The morning sun crept gently over the city, casting a soft golden haze across the quiet streets. There was a stillness in the air—a deceptive calm that floated just above the chaos brewing beneath. In the backseat of a sleek black car, Hanazawa Haruyuki sat rigidly, arms folded, a faint scowl etched across his young face.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, were fixed on the blur of the cityscape rushing past the window.
In the front seat, Saki—his manager and closet confidante—glanced at him through the rearview mirror before twisting around to face him fully.
"Haru," she said carefully, her tone walking the line between stern and concerned, "Please don't do anything reckless from here on out. The public's watching. They're hungry for stories—scandals, drama, and anything they can trust into headlines. You're not invisible anymore."
Haruyuki didn't respond. His gaze didn't shift. The silence between them thickened, filled with words, neither of them dared to speak.
Saki let out a slow sigh and turned back around in her seat, resting her hands on her lap. She knew better than to push him when he shut down like this. But they were running out of time—and out of chances.
This was it. Their last shot.
If anything went wrong again, if Haruyuki lost control or walked away like he had before, there was no telling what his father would do. A man like that didn't issue second chances lightly, and this plan—the one they were about to put into motion—wasn't just a career move. It was a lifeline.
Haruyuki couldn't afford to disappear again, not now. The media had caught wind of his name—just a whisper for now—but it was growing louder. He had potential, raw talent, and a look that made casting directors turn their heads. People were finally starting to pay attention.
But attention was a double-edged sword. Fame came at a cost.
And the price of failure this time could be more than either of them were willing to pay.
Just then, the car slowed and came to a smooth halt in front of a towering black iron gate. It loomed like a monument, silent and imposing, wrapped in creeping ivy and flanked by stone lanterns that had likely stood there for decades.
The gate creaked open slowly, revealing the estate behind it.
Haruyuki stepped out first. Dressed in his crisp uniform, he moved with practiced efficiency. But as he emerged and turned toward the building, he paused. Just for a monet.
He stood there in stillness, gazing at the mansion beyond the gates, as though inspecting the infrastructure of an academy rather than a private residence.
His eyes scanned the grand facade—multi-media roofs, carved wooden eaves, and walls dressed in shades of deep charcoal and ash grey. The structure held the elegance of old money, a blend of Japanese tradition and architecture modernism.
Saki stepped out next, and the moment her eyes landed on the estate, she stopped in her tracks.
"Oh, wow..." she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Her gaze swept across the mansion grounds—manicured hedges lining the perimeter, koi ponds sparkling in the distance, and sakura trees in full bloom casting shadows like lace on the ground. It was breathtaking—quiet, vast, and oddly dreamlike.
Without a word, Haruyuki moved forward, striding confidently toward the entrance, his footsteps quiet against the cobblestone path.
The walkway was scattered with delicate cherry blossom petals, their soft pink hue glowing against the dark stone like fallen stars. The petals danced gently in the morning breeze, catching the light in brief glimmers as of trying to lighten the mood with their fragile beauty.
It felt more like stepping into another world than arriving at an academy.
Saki followed in silence, her footsteps slow and deliberate, her face painted excitement. The place was stunning, yes—but to Haruyuki, it was also a reminder of everything he was expected to become. Everything he might lose if he failed.
And as the two of them approached the mansion's grand entrance, cherry blossoms drifting around them like gentle snowfall, the weight of what came next settled silently on their shoulders.
A breeze swept through the hallway, rustling the tree leaves and carrying with it a faint scent of rain and sun.
Renjiro frowned slightly, closing his book with a soft thud. The breeze tousled his hair, and he absently brushed it away.
"A new transfer student?" He asked. "At midterm?"
Yugen glanced at him. "Yeah," he answered. "It happens at this time and of the year. And of course, we gladly accept, even if it's quite late."
"That's... odd," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Why would someone transfer this late unless something happened?"
Yugen shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Who knows. But this one... apparently, they requested this school specifically."
Renjiro blinked. "Specifically? Why?"
Yugen didn't answer right away. He glanced down the hallway as if expecting someone to appear, then said quietly, "You'll see. He's... different, I hear."
[...]
