“Morning, Murai-kun.”
“Huh? Morning… wait, you are…?”
Murai Ren turned at the tap on his shoulder. Expecting a familiar classmate, he instead found himself staring at a tall, strikingly handso youth he didn’t recognize.
Do we even have soone like this in class?
Ren racked his brain. He had even morized the class roster yesterday, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall ever seeing this guy’s face.
If soone this good-looking had been around yesterday during the class rep election, surely he would’ve noticed.
For Harutaki, though, such reactions had already beco routine—first with his sisters, then with Akihisa.
He could already picture Ren’s expression once he realized the truth.
“The salon you recomnded yesterday was fantastic. I had to co and say thanks. Mm, how about I treat you to coffee soti?”
“Yesterday…?”
Just as Harutaki predicted, Ren’s face showed visible ripples as the mory clicked. He didn’t gape like Akihisa had, but his composure was still rattled.
“Y-you’re… Hoshikawa-kun?”
“Looks like the title of ‘Class Heartthrob’ is about to change hands, Murai-kun.” Harutaki teased lightly, easing the awkwardness.
At that mont, the girl standing nearby tugged Ren’s arm excitedly.
“Hey, hey, hey, Ren, when did you start hanging around with such a hottie? Which class is he from? Is he a transfer student?”
“Mm, with that height, you’d be great at basketball. Want to try out for the team?”
The buzz-cut boy sitting in front of Harutaki leaned over with an eager grin, already assuming he was a transfer. After all, in this looks-driven world, there’s no way soone with idol-level features could just be a nobody.
“Uh… you’re Nishihara-san, right? The one who can rattle off all the active Johnny’s groups by heart…”
“Ehh! That’s all Haruto’s fault! He asked what I was good at yesterday, and now look—he’s exposing already!” Nishihara Miho pouted, giving the redhead boy a shove.
“Anyway, um… Haruto-kun, was it? Sorry, I don’t know your surna—”
“Koyama. Koyama Haruto. Nice to et you. Just call Haruto, like Miho and Ren do.”
Haruto’s sunny grin and laid-back energy practically scread “sports club mber.”
“Ahem. Actually… my seat is right behind you guys.”
“Ehhhhh—!?”
Both Miho and Haruto cried out in disbelief.
“No way…”
Miho still couldn’t process it. A guy this dazzling, practically idol-debut ready, had been sitting right there in their class all along, and she’d never noticed?
The thought that no other girls knew yet sparked a little thrill in her chest, like she had just pulled an SSR character from a gacha.
And so, while Harutaki was happily chatting with Murai and Haruto about soccer and basketball, Miho whipped out her phone, unlocked the screen, and looked up at him with sparkling eyes.
“Hoshikawa-kun, could I… maybe take a selfie with you?”
“…Huh?”
“Just to post on Twitter! Don’t worry, I won’t reveal your na!”
“Oi, Miho, can’t you see we were having a serious bro-talk here?” Haruto complained, clearly miffed at the interruption.
“Pfft, go marry your precious posters of… Kuubi and Komusu or whatever, and live happily ever after!”
“It’s Curry and Lebron!” Haruto shot back indignantly.
Oi, that’s not the point here.
In just a short while, Harutaki had already sized the trio up.
Murai Ren was obviously the core: good looks, top grades, captain of the soccer club, and, judging from his smooth conversational skills, a high EQ to match.
Nishihara Miho seed like a childhood friend type, a polished “normie” JK with glittering pink nails to complete the image.
And Koyama Haruto… a classic musclehead. His grades weren’t bad, but judging from his conversation, his emotional intelligence was beyond saving. In short: a cheerful, sports-scented idiot.
As Miho and Haruto’s squabble veered dangerously into NBA stars versus idol-bishounen-who-play-basketball, Harutaki cut in smoothly. “How could I refuse when such a cute girl is asking for a favor?”
He bent down so the height difference of over twenty centiters wouldn’t keep Miho out of fra.
She wasn’t exactly his type, even with all the makeup, but still—
When in doubt, don’t say a girl is beautiful. Call her cute.
