I think I'm done for now. I'll post again in about two or three weeks. I'm going to Mexico for Christmas in December.

I have read the last review. The first one, I know it was a heavy topic but I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Slavery still going on just in different ways now. But I feel glad you hate me. Can't wait for your next work. I still haven't checked out your YouTube channel, too many good anime and Vtubers.

Now for the second review, guest, that was interesting so why don't you write and post it? You have a great idea. If it is your first time, you did better than I ever did. I only wrote from one person's point of view. Now, I'm trying to change the format. I just want to warn you that some comments or reviews are mean and don't help you grow as a writer. After all, I'm known as the guy who ruins the English language and uses Chatgpt for his terrible stories.

Igawa Haruka woke to the soft light filtering through her curtains. Her long nightgown clung to her figure, the fabric brushing gently against her skin as she stirred. For once, her mind felt unusually clear, as if the fog of her thoughts had lifted overnight. She lay still for a moment, realizing the weight she carried had lightened, if only slightly.

Change.

The word whispered at the edges of her consciousness, growing louder with each breath. The walls she had built, the armor she wore to protect herself—she was ready to let them crack, just a little. She wanted a connection with her new family. She wanted happiness. The realization startled her, but it also filled her with a quiet determination.

Without hesitation, she rose, slipped out of bed, and crossed the hushed hallway toward the bathroom. The house was still, wrapped in the tranquil embrace of early morning. She welcomed the solitude. Turning the shower knob, she let the cold water pour down, the sudden chill stealing her breath. Still, she stood firm beneath the stream, the icy droplets a sharp, bracing reminder of her resolve.

The cold washed away the remnants of her dreams, her doubts, and the guarded fears that had long clung to her. She thought of her foster parents' quiet kindness, her sister Marnie's earnest attempts to connect, and her cousins, Hikigaya Hachiman and Komachi, whose casual acceptance had stirred a warmth she hadn't felt in years. They weren't her blood, but family, she realized, didn't need to be defined by lineage.

After drying herself and changing into her uniform, she paused in front of the mirror. Her usual stoic reflection stared back, but today, it softened ever so slightly. Tentatively, she practiced a small smile. The gesture felt foreign, almost awkward, but it was freeing in a way that surprised her.

Downstairs, the house remained quiet as she made her way to the kitchen. Her foster mother looked up, startled but pleasantly, as Haruka stepped into the room.

"Oh, good morning, Haruka," her mother greeted warmly. "You're up early today."

Haruka felt a flicker of nervousness but managed to reply, "Good morning."

Her mother's smile grew, and Haruka felt a faint tug at her heart.

As they worked side by side, chopping vegetables and preparing breakfast, the silence between them was comfortable. Her mother hummed softly, the melody light and cheerful, and Haruka found herself unconsciously matching her rhythm. This ordinary task—mundane, even—felt unexpectedly precious, a moment of normalcy she hadn't allowed herself to enjoy in years.

Marnie wandered into the kitchen not long after, her face lighting up when she saw Haruka. "Hey! You're up early too!"

Haruka gave a small nod. "Yes. I thought… I'd try something different today."

They shared a quiet breakfast as sunlight poured through the windows, bathing the kitchen in a golden glow. The tension Haruka usually carried in her shoulders eased, replaced by a quiet, unfamiliar contentment.

Later, as she made her way to school, she felt lighter, as though the cracks in her armor had finally let a little light in.

I exhaled softly, a sense of unfamiliar anticipation settling within me as I climbed the stairs. Each step echoed faintly in the quiet hallway, a subtle reminder of my resolve. I had planned this moment carefully, choosing the right time to approach my cousin, Hikigaya Hachiman, during the break. Asking for advice wasn't something I was accustomed to, but today felt different—necessary, even.

Stopping outside Class 3-F, I steadied my breathing, then knocked lightly before sliding the door open. Conversations paused as I entered, and the weight of several curious gazes immediately fell upon me.

A petite girl with short, curled hair was the first to speak. "Yes? What can I do for you?" she asked, her tone polite but laced with curiosity.

Meeting her eyes, I maintained a calm composure. "I'm here to speak with Hikigaya Hachiman."

Her surprise flickered visibly before recognition dawned. Around us, whispers began to ripple through the room.

"Who's that?" someone murmured behind me.

