《Redo of a Romanceless Author鈥檚 Life Devoid of Love; Another Chance at Youth》
Prologue.
Prologue.
Prologue. A Blood Stained Knife
Youth.
It is but a fleeting moment in our lives. One thates and goes with the wind.
One moment you¡¯re in your prime, living life freely without the slightest care in the world filled with innocent thoughts of love in your heart... then the next thing you know, you¡¯ve reached adulthood and the world turns into a shit-stained dreary mess where something like love is no more than a disgusting lie.
Perhaps one day... you even find yourself in my shoes at the age of forty, the light in your eyes slowly fading to ck, your head hanging down low like a puppet with its strings cut¡ slowly, but surely, losing consciousness, all the while staring at every drop that drips down to the ground from the knife plunged straight through your chest.
Your body, slowly loses its strength.
Your entire life, shes before your eyes.
You try to understand how you arrived at this bizarre final destination.
Elementary school, you were bullied.
Middle school, you closed your heart off from the world and gradually gave up on trying.
High school, you avoided anything and everyone, you focused only on your grades and whatever little hobbies you may have had.
University, you wasted your time on bullshit promises of some sort of fancy high-paying job in the future.
Your final destination, your job, a prison to keep you shackled like an obediently trained dog on a leash. At such a ce, you are allegedly part of society¡¯s workforce surrounded by those with their creepy masks, smiles painted on.
In the end, the expectation is for you to contribute back into the shitty clockwork system that turns children into fellow adults incapable of love, exactly what you yourself have be. You only know of work and nothing else as that is what society trained you to be.
At least, these were the sorts of scenes I saw before my eyes permanently closed and the world faded to ck.
Right as the curtains closed upon the story of my life, I heard a quiet murmur close up to my right ear, ¡°Haaaaaah. If you¡¯d made different choices in life and learned of love¡ maybe you wouldn¡¯t have had to die all alone like this.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but think of these words as being the seductive whispers of the devil.
As to whether or not those words had truly been said to me in my final moments¡ it may have been nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
Chapter 1.
Chapter 1.
Chapter 1. A Nosy Neighbor (1/4)
I raised my hand up and squeezed my forehead as a sudden intense migraine assaulted me. When it eased up, I took in a slow steady breath of air, opened my eyes, but suddenly froze up.
For an instant, I saw a bloodstained knife in my chest, but I blinked and it faded away as if it had been no more than a lie. It was but an afterimage or illusion of the mind perhaps.
¡°Haaaaaaah. Was that some sort of shitty nightmare or something?¡± I mumbled to myself in a low voice.
Stabbed? Me? What sort of nonsense is that?
Who would stab me in the chest?
I don¡¯t interact with anyone, ever. I don¡¯t even have any friends or enemies at that either. Why would I have such a nonsensical nightmare anyway?
Just who the hell would I be so concerned about, that I¡¯d have a nightmare about being stabbed in the chest with a knife?
In my forty years of life, I can say with confidence I¡¯ve never made the mistake of dating a single girl, so it¡¯s not like I have a psycho ex who I¡¯d worry about stabbing me.
Whatever, forget that. What time is it anyway? Is it almost time for my shift yet?
I should get¡ up?
It was only now my brain registered that I was currently seated in a chair. I wasn¡¯t lying down on my bed. More specifically, I was looking down and I saw the edge of a desk, below that between my legs, a chair I was not ustomed to seeing. Though I was not ustomed to seeing it, it still felt somewhat nostalgic. It was something I hadn¡¯t seen in a long time.
When I recalled when Ist saw a chair so simr, it was no doubt some time back in high school. High school¡ they were days now long gone. Back then, I didn¡¯t know just how much better things werepared to the mundane, uneventful, repetitive lifestyle of an adult with pointless responsibilities.
High school really wasn¡¯t so bad when I look back on it. I may have kept it all to myself, but it was still fun since it was much easier to enjoy my hobbies and not have to worry about things like being fired for missing a few days of work with apany that wants to work you to death.
Repeating a year of school or failing a ss? Hah! Looking back on it now that didn¡¯t sound bad at all.
I did pretty well back in high school from an academic standpoint so I proceeded to university as that was what society considered the correct thing to do, but in the end, it all was for naught. Eventually, sometime after I graduated from university I found a job of sorts I enjoyed, but it had nothing to do with anything I studied.
