Three days before the special exam, I woke from a dream.
It was the kind that replays your life like a reel of film—every mistake from middle school, every regrettable thing I'd done in high school, all coming back with painful clarity.
Each memory was unnaturally vivid, and the weight of every sin I'd committed sent chills racing up my spine.
The worst morning I'd ever had.
Yet there was no sudden wave of the usual self-loathing.
Instead, a deep exhaustion—the kind you feel after intense exercise—settled over my entire body.
I'd cut back on physical activity to focus on studying for the tests, so this fatigue made no sense.
It fed a gloomy mood that made me want to delay getting ready for school as long as possible.
As if to make matters worse, my body itself seemed to refuse to move, reacting sluggishly to every command.
Maybe I should just stay home today.
The thought crossed my mind, but the moment I remembered the role I was playing—the perfect honor student—my body obeyed without protest.
I finished getting ready quickly, slipped on my shoes, and reached for the doorknob.
That was when I stopped.
Today was the deadline for submitting the test questions.
If I could just get through today, Horikita and Ayanokouji's expulsion would be guaranteed.
I already had the answers to every question that would appear on the real exam.
A perfect score for me was now certain.
Horikita, on the other hand, would have to get a perfect score on problems created by that monster.
The gamble was mine—I had already won.
"At last… I'll be free of that cursed past."
The thought alone lifted my spirits.
A peaceful life where I could finally be myself without fear. I'd told myself over and over since starting high school that I could start over, that everything would be different. And now, at last, it was happening.
Finally. Truly, finally.
The premature sense of triumph and relief chased away my unease.
And yet—for some reason, I didn't feel completely satisfied.
I had been so certain this was the right thing to do, yet a deeper anxiety seemed to be creeping in.
Those thoughts only dragged the fatigue and lethargy back to the surface.
"…What is this, really?"
I'm right.
No matter how many pretty ideals people spout, humans always put their own safety first.
Anyone who genuinely values others above themselves is abnormal.
So wanting someone else to drop out for the sake of my own peace of mind isn't wrong.
Therefore, I'm right.
I shook off every doubt and turned the doorknob with force.
A blast of cold air rushed in from the hallway, slipping through the gaps in my clothes.
My body shivered; my face twisted.
But controlling my facial muscles is easy.
I fixed the smile I'd practiced countless times in front of the mirror firmly in place.
"…Hehe."
I didn't have the courage to check it in the mirror.
…
When I arrived at school, the usual routine began.
Everyone spoke to me, everyone relied on me.
"Kikyo-chan, good morning~!"
"Kushida-chan, good morning!!"
"Good morning!"
I was greeted by Ike and Yamauchi—the pair mockingly called two of Class D's three biggest idiots.
We weren't especially close, but positive attention from low-status boys like them was essential for building my reputation.
I never ignored them.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, Mii-chan! …Hey, did you trim your bangs a little? And your eyebrows too…"
"…!! You noticed? Ehehe, it's just a tiny change, but I thought it might look cuter this way."
"Yeah, it's cute! The eyebrows look great too—the shade's a little different."
"Yep! I bought a new powder to try."
Fun little chats with classmates. This, too, was something I had carefully cultivated.
"I'm jealous I want something new too. Maybe I'll treat myself after the tests"
"I already treated myself early—to motivate me for studying."
"Couldn't wait, huh?"
"…Yeah. I was flipping through magazines during a study break and suddenly really wanted it~"
"Ahaha! So even Mii-chan does impulse buys. That's kind of surprising~"
"When I want something, I tend to go for it. Though since it's right before tests, I limited myself to just one… there's still so much more I want.
…Oh! Want to go shopping together after the tests are over? Kikyo-chan has great taste—I'd love your opinion!"
"W-What? I don't have that great taste… Thank you, though. If you're sure you want me, I'd love to come!"
"It's a date, then!"
A conversation that made me feel truly needed.
With my need for approval satisfied, none of the low mood from this morning even hinted at returning.
The anxiety was gone too. The faint unease in my heart remained, but I could still go through the motions of my normal life.
That didn't change even when lunch break arrived.
"Kushida-san, got a moment? I wanted to talk about today's study session."
"Sure, Hirata-kun! It's lunchtime anyway—mind if we talk while we eat?"
"Of course not. Karuizawa-san and the others will be joining us, though—is that okay?"
"Totally fine!"
"Thanks. Let's go eat, then."
We met up with Karuizawa-san, Shinohara-san, and Satou-san.
I was welcomed warmly, no awkward looks at all, and we ate together.
"Horikita-san suggested making today's after-school session the last one and doing it in full test format. I agree, but the problem is which question set to use.
She said the summary problems at the end of the ○○ textbook would work, but I think that book's difficulty is a little high."
"I get it. Since it's something the whole class will take, lowering the difficulty a bit would probably be better.
If we did a mock exam right before the real thing and people scored badly, it could really shake their confidence."
"Right. That's why I think using online problems would be best. I found a site with questions at just the right level."
"Then let's print some out! We can show them to Horikita-san after school and see if she approves. Even if she doesn't, we can use them for individual study—what do you think?"
"Good plan. …Kushida-san, do you know how to copy problems from the internet? I'm not great with that kind of thing."
"Leave it to me, Hirata-kun—I know exactly how."
My need for approval was satisfied once again.
Before I knew it, the day had reached after-school hours.
We were in the library. About fifteen Class D students had already gathered and taken seats.
"Hirata-kun, did you get Horikita-san's okay?"
"Yeah—she said these problems are better."
"Great! …By the way, where is Horikita-san? The session's about to start."
"She went to submit the test questions. It should be accepted soon, I think."
"Oh, right! I completely forgot!"
Of course—that was a lie. I was only checking on Horikita's movements.
Hirata gave me a gentle smile, careful not to make me feel bad for "forgetting."
He really is kind.
Not quite on Ichinose-san's level, but he's definitely what most people would call a good person.
I'd love to know his secrets too. That would satisfy my desires even more.
"Let's get started. Since it's our final session, please treat it like a real test and solve the problems seriously."
Hirata handed out printed sheets to everyone.
Normally Horikita ran these sessions, but right now she was in the faculty office.
Hirata was filling in for her.
I accepted my sheet with an innocent expression and prepared to begin.
Once I finished this, everything would be over.
I channeled that thought into my pen and sharpened my focus.
"…This will really do it."
Strength flowed into the hand holding the pen.
The future I'd dreamed of was right in front of me.
No one would ever stab me in the back again.
No one left who knew my past.
I could sever it completely.
Once it was cut away, my tomorrow—my true future—would finally begin.
A life where my desires were fulfilled, where everything was fun.
The instant I moved to start the problems, my phone vibrated with an incoming call.
"Who's phone is that? We're in the library, so put it on silent mode, okay?"
Ike chimes in cheerfully with the reminder, but the culprit is my phone.
"Sorry, Ike-kun. It's mine."
"Ah… well, everyone makes mistakes sometimes, right~?"
His quick flip from scolding to forgiving draws a few soft chuckles around the room. While that happens, I check the caller.
"…Whose number is this?"
It's completely unfamiliar.
I make a point of saving every contact with a proper name—my whole strategy relies on keeping track of my wide network of connections. If I didn't, I'd never remember who was calling.
I have no memory of forgetting to label anyone. So a screen showing nothing but a number feels almost supernatural.
"You okay, Kushida-chan?"
Satou-san notices and looks over with concern.
"It's nothing! But I'll step out to call them back real quick."
"Ooh, boyfriend?"
"No way!"
I brush off her teasing lightly and leave the library.
To be safe, I move farther down the hallway, away from the doors.
It could be Ryūen calling.
I do have his contact saved, but knowing how cunning he is, it wouldn't surprise me if he used a different method to reach me.
As I'm thinking that, the phone in my pocket vibrates again.
I check immediately—same number as before.
"Hello?"
I answer assuming it's Ryūen.
I press the phone to my left ear. No voice comes from the other side.