"She's not from our class," another voice chimed in. "Maybe she's his cousin?"

The speculative whispers barely registered as I stood there, my black blazer tailored neatly over a crisp white blouse, accented by a red ribbon tied with precision. My plaid skirt swayed faintly as I moved, and the white-striped black-thigh-highs I wore drew lingering glances, a striking contrast that seemed to amplify my refined presence. I could sense their curiosity, their admiration—and their confusion.

The girl straightened, her polite smile returning. "I'm Tomioka, the class representative," she introduced herself, turning toward the back of the room where Hachiman sat slouched in his chair. "Hikigaya-kun! Someone's here to see you," she called, her voice firm.

Hachiman's head turned slowly, his indifferent expression shifting to mild surprise as our eyes met. With a reluctant sigh, he rose from his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets as he ambled toward me.

"Yo, Igawa," he greeted, his tone as casual as ever. "What's up? Something wrong?"

I studied him for a moment, keeping my expression calm though my voice carried a rare hint of vulnerability. "I wanted to ask for your advice," I said quietly.

His brows lifted slightly, curiosity breaking through his impassive demeanor. Around us, the classroom buzzed with renewed whispers as students exchanged glances, trying to piece together why I would approach him.

Hachiman sighed, his gaze flickering around the room before settling back on me. "Advice, huh? Probably better if we talk out in the hall," he muttered, his tone resigned. "Unless you feel like putting on a show."

A faint smile surfaced as I nodded in agreement. Without further comment, he led the way into the hallway, sliding the door shut behind us to muffle the classroom's noise.

Leaning casually against the wall, he crossed his arms. "All right," he said evenly. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitated briefly before speaking. "Hikigaya, I need advice on reconciling with my current family—and finding my path."

He fell silent for a moment, his sharp gaze assessing me as if weighing the layers behind my words. Then, with a slight nod, he replied thoughtfully, "I get it. Let's start with family. If you're serious about that, you should drop by the service club. Yukinoshita might be the best person to help. In her way, she understands navigating expectations and family dynamics."

I tilted my head, considering his suggestion. It wasn't lost on me that he had grasped the double meaning in my words—current family, as opposed to the one I had left behind.

"That makes sense," I said finally. "And the other part? How do I find my place?"

Hachiman paused, scratching his head as if reluctant to share his thoughts. Then, in his usual blunt style, he said, "You should become a Villainess."

I blinked, momentarily thrown. "A… Villainess?"

"Yeah," he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You fit the trope perfectly."

His matter-of-fact tone was disarming, leaving me uncertain whether to feel intrigued or insulted. He continued before I could respond.

"Think about it. Elegant appearance? Check. You've got that refined, noble vibe. People can't help but notice you."

A faint flush threatened to rise to my cheeks, but I kept my expression neutral as he went on.

"Sharp intelligence? Another check. You're strategic, you can read people, and you know how to use that to your advantage. You don't just follow along—you lead."

My lips curled slightly in acknowledgment. He wasn't wrong. Intelligence had always been one of my greatest weapons, even in my past life.

"Awkward Charm: This one might surprise you, but it works in your favor. Villainesses often come across as socially awkward when trying to act 'normal.' They may attempt to show kindness or humor, but it doesn't always land the way they expect. That's where the charm comes in."

I tilted my head, considering his words. I could see how my efforts to connect with others often went awry, leaving me more isolated than before. But perhaps there was a certain appeal in my awkwardness. Maybe, just maybe, I could make it work.

"Misunderstood Motives: A lot of people see the Villainess as a villain at first, but that's usually due to misunderstandings or biases," Hikigaya continued. "What you want isn't always what others think. And after what you've been through, you probably understand betrayal better than most."

I nodded, my voice quiet. "I've been there. My intentions are rarely what they seem, but my pride... it doesn't make me easy to understand."

Hikigaya smirked. "Exactly. That brings us to Pride and Self-Respect. You carry yourself with dignity, even when it's misinterpreted as arrogance. It's part of who you are—a strength. You don't compromise your self-worth, no matter what."

I smiled wryly. "I've always valued my dignity," I admitted. "But it's isolated me."

"Defensive Vulnerability: Because of all the betrayals, you're probably reluctant to show anyone your softer side," he said. "Makes sense. But opening up, even just a little, can help you connect with others."

