Chapter 71: Haruka's Lesson in Reality
With that, the four of them set out, splitting into two pairs.
However, just as they stepped out of the classroom, Haruka stole a glance toward the corner of the hallway. He raised his voice slightly, letting out a casual laugh.
"Yukinoshita, I think we'll need to hit up our dear Hiratsuka-sensei for some backup later. I'm sure our kind, friendly, youthful, and student-loving teacher would be more than happy to let us take a peek at the class rosters."
"Hiratsuka-sensei is our homeroom teacher and the student counselor for the entire grade, so she does have the lists," Yukino replied, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. She took his suggestion seriously. "However, handing them over would technically be a breach of school regulations. It's not exactly appropriate."
"Isn't she the official advisor for the Service Club?"
"...Fair point. It's worth asking."
The group moved on, but before they rounded the corner, Haruka glanced back over his shoulder. He was wearing a very bright, very deliberate smile.
***
Haruka led Shoko toward a first-year classroom.
"Shoko, listen. Whether someone is a 'normie' or a 'loner,' they always leave breadcrumbs. You just have to know how to spot the signs."
Shoko tilted her head, watching him intently.
"When you see a group of three or more, there's always a core. These little cliques are built around a single sun, with everyone else acting as satellites. People join up for all sorts of reasons—some want to ride the coattails of the powerful to feel important, some just want to avoid being bullied, and others are actually friends. But the types are distinct."
Haruka pointed toward a group in the hallway.
"See that guy? He's handsome, tall, and carries himself well. Unless something is seriously wrong with him, he's a natural center of gravity. Whether he acts cool and aloof or warm and sunny doesn't matter; he'll always have an audience. The one constant is that leaders have to stand out. You don't become a 'normie' king by being mediocre."
He shifted his gaze to a girl nearby.
"Now look at her. She's average looking at best, but she's caked in makeup and her hair is dyed a loud purple. She smiles a lot, but look at her eyes—it's a total mask. The girls gathered around her are part of a classic fake clique. The ones in the inner circle have the newest phones and the flashiest accessories. The girls in the back, the ones nodding along and laughing without knowing why? They're the outer layer. I'd bet my life that those five girls have at least six different group chats just to talk trash about each other."
Shoko blinked, her eyes widening as she processed his breakdown of the social ecosystem.
"You can even tell by where they sit in the classroom. The corners are the default territory for the extremes. You'll find the delinquents there, or the students at the very bottom of the food chain—the ones being bullied or completely frozen out."
"Attitude, group size, seating, facial expressions... they all tell a story. But in reality, the vast majority of students are just 'ordinary.' They aren't popular, but they aren't outcasts either. They're the largest group, but also the most invisible. They have no real voice, so they just follow the 'atmosphere' created by the popular kids and take orders from the collective. They're mediocre in every sense—their clothes, their looks, their talents, and even their personalities."
Haruka continued his lecture with a practiced ease. For Shoko, this was a vital education. This was the art of reading people—a skill most don't consciously acquire until they've been chewed up by society, if they ever learn it at all. For leaders, it was an essential survival tool.
He wasn't trying to turn Shoko into a leader; her gentle personality wasn't suited for that. He just wanted her to have a shield. He wanted her to be able to categorize people at a glance so she could protect herself.
Some of what he was saying touched on the darker, more cynical aspects of human nature—secrets that old-money families used to keep to themselves. It was the kind of thing that had been codified into modern management theory, studied by high-level executives and the ruling class.
Thankfully, Shoko only needed the basics. Haruka knew that if he pushed her too deep into the "why" of it all, her kind heart would probably reject the knowledge. It wasn't a matter of intelligence; it was a matter of character.
"The outcasts we're looking for need to fit a specific profile," Haruka continued, his voice steady. "They have to be people who are genuinely rejected by the status quo, but they need to have good hearts and skills that complement our alliance."
In this moment, Haruka looked less like a high school student and more like a professor of social anthropology. He radiated an air of quiet, detached authority. It was a perspective forged by a lifetime of experience—not just from his past life, but from the fragments of memories he'd received as rewards from his simulations. In the third simulation with Shoko, for instance, he had essentially been a rising tycoon.
Shoko, of course, didn't know any of that. She understood maybe half of what he was saying, but that didn't stop her from being utterly mesmerized.
In her eyes, Haruka was incredible. He didn't feel like a boy her age at all. He felt like a mature, protective "adult"—no, he was even better than that. He was the ideal version of a protector. Strong, gentle, and utterly dependable.
She found herself gravitating toward him even more, her heart swelling with admiration.
"Now, we need to observe carefully. Come here, Shoko. I'll show you a real-time demonstration of how to vet a target, and then I want you to try."
"Once we pick someone, we have to approach them. That's an art form in itself. Outcasts usually have some sort of psychological baggage—some are insecure, some are hypersensitive, some are prickly 'tsunderes,' and some are just plain prickly. Talking to them isn't like talking to a normal person."
Shoko nodded frantically, her hands flying as she scribbled notes onto her sign communication notebook.
With his student ready, Haruka began the practical portion of the lesson.
***
On the other side of the building...
Yukino Yukinoshita had no idea that Haruka was giving Shoko a hardcore crash course in cynical sociology. To her, help was a much more straightforward affair. She planned to lead by example and let Hitori Gotoh observe her in action.
However, she was quickly discovering a flaw in her own "perfect" design.
While she could identify the outcasts easily enough, the actual approaching part was proving disastrous. She had just finished scaring off a very frail-looking boy who had practically bolted in terror after two sentences from her.
Yukino stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, a strange, prickling sensation rising in her chest.
She had been perfect since the day she was born. That was an objective fact. She was a genius, a polymath who excelled at everything she touched. Academics? She was always at the top. Sports? She was a natural athlete. Literature? She could dissect the most complex themes with surgical precision.
But now, she had hit a wall. She had found something she couldn't do.
She realized, with a jarring sense of self-awareness, that she had a genuine deficiency.
She didn't know how to talk to people who were sensitive. She didn't know how to speak to the broken.
-------
-------
Hand over all of your Power Stones!!
For advanced chapters (20+): patre o n. com/Demonic_Fiction