If only I¡¯d found it much sooner. I could have started it much sooner, even as far back as high school if I wanted. I could havepletely forgone university and I would have made so much progress.
s, there was no point crying over spilled milk. What was done was done. It was impossible to change the past. Besides that, the answer I found turned out to be theplete opposite of what I was actually good at in high school. Reading was something I never did back then. The most reading I managed was manga. The thought of reading a novel was enough to put me to sleep.
To think that I¡¯d one daye to write them. Never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted that.
I was far from what I would consider creative. I had no sort of imagination. But, it was a very slow and gradual process.
One day after running out of things to watch and mangas to read I thirsted for more fictional stories. I craved them. I was addicted to forgetting about this world and seeing the worlds inside other¡¯s heads.
It was the only time I could experience human-like emotions. When it came to the real world, my ability to portray emotions was zero. I was a man with an emotional quotient in the negatives.
Things like feelings at some point became an alien concept to me. Only through other worlds did I ever feel any semnce of human emotion. At least, they allowed me to emte them even if I couldn¡¯t truly feel them myself.
When the day came where I could no longer be satisfied with the worlds inside other people¡¯s heads and how they always came to an end or a standstill frozen in time, I embarked on a long journey to create countless worlds of my own.
When my thoughts reached this point, another sigh escaped my lips. Sadly, I couldn¡¯t keep reminiscing over all of this as there were more pressing issues at hand.
Such as¡ where the hell I was. The chair and edge of the desk, the culprits of my little trip down memoryne, I by no means had any recollection of falling asleep here. If that was the case, had I been moved by someone in my sleep?
My eyes slowly raised up and the world around me expanded. It was the sight of a rather familiar empty ssroom. Six rows and six columns of desks and chairs lined the room. I was in the seat at the far back corner beside the window.
It seemed that I was¡ in a school for some reason.
I hadn¡¯t been anywhere near a school for seventeen years now. Why the hell was I here of all ces? Didn¡¯t I have a shift to worry about? Wait, do I?
What¡¯s the date anyway? Was it maybe my day off and I¡¯d paid a trip to a school for some reference material and I fell asleep here? No¡ that¡¯s definitely impossible. If I wanted reference material I¡¯d simply search for some images online.
Thinking about finding out the date, my hand instinctively wandered down to my pants pocket at my sides for my phone.
Unfortunately for me, my phone was missing. Did I drop it? My eyes lowered back down to the ground as I scanned my surroundings. It wasn¡¯t anywhere to be found. Had I simply forgotten it when I left home? Or had someone stolen it while I¡¯d slept?
I suppose there wasn¡¯t any real way to tell.
I took a look up at the clock on the wall and confirmed the time. It was 8:40 in the morning. Well¡ this was more than just somewhat concerning. If school is currently in session I might be in a bit of trouble. sses would be about to start.
What would happen if a forty-year-old man was found pretending to be a student?
I shivered at the thought.
Creepy.
I¡¯d definitely be branded a creep.
Just when I wasing to terms with reality and thinking of immediately fleeing, as if the world was not on my side, the door slid open.
My heart sank to rock bottom. This was the worst. If a student or teacher saw me here I was screwed. However, the instant my eyesnded on the person behind the door, my eyes narrowed into small slits. It was more than just difficult for me to ept the identity of the figure before me.
Mr. Oz! That was impossible! My eyes were surely deceiving me¡ he¡¯d long been retired. I specifically remembered this detail since he retired the same year I finished high school. Did hee out of retirement in his 70s? No¡ he by no means looked to be in his 70s.
An unsettling feeling began to sink in.
This familiar ssroom that I thought to just look simr to one of my old ssrooms... along with the appearance of this teacher¡ what did it mean?
Wait, was I even awake right now? Was this one of those weird dreams inside a dream? Where you wake up once only to find out you were still in a dream?
I looked doubtfully at the teacher entering the room with a bit of wariness.
When he entered our eyes met.
¡°Oh, what a surprise, I didn¡¯t expect a student to beat me to the ssroom on the first day of sses. That¡¯s usually never the case for me. Kids are usually lost looking about left and right while trying to find the correct room right about now.¡±
Like a deer confronted by bright headlights, I remainedpletely still unable to move an inch.
Was this¡ really a dream?
