Waking up was somehow the hardest part of my new life as Horikita Suzune. Or at least, that's what I thought until I had to actually leave the comfort of my bed and face the reality of preparing for high school.

I moved through the motions—shower, clothes, arranging my uniform with precision. I tugged at the short skirt, grimacing at its impractical length. The entire outfit seemed designed for attention as if made for a stage. Right, this is a game world, a world where what's on display is part of the experience. Still, they managed to cover the essentials, even if barely.

"You are… almost painfully beautiful. How irritating," I murmured at my reflection, my eyes meeting those of a lovely girl, her features sharpening by the day, maturing like she was on the brink of something important.

Then, the familiar pang hit me. Like a weight pressing into my back, following me every time I turned away from the mirror. That sharp sensation, an odd chill, made me look back, even though I knew there was nothing there.

But then, the truth washed over me. This feeling that lingered, the dread that gnawed at me. It wasn't fear of something external.

It was self-loathing.

After a moment of absurdity, I tried a few playful poses, mocking my own reflection with a wry smirk. But a strange chill ran down my spine when my reflection seemed to glare back, colder and more judgmental than I could have anticipated. I immediately stopped, the swift lightness of the moment vanishing.

It's irrational, impossible even… Yet, I can't shake the thought: is Horikita Suzune's presence somehow still here, lingering in this body? It's a ridiculous idea, and yet it unsettles me deeply. I don't want to think about what it might mean if her will remains, buried somewhere, silently observing, waiting. The fear of losing control over these movements that are now mine sends me scrambling to gather my things, desperate to escape.

I push the even darker thought—the question of what happened to the original Horikita—into a locked place in my mind, a place I refuse to acknowledge.

"Excuse me then," I whispered to the reflection, grabbing my school bag and bento box. Then I stepped out, eager to leave this haunting silence behind.

Skip.

Skip.

Skip.

"Horikita-san!"

The moment I step out of the elevator, that overly cheerful voice stops me cold. I turn to see Kushida Kikyou. A radiant girl, friendly, and altogether unsettling. A shiver runs down my spine, and I'm not sure if it's from her vibrant demeanor or something else entirely.

[Kushida Kikyou: Friend of Everyone]

[Favorability: 0/100 - Classmates]

[Stats: Unknown]

"Kushida-san..." The number zero blinks at me. Why zero? Is it a bug? Did I somehow offend her already? I can't wrap my head around it. Favorability shouldn't be null for anyone in a game like this. It's making me confused.

"Let me pass," I say, attempting to sidestep her.

"Oh, that's a bit cold for a greeting, don't you think?" Her pout seems exaggerated, yet her presence presses in, warm and insistent, almost suffocating. I suppress a frown.

"No, you're the one acting overly familiar," I reply, taking a mental step back as well. Kushida-san is a classmate I haven't formally spoken with yet, but even on the bus, I sensed a strange feeling. I can't explain it, but I already feel that spending too much time around her could spell trouble.

"Please don't invade my personal space, Kushida-san." The words come out colder than I intended, and even I'm taken aback. I try to mask the slip, resuming my usual detached demeanor.

"E-Eh? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!" She shrinks back, her voice softer, almost pleading. "You've been so distant since yesterday, Horikita-san. I thought maybe… well, maybe you could use some company."

"That's..." I falter, caught off guard by her innocent, wide-eyed expression. It's clear I'm weak to these kinds of looks—an alarming realization. She may have overstepped, but I can't muster enough annoyance to care.

"It's fine," I reply, glancing away from her eager gaze. "Just don't let it happen again."

She beams, clapping her hands as if I've just handed her a trophy. "Then, shall we walk to school together? I promise I'll keep you entertained with all kinds of stories!"

"I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Some things just happen naturally!" she chirps back with an easy smile.

"That doesn't make any sense," I mutter, desperately scanning for an escape route. My gaze lands on a familiar figure approaching in the distance—Ayanokouji.

"Oh, if it isn't Ayanokouji!" I let slip, forgetting any honorifics in my eagerness for him to notice me. Forgive me for that slip.

"E-Eh?" Kushida blinks, momentarily taken aback, but I'm already moving past her toward my support character.

"...Horikita?" Ayanokouji raises an eyebrow, clearly bemused as he looks between me and Kushida. His eyes flicker back to me, taking in my tense stance and her relentless approach.

"I see," he says with a subtle nod. "Do you… want to walk with me?"

I nod, relief flooding me as I step closer, hoping to escape the strange pressure Kushida exudes. It's impolite of me, but I can't ignore the cold sweat prickling my skin.

As we start to walk away, Kushida's voice rings out, a soft, unsettling whisper.

"Haha, so you and Ayanokouji-kun are friends already? That's… surprising." Her tone is light, but something about her words prickles with hidden intent. "Looks like Ayanokouji-kun beat me to it. Honestly, I can't believe it!"

Ayanokouji pauses, clearly thrown off. "What are you talking about? I only spoke to Horikita yesterday. A few times, at that. I don't think that constitutes 'friendship.'"

His words sting more than I expect, an odd ache forming somewhere I can't quite place. He's not wrong, but I feel oddly deflated as if our exchanges mean nothing to him.

"I see!" Kushida's expression brightens, but it's almost too quick, like something slipping back into place.

"So, Ayanokouji-kun," she continues with a tilt of her head, "would you like to be my friend?"

"I don't mind, but maybe under different circumstances," he replies bluntly. "We're not exactly close, and I don't think you'd enjoy my company much."

