Becoming unusually conscious of how others see you during adolescence is perfectly normal—but Narumi Tōru had never really been the type to care much about other people's opinions.
It wasn't that he didn't care at all; that would be impossible. Humans were social animals at their core, and no one could truly live in total disregard of others. Still, compared to the sensitive, overthinking teenage boys and girls around him, Narumi could fairly be described as the more easygoing, open-minded type.
Of course, his brand of "open-mindedness" differed from most people's.
Other people were open-minded because: their families were harmonious, their parents' relationship stable; their households were financially secure, unburdened by strange loans or debts; their lives were smooth sailing, rarely struck by serious setbacks; they were good-looking, never having to worry about being rejected because of their appearance.
Narumi Tōru was open-minded because: he'd let go.
And once you truly let go, the countless troubles and hardships in life gradually stopped feeling all that worth fretting over.
At the same time, deliberately lowering one's expectations was also an effective way to reduce the likelihood of disappointment in human relationships.
If you didn't expect things in advance, the disappointment wouldn't sting as badly. If you didn't fantasize about glorious success, you wouldn't quietly feel dejected when the results turned out merely passable.
That was precisely why, when feedback far beyond his expectations suddenly appeared in his life, that sense of unexpected joy felt all the more precious.
During the ten-minute break between classes, Narumi Tōru stared at the fan song "A Meteor Cutting Through the Daylight," which had already surpassed 300,000 views on the Guitar Hero channel. At the same time, he checked the forum backend and saw that the novel post had crossed the 500,000-read mark.
He couldn't help but sink into thought.
Just who exactly is this Guitar Hero…?
If Kashiwagi Eri-sensei had been a special helper invited by that kindhearted online bro, then who was this seemingly timid yet technically superb Guitar Hero?
Wait—did the simulation reward perk include a luck bonus too?
The system voice that usually responded to his questions hadn't appeared for at least a week or two. Was this thing working one day a month and resting the other twenty-nine?
Withtreatment this good, can the system clock out and let me clock in instead?
[Trying to steal even the system's livelihood—just who do you think you are?]
There it was. Of course it showed up like this.
[Using such a low-level provocation tactic to force me back to work—this is truly outrageous.]
Hey now, I was just thinking about your attendance bonus. I'm not some kind of demon, you know.
[That aside, it is time to communicate with you—the second simulation has entered its initial phase. You should begin preparing.]
"At least tell me who the key character is this time, what the objective is, and when it starts."
[Wouldn't that ruin the sense of surprise? Once you enter the simulation, I'll naturally provide you with the basic information. Please rest assured—we care deeply about the user experience.]
Explain to me what the hell you think "surprise" means.
Narumi clicked his tongue, his interest clearly waning.
He might look like the type who didn't care about anything, lazy and detached—but there was one thing he very clearly disliked: things beyond his control.
At the same time, however, he also felt intense curiosity toward things he couldn't fully grasp—often accompanied by a hint of fear. Then again, it didn't matter much. Narumi had never been good at distinguishing between the two. Anything that caught his interest, he'd approach.
Which was why, even as he worried uneasily that the next simulation might spiral beyond his expectations, he also found himself secretly anticipating it—
What kind of story would it be this time? What role would I play?
Carrying that anticipation for the next simulation, Narumi redirected his focus back to his current daily life.
As expected, Hayama Hayato came looking for him after school, wanting to discuss how to flush out the mastermind behind the chain emails. The other Service Club members had decided to infiltrate the social circles of the three suspects as undercover operatives to gather information—but Narumi had no intention of doing that at all.
"There's no need. Even if you find out who it is, Hayama, you won't want to expose them and shatter the illusion of peace."
Narumi pierced straight through Hayama's personality with an unusually calm tone. Hayama looked slightly displeased—but only slightly.
"Since the culprit's motive is 'not wanting to be excluded,' wanting to stay within your group—then all you have to do, as the center of that vortex, is to end the vortex yourself."
"You mean…?"
"In a trio where a fourth person is inevitably excluded, just have the most blameless one withdraw voluntarily. Then the three suspects lose their motive altogether."
Narumi snapped his fingers, popped a milk candy into his mouth, and calmly admired Hayama's conflicted expression.
"In other words, you'll have to be the villain here, Mr. Nice Guy."
"I… don't know how to say it. They'll definitely realize I've noticed something…"
"Is being the bad guy really that hard?"
The curly-haired boy raised an eyebrow. Hayama, who couldn't even muster a properly stern expression, was undeniably a good person—or at least, someone who desperately wanted everyone to see him as one.
"Just like Yukinoshita said, think of it as role-playing. You get it, right? Adjusting your personality to fit the environment, limiting your moral compass according to the role setting…"
"You sound awfully experienced at being the villain, Narumi-kun."
Hayama's sudden remark made the boy who'd been talking so fluently pause.
"I… it's just that doing so would go against my own feelings and make me uncomfortable, which is why I resist it. Why can you say these things so casually… as if you could complete the task without mixing in any personal emotions at all?"
Hayama rubbed his face tiredly. It felt as though he'd inadvertently glimpsed a darker side of Narumi's personality.
And that realization seemed to unsettle him.
"If you were in my position right now… could you really do what you're suggesting?"
Why did that make him uncomfortable…?
"…What else would I do?"
You only give advice you believe you yourself could follow, don't you?
"…I understand. In that case, I'll do as you say."
Hayama said no more, politely bringing an end to a conversation he clearly didn't want to continue.
"But… I truly hope you'll find something of your own that you can hold onto without wavering, Narumi-kun."
Watching his retreating back, Narumi felt puzzled—but still slipped another milk candy into his mouth.
Even if you're dealt the villain's role, accepting it with a mindset of exploration rather than resistance—
Wasn't that just another way for a player to experience the diversity of a game?
After all, life itself was nothing more than a massive Earth-based MMO.