Especially in Japan, “cute” is the all-purpose complint for food, fashion, and even faces.
Click.
The shutter sound sealed the deal. Miho happily started typing up her tweet, all while scolding Haruto without even glancing up.
“Hmph, see? Harutaki-kun can tell there’s a cute girl here. Unlike you, who only has muscles in that thick skull.”
Oh? Already upgraded “Hoshikawa-kun” to “Harutaki-kun,” have we?
Harutaki couldn’t tell if he should be impressed by their innocence or by the sheer power of good grooming. When everyone wears the sa uniform, face and figure beco the deciding factors.
“Haruto-kun just really loves sports. If soone cut you off while you were talking about your favorite topic, Nishihara-san, wouldn’t you be annoyed too?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
Encouraged, Haruto practically lit up.
“Finally, soone who gets ! Every ti Miho chews out, Ren just stands there laughing like an idiot instead of backing up!”
“Ahaha. Hey, don’t drag into this. Or I’ll curse you, tall guy, with early baldness.”
Whenever Miho and Haruto clashed, Ren could never step in. Choosing sides would only backfire, but watching them fight gave him a headache all the sa.
Now, though, he could see the benefit of having Harutaki around. With a teasing jab at Haruto, he smiled at Harutaki.
“A café sounds too fancy. Why don’t you just buy a can of coffee from the vending machine at lunch?”
“I’ll take a bottle of yuzu-flavored Pocari Sweat!”
Haruto shot his hand up like an elentary schooler.
“Oi!” Miho glared at him and smacked his side. “This is a thank-you drink for Ren, you idiot. Why are you butting in?”
“It’s fine. If Nishihara-san and Haruto-kun don’t mind, let treat you too, as a little gift for our first eting.”
Harutaki waved it off with a smile.
Perfect. He’d been wondering how to get closer to these two, and this gave him the opening.
In this society obsessed with etiquette, even for high schoolers, offering a small gift went a long way.
Of course, if he had brought it up himself, he’d risk looking stingy if the gift was too cheap, or like a show-off if it was too expensive. Either way, people might not accept it.
But since they’d suggested drinks first, all he had to do was go along.
And judging from Ren, Miho, and Haruto’s upbringing, there was no way they’d demand anything unreasonable.
“Hope you won’t mind such a shabby little gift,” he said with a smile.
“As if!”
Miho shook her head, lips curling up in thought before replying: “A carton of strawberry milk will do for .”
“Yuzu-flavored Pocari Sweat for !”
“Haruto,” Ren sighed, “Pocari doesn’t have yuzu flavor. That’s Gatorade.”
“…Tch.” Haruto pouted, muttering with disappointnt, “Then just Pocari, I guess…”
“Alright then. Murai-kun, how about we grab lunch together in the cafeteria?”
“Don’t expect to steal any at from my bowl, though.”
Ren didn’t give a straight answer, but his joking tone only made the atmosphere with their new companion that much warr.
Harutaki knew exactly what he was doing: deepen ties through small favors, then use this chance to get closer not just to Ren, but also his friends—and by extension, their social circle.
It might sound calculating, but there was no denying it worked.
After all, every student who made it into Nichiya High was either rich or gifted. Even those from less wealthy families had to be sharper and more capable than average.
A third of the students here would go on to Todai or Keio(university). And once they entered university and, later, society, this network of classmates and senpai would beco the most solid, valuable human connections one could ask for. Especially in Japan, where school ties often outweighed everything else.
Take the so-called gakubatsu—the academic cliques that had dominated every industry for over a century. More than half of Japan’s pri ministers since the 1900s were Todai alumni, and nearly every high-ranking bureaucrat ca from the sa.
If you wanted a smooth, successful life, this was the reality you couldn’t avoid…
Harutaki exhaled in irritation at the thought.
And more than that, he wanted to pursue Shihou-san.
Most likely, her illustrious family would need an heir. If there wasn’t a suitable son in the main or branch family, then sooner or later, they would choose muko-iri—marrying in a talented, attractive young man as the heir.
This was a tradition in Japan’s noble houses that went back hundreds of years.