I cringe at his words. They hit with an almost painful bluntness. It was a critical hit aimed without hesitation at Kushida's heart. For someone claiming to be caring about friendships, he doesn't seem to mind being uncharacteristically harsh.

Kushida's eyes widen slightly, but she quickly recovers, her smile unfaltering. "Tehe~ Is that a challenge I hear, Ayanokouji-kun?" She giggles like the whole exchange was a harmless game. Her adaptability is disturbing.

"That's not what I meant," Ayanokouji replies, his tone flat.

"I'm determined to make you both my friends!" she exclaims with relentless cheer. "Let's try our best together!"

And just like that, we're on the way to school, Kushida filling every silence with idle chatter. I chose this, I remind myself, even as her presence grates on me with each step. Who am I to complain?

A quiet question surfaces in my mind as we walk: What do I really want here?

The answer is simple. I want this to end as soon as possible.

Skip.

Skip.

Skip.

"Thanks, Horikita-san!"

PING!

[You gained 10 Favorability Points with Mei-Yu Wang.]

Mii-chan's gratitude is genuine, and her enthusiasm makes it easy to see why her classmates enjoy her company. Our conversation turns surprisingly relaxed, her previous nervousness fading.

"I'm proud of your progress. Keep up the hard work, and remember, you can message me if you're ever unsure about something."

Mii-chan's eyes brighten. "R-Really? Thank you, Horikita-san! I… um…" She glances around, then leans in, her voice lowering to a whisper.

"Actually, do you… like Hirata-kun?"

The unexpected question catches me off guard, making me pause. It seems my recent interactions with Hirata didn't go unnoticed, especially by those who often watch him.

"Is it unacceptable if I do?" I reply, infusing a hint of defensiveness in my voice.

"N-No, no! I didn't mean it like that!" she quickly stammers, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "I just… thought it'd be nice to understand Horikita-san's perspective, that's all."

A soft laugh escapes me despite myself. "Relax, Mii-chan. You're cute when you're flustered like this."

"W-What!?" she gasps, covering her mouth with a look of shock.

PING!

[You gained 10 Favorability Points with Mei-Yu Wang.]

"I'm just teasing you. Besides, it's refreshing to see you're as considerate as you are curious."

"You're… such a devil!" she exclaims, her pout dissolving into giggling as she lightly swats my arm.

Our conversation flows easily from there, drifting to Mii-chan's favorite Chinese dishes, her family traditions, and even her dreams of visiting more cultural spots in Japan. I realize that, despite my guarded nature, I'm actually enjoying this interaction.

After a while, she hesitantly asks, "M-Maybe we could visit this new café later today? I mean, if you don't have plans, Horikita-san…?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I thought Karuizawa and her friends were more your scene."

Mii-chan looks down, her fingers nervously twisting together. "Maybe… But if I'm only there to avoid being alone, is it really friendship?"

Her words hit me unexpectedly. They echo a sentiment I've felt but rarely voiced. Being alone has its costs, and so does pretending to fit in with people who might not understand you.

"Alright," I say, giving her a small nod. "Let's go to the café after school."

Mii-chan's face lights up, and she clasps her hands together with a soft squeal. "Thank you, Horikita-san!"

In that moment, I realize this connection, however small, feels different—genuine, even.

Skip.

Skip.

Skip.

"Do you want to go see the clubs, Horikita?"

Ayanokouji's casual invitation seemed harmless enough. The school's club fair was in full swing, with seniors guiding eager freshmen. Joining a club could help with social connections, or even… gaining favorability points.

Yet, as I surveyed the buzzing atmosphere, a sense of detachment washed over me. Ayanokouji seemed amused by my blank stare. "You look bored."

"I'm so overwhelmed it's shocking," I replied, masking the truth with sarcasm. I'd been through this so many times. But he caught on instantly, meeting my facade with his own.

When Ayanokouji rattled off about the tea ceremony and piano clubs, I couldn't help but counter, "So you were almost scammed into joining?" He looked bewildered. My dismissive tone continued. "You'd be better off applying for the Student Council with me."

The Student Council—the pinnacle of influence, both in this world and in the game. Players who could persuade Manabu Horikita, the elusive president, gained rare advantages. The Student Council was the ultimate goal.

"Ayanokouji-kun shall be joining me in application to the Student Council after all," I declared, my words half a command, half a humoristic.

He hesitated, then shrugged, his voice skeptical. "I fear you're going to be disappointed."

"Do you think I'm wrong?" My gaze sharpened as I thought of the game, of Manabu's complex yet steadfast support for the protagonist. But here? My own real brother was most likely a supporting character, right?

"Isn't my intuition enough?" I murmured, meeting Ayanokouji's unreadable gaze. For a split second, I thought I saw him soften, almost as if he understood this decision.

Suddenly, the air shifted. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade, and a presence loomed above, stern and commanding.

Manabu Horikita. His tall figure was unmistakable as he took the stage, his glasses glinting in the overhead lights. His sharp gaze scanned the students, unwavering, until it landed directly on me.

I couldn't move. My pulse quickened, and my hands trembled.

Why… did I feel like this?

My body felt foreign, disconnected as if controlled by someone else's strings. Wasn't I supposed to be confident in this role? Wasn't I the player, the one manipulating these relationships?

Yet, standing under Manabu's gaze, a chilling realization seeped through me like ice.

Skip.

A panicked thought crossed my mind as I tried to regain control. But every nerve felt paralyzed.

Skip.

What was happening? This was supposed to be a simple game. I was the one in control… right?

Skip.

But as Manabu's piercing eyes continued to hold mine, the truth cut through, relentless and terrifying.

I don't understand.

Maybe… this script wasn't written for me after all.