Just then, Haruyuki stepped into the mansion-like hallway, the polished floors echoing softly beneath his shoes. Above him, a grand chandelier cast scattered light across the high ceiling, its crystals shimmering like frozen stars. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and something faintly floral—clean, but aged.
Saki, his manager, had already left. He was on his own now.
Haruyuki adjusted the strap of his bag and exhaled slowly.
So this is where I'll be stuck until the end of the year...
The thought sat heavy on his shoulders, not unpleasant but unfamiliar. He wasn't used to places like this—places that felt like they held secrets in the walls.
With no one to guide him, he began his self-tour of the academy. His footsteps were tentative at first, echoing down long, marble-floored corridors lined with oil paintings and tall windows that stretched from floor to ceiling.
Some rooms were open, revealing lecture halls with ornate wooden desks, others sealed shut, their brass handles cool to the touch.
He paused near a staircase that curled upward like a ribbon. Its banister carved with strange symbols he didn't recognize. A gust of wind drifted through a nearby window, fluttering the edge of a velvet curtain and brushing against his face like a whisper.
For a moment, he stood there looking at students passing by without giving him a single glance.
He shrugged and kept walking up to the second third floor, where classrooms were booming with noisy students.
As he walked past by the rooms, he could see a few students at their desks, some leaning back in their chairs to chat with some friends, others flipping through notebooks or scrolling on their phones.
Haruyuki sighed and continued with his self-tour, letting the muted clamor of the upper floors fade behind him. He wandered through another corridor, thisnone quieter, lined with tall glass doors that let in soft daylight.
One of them stood slightly ajar, and a breeze coaxed it open just enough for him to glimpse a stretch of green beyond.
Curious, he stepped outside.
The air changed immediately—closer, fresher. The faint scent of blossoms and freshly clipped grass replaced the old wood and floral cleaner of the interior. He found himself at the edge of a carefully maintained garden, its beauty understand but deliberate.
A narrow cobblestone path wound ahead, flanked by box-trimmed hedges and clusters of vibrant flowers that danced lazily in the breeze.
He walked slowly, his steps lighter on the cobblestones than they had been in the hallways.
There were no students here. Just silence and the subtle rhythm of nature.
Haruyumi exhaled again, but this time, the breath left him easier.
Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all.
That old man really did choose a good place.
He thought with a slight snicker.
Lavender and marigolds, he noticed. Their colors glowed beneath the soft light filtering through the high treetops that framed the courtyard.
Smalls lanterns hung on wrought iron poles, unlit for now, but likely enchanting at night. Somewhere to his left, a marble fountain trickled quietly, its sound blending with the rustling leaves and distant birdsong.
A few benches rested beneath arching trellises heavy with wisteria, the pale purple blooms cascading like waterfalls of silk.
The garden felt like a place out of time—detached from the rest of the academy's grandeur, tucked away like a secret, only a few bothered to find.
He stopped near a rosebush, its blossoms full and fragrant, and let his fingers brush lightly against a petal. Soft. Almost unreal.
Suddenly, while peacefully strolling and soaking in the breathtaking view of the garden. Haruyuki's shoulder bumped lightly into someone. He turned quickly, startled out of his reverie, only to see a girl stumble back a step, her hand clutching something against her chest.
"Oh—sorry," she said, lifting her head to meet his eyes.
But then she froze.
Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes widened in a look. Haruyuki recognized all too well. The look of recognition of disbelief giving way to awe.
"Wait... are you—Haru?" She asked, voice half-whisper, half-squeal.
His posture shifted immediately, the easy calm he'd found in the garden replaced by the tight coil of guarded instinct. So much for solitude.
He hadn't even been using his stage name recently, but "Haru"—his most well-known nickname—still followed him, apparently even here.
"Ah... sorry, I'm kind of in a rush right now," he said quickly, adjusting himself and giving a tight, polite smile.
But the girl barely noticed.
"I knew it! You're Haru! I've watched every single drama you've been in since Evergreen Nights! Oh my god, this in unreal—why didn't anyone say you were coming here? Are you filming something here at the academy?! Wait—can I take a photo with you? No, wait—your looks even better in person—"
Haruyuki barely heard her anymore. His mind was racing.