For Harutaki, there were only two paths: beco the hunter or the prey. No matter how much money he earned from the mories of his past life, in a society ruled by hereditary power, wealth without influence was no more than water without a source.
Throwing away his hard-built achievents just to lick the boots of wrinkled old n?
No thanks.
But still, thinking about what would happen after he started dating Shihou-san was putting the cart before the horse. For now, he needed to stay grounded.
He set himself a clear goal—simple, small, but vital:
Beco number one in his year.
…
After parting ways with Ren and the others at the cafeteria, Harutaki returned to class and lazily sprawled across his desk. One cheek pressed against the cool wood, the other ward by the gentle afternoon sun.
Lunch had been katsudon: three thick, juicy pork cutlets drizzled with soft-scrambled egg and special sauce over rice. A soul-satisfying feast.
In his previous life, Harutaki had never allowed himself such idle midday naps. Every minute of lunch break was spent on cram sheets, rewriting notes, or finishing assignnts.
But now… high school life was making him soft.
Teachers didn’t dump endless drills or assignnts. They didn’t even force students to preview or review. Since Nichiya’s students were already carefully filtered, everything ca down to personal initiative.
Not that the teachers were irresponsible. Just this morning, when Harutaki had gone to ask Asama-sensei for help with classical literature, the man had grumbled about the hassle but still guided him patiently. When they parted, he even offered advice with unexpected sincerity:
“You’re still young. Your health matters more than grades, kid. Enjoy your youth. Don’t end up like , so worn out that even lying on a woman’s body, I can’t move a muscle.”
…Harutaki had honestly questioned whether the man even had a teaching license.
Still, grumbling aside, he’d obeyed the advice. Returning to a classroom empty except for gloomy Akihisa, he allowed himself a rare short nap.
After all, who doesn’t like sneaking a little rest now and then?
But his rest didn’t last long. Just as he was drifting, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed closer and closer until a sharp, lively voice cut through the air:
“Hey! Wake up already! Move, will you!?”
Blinking drowsily, Harutaki lifted his head. A girl stood over him, arms crossed, glaring down with stormy blue eyes.
“Whoa, Minako, Minako, look! Total hottie!” The tan-skinned gyaru’s expression flipped instantly the mont she got a good look at him. Turning, she squealed at her friend.
“Hey, where’d you co from? Haven’t seen you around before.”
“Transfer student?”
The one called Minako leaned in, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
Great. First, a dark-skinned gyaru, and now a blonde busty one?
Harutaki instantly realized who they were—
Nogami’s sidekicks, Hinata Sae and Sanada Minako.
And if they were here, then inevitably… Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel⦿fire
“Want to nap? Then why don’t you go lie in the courtyard like so stray mutt?”
Rose-colored eyes narrowed in contempt as Nogami Izumi herself looked down at him with a mocking smirk.
…
What an irritating face…
She didn’t even know who this boy was, yet hatred and anger welled up inside her.
Normally, when faced with such a pretty boy, she’d treat him as just another toy to break and toss aside. But this one, why did he stir sothing else?
Nogami had her own rules. She might act like a tyrant, but when she decided on a target to toy with, she always found a “reasonable” excuse—sothing she could twist into righteousness.
If the toy was a creepy old man, she’d accuse him of harassnt.
If it was a disliked teacher, she’d exploit her role as a student.
If it was a gross otaku… well. Who needed an excuse to bully scum like that?
Now, though, staring at this boy’s dreamlike handso features shifting with unease, she felt a strange shiver. She pressed her thighs together, sensing damp heat.
Ahh… yes. This thrill. The ecstasy of tornting others.
She knew her hobby was twisted, her nature rotten. But the rush was too intoxicating to give up.
Especially with him.
She wanted to see that flawless face break—crying, screaming, begging.
But what excuse should she use to tornt this one?
Her gaze drifted past him, landing instead on trembling, overweight Akihisa. Nogami’s lips curled into a cruel smile.
Never mind. Warm up with the weakling first.
“Oi, Tazaki. How much cash you got today? What’s wrong, cat got your tongue? About to cry already?”
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