Help Club

“Tell me… Are you a vampire?”

A ringing, suffocating silence swallowed the infirmary whole.

The question had come out far too loud, bouncing off the sterile tile walls like an errant gunshot. For one agonizing second, we simply stared at each other. My fingers were still clamped around her icy wrist, and with every ticking millisecond, the sheer gravity of what I had just blurted out finally crashed into my thick skull.

Idiot. Absolute, irredeemable idiot. If she really is a vampire, why the hell did I lay all my cards on the table?! She’s going to snap my neck right here and drain every drop of blood just to silence the witness!

I braced for the inevitable crunch of my vertebrae, but then—the flawless, frigid mask across Hoshimiya’s face shattered completely. Her dark eyes blew wide with pure, unadulterated panic. With strength that belonged to a hydraulic press, she wrenched her wrist from my grip.

“W-What?!” she stammered, stumbling back a step, every shred of her icy composure evaporating into thin air. “What on earth are you talking about?! What vampires?!”

She shook her head so violently her silver locks lashed against her shoulders.

“T-They don't exist! That’s just fairy tales! You just hit your head! Yes! Exactly! A concussion! Get well soon!”

The words fired from her lips like a panicked machine gun as she scrambled toward the exit, her porcelain cheeks burning bright crimson.

“Get well soon!” she practically screamed, spun on her heel, and bolted out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her with a rattling crash.

I was left sitting on the cot. Entirely alone.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I had been right. Those damn fangs weren't a hallucination. Her sheer meltdown spoke louder than any confession ever could—she panicked because her cover was blown. She was a vampire. A real, living, breathing bloodsucker.

First the convenience store cashier hissing in a cat stretch. Then the schoolgirl casually dropping severed digits onto the midnight asphalt. And now—my desk neighbor with literal fangs.

Just how many of them are crawling around this town? I wondered in horror, burying my face in my hands. And they’re just… living among ordinary people? Attending high school, working convenience store shifts…

I drew a long, ragged breath, fighting to steady the tremors in my hands.

Alright, Ren. Think logically. They aren’t slaughtering people in broad daylight. Auntie has lived here for years and hasn't noticed a thing. That means the monsters are keeping a low profile. They want to stay hidden.

The conclusion was glaringly obvious: I needed to stay as far away from this insanity as humanly possible. This wasn't my business! I was here for a single year. My mission was to lay low, wait out my parents’ overseas contract, and get on the first train back to Tokyo. No detective work. Zero contact with the supernatural. From here on out, I’d play the part of the blindest, dullest human being on the planet.

After sitting for another ten minutes until the dizzy spell subsided, I trudged back to class.

The period had just started. Murmuring a quick apology to the teacher for my tardiness, I slipped toward my seat in the back row. Hoshimiya was already sitting there. I didn't dare glance in her direction—I glued my eyes to the textbook so fiercely you’d think my life depended on understanding every single equation.

Even so, I could feel it.

Her gaze. Heavy, freezing, boring into me down to the marrow of my bones. She was drilling holes into the side of my head, and a relentless swarm of goosebumps danced along my neck.

“Psst… Hey!”

I flinched. The guy sitting at the desk right in front of mine leaned back in his seat, whispering under his breath without turning around.

“What?” I murmured back.

“I’m Haruto. Haruto Sato,” he introduced himself with a smug little chuckle. “So, you survived? What took you two so long in the nurse’s office anyway? Come on, fess up—did you try sneaking a peek under Hoshimiya’s skirt and get yourself clobbered?”

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. Of course. High school rumors spread faster than a wildfire in a dry season.

“No, I didn't look under her skirt. I dropped a pen and hit my head picking it up. End of story.”

“Right, sure you did,” Haruto snickered, dripping with disbelief. “Look, man, even if you did try something, I wouldn't blame you. She’s the school’s reigning goddess! Every guy here is head over heels for her. The untouchable Ice Princess…”

“They’re wasting their time,” I muttered darkly, the memory of those needle-sharp fangs flashing through my mind.

If those fanboys knew their precious Ice Princess was far more likely to tear out their jugulars than give them a sweet morning kiss, they’d probably rethink their life choices.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Haruto began turning his head around to dig deeper.

“Sato! Aoki! Am I interrupting something?!” the math teacher barked from the chalkboard. “Save the gossip for recess!”

Both of us snapped our heads down, noses buried in our notebooks.

The remainder of the school day was pure, unadulterated psychological torture. I did everything in my power to act like my desk neighbor didn't exist, but her relentless glare never wavered for a single second. Paranoia blossomed into full bloom. What if she was drawing up blueprints to make me disappear right now? Luring me behind the gym to bury my corpse in the misty woods? Why on earth did I have to open my stupid mouth in that infirmary?!

The instant the final chime echoed through the halls, I shoveled my books into my bag with Olympic speed.

Home. Straight home. Back to the fortress of my bedroom.

I was already halfway down the hall when a wretched memory brought me to a screeching halt.

The console’s power brick.

Auntie had made herself crystal clear: no club membership, no gaming for a whole year. A groan rattled through my teeth. Going anywhere right now was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, but dying of agonizing boredom inside my four walls felt nearly as lethal as vampires.

