I had walked these streets countless times before. Even though night had settled in, the streetlights cast enough glow for me to recognize the paths clearly.
Yet… everything felt strangely new.
Familiar, but altered.
Identical, yet different.
Like a memory that doesn't quite fit the shape of reality.
Confusing, right?
I know—but can't find any better way to describe it.
Maybe calling it a "slightly different parallel world" works?
Hopefully.
Anyway, I had a theory—and the only way to confirm it was to see whether my house existed here.
I followed my usual route, turned the familiar corner, and there it was:
a modern two-story building standing exactly where it should be.
In that moment, I understood.
This wasn't a typical transmigration.
It wasn't like I simply woke up in someone else's body, nor was I reborn as a side character.
It felt more like someone had "cut me out of one page and pasted me into another", then afterwards edited the new page so seamlessly that I now appeared as though I had always belonged there.
If that explanation makes it easier to understand… then that's exactly what this was.
I sighed and pushed open the outer gate—the old iron bars groaned with a familiar, rusty crack. I walked up to the main door of the house, slipped my hand into my pocket, and pulled out the key.
Just as I expected, it slid in smoothly. The door unlocked with a soft click, as if welcoming back someone who had never truly left.
The inside was pitch dark.
Relying on muscle memory, I reached out and found the light switch near the entrance without hesitation. The dim bulb flickered on, casting long shadows along the narrow hallway.
I didn't bother announcing my return.
I'd long since given up on that habit.
What was the point?
There was no one here to greet me.
No warm voice saying "welcome home."
Just silence.
This house was exactly as I remembered it—empty, quiet, and suffocating. A place that had been gloomy for years… and still is.
The only solace I ever had in this house was my room—bright, vibrant, and overflowing with the girls I loved.
When I pushed open the door and saw everything exactly as I'd left it, a breath of relief escaped me. The merchandise I'd collected and worked so hard for… all still here, untouched.
I dropped my bag onto the floor and threw myself onto the bed.
My hand reached out almost on instinct, grabbing my life-sized Nino body pillow— one of my precious waifu pillows—and pulled it tightly into my arms.
Just seeing her smiley face was enough to squeeze out all the exhaustion that had piled up throughout the day.
Every piece of merchandise in my room—every poster, every figure—is pure, without a hint of lewdness or indecency. My love for them has always been genuine. I even quit using the social media altogether after beating up a guy who posted something disgusting about Ichika.
The internet truly is hell.
"…Do you hate me now, Nino?"
I whispered the question into the pillow, holding it close as if it could answer me back. "That protectiveness you showed for Miku today… it was so damn charming."
I shut my eyes, burying my face into the soft fabric.
"I love you. I really love you. And after today… I can't help falling for you even more."
I knew I am mentally unstable.
I knew I am hopeless.
Pathetic, even.
But the truth is, They were the ones who made me like this.
I am addicted.
I am Obsessed.
And helpless..... helplessly in love.
-------
I drifted to sleep wrapped in the comfort of all five of their pillows, and when I finally opened my eyes again, the clock on my wall blinked 10 p.m.—long past dinner time.
Not that I cared.
I had cup noodles stocked in the cupboard anyway. It wasn't because I was lazy or incapable of cooking; I just didn't feel like standing in the kitchen every night.
Sometimes, simple was enough.
I slurped the noodles straight from the cup—unhealthy, sure, but undeniably tasty after a day like this.
"What am I going to do about Yotsuba, though…?" I muttered under my breath.
Don't get me wrong—I loved her just as much as the others. But she already had someone in her heart. Ever since that childhood meeting in Kyoto, she'd been in love with Fuutarou. And he loved that girl he meet as a kid too, without even realizing she was the girl from back then.
She already had her happy ending.
And unlike certain degenerates, I wasn't into NTR or stealing someone's destined partner.
It wasn't like I wanted to make them mine, either.
Of course, I'd absolutely love it if they felt the same way about me.
But that's not something I expect… or demand.
More than anything, I just want them to be happy. They deserve at least that much.
So then—why did I confess to Miku the moment I saw her?
Why do I still intend to confess to the others if I ever get the chance?
For my own peace of mind.
Three years' worth of feelings had been building inside my chest, tightening, piling up, overflowing. And the moment I stood before them—before the real versions of the girls I'd loved for so long—I simply couldn't hold it back anymore.
It wasn't like I was bothering them.
It wasn't like I was harassing them or shaking up their lives.
I just… wanted to be honest.
To voice the feelings that had been quietly eating me alive for so long.
Is it really so wrong…
to want to get just a little closer to the girls I like?
"I have to approach Yotsuba carefully," I muttered, leaning back in my chair. My voice echoed faintly across the empty dining table, swallowed by the silence of the house.
I had no intention of ruining her happy ending.
If anything, I wanted to help her and Fuutarou get together more smoothly.
Love isn't always about being fulfilled.
Sometimes it stays unrequited.
Sometimes it demands sacrifice.
Love is difficult.
I let out a dry chuckle.
That was rich, coming from someone with zero dating experience.
But I'd endured it before—
the weight of a one-sided love,
My affections blocked by an unbreakable wall,
the frustration of feelings that never reached the ears you wanted them to.
Painful, frustrating, suffocating…
--------
The main stage of the story is 'Asahiyama High School", and now I'm officially a second-year student there.
In my original world, I was on the verge of graduating… yet here, I was repeating two whole years.
The school uniform was simple enough: a white shirt and dark blue trousers.
Mine happened to be a long-sleeved shirt, though I'd already rolled the sleeves up out of habit. I didn't wear it neatly either—the hem wasn't tucked into my pants, and the top button near my collar was casually undone.
None of it was intentional.
Just old habits I couldn't shake.
I walked through the hallway, and everything felt strangely unfamiliar—
as if I had transferred to an entirely different school.
A new environment. New faces.
And thanks to what happened yesterday, combined with my already infamous reputation, created a negative rumour about me.
"I hope that transfer student stays safe…"
That was one of the hushed whispers I picked up as I passed.
Don't worry, talking weeds.
If anyone even thinks about harming them,
I wouldn't mind beating someone half dead again.
I stepped into classroom 2–3, and my heart skipped a beat the moment my eyes landed on her.
Miku was already there—sitting quietly, headphones on, probably lost in her music.
Just seeing her in the same room as me sent a jolt through my chest.
Without drawing attention, I made my way to my desk at the far back of the classroom.
A fitting spot for someone with a delinquent's reputation.