Chapter 42: The Shy Outsider

I’m being set up in an arranged marriage… and what terrifies me isn’t the mystery of who she is—it’s the reality that I don’t even have a reason to say no.

That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Empty. Fiancée. Family tradition. Choice. All these words spun in my head like the gears of a broken clock—moving, but never actually getting anywhere. Who was she? What was she like? And… why wasn't I angry? Why didn't I just refuse?

I let out a long sigh. According to my family’s tradition, there was no actual coercion. No absolute requirement. If there was no spark, either side could walk away. It should have been a relief. But instead, it felt… strange. Like I was standing at a crossroads but didn't actually want to travel in any direction at all.

My eyes grew heavy. My thoughts began to sink. And before I knew it, I drifted off.

I was standing in a garden. Silent. Peaceful. Cherry blossom petals were falling—slowly, weightlessly, like fragments of memories descending without a sound. I reached out and caught one.

I looked down into a small puddle. My own reflection stared back at me. Suddenly, the wind picked up—violent and cold. The petals began to swirl in a frantic vortex. My vision was forced forward, and there, in the distance, a girl was standing.

Her hair was a shimmering ashen-silver, flowing long down her back. She stood perfectly still, as if waiting for someone. I took a step toward her, but the wind roared again, even stronger this time—as if the world itself were forbidding this encounter from happening yet. My body was pushed back into the void, and everything vanished.

I woke up. Morning. The sky was clear. I sat up and rubbed my face. "Who was she...?" I shook my head. "Doesn't matter."

I got ready and headed out. There were no voices to greet me today. No one waiting by the door. It felt like something was missing, but I chose not to go looking for it.

I walked toward campus. At the gate, I spotted Touma. He was standing there with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Touma... morning?" "OH—KENGO?!" He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Man, don't sneak up on me like that... good morning." I looked at him skeptically. "What are you doing? Please tell me you aren't stalking someone again." "DON'T START WITH THAT!" he snapped back instantly. "I'm waiting for someone!" "Someone?" "You didn't hear?!" "Hear what?" "Our campus has a new transfer student starting today!"

I went quiet. Usually, this wouldn't move the needle for me. "She’s a famous illustrator and a novelist!" Touma continued, his eyes sparkling. "Neat," I said flatly. "That’s it?! That’s your only reaction?!"

I sighed. "I'm just wondering if there's anyone in this city who's actually weirder than Ishikawa Yukari." Touma paused, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. "...Now you’ve got me scared too."

I walked onto the grounds. New day. New person. New problems. And for some reason, I felt the tectonic plates of my life shifting once again.

The campus bell rang out, sharp and clear. Students were scurrying to their respective buildings.

BRAAK! "Ouch!" "Ow..."

A girl had tripped right in the middle of the walkway. Her bag had flown open, and her belongings were scattered across the pavement. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes, which were currently squeezed shut in pain. Touma and I rushed over.

"Hey, are you alright?" Touma asked. I knelt down and started gathering her things. "Take it slow," I said shortly, reaching out a hand to help her up.

She took it hesitantly. "I-I'm fine... thank you," she stammered, her voice thick with nerves. "I was just in a hurry. It's my first day..."

Touma suddenly froze. "W-wait... you're Karin Kirishima, aren't you?" The girl flinched. "Eh? Yes... but—" "Karin Kirishima?! The illustrator everyone’s talking about online?!" Touma’s voice rose an octave. "You’re the one who created the Blue Reverie series, right?!"

Her face turned a vivid shade of crimson. "That's just a hobby..." "A hobby?! That's professional grade!" Touma shouted. "And you're saying today is your first day?!" "Yes..." she answered softly. "I'm a new student here... I'm still not used to the campus environment..."

I studied her for a moment. A new student. A famous illustrator. And—painfully awkward in the real world. "You aren't hurt?" I asked. She shook her head quickly. "No... thank you for helping me."

She gathered her things, looking like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. Touma was still staring at her in pure awe. "I can't believe you actually go to this school... someone pinch me." "I just wanted to experience a normal campus life," Karin replied quietly, before giving a small bow. "Thank you again. I have to go before I'm late."

She hurried off, nearly tripping over her own feet again. Touma watched her go. "Kengo..." "Hm?" "That's not just some random new student." I tucked my hands into my pockets. "New problem?" Touma grinned. "Big problem."

I let out a breath. New day. New person. New problems. And my gut was telling me that my life was about to get very loud again.

Karin Kirishima was the kind of person who made you doubt your own eyesight. Her blonde hair fell softly to her shoulders, and her clear blue eyes were far too striking to ignore. Her features were delicate, almost ethereal, making people categorize her as a "beauty" without a second thought.

That was the name she used: Karin Kirishima.

She was slender, her movements precise but cautious. She wasn't the type to seek out the limelight; in fact, she looked like she was constantly trying to evaporate from it. Shy. A bit of a loner. Call her name suddenly—she’d flinch. Praise her—she’d stammer. A crowded room—she’d go silent.

However, there was a shift. When she spoke about something she truly understood, her expression changed. She became focused, sharper. Like someone who was accustomed to living in silence but possessed a world far vaster than anyone could see from the outside.

And for some reason, I started to wonder. Karin might not just be a name. She felt like someone who was much more comfortable living behind an identity than being seen for who she truly was.

And honestly—the more I looked at her, the harder it became to tell which part was the real her... and which part was just the role she was playing.