He thought he had found at least a few hours of anonymity. Just enough to settle in, to breathe. But apparently, even in a tucked-away academy garden, peace was a fragile thing.
"Sorry—seriously—I really have to go," he muttered again, backing away.
And then, without another word, he turned and ran.
The cobblestones thudded beneath his feet as he bolted down the path, dodging between hedges and overgrown arches. The sound of her hurried footsteps jot far behind.
"Wait! I just want to talk! I'm a big fan, please—!"
He didn't turn back.
Eventually, Haruyuki slowed to a stop beside a weathered bench tucked beneath an archway of climbing ivy. His chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths. He bent slightly, one hand on his knee, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his jacket.
He glanced around.
The garden had stretched farther than he realized. Open spaces branched into narrow paths, flowerbeds grew denser, and tall hedges rose like green walls.
Wherever he had ended up, it was nowhere near the central walkway anymore.
The distant sound of the fountain was gone, replaced only by the soft rustle of leaves and occasional chirp of birds overhead.
It was quiet again.
Haruyuki let out a breath—this time, in relief.
He thought he'd lost her. For now.
As he leaned back and allowed himself a moment of stillness, his eyes wandered across the garden clearing.
That's when he noticed someone else nearby.
Just a few steps away, beneath the shade of a gnarled maple tree, sat another student—alone, silent, and apparently undisturbed by Haruyuki's dramatic escape. The boy had one leg propped over the other, elbows resting comfortably on his knees, and in his hands, a small book.
No... a manga?
Haruyuki tilted his head slightly, squinting at the cover. It looked old—slightly faded at the corners, the art style distinctly vintage. He couldn't place the title. Was it an indie publication? A cult classic?
The boy didn't seem to notice him—or if he did, he gave no sign. His gaze remained fixed on the page, unmoving except for the occasional flick of his thumb as he turned to the next.
Haruyuki blinked, uncertain. For a moment, the garden's serenity returned. The stranger's calm presence was a sharp contrast to the whirlwind he'd just fled from.
He glanced over his shoulder.
No sign of the girl. Good.
He turned his attention back to the boy, then looked away, unsure whether to speak or not.
To his mild surprise, Renjiro had already laid his eyes on him.
Not startled, not curious, just watching.
There was no flicker of recognition, no awe, no whisper of a name on his lips. Just steady, quiet gaze, like someone observing a bird that had flown in from a distant place.
Renjiro tilted his head slightly, then spoke in a voice so even it almost blended with the rustling leaves.
"Wait, you..." Renjiro began, his voice low as he looked up. His mouth opened slightly, like he was about to say more.
Haruyuki flinched. He didn't need to hear the rest.
That tone—hesitant, just shy of certainty—he knew it too well. Renjiro had recognized him.
A rough sigh escaped his lips. Of course. It was happening again.
He braced himself, already rehearsing the same lines he always used. He hated this part—the shift from peace to performance. But he had no choice.
It's better to just confirm it and get it over with.
If he ever tried to excuse himself, rumors would spin by morning.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence was comfortable but also intense.
Deep inside, Haruyuki was a bit nervous, for some reason.
Then, Renjiro spoke once again, "Your face is new."
[?!]
That was something unexpected.
Haruyuki raised an eyebrow as he blinked, thrown off and intrigued despite himself. That wasn't the usual reaction. No squeal, no fan-ramble, no request for photos.
It's just an offhand observation.
"I... guess," Haruyuki replied cautiously, his tone slightly confused. "I just got here, yeah."
Renjiro nodded, slow and deliberate, then looked back at his book.
That's... weird.
Haruyuki thought, eyeing Renjiro from the corner of his eye. What's with his reaction?
For years, he'd been recognized everywhere—on sidewalks, in cafés, airports, and even rural trains stations. Since his debut as a child actor, there hadn't been a corner of Japan where his name or face wasn't known.
Even after his long hiatus, his return to showbiz had made headlines. Fans rejoiced, old clips resurfaced, hashtags trended for weeks.
Which made this—this moment of indifference—feel almost surreal.
