When I stepped into Class D, this place where I was supposedly going to make friends and build a future at the Advanced Nurturing Academy, my eyes scanned the room.
It was still mostly empty and dead quiet, everyone still keeping to themselves since I'd gotten there early, right after enduring the school president's long, self-important speech about the elite nature of this institution.
My gaze drifted across the silent classroom and then locked onto a blonde girl with striking violet eyes.
She was gorgeous, the kind of smokingly hot that makes your throat dry.
I knew exactly who she was, Kei Karuizawa. A face from my old high school, a place I'd rather forget.
Back then, she was a magnet for the worst kind of bullying. A pack of jealous girls had targeted her, their hatred fueled purely by how beautiful she was becoming and the fact that one of their boyfriend's couldn't stop leering at her.
Her appearance back in those days had been more reserved, almost prude and totally unpolished, like a raw gemstone that hadn't been cut yet.
To be completely honest, I never wanted to get involved. I had my own shit to deal with. But the bullying got way out of hand, escalating into something severe and seriously violent.
They were starting to resort to tactics that bordered on actual disfigurement. It made me sick, and it pissed me off how the whole professional ethic of the Japanese education system just seemed to tolerate that kind of brutality.
The teachers saw what was happening, but they were too scared of causing trouble to step in and do their damn jobs.
So, I took matters into my own hands. I started recording their violent little sessions, thinking I could just blackmail them into backing off.
But that didn't work for shit. I even tried posting the evidence online, but it didn't get the traction I thought it would.
Instead of outrage, people just laughed it off or called me a meddler who should mind his own fucking business.
The bullies got a slap on the wrist from the school, a temporary suspension, but that was it. The administration quickly moved to suppress the story and threatened me with expulsion if I dared to make another wave.
And of course, for my trouble, I became their new target.
They thought they could break me, too. But that was their fatal mistake. They had no idea who they were really fucking with. I had a trump card, one I'd been saving for a real emergency.
Arisu's father, happened to be a major board member and a huge financial donor to the school. On top of that, Arisu herself had serious reputation and influence in media circles. I saw my opportunity and I took it.
I arranged for Arisu's father to make a visit to the school.
And then, I made sure Arisu just "happened" to walk right into the middle of one of their bullying sessions.
She played her part perfectly, acting with this genuine, righteous fury at the sheer wretchedness of the school's environment. She outright threatened the administration, telling them she never wanted to see another bullying incident again, or they could kiss their precious donations goodbye.
And she promised that the reason for pulling that funding would be spread across every major media outlet.
They folded instantly. The threat of losing that much money and facing a media firestorm was a language they understood perfectly. The bullies were expelled within the day, no second chances.
And this time, my recordings finally got the traction they deserved.
The story exploded. The school was besieged by reporters and slapped with lawsuits from angry parents. Its reputation was torn to shreds, exactly as it deserved.
You'd think this would lead to some kind of classic "hero saves the beauty" fairytale ending, right?
Well, contrary to that belief, our relationship ended up being just… so-so.
Yeah, Kei was grateful, I could see that much.
But from her perspective, all my efforts had just escalated the violence to a terrifying new level before anything got better.
She was so traumatized by the whole ordeal that she started avoiding me completely after that, like I was the one who had caused the problem in the first place.
Hah...
What a complete and utter dogshit version of a hero-saves-the-beauty plot.
Fucking figures.
Even now, she was still pretending she didn't know me.
Her eyes, wide and skittish, darted everywhere in the room except towards my direction, landing on anything, the scuffed floor tiles, the boring posters on the wall, other students' blank faces, just to avoid the risk of meeting my gaze.
That familiar, gutless fear was practically radiating off her in waves.
She wasn't just nervous; she was terrified, a cornered little mouse convinced I was about to pounce and expose her for what she truly was: that same fragile, broken victim from all those years ago, the one who used to cry in the bathroom stall after school, the girl whose spirit was so easily crushed.
I tore a blank page from the back of my notebook, the sound of the ripping paper crisp and final in the quiet classroom.
My pen moved quickly, etching the words with a clarity.
Once the ink was dry, I meticulously folded the note, creasing the edges with my thumbnail until it was a tight, compact square.
As I walked past her desk to find my own seat, my movement was a casual, uninterested drift.
There was no pause, no meaningful glance.
My fingers brushing against the stack of textbooks on the corner of her desk and leaving the folded paper behind like a fallen leaf, visible only to her.
She flinched at the slight disturbance, her head snapping down to see what I'd left.
I saw her delicate, trembling fingers pick up the paper, the hesitation before she unfolded it to read my message:
'Let's just pretend nothing happened and keep this our secret. You don't want anyone to know you were a victim of bullying, and I don't either. Are we good?'
The moment her eyes scanned the assembled pieces and her brain processed the words, I watched the transformation happen in real time.
The paralyzing fear that had tightened her shoulders instantly melted away, replaced by a wave of visible, almost giddy relief.
The color returned to her cheeks, and she looked over at me with a gaze full of such profound, desperate gratitude.
But she didn't dare walk over to me.
She didn't try to speak to me or acknowledge the transaction that had just taken place.
Instead, that newfound confidence solidified into action.
She immediately turned away from me, her voice suddenly bright and chirpy as she called out to a group of students nearby, seamlessly inserting herself into their circle, building her new social shield right before my eyes.
She was building her own group, her own armor, putting as much distance between her new life and the ghost of her old one, which was me.
'Narcissus Yagami.'
When I finally slumped into my assigned seat, I couldn't decide if I was lucky or cursed for being stuck in seat 18.
The geography of my personal hell was now clear. On my left side was Mei-Yu Wang, a wall of quiet intensity. Crammed on my right was Maya Sato. And planted directly in front of me, an immovable monument to narcissism, was that fucking guy, Koenji himself.
The guy behind me seemed like a relatively normal, if slightly reclusive, otaku.
Peering behind my left shoulder, I saw the cold eyes of Suzune Horikita, and behind my right was the quieter, more delicate presence of Airi Sakura.
My upward left was occupied by Chiaki, and my upward right by Haruka Hasebe.
Looking at the layout, it was a sea of girls. I was completely surrounded, isolated from the chance to make any normal male friends.
My only options for camaraderie in this immediate vicinity were the insufferable Koenji and the fat otaku guy behind me.
It was a social death sentence.
At the very least, I consoled myself, I didn't have to deal with the canon trio of idiots. It wasn't that I had some deep-seated prejudice against them, but I knew the social rules of this jungle. The moment I entered their circle or was seen talking with them, I'd be instantly labeled as an enemy by all the girls in the class.
I wasn't like Ayanokouji, who was effortlessly cool and handsome enough to transcend that shit. With my aggressively average face and completely forgettable presence, any attempt to associate with them would backfire on me spectacularly.
The only decent thing in this arrangement was that the fat otaku behind me seemed like a reasonable enough dude.
And the girls surrounding my seat didn't even bother to talk to me or introduce themselves, which at least saved me from forced, awkward interactions.
Koenji, for his part, was too deeply focused on admiring his own reflection in a goddamn hand mirror to even notice I existed.
So, is this what my entire school life is going to be?
A social desert, trapped in a cage of my own anonymity and other people's indifference?
It's a complete and utter disaster, indeed.
I lamented all of this silently in my head, slumping further into my chair as I awaited the teacher's arrival to officially start this shitshow of a day.