It felt far too surreal. Seeing a teacher I hadn¡¯t seen for so long that is. Memories of the time I spent in my first year of high school resurfaced. It mostly consisted of just the things I learned and my typical daily routine. I didn¡¯t exactly have many memories that involved other people. I was more or less a friendless isted loner. For me, it was rise and shine, head to school, get on with my sses, return home, watch anime, eat, go to sleep then repeat. That was how I typically spent those days. For me, being alone never really bothered me. I fully enjoyed my alone time, much more than when I was around others.
I was a man of solitude. I didn¡¯t believe in things like love or friendship. My peers and teachers meant nothing to me back then. They were just people I figured I¡¯d spend a few years with before I never saw them again. Passersby in life, no more, and no less. Any form of rtionship was worthless in my eyes.
Seeing myck of response, the teacher before me didn¡¯t seem mad.
¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± He patiently asked.
¡°My¡ name?¡± I mumbled to myself so quietly I didn¡¯t expect him to hear.
¡°Yes, your name so I can check you off for attendance. Might as well get that done now.¡± It seems he¡¯d somehow heard me and was quite attentive, able to hear even the quietest of students.
¡°Ran.¡±
Mr. Oz looked down at a paper in his hand and said, ¡°Ron? Hmmm¡ I don¡¯t see your name here. What¡¯s yourst name?¡±
¡°Sozen.¡±
¡°Sozen? Sozen¡ Sozen¡ ah here it is. Oh! Ran, as in R, A, N? I thought it was with an O, no wonder I didn¡¯t find you.¡±
¡°Uh¡ yeah, there¡¯s no O. It does sound pretty simr to Ron though. Lots of people make that mistake.¡±
It¡¯d been a long time since I had to have this conversation with someone. I can¡¯t remember thest time I had to speak to someone in the flesh. It¡¯d been years since I locked myself up in my room and started working remotely from home. It¡¯d reached the point where there was practically never a need for me to talk to others anymore.
That¡¯s beside the point though. Just what the hell is with this situation?
Is this a dream or not? It feels too real for it to be a dream. It feels more like I¡¯m actually reliving my first encounter with my first homeroom teacher in high school.
A deep frown formed on my face while I tried to better understand what was going on.
I¡¯d really like to wake up if this was a dream. I¡¯m not particrly interested in reliving the past in a dream.
Well¡ assuming it was a dream that is.
An absurd notion popped into my head. I was reminded of the most recent story idea I¡¯d been ying around with in my head.
The premise was that of someone who¡¯d only discovered what he wanted to do muchter on in life and returned to his youthful years to get a head start. It was something of that nature at least. It wasn¡¯t fully fleshed out or anything though. I hadn¡¯t really reached the point where I¡¯d thought of characters and their backstories for ssmates and teachers or anything.
Considering how I never paid attention to those sorts of things in my youth, I could hardly even remember what any of my own ssmates were like either. Even remembering their faces was difficult for me right now. As for their names¡ I had no idea what they were. If I saw them again I felt like I¡¯d recognize them, but that was the extent of my memories from the days I spent in school.
After a short break in our little exchange, Mr. Oz looked at me again after he scribbled something down on the paper in his hand.
With a smile he introduced himself, ¡°It seems you aren¡¯t lost and didn¡¯t enter the wrong ssroom. I was hoping you had so I could say I was the first to get here. I¡¯ve never not been the first to arrive on the first day of sses, it seems my long record has been broken. I can only me myself for gettingcent. I¡¯ll have you know, I used to get here an hour early on the first day of ss when I initially started teaching. Back then, this would never happen.¡±
¡°I can leave ande back if you want to keep your spotless record if you want.¡±
¡°Hahaha! It¡¯s fine, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯d just be seen as a petty teacher if I were to worry over such little unimportant matters.¡±
I felt a sense of d¨¦j¨¤vu. This conversation was strangely nostalgic. If I wasn¡¯t mistaken, this was precisely how things yed out back then on my first day of high school as well.
I took a deep breath in and calmed my nerves. I rxed all the muscles in my body and let the tension in my shoulders unwind. Back then I always wore a cool,posed, expressionless face. I never let any sort of emotions leak out. Even at the age of forty, things hadn¡¯t changed much.
¡°Oh, that¡¯s right, Ran, I almost forgot to introduce myself. I will be your homeroom teacher for the year. My name is Mr. Oztscheki, but most students just call me Mr. Oz for short.¡±
¡°Right¡ Mr. Oz.¡±
¡°Anyway, other students should start showing up soon. I should start preparing for ss. If you ever need anything or want someone to talk to about anything, don¡¯t be afraid toe and see me.¡± He said that with a big smile on his face.