The students earlier in the hallway? That was different. They had been warned.
The principal and chairman had made it clear to the entire student body: No chasing, no selfies, no drama. Treat Haruyuki like any other student.
It was strict. Harsh, even. Bit necessary, if he was going to survive here.
Still, even with the rules in place, he could see the way some of them looked at him—stolen glances and hushed whispers behind the locker door.
There was always that flicker of recognition. Always.
But not with Renjiro.
He didn't look away awkwardly. Didn't look through him like some students trying too hard to "act normal."
And he certainly didn't look starstruck either.
Just... normal.
Maybe even curious. Not because of who Haruyuki was. But because of what he was doing there.
And Haruyuki, wasn't sure whether to feel relieved... or unnerved.
Haruyuki tried to ask Renjiro.
"That's it?"
"..."
Renjiro didn't answer. He just kept reading, eyes tracing the page like Haruyuki hadn't spoken at all.
Haruyuki rolled his eyes. Is this guy for real?
He didn't know whether to confront him, walk away, or just be quietly offended.
Someone not recognizing him wasn't just rare—it was almost unheard of. And weirdly, it bothered him more than he expected.
Is that normal? Who knows. Rather, only he knows.
He decided to go straight to the point.
"Excuse me," he said, loud enough this time that it finally drew a reaction.
Renjiro didn't look up. Not right away. But his thumb paused over the edge of the page.
"Don't you know who I am?"
"Should I?" Renjiro replied flatly, finally answering—but still without meeting Haruyuki's gaze.
Haruyuki stared. "Seriously?"
He stepped forward, irritation curling in his voice. "Stop pretending. I know you know. It's fine—I'll sign something if that's what you're waiting for. Just come out with it already."
Renjiro snickered—soft, almost under his breath.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, flipping a page. "This is the first time I've seen you. I'm sorry."
"Huh?!" Haruyuki blinked. "You're saying you've never seen me before?!"
Renjiro finally looked up, meeting Haruyuki's gaze.
"Nope." A beat. "Like I said, should I have?"
[...]
Haruyuki opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He wasn't sure if he was more insulted... or fascinated. But it doesn't mean he'll just leave it like that.
"Think again...!" He said, desperate to get it through Renjiro. "Like, movies or dramas you've watched before—there's gotta be an actor you're familiar with, right?"
Renjiro tilted his head, squinting as if he were humoring a child.
"Ah," he said slowly. "Wait..."
Haruyuki leaned forward, hopeful despite himself.
"... Nope. Still nothing." Renjiro gave a small, unapologetic shrug and turned back to his book.
Haruhuki's jaw tightened. "Are you serious right now?"
He ran a hand through his hair, half-laughing in disbelief. "I've starred in six primetime dramas, two blockbuster films, and just last month, I was trending for a full day because of a single interview clip. You're telling me you missed all of that?"
Renjiro said, flipping the page with deliberate slowness.
"I see," Renjiro said, flipping the page with delicate slowness. "So?"
"You've at least seen me in one of those shows—so it's impossible you don't know who I am."
Renjiro finally looked up again. His expression was neutral, but his gaze was sharp now—measuring.
"Fine," he said. "Who are you then?"
Haruyuki paused, then tugged on a smug smirk like it was muscle memory.
"My name is Hanazawa Haruyuki."
[!!]
Renjiro perked up a bit, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.
"Ring any bells now?"
"Oh..." A along pause. "... Nope. Still don't know you. And I don't know that name."
"What?!"
Renjiro let out a sigh through his nose, more tired than dismissive.
"Look, man. Do I look like I care about you being an actor or whatever you are? If you're someone you claim, you are—great. Good to know. That just means you've achieved something big. Bigger than most people out here ever will. Good for you."
He stood up and slung the book under his arm.
"But why are you so desperate to make a stranger remember your face when we don't even know each other in the first place?"
Haruyuki stared at him. Hard. A part of him wanted to storm off, but another part—the part that was now absolutely, irrationally obsessed—refused to let go.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered. "People recognize me through masks. Sunglasses. Hats. Even in the dark."