I looked away, letting out a deep sigh. "I don't know how to trust anymore."

For a moment, his expression softened. "That's the hard part. But you'll figure it out."

"Skillfulness and Capability: The Villainess is always skilled in something. Whether it's knowledge, talent, or how you handle delicate situations, people envy you for it."

I chuckled dryly. "Sometimes I wish I could hide my skills. They've caused more trouble than I'd like to admit."

"Determination and Ambition: A Villainess knows what she wants," he added. "Even if you're still figuring it out, once you do, you'll be unstoppable."

I glanced down, my expression thoughtful. "I have goals now. I want to connect with my family... to finally belong somewhere."

"Complex Relationship with Love: You've been burned before, right?" His gaze was sharp, dissecting. "The Villainess usually has a complicated relationship with love—guarded, self-sabotaging, maybe even jaded. You probably have walls around your heart. That's fine, but don't let them keep everyone out forever."

I swallowed hard, his words cutting deeper than I expected. "I don't know if I can love again. Too many people have betrayed me."

Hikigaya shrugged. "Love's complicated. But avoiding it forever isn't realistic."

"Ironic Humor and Wit: You've got wit, no question," he said, smirking faintly. "You navigate tough situations with dry humor or sarcasm. You're not afraid to speak your mind."

"I might need to work on that," I admitted with a faint grin.

"Moral Grayness: You're not bound by rigid 'good vs. evil' rules. You do what's necessary, even if it's morally ambiguous. That's what makes you interesting."

I met his eyes, speaking quietly. "I don't believe in pure good or evil—just survival."

"Awareness of Social Expectations: You know how to play the game," he said. "You understand the rules and use them to your advantage."

I nodded slowly. "It's a lesson I've learned well."

"Resilient Independence: In the end, you're fiercely independent. You handle things on your own because that's what you've had to do. That resilience will take you far."

I inhaled deeply, taking in everything he'd said. His words made sense, clarifying things I'd been struggling to define.

"Thank you, Hikigaya," I said softly. "This helps more than you realize."

Hikigaya gave a small nod. "No problem. Just don't overthink it. You've got this, Igawa."

As I straightened my posture, a new resolve settled within me. This wasn't just about reconnecting with my family—it was about redefining myself. Perhaps the Villainess trope could be the key to that transformation.

o000

I stood at the entrance of the Service Club, hesitating as my hand hovered near the door. A deep breath steadied me, but my heart stubbornly refused to calm. Gathering my resolve, I pushed the door open, its faint creak announcing my arrival.

The room greeted me with its familiar stillness, like stepping into a well-worn story with its cast already in place. Hikigaya lounged in his chair, the picture of indifference. Yukinoshita, poised and regal, exuded her usual air of authority. Yuigahama's vibrant energy seemed to radiate even in her quiet moments. While Komachi, ever the doting sibling, tilted her head in curiosity as she watched the scene unfold. Their chatter ceased, and their collective gaze turned toward me, its weight heavier than I had anticipated.

Yukinoshita's cool, assessing eyes met mine. She inclined her head slightly, her voice calm yet commanding. "You may enter."

I stepped forward, offering a light bow—an ingrained reflex from my upbringing—before moving to the seat opposite them. That seat, I knew, carried meaning. Hikigaya had once joked that it was "the client's seat," the place reserved for those seeking help. Today, that client was me.

Komachi's curious expression deepened as she searched my face. "Haruka-chan, is something wrong?" she asked gently, her voice warm and inviting, almost enough to make me falter.

I clasped my hands lightly in my lap, resisting the urge to retreat. My gaze swept over the room, lingering on each familiar face. They were waiting—patient, but expectant. Straightening my posture, I let my voice carry the seriousness of my intent. "I have a request for the Service Club."

The words felt foreign, yet strangely liberating. A subtle shift rippled through the atmosphere—so slight it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. Yukinoshita leaned forward slightly, her hands folding delicately atop the table. "I see," she said, her tone measured and probing. "Please, go on."

Hikigaya's tired gaze flicked toward me, his expression unreadable yet strangely knowing. "Yeah, let's hear it," he said casually, though the sharpness in his tone hinted at his perceptiveness. It was unnerving how quickly he could see through me, and yet, oddly comforting.

