The fluorescent light above the konbini register buzzed like a dying insect. It always did around 11:47 PM—right when the graveyard shift started feeling eternal. I scanned the last customer's items without looking up: a pack of Calorie Mate, a canned coffee, and a single onigiri. Salaryman type. Eyes hollow, tie loosened. Same as me, minus the tie.
"Bag?" I asked on autopilot.
He shook his head and left. The automatic doors hissed shut behind him.
I leaned on the counter, staring at the security monitor. Empty aisles. The clock ticked to midnight. My phone vibrated in my pocket—probably another Discord notification from the seasonal anime watch party group. I ignored it. My shift ended in thirteen minutes anyway.
Outside the glass doors, Nakano's streets were quiet. Not dead quiet like the countryside my parents still lived in, but the kind of quiet where neon signs reflected in puddles and the occasional Yamanote Line train rumbled past in the distance. I locked up, flipped the sign to "Closed," and stepped out into the cool night air.
The walk home was five minutes. Up three flights of narrow stairs, past the landlord's "No loud noises after 10 PM" sticker that everyone ignored. Key in the lock. Door creaked open.
Home sweet 1K.
The room smelled like instant ramen, old manga paper, and the faint ozone from my overworked PC. I kicked off my shoes, flicked on the desk lamp, and let the blue glow from the monitor wash over everything.
Shelves lined the walls: Nendoroids, scale figures, prize figures from crane games I'd somehow won. A Rem figure from Re:Zero stared at me with those big eyes. Next to her, a limited-edition Asuka Langley from Evangelion I'd paid way too much for last Comiket. Posters above the bed—mostly seasonal key visuals from this year's lineup. The current obsession was hanging right above my pillow: the poster for *Route: Eternal Loop*, a psychological rom-com about a guy stuck reliving the same week until he figured out how to talk to the girl next door.
I dropped into my chair, spun once, and pulled up Crunchyroll. Episode 8 was waiting. I hit play.
Halfway through, my phone lit up again. A message from "GhostedConfession-chan" (yes, I named her that in my head after she vanished). No new texts. Just the old ones staring back.
> Hey, I really like talking to you... maybe we could meet IRL sometime?
> [Read 3 days ago]
Three days. No reply. No typing indicator. Nothing.
I closed the app. Switched to Twitter instead. Scrolled through the discourse: best girl wars, episode hot takes, someone calling the new OP mid. Same as always.
Then a DM popped up from the group chat admin.
> yo Haruto you alive? we're doing a live react for ep9 tomorrow. you in?
I typed back:
> Maybe. Work's killing me.
Lie. Work was boring, not killing. The killing part was the quiet after the stream ended. The moment I realized I'd spent another night talking to screens and strangers who'd never know my real name.
I minimized the window. Opened my illustration tablet instead. Freelance gig deadline was yesterday. Client had already emailed twice: "Where is it?" I hadn't answered.
The canvas was blank. I stared at it for a long minute, then doodled a quick chibi version of myself—messy hair, dead eyes, hoodie. Added a speech bubble: "Level up failed. Retry?"
Stupid.
I saved it anyway. Named the file "Haruto_day_∞.png"
Then I leaned back, stared at the ceiling, and muttered the line that had been looping in my head all week.
"I'm wasting my life."
It wasn't dramatic. It was just true.
My parents called last weekend. Mom's voice was soft but pointed: "When are you coming home? Your cousin got engaged. You're not getting any younger, Haruto."
Dad in the background: "Find a real job. Stop playing around with drawings."
I didn't argue. I just said "Soon" and hung up.
The anime on screen reached a quiet scene. The protagonist sat alone in his room, same as me, staring at his phone. Waiting for a message that wouldn't come.
I paused it.
Looked around the room again. At the figures. At the posters. At the half-eaten ramen cup from two nights ago.
Then something clicked. Not a big revelation. Just a tired, desperate idea.
What if... I treated this like an anime?
Not watching one. *Living* one.
For thirty days, I'd act like the MC of *Route: Eternal Loop*. Every choice a route branch. Every person a side character with hidden flags. Every boring day an "episode" to push through.
Quote lines when it felt right. Assign tropes. Grind social stats like it was a VN.
It was stupid. Pathetic, even.
But it was something.
Better than nothing.
I stood up, walked to the shelf, and picked up the Rem figure. Held her up to eye level.
"Okay," I said out loud to the empty room. "Let's see if this route has a good ending."
She didn't answer.
Of course she didn't.
But for the first time in weeks, the silence felt a little less heavy.
End of Chapter 1.