Renjiro looked at him—really looked, not the way fans did, but like someone trying to understand a puzzle, they didn't quite care to solve.
"Didn't you come here because you want to live your school life peacefully," he said quietly, "yet you want me to be familiar with your identity. What's the point of hiding here then?"
That hit harder than Haruyuki expected.
But wait, what he said just now.
Renjiro turned, walking away.
Haruyuki stood frozen, Renjiro's last words echoing louder than they should've.
What just happened? Why did it bother him this much?
He took a step forward. "Hey—wait," he called after him. "I'm not done—"
"Haru!!"
The shout cut through the air like glass. A female voice. Excited. Familiar.
He flinched.
Damn...! She's still looking for me?!
He turned just in time to see a girl break through the courtyard gate—wide-eyed, phone already out, waving with both hands like a rescue flare.
"Oh my god! Haru! Please wait!"
Haruyuki glanced from her... back to Renjiro, who had paused mid-step—not turning back, but clearly hearing it.
The contrast stung more than it should've.
In one direction: a crazy fan girl.
In the other: complete apathy.
In the middle, Haruyuki—suddenly unsure, which felt more real.
He cursed under his breath and did the only thing he could think of—run.
He spun on his heel and dashed back into the academy building, pushing past the doors like they might offer some kind of escape.
I need to hide somewhere! Quick...!
Footsteps and excited voices echoed behind him, but he didn't slow down until he hit the stairwell and ducked behind the wall. He leaned there, breathing hard, heart pounding louder than it should.
It should be safe here, right?
Haruyuki scanned his surroundings, chest rising and falling faster than it should. After a moment, he let out a slow breath. The coast was clear—no footsteps, no cameras, no shrieking voices. Finally.
But just as the tension began to ease from his shoulders—
"Excuse me?"
The voice came from behind. Calm. Polite. Too polite.
Haruyuki spun around.
Another male student stood there. He looked nothing like the one from earlier—neatly dressed, no book in hand, no air of dismissal. This one was sharp, composed, with an observant gaze that felt like it saw straight through him.
"Are you lost?" The boy asked.
"W-Well... not really..." Haruyuki replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
The boy tilted his head thoughtfully. "Ah," he nodded as if confirming something to himself. "Could it be that you're Hanazawa Haruyuki?"
Haruyuki's eyes flicked in recognition. So he knew.
"I'm Kaito Yugen. Student council president," the boy said, offering a brief, respectful nod.
Student council? I see.
His posture eased ever so slightly. A small, practiced smile tugged at his lips. Somehow, knowing this guy was with the student council made things feel a little less chaotic.
"I was told you'd be arriving today," Yugen continued. "I've been assigned to show you around the campus since you're a new student here in Solmere."
Haruyuki gave a nod, pretending he hadn't already wandered off on his own and gotten chased. "Right... thanks."
Without another word, he followed Yugen's lead.
The tour took them across nearly every corner of the school—classrooms, the sprawling library, the lab spaces, culinary class, even the faculty office, and the massive gymnasium.
Yugen's commentary was thorough, formal, and somehow still personable. Everything was smooth. Too smooth.
Eventually, they arrived at a door tucked between two wings of the building. Yugen paused in front of it, placing a hand on the handle.
"This leads to the garden," he said. "It's a shared space used by the botany club and students who prefer outdoor study. The central tree has been—"
"I—" Haruyuki blurted out, cutting him off. His tone came out more panicked than he intended. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"... I want to see the dorms. Can we?"
A flash of surprise flickered across Yugen's face—but just briefly.
Then he nodded, turning slightly. "Of course. This way."
Yugen led him down a quiet hallway and stopped in front of Room 12.
"This is yours," he said. "You'll be sharing with a third-year—his last roommate dropped out last week."
Haruyuki raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Inside, the room was modest but neat. One side was already clearly lived in: a bed made with precision, books lined up on a narrow shelf, and a pair of glasses folded neatly on a desk. A poster from a decade-old film hung above it faded from time.
The other side—the one waiting for Haruyuki—was bare.
"This is Takashi-senpai," Yugen said, gesturing to the senior, who had just entered from the hallway with a can of soda in hand.