I inhaled deeply, tightening my grip on the hem of my skirt to steady myself. "I need help... 'reconciling' with my family," I began, the words heavy as they left my lips. "They've been nothing but kind, but I... I can't help feeling like an outsider."

Komachi's brows knit together in concern, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Yuigahama's usual energy seemed to dim as she leaned in to listen, her focus entirely on me. Yukinoshita's gaze sharpened, though her expression remained composed. "And what is it you hope to achieve through this reconciliation?" she asked, calm but probing.

"To belong," I admitted softly, the vulnerability in my voice catching even me off guard. "I've always felt... disconnected as if there's a wall I can't seem to break through. I want to bridge that gap, but I don't know how."

Hikigaya hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair as his sharp eyes studied me. "So, you're saying you've been keeping them at a distance but now want to find a way to close that gap. The problem is, you're not sure where to start."

I nodded, relieved by his ability to articulate what I couldn't. "Exactly. I've spent so long building walls that I don't know how to tear them down. And I'm... afraid of what might happen if I do."

Komachi leaned forward, her voice soft understanding. "That's tough, Haruka-chan. Opening up after keeping yourself closed off—it's scary, isn't it?"

"It is," I whispered, the words barely audible.

Yukinoshita's gaze lingered on me, and for a fleeting moment, something in her expression softened. She quickly masked it, but the faint tension in her voice betrayed her. "Trust isn't built overnight, Igawa-san. It takes time and effort. And it's not just about you making all the changes. Your family must also show they're willing to meet you halfway."

Her words resonated deeply, carrying a quiet weight that hinted at personal experience. It struck me that she wasn't just advising me—she was reminding herself as well.

Hikigaya snorted lightly, his tone breaking the tension without diminishing it. "Yeah, relationships aren't one-sided. If you don't let them see the real you, they're never going to understand. But they've got to want to understand too. That's the tricky part." His voice was lighter, almost teasing, but the glance he cast at Yukinoshita carried unspoken meaning.

Their words settled over me like a heavy yet comforting blanket. I felt seen in a way I hadn't expected. "I'll try," I said quietly, though my voice wavered. "But it's hard. I don't even know where to start."

Yukinoshita's lips curved faintly—not quite a smile, but something close. "Start small," she said, her tone gentler now. "A single gesture, a single conversation. You don't have to dismantle the entire wall at once. Even small steps forward are progress."

"Exactly," Hikigaya added, reclining in his chair with a slight smirk that softened into something more genuine. "Sometimes, progress feels like nothing at all... until you look back and see how far you've come."

Their words carried an unspoken bond, a warmth between them that I couldn't ignore. It wasn't just advice they were giving me—it was something they were grappling with themselves. That realization made me feel a little less alone.

"And you've got us," Komachi added brightly, her smile radiating warmth. "You're family to us too, you know."

Her words ignited a small spark of hope amidst my doubt. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way forward.

"Thank you," I murmured, lowering my gaze for a moment before meeting theirs again. "I'll keep that in mind. Truly."

0o00

The streetlights cast a soft glow over the quiet road as we walked, the others having drifted ahead. Komachi, Yuigahama, and Yukinoshita chatted animatedly, their laughter occasionally floating back to me. Meanwhile, Hikigaya and I lingered a few paces behind, the silence between us unhurried, almost companionable. My steps felt lighter than usual, though my thoughts churned under the weight of the conversation we'd had earlier in the clubroom.

Finally, I broke the stillness. "About what we talked about earlier…" My voice was quiet, tinged with curiosity. "How do I become a 'Villainess'?"

Hikigaya glanced at me from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I expected him to brush it off with a sarcastic quip, but instead, he answered thoughtfully. "You don't need much to change," he began, his tone casual yet edged with his signature bluntness. "But if you're serious about it, you need to understand that in Japan, subtlety matters. Manners and etiquette are key. Go too far, and you'll just come off as rude."

I nodded, letting his words sink in. A 'Villainess' wasn't just someone sharp and elegant; it was someone who commanded respect through poise and subtlety. It felt like a way to reclaim my noble identity without alienating those around me.

"I can manage elegance," I said after a pause, my gaze fixed on the sidewalk ahead. "But what about the rest? The wit, the presence… and the charm?"

He let out a dry, short laugh—more amused than dismissive. "The charm part? You've already got that covered. The rest is about balance. Be sharp, but don't cut too deep. Show strength, but not aggression. A real 'Villainess' doesn't demand attention; she earns it without trying."

Intrigued, I tilted my head. "And how do I know where the line is?"

Hikigaya slowed his pace, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's all about control. Read the room, pick your battles, and know when to speak up—or when to hold back. People respect someone who stays composed, who can influence a situation without making a scene."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "Subtle influence… like pulling strings behind the scenes?"

"Exactly," he said, glancing at me with a hint of approval. "But don't think of it as manipulation in a bad way. You're not plotting to ruin lives. You're just... guiding things toward an outcome that works for you. And for that, you need dignity. Stay above petty conflicts and don't get dragged into unnecessary drama."

His advice made more sense than I had anticipated. For someone so outwardly cynical, his grasp of nuance was almost startling. I couldn't help but wonder if he spoke from experience, though I didn't press the thought. Instead, I tucked his words away, already envisioning how I could put them into practice.

"I see," I murmured, my tone thoughtful. "So, it's not just about acting noble—it's about staying composed, even when it's difficult."

Hikigaya nodded slightly. "Pretty much. And maybe brush up on what people here expect, culturally speaking. Politeness matters more than you'd think. Go too far, and you'll just end up looking like a jerk."

I smirked faintly. "I'll keep that in mind."

For a while, we walked in easy silence, the gentle hum of the city filling the spaces between us. Becoming a 'Villainess' felt less like an impossible façade and more like a viable path forward—a way to bridge the gap between my old life and the one I now found myself navigating.

As we reached the intersection near my house, I slowed to a stop and turned to him. "Thank you," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "For listening. And for the advice. It helps."

Hikigaya blinked, as if caught off guard by my sincerity, before offering a small nod. "Don't mention it. Just… don't overdo it. The whole 'Villainess' thing is more about balance than theatrics."

"I'll remember," I replied, allowing a genuine smile to grace my lips.

As he continued down the street, I watched him go, feeling a spark of confidence. I had a plan now—a role to play that felt authentic. For the first time in a long while, the future didn't seem so daunting.

00o0

I stepped inside, the cool evening air still clinging to my clothes, a lingering reminder of the outside world I'd left behind. The familiar scent of home greeted me, but today it felt different—less heavy, more hopeful. I slipped off my shoes at the entrance, the soft thud they made against the floor almost too loud in the silence of the house.

As I walked down the hallway, I heard voices from the living room. I paused for a moment, my hand resting lightly on the doorframe as I peered inside. There was Mother, sitting gracefully on the couch, her posture impeccable as always, sipping her tea. Marnie sat beside her, flipping through a magazine with quiet concentration.

"M-mother, Marnie," I greeted, stepping into the room. Seeing them so calm and settled felt strange. After everything that had happened, it was hard to slip back into this world as though nothing had changed.

Mother looked up, her eyes lighting up with warmth. "Haruka, welcome home. How was your day?"

"It was fine," I replied, keeping my voice steady, though a part of me felt disconnected from the moment. As I stood there, I couldn't help but recall Hikigaya's advice from earlier. This was my chance to try stepping into the role of a 'Villainess,' even if just in this small, intimate space. My family was right here, and I could practice, just a little.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the dignity I'd learned about. Slowly, I crossed my arms, allowing my gaze to settle on Mother as I tilted my head slightly. "M-mother," I began, my voice soft but carrying a subtle authority I hadn't used before. "I'm hungry for cake. How about we head to a cafe?"

There was a brief pause before Mother's lips curved into a smile, her eyes softening with affection. "Cake? Well, if you insist. Marnie, would you like to join us?"

Marnie, who had been absorbed in her magazine, looked up, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Cake, huh? Sure, I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

I felt a flutter in my chest—an odd, satisfying sensation. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I had made a request, and they accepted it without question. It wasn't a grand victory, but it was a moment of connection.

"I'll get ready then," I said, giving them a slight bow before turning toward the hallway. As I did, I couldn't suppress a smile. It wasn't much, but I was learning—learning how to embrace this new role and balance it with the past.

As I made my way to my room to change, a thought crossed my mind. Reconciling with my family wouldn't be simple, nor could it be reduced to just playing a role. But this moment, this tiny step into my 'Villainess' persona, felt like a bridge—a bridge I hoped would lead to something real, something more genuine.