Hiroki walked toward the entrance of the high school. Once he stepped through the gate, he paused for a moment, letting his gaze wander. A few girls passed by, walking together in groups, chatting animatedly with each other. Not far away, two boys were talking—probably about video games or some other trivial nonsense.
As he kept looking around, a punch to the stomach sent him crashing to the ground.Hiroki stayed silent—he already knew exactly who had hit him.
"Tch… little yellow rat. Back here again, staining my sight with your presence?" muttered a muscular black youth, glaring down at Hiroki with pure disdain as he lay on the floor.
No one around dared to help Hiroki; after all, no one wanted to end up like him.
"Stop it, Bert, don't hurt Hiroki-kun~!" A girl with brown hair and black eyes spoke with a feigned tone of pity. But deep down, she didn't feel a shred of compassion—only twisted pleasure at watching her so-called boyfriend being humiliated by the one she considered the Ultimate Alpha Male.
Hiroki knew. He knew it was all an act. Tired of everything, he couldn't help but think:
Why do I have to go through this? What did I ever do wrong? Was I some kind of Demon King in a past life?
A weary sigh slipped from his lips. The cliché scene of the girlfriend shielding her boyfriend from the bad guy was playing out, but his lifeless blue eyes showed nothing but exhaustion.
And then it happened. All noise vanished in an instant, as if someone had hit the pause button on the world. Hiroki, bewildered, lifted his head and scanned his surroundings in shock. Everyone—Nao, Bert, the other students—was completely frozen.
Hesitantly, he approached one of the boys and touched his shoulder, but there was no reaction. His gaze shifted to Bert and Nao, and a dark thought crept into his mind.
Ha…ha… No way… it can't be what I think, right?
Slowly, he walked toward Nao. His hand moved to her school uniform, trembling not from fear but from a long-suppressed urge. With eerie calm, he grabbed her shirt and ripped it open, exposing her underwear beneath.
He glanced at Bert from the corner of his eye… and an even more sinister idea sparked. Carefully, he arranged the two of them in a compromising position, one that would make it look like Bert had been the one responsible. He adjusted every detail with deliberate precision, savoring the irony.
A wicked smile spread across his face.
Heh… heh…
But soon, the obvious question echoed in his head:
How the hell do I turn off this strange ability I just unlocked out of nowhere?
"R…resume?" Hiroki muttered under his breath as he settled back into the same position as before—kneeling on the floor.
"Kyaa!" Nao screamed as her bare breasts came into view. The crowd around them froze in shock; no one had seen the exact moment Bert had done it. Yet no one questioned anything: Bert was holding the torn shirt in his hands, damning evidence enough.
A supervising teacher arrived quickly. After assessing the scene, he punished Bert, assigning him to clean the school bathrooms for an entire week.
Hiroki, meanwhile, felt a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watched the chaos he had caused with something so simple.
Classes passed by quickly. Later, he sat in the cafeteria, calmly eating a tamagoyaki. As he chewed, he couldn't stop wondering about the strange ability. It was as if time itself had frozen still.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed someone sitting across from him. Hiroki looked up, disturbed by the sudden presence.
Before him stood a slender figure with fair skin and long, silky blond hair that faded into pink and reddish tones at the tips. She was immensely popular, and Hiroki knew her well—not only because he loved seeing her in cosplay, but also because they had been friends since he first entered high school.
Marin Kitagawa.
"It's been a while, Hiroki-kun. We haven't talked much, and you never come looking for me," she said with a playful pout.
"Oh… sorry, Marin. I've been busy," he replied, a little embarrassed, though the real reason was obvious: after everything he'd endured, he barely had the will to keep going.
"Ah… sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," Marin murmured, glancing at the blond, blue-eyed boy across from her.
In truth, she couldn't deny a small flicker of jealousy. Hiroki had been born with natural blond hair, while she had to bleach and dye hers to look like a proper gyaru. And she couldn't deny he was handsome… even more so now that she was really looking at him.
"Oh! I hadn't noticed—you're not slicking your hair back today. Did you stop using gel?"
Marin had to admit: Hiroki looked much better without that stiff, spiky style that always made him resemble a "shocked rat." Now he looked like a laid-back playboy—undeniably attractive.
Her eyes drifted subtly downward to his chest, where the muscles beneath his shirt were faintly outlined. Lower still… and then a thought, accompanied by a faint blush, slipped unbidden into her mind.
I wonder how big it is…