Pulling out the crumpled slip of paper Auntie had shoved at me that morning, I checked the scribbled directions.

“Student Support Club. Old Wing, Third Floor, Room 304.”

The Old Wing? I navigated through the corridors, leaving the bright, recently renovated main building behind as I crossed into the abandoned sector of campus. The air turned noticeably cooler, heavy with dust, dampness, and decaying paper. The floorboards groaned in protest under every footstep.

Who on earth sets up a clubroom in the middle of nowhere? I thought, trudging up the creaking staircase. Then again… isn't this actually a blessing?

Think about it: it was the ultimate loophole! Nobody would ever visit a forgotten corner like this. I could just show up after school, quietly park myself in a corner, pretend to be a diligent club member, and get my power cord back. No socializing, no attention, zero drama. The absolute golden ticket for survival.

I stopped before a battered wooden door with flaking green paint, bearing a crooked sign: “Student Support Club.”

I raised a hand to knock, but before my knuckles could graze the wood, muffled voices drifted from the other side. My hand froze, and my ear instinctively pressed against the worn panel.

“…are you completely sure he realized?” a bright, anxious female voice asked.

“Yes, positive. It’s entirely my fault,” a painfully familiar voice replied. Hoshimiya. She sounded utterly dejected. “I panicked so badly when he asked that I practically confessed. I couldn't keep my head once I caught the scent of…”

My body locked up. What were they talking about? Were they seriously discussing me?

Before I could take half a step backward, a metallic click cut through the air. The door abruptly swung open from the inside.

I nearly tumbled forward, catching my footing by a miracle, and lifted my head.

Standing inside the clubroom were five girls. And every single one of them froze, their eyes locking dead onto mine. Their argument died mid-breath.

I stood there, paralyzed, watching my brain’s processor blue-screen in real time.

Directly in front of me, hand resting on the brass knob, was a girl… with nine luxuriant, golden-furred tails swaying behind her, and a pair of pointed fox ears twitching at the crown of her head. To her left, stunned into silence, stood an ash-haired girl sporting actual wolf ears and a thick, bushy tail. Tucked just behind them loomed a tall, striking girl with two smooth, unmistakably real demonic horns curling from her hairline, a slender spade-tipped tail lashing anxiously. Perched on a nearby desk was another—seemingly normal at first glance, until you noticed the pale, frosty mist rolling off her bare skin.

And right at the center of this surreal exhibition stood Hoshimiya.

We stared at each other. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

You could have sliced the silence with a scalpel. The girls’ eyes expanded with escalating terror.

My face, on the other hand, was probably a completely blank, expressionless slate. System overload. Error 404: Logic Not Found.

Very, very slowly, I raised my arm.

I took hold of the edge of the wooden door.

And just as smoothly, without breaking eye contact, I pulled it shut.

Click.

The moment the latch snapped into place, a deafening air-raid siren wailed inside my skull.

RUN.

I spun around and bolted down the dilapidated hallway with a burst of speed I had never once displayed in gym class. My sneakers skidded frantically across the slick floorboards as I banked around corners, taking stairs three at a time.

Behind me, the door was practically kicked off its hinges.

“Stop him! Don’t let him get away!” a voice shrieked.

In pure panic, I risked a frantic glance over my shoulder.

The wolf-eared girl was barreling after me. Except she wasn't running on two legs—she was tearing down the corridor on all fours, ricocheting off the walls and floor with the sickening speed and predatory grace of a feral beast. The distance between us was vanishing at terrifying speed.

“Get the hell away from me!” I screamed, pushing my legs past their limit.

It was utterly useless. She closed the gap in seconds. Coiling her legs, she launched herself off the floorboards in an impossible leap, slamming full-force into my back.

The sheer impact crushed the breath from my lungs, sweeping my feet right out from under me. We tumbled violently across the hallway in a tangled heap. I tried to curl into a roll, but the girl clearly had zero control over her monstrous physical strength.

My head slammed into the hardwood with sickening force.

A supernova exploded behind my eyelids, and the world vanished into total, merciful black.

My head throbbed as if a steamroller had backed over it. Repeatedly. And naturally, it was centered squarely on the wound from that morning.

A ragged groan escaped my lips. I tried to reach up and rub my aching forehead, but my arms refused to move. I jerked my shoulders. Nothing.

Slowly peeling my heavy eyelids apart, my vision swam into focus.

I was sitting in a wooden chair right in the middle of that exact same clubroom. My wrists and ankles were wound tightly to the chair frame with thick, coarse hemp rope. A professional job—I couldn't move an inch.

Blinking away the remaining haze, I lifted my chin.

Lined up in a neat semi-circle before me, arms crossed over their chests, stood all five girls. The golden kitsune was nervously flicking her nine tails; the horned demon girl scowled down at me; the wolf girl who had tackled me had her ears flattened in an unmistakably guilty droop; while the frost girl simply watched me with glassy, indifferent eyes.

Then, Hoshimiya stepped forward.

Her face had settled back into that cold, unreadable marble mask. She looked down at me from above, shifted her gaze to the rest of the room, and spoke—quiet, but with chilling finality:

“That’s him.”