CHAPTER 1

People passed by each other with forced smiles and hollow greetings, voices layered with insincerity like makeup on tired skin. The morning announcements blared through the school like an automated chant, and students walked through the gates with practiced steps—as if every motion had been rehearsed. To Ren, life in the city felt like a stage play with no audience. Everyone acted, everyone smiled, everyone moved forward. And he… just watched.

He sat by the window that morning, the glass cold against his skin. Outside, the clouds hung low, casting a soft, gray tone across the schoolyard—one that mirrored the way he felt inside. Not sad. Not angry. Just… tired. As if every breath took more effort than it should. As if the world demanded more from him than it ever gave back.

The classroom buzzed with noise.

Ren Asakura sat in the corner of the room, quietly writing something on his desk. Around him, the class talked amongst themselves—voices filled with gossip, drama, and idle talk about love lives that came and went like trends. But none of that mattered to him. He didn’t listen. He didn’t even look.

Just his notebook. Just the soft scratch of pen against paper. Just silence in his own head.

The students called him a creep behind his back. The gloomy guy with the long hair. The one who never spoke unless spoken to, and even then, barely. He was a shadow in the classroom, a footnote in someone else's day. Long hair half-hiding his face, a permanent tiredness in his eyes.

He heard them mock him. Every day. Today was no different.

From the center of the room, the popular boys laughed, surrounded by their usual circle. Loud. Confident. Oblivious. They bragged about their weekends and shared clips on their phones—each one trying to outdo the other in stories of conquest and idiocy. Then, inevitably, their eyes would drift to the corner.

Ren didn’t have to look up to know.

“Still writing his little murder notes, huh?” one of them snickered.

“Bet he’s never even talked to a girl before,” another chimed in.

“Dude, seriously, he looks like a ghost. When was the last time he washed that hair?”

Ren kept writing. He didn’t care.

…Or maybe he did, but he learned long ago that some words weren’t worth answering.

And then came her voice.

Rika Hayami.

The girl everyone adored. Top of the class, beautiful, admired by the guys and respected by the girls. Bright and sharp like sunlight—but when she wanted to, she could burn. And when it came to Ren, she never held back.

“Don’t be mean,” she’d said once. “It’s not his fault he’s creepy.”

Laughter followed. Not just the boys. Everyone.

Rika’s words stung more than she’d ever know—but Ren didn’t flinch. He simply kept writing, shoulders relaxed, eyes dull. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t hurt.

He was used to it.

After class ended, plans buzzed in the air. The students talked about karaoke, food runs, and shopping—teenage joys that felt like distant stars to someone like Ren. While the others gathered, Ren quietly walked out, backpack slung over one shoulder, heading toward the library like he always did.

The library was his world. His corner of silence.

Some students sat reading. Others studied. But Ren made his way to the school computer, eyes scanning the screen, fingers moving with purpose. Political corruption. Unsolved murders. Ren devoured news and articles like he was trying to solve a puzzle no one else saw.

Information was his only weapon.

Eventually, he packed up and left. The classroom was mostly empty now, save for laughter echoing from within. As he walked down the hallway, he heard it again—his name.

He stopped.

Inside, the popular group was gathered in a circle, playing a game. His name had been called. Again.

From the sound of it, someone had lost a bet. Arguing. Laughter.

Rika Hayami.

She protested loudly. “Why do I have to confess to that gloomy guy? Out of all the people?!”

“Because you lost, Rika,” one of her friends teased.

“Just date him for a week. That’s it. Come on, you always wanted to act, right?”

More laughter.

“I’m not confessing to that creep!” she snapped.

Ren stood silently in the hallway. Listening. The cold hum of the fluorescent lights above him, the voices laughing at something he never asked to be part of.

He turned away.

And walked home.