¡°Sure...¡± I responded without showing much on my face.
He was quite the friendly approachable teacher.
¡°You know, you should probably smile more. You¡¯ll be more approachable to your ssmates if you do.¡±
¡°Smile more? Maybe¡ but that¡¯s not something I¡¯m very good at.¡± In myst year of high school, I¡¯d practiced putting on a fake smile since I knew it was something needed in the world of scummy adults, but I was never very good at it. I always looked stiff when I tried to put on that fake smile. My eyes were dead and devoid of expression after all. Any smile with my dead eyes would appear that way.
¡°If you¡¯re not good at something you can always practice. With enough practice, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be able to.¡±
Easier said than done.
¡°You don¡¯t seem convinced.¡±
¡°That¡¯s¡ not the case¡ I¡¯m sure you¡¯re probably right. Practice makes perfect.¡± From the experience I¡¯d gained with writing stories over the years, I could agree with that saying to a certain extent. You could certainly be better at something with practice, but that didn¡¯t mean you¡¯d ever reach a satisfactory level let alone perfection.
¡°It¡¯s good if you understand that.¡± Seeming satisfied with my response, Mr. Oz said no more and took a seat at the long teacher¡¯s desk at the front corner of the ssroom beside the window. He¡¯d begun his preparations for today¡¯s ss. It seemed he was also taking some more time to try to familiarize himself with the student names in his ss as his eyes were moving from left to right across the paper he¡¯d just confirmed the spelling of my name with.
He likely didn¡¯t want to botch any student¡¯s name if he took attendance out loud today. He could just get the students to do self-introductions or something if he was that worried about it. If I remembered correctly though, that day he read out the names and had students raise their hands if they were there or not. As for whether there were self-introductions¡ I couldn¡¯t remember at all. I hadn¡¯t cared to learn about or pay attention to any of the other students in my ss after all.
In my eyes, I was alone in this world. There weren¡¯t any other people. The one I knew best was probably my teacher as I did pay attention to what was being taught at the very least to a certain extent.
While thinking over things in my head, time slowly flowed forward. I was feeling a bit tired so I folded my arms on top of my desk and rested the side of my head on top of them. I looked up at the clear sky outside the window, the sun shining brightly in the distance.
If today was the first day of ss it would mean it was September. The season, Autumn. Even though I thought this was nothing more than a dream, I was unable to wake up. Well, even if it were one, there¡¯s not much of a rush to wake up either way. Maybe I could get some ideas for the story I¡¯d been ying around with from this long ago dream of the past.
After a while nkly staring at the scattered clouds drifting along their way in the sky, the sound of the door sliding open came from behind again.
Since I was in afortable position I couldn¡¯t be bothered to turn my head to check on the identity of the person who¡¯d entered. It was most likely another student. But why would I care? They had nothing to do with me.
There was my story I guess, but I was sofortable I just didn¡¯t feel like budging an inch.
I could hear footsteps approaching closer to me but paid it no mind.
I thought they would take a seat at a desk closer to the front of the ss, but against my expectations, I¡¯d been incorrect in my judgment. They¡¯d insteade to a stop directly to my side.
I could have turned to look at this point, but I instead closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I didn¡¯t particrly want to interact with them. I¡¯d rather just keep my distance and take the chance to observe the happenings in this dream as though I were an uninvolved third party.
Of course, things never yed out as you wished they would.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 2. A Nosy Neighbor (2/4)
Of course, things never yed out as you wished they would.
¡°Move.¡± A crystal clear feminine voice demanded.
I ignored them and continued to feign sleep hoping they¡¯d buzz off if I didn¡¯t acknowledge their existence.
¡°Do you think you can pretend you¡¯re asleep?¡±
Yes. Precisely. I am a man who has long mastered the art of pretending to be asleep in school so others don¡¯t bother me. Now shoo, shoo.
From the sound of things, it didn¡¯t seem she¡¯d gotten the hint as I instinctively sensed her presence drawing closer, as though she were bending over my desk.
I felt her hot breath run down my neck before she softly whispered into my ear, ¡°If you move, I¡¯ll owe you one.¡±
A shiver ran down my back as my shoulder twitched and the hair on my arms stood on ends. This reaction wasn¡¯t evoked as a result of stray thoughts born from her suggestive tone, but rather, her voice when she whispered had an uncanny resemnce to the whisