him instantly.
Renji.
"You're," Haruki began, but Renji cut him off.
"You didn't remember me. Not really. Not until now."
Haruki took a cautious step forward. "Are you the one sending the threats?"
Renji didn't answer directly. Just laughed bitterly. "You know, everyone thought you had it the worst. You got hit. Humiliated. But you got out. You had friends. Aya. That rich girl. Even Sato."
Haruki tensed. "Don't talk about them like that."
"I watched you," Renji said, voice colder now. "Watched you beg for help while the teachers looked away. Watched you win the damn lottery. While I was still invisible."
Haruki's throat dried. "So this is about envy?"
Renji stepped closer. "No. It's about justice. People love stories like yours, 'the bullied kid who made it.' But no one ever asks what happened to the ones who didn't. The ones who were beneath the victims. The ones even you forgot."
Haruki swallowed hard. "I didn't forget you."
"You did," Renji snapped. "You all did. And now you're a 'hero' building charities and giving interviews. While I'm just... the shadow in the corner of the class photo."
There was pain in his voice, not just venom. And suddenly, Haruki understood.
Renji wasn't trying to destroy him.
He was trying to be seen.
"Come with me," Haruki said quietly.
Renji froze. "What?"
"I'm working on something. A nonprofit. We help kids who are bullied, abused, overlooked. People like we were. You could help. Speak. Tell your story."
Renji looked stunned. Then bitter again. "You think I want your charity?"
"No," Haruki said. "I think you want what we all want, meaning. A chance to turn pain into something else."
Renji stared at him.
And then, with a faint scoff, he turned and walked away.
Haruki didn't follow.
He stood there for a long time, breathing in the sharp evening air. Heart pounding. Hands trembling.
Not from fear.
But from the weight of everything unsaid.
The next day, a new message arrived.
No threats this time.
Just a name.
Renji Kagawa.
And a sentence:
Do what you want with it. You were right. Shadows only vanish when we choose to step out of them.
Haruki read the message five times.
Then he sat back and exhaled.
It wasn't over. Not by a long shot. There would always be voices like Renji's. Broken, bitter, forgotten. And maybe he couldn't fix them all.
But he could try.
That night, Rina found him in the office, typing.
"What are you writing?" she asked.
"A speech," Haruki said. "For our first public event. I'm going to talk about what happened. All of it."
"You sure?" she said softly.
"No," he admitted.
Then he smiled, small and real.
"But I'm ready.