"I never thought Kaurizawa-chan would have a boyfriend in this school."
The brown-haired girl in front of me chimed in, her tone playful yet filled with curiosity. Maya Sato, if I remembered correctly—the girl who had a crush on the original protagonist, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
She had a thing for cool, mysterious guys, but let's be real—only if they were handsome. If you were ugly, tough luck. No amount of mystique would save you.
She was laid-back, dressed like a gyaru, exuding that mix of rebellion and effortless sex appeal. Her school tie hung loosely around her neck, her blouse slightly undone. If I leaned in just right, I could probably catch a glimpse of her cleavage.
Ah… youth.
A distant, nostalgic ache twisted inside me.
I kinda missed my past life. Back when I wasn't such a fucked-up asshole, when my head wasn't so messed up like it is now.
It's funny how you only cherish things once they're gone.
Back then, everything fell into my lap effortlessly—friends who had my back, girls who actually loved me, family who truly cared. My grandparents, my parents… they were there. My world wasn't poisoned by betrayals, by distrust, by the kind of rotting cynicism that now clawed at my mind every damn day.
But now?
Everything's toxic. Rotten.
I've been betrayed more times than I can count. Every relationship I've had with women? Fucked beyond repair, built on lust, power, manipulation—but never trust. My grandparents are dead, my parents are old, and my relatives? Just a bunch of selfish, backstabbing leeches I haven't spoken to in years.
When I was reborn into this world, I had already lost everything.
What was left of me?
Distrust. Rage. A hollow emptiness.
A man with nothing left to lose.
Then I saw Chiaki—and she reminded me of someone. An old friend. The resemblance was uncanny—not just in looks, but in personality, in presence, even in the way she carried herself. Both of them came from wealthy families, privileged yet seemingly untouched by the filth of the world.
Maybe the old me was never really dead. Maybe he was still there, buried deep inside, watching.
The only difference?
The old me wasn't this fucking angry.
He didn't burn with this seething rage.
He wasn't drenched in this deep, bone-crushing distrust toward the world.
I wasn't born evil. I wasn't some monster from the start.
I just stopped giving a fuck.
Because the world pushed me too far. Because people kept pissing me off.
And when that happens?
They get my wrath in return.
"Genji-kun, are you okay?" Karuizawa asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
Even though something deep inside me stirred—nostalgia, maybe?—my expression remained vacant, untouched from beginning to end. My eyes stayed locked on my cup of milk tea, unblinking, unreadable.
That's just the kind of person I am.
My emotions, my expressions—they've always been under control, locked away behind the same calm, vacant stare I wear all the time.
People say the eyes are the window to the soul, that you can see a person's true self through them.
But what if there's nothing to see?
What if the only thing staring back at you is a hollow reflection of yourself?
Kei couldn't see what I was really feeling—not from my eyes, not from my face.
She could only rely on my words, and so I answered her with my usual smooth, practiced tone.
"I'm fine. Besides, you seemed too caught up with your friends—I didn't want to interrupt your little girl talk."
The moment I said that, the tension in the group melted away. The short blue-haired girl—ordinary in terms of beauty but clearly a bit self-conscious—gave me an apologetic look.
"Ah—sorry, Genji-kun. We shouldn't be interrupting your date with Kei-chan."
She wasted no time excusing herself, dragging the rest of the girls with her. They threw out their goodbyes as they left, a couple of them still feeling guilty for intruding.
"Thanks for the treat, Genji-kun," Chiaki said politely, while Maya Sato chimed in right after.
"Yeah, thanks. We'll treat you in return sometime."
And then—they were gone.
Now, it was just the two of us.
Kei looked at me again, her concern still there, still lingering like a weight she couldn't shake off.
"Are you really okay, Genji-kun?"
I met her gaze, my voice steady—firm.
"I've never been fine, Kei-chan. You've known that since the beginning. But you can't help me. No one can."
Silence.
She didn't say anything, because she knew it was true.
But there was nothing she could do. No one could.
I exhaled softly, then rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light pat—just enough to tell her to drop it.
"Now, be a good girl and get back to class. The bell's already rung."
And with that, I turned and walked away.
There was nothing more to say. Nothing left to talk about.
...
Author Note:
I wanted to promote my upcoming fanfic along with my other works. The title will be "My Sister Sajyou Manaka is a Yandere."
If you're interested, you can check it out in three days—I'll have the story cooked and ready by then.
I'm also thinking about starting a new Classroom of the Elite fanfic with a Reversed Gender Role theme. I'd love to hear your suggestions for the background, personalities, and grindset of the MC.
My current idea: The protagonist will be Fuuka Kiryuuin's younger brother, with a hedonistic, lustful, and Casanova personality. He's the type to grind his way to the top, banging all the girls in the school while forming deep connections and establishing a power hierarchy with his Dating Sim Gamer cheat.
So, what's your pick?
You can choose any girl you want to be the MC's sister, and I'm open to any suggestions. If you think the MC should be a teacher at a school or something like that, go ahead and suggest it.