Only faint electronic static.
"…Who is this?"
I've already decided it's a prank call, but I ask anyway, just in case.
"I'm someone who knows everything about Kushida Kikyo."
A reply comes.
Shock hits me inside, but I immediately start analyzing to identify the caller.
Male voice. Androgynous… no, a little lower than that.
"If this is a prank, I'm hanging up."
I have zero interest in the content. It's probably just nonsense anyway.
"If you hang up, I'll expose the blog incident from your middle school days to the entire school."
Panic slams into me like a gun pressed to my back.
The blog incident.
The one stain on my life.
The reason I had to come to this school, my trauma.
"…What blog incident? And who are you, anyway?"
I keep my voice steady.
For a bluff, the word "blog" is too specifically tied to the incident.
I can't dismiss it as a lie outright, so I'm forced to keep talking.
"Your past failure. The pathetic case of a girl whose true nature was exposed and everything exploded. Need more details?"
My mind goes blank.
This person on the phone knows my past.
Right now, the only ones who know are Horikita and Ayanokouji.
It's a male voice, so my first thought is Ayanokouji, but the voice and manner of speech are completely different.
And yet… the voice feels somehow familiar.
Relying on instinct, I try one name.
"…Kamukura-kun?"
No matter how much of a genius that guy—Kamukura Izuru—is, he shouldn't know my past.
But if I had to pick a candidate, he's the only one.
Even after I say it, the voice doesn't answer.
Instead—
"You're about to make the same mistake again."
He barrels ahead with his own agenda.
I want to hang up right now, but if I do and the rumors spread, everything will be over.
"The past doesn't vanish. The future isn't something you create by cutting the past away. You face the past, decide what you need to do, and the path that begins there—that's the future."
Lofty, lecturing words.
"…What's your goal? Why are you saying this to me?"
I fire questions back.
I'm furious at this condescending man preaching down at me; I have no desire to keep talking.
But—
"Are you going to repeat it?"
He continues as if playing a pre-recorded script.
My anger climbs higher and higher until it finally snaps.
This is going nowhere.
He has no intention of answering my questions, so I want to hang up—but he knows my secret.
I can't act rashly when I don't know what he'll do.
So I'm forced to play along.
"I won't repeat it. Because I'm not making the same mistake.
Horikita won't be able to stop Ryūen's scheming, she'll lose, and then she'll lose our bet and get expelled. That's the future. And from there, my peaceful life finally begins."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yes, I do. So it won't be repeated. Now—who are you? How do you know my secret!?"
I'm so irritated that I end up raising my voice at a complete stranger.
I steady my ragged breathing and calm myself.
I answered his question. He should at least answer some of mine now.
But—
"Don't look away."
A quiet yet powerful voice reaches my ear.
It feels like a jolt straight to my core, stirring something inside me.
I sense the faintest flicker in my heart, but I force myself to stay calm.
"You don't have to carry it alone. If you have pent-up stress, find someone you can vent it to."
"…Hah, what are you talking about? There's no one who'd accept my stress.
People hate ugly things. The way I vent my stress is nothing but ugly to them. No one would ever trust a liar like me."
"Maybe. Or maybe that person is closer than you think."
He doesn't give me the answer. He lays out hints, guiding me to approach it on my own.
"…Who are you?"
In the end, I come back to the same question.
As long as I don't know who he is, this is all just empty words.
"I told you. I'm the one who knows everything about you."
"…Wait—are you a teacher? Here to lecture me by abusing your authority?"
One possibility.
If it isn't Ayanokouji or Horikita, the only people who could know my secret are teachers.
"Let me be clear: unless I know who you are, I have no intention of reforming."
The caller still hasn't identified himself, but I figure saying this might make him listen.
I wait for a response.
Ten seconds pass—no voice.
"…Aren't you going to say something?"
I can't push too aggressively.
Since he holds my secret, I'm in the weaker position.
So I ask cautiously.
"No, you're right."
A reply comes, acknowledging my point.
But it doesn't come through the phone.
It comes from behind me.
I whirl around without thinking.
There stands a man wearing a black cap pulled low, one hand holding the brim.
His mouth and facial features are visible, but his eyes are hidden, making identification difficult.
He's about 180 cm tall. The loose work clothes are the kind the school janitors wear.
"You… who are you?"
Something feels off.
He reached this spot in just ten or so seconds while still on the phone.
That means he was extremely close.
Yet there was no background noise, no echo like you'd expect in a hallway.
"Just a janitor."
"As if I'd believe that."
By then, the call has already ended. He isn't holding anything that looks like a phone.
The mystery only deepens.
"I'd say the same thing if I were in your shoes. But let's keep talking—I don't have much time."
He gives a faint smile in response to my question and steps closer.
The unknown aura and the work clothes make him seem older, but he feels roughly our age.
When he's about a meter away, the corners of his mouth curve again.
"Do you hate Horikita Suzune?"
I brace myself for something heavy, but the question is simply about Horikita.
It's almost anticlimactic. The intimidating air vanishes instantly.
"Yeah, I hate her a lot."
"Because she knows your past?"
"Exactly. Plus she acts all high-and-mighty, and everything about her just grates on my nerves."
"But Horikita isn't the type to spread your past around for no reason, right?"
True—she's infuriating, but she wouldn't do that. She only cares about herself and her brother.
"The problem is that she knows it at all."
The fact that she knows is the problem—it leaves this lingering anxiety.
Anxiety is an alarm bell that rings when your heart is on the verge of breaking.
If it starts messing with my head, even the satisfaction I get from fulfilling my desires will feel hollow.
And when it comes to satisfying those desires of mine, anxiety is nothing but a hindrance.
"So that's why you took action like this—to eliminate that anxiety."
"Exactly. And now, finally, it's going away.
My peaceful future starts right here, right now."
The voice pauses, as if weighing my words.
But only for a dozen seconds or so.
Then it speaks again.
And the tone that follows—
"——How boring…"
It's grown terrifyingly cold.
At least, that's how it feels to me.
It's similar to that guy's voice, and the phrase was one of his favorites, so maybe that's why.
Yet strangely, I feel neither disgust nor fear.
"Getting rid of anxiety is simple.
In the end, you're someone who can understand others' feelings, but you never tried to let anyone understand yours—or create someone who could."
"…What are you even saying?
There's no way that's possible.
No one would ever want to know the real me.
The moment they did, everyone would leave."
"But you're someone who desperately wants to be known.
You want someone to recognize the amazing real you.
That's why you had no choice but to create a fake version of yourself."
Those words are true.
But it stings that I have nothing to say back.
So I rebel pointlessly.
"What's wrong with that?
Everyone has two sides to their personality."
"Nothing wrong with it.
But eventually, it gets found out.
Lies always come to light someday."
"Then… what am I supposed to do?
I was born with these desires—what am I supposed to do!"
My emotions surge, and I grab the front of his shirt, spitting out everything inside me.
The man looks straight at me with eyes dyed a deep crimson.
He doesn't look at me like I'm something diseased.
There's no pity—he's just listening properly.
I can tell immediately.
My eyelids grow hot, and my vision blurs.
I'm furious at myself for getting emotional with a complete stranger.
And at the same time, I'm happy that he isn't looking away from the real me.
The two feelings clash, and I can't process them.
I no longer have the energy to check whether my voice is echoing through the hallway.
"There are three paths you can take from here."
He answers like that.
Surprisingly many options—and a faint hope flickers inside me.
"One: don't get involved with anyone."
Impossible.
That would leave my desire to be accepted by everyone unfulfilled.
"One: get involved, but keep the secret hidden perfectly."
That's the right answer.
I failed once.
But this time, I'm eliminating the obstacles before the secret can be exposed.
Right now, I'm one move away from checkmate.
"One: find a partner who'll share your secret.
Someone you can hide things from in daily life, but in front of whom you don't have to hide anything.
Create someone like that."
That's impossible.
Because the real me—no one would ever look at her.
The strength drains from the hand gripping his shirt.
I'm barely holding on, but my grip loosens bit by bit, and my upper body and gaze drop.
Tears fall to the floor.
Realizing I'm crying now only makes me feel more pathetic.
This isn't the version of me I wanted anyone to see.
The character I built, even lying to myself, was supposed to be admired far more.
Kushida Kikyo worms her way into people's hearts and earns their trust that way.
I don't think there's anything wrong with building relationships like that.
In fact, I still believe it's the best method.
The one who enters their field of vision is "Kushida Kikyo," not me.
And yet, my desires are still being fulfilled.
But yes—that's it.
There's no one beside me.
If I don't stand next to someone, I'm alone.
I'm needed, but I never need anyone myself without forcing it.
That's why the stress built up, and I failed.
And I ended up alone.
"…I don't want to fail again."
Before I realize it, the words slip out—my weakness laid bare.
I'd been struggling alone all this time.
But little by little, my true nature was exposed, and I received warnings from several people.
I must have been mentally breaking down since then.
Finally, the visible limit had arrived.
"It'll be okay."
He says that and places a hand on my head.
He strokes my hair gently, like soothing a child.
I don't feel any discomfort at him touching my hair.
Part of it is how skilled he is, but mostly it's because my spirit is that fragile right now.
Still, he's a complete stranger.
I brush his hand away from the side and lift my face.
I wipe my eyes, steel myself, and face the conversation again.
"I have a friend who has the same talent as you."
"…You mean the talent of a con artist?"
"Yeah.
But that guy's con artist talent was on a completely different level from yours.
To put it bluntly, the quality was leagues above."
Normally, being compared would irritate me, but unfortunately, I don't have the energy left to snap back.
I just keep listening.
"That guy used to be able to live only by 'becoming someone else.'
Deceiving people with his voice, his appearance, his way of speaking.
He fooled so many people that he was called the Ultimate Impostor."
"Sounds awful."
"But now, he has friends who accept the real him."
"So you're saying I can do it too?"
"Yeah, that's right."
He gives a gentle, enveloping smile.
"…Nice pickup line."
Looking at that expression, it doesn't feel like a lie.
So it's probably true.
I can't help but chuckle at how straightforwardly he's been trying to persuade me.
Seeing that, he smiles again.
"What are you going to do now?"
"…I don't know.
Even I don't know."
With a little breathing room in my heart, I think once more.
I want a peaceful life where my desires are fulfilled.
That's why I've been moving to eliminate Horikita, who knows my past.
But apparently there's another way besides keeping the secret hidden perfectly.
Do I go ahead and get Horikita expelled, or do I take a different path?
The other path is still vague, but I can at least acknowledge it as a possible future.
Still, I'm hesitating.
"If you're unsure, why not talk it over with someone?"
He must have read my inner conflict from my expression—he suggests it almost teasingly.
It feels less like advice and more like guidance.
It annoys me to be dancing in the palm of his hand.
But I find myself wanting to accept the suggestion.
"Hey, who are you, really?
And that face…"
He's a strange person.
Is it really possible to talk this easily with someone you've just met?
Or is he just used to handling girls?
Either way, he's definitely not an ordinary janitor.
I became certain of that when I glimpsed his face earlier.
After all, that appearance…
"I can't tell you that.
But I'm on your side."
Without ever answering my question, he finally turns his back.
It seems he's said everything he wanted to say.
"I said all that high-and-mighty stuff, but in the end, the choice is yours, Kushida.
Choose the one you won't regret.
And if you make the wrong choice, we'll figure something out.
That's why I'm here."
With those words, he walks away down the hallway.
As his figure gradually disappears, I start thinking about what I need to do.
"In the end, you didn't tell me exactly what to do."
I still don't know what's right.
The anxiety lingers in my heart.
But a signpost has appeared.
My destination is the faculty office.
Believing this is the right decision, I step forward.
***
If you want to read up to 25 chapters ahead, don't hesitate to visit our patron: pat reon . com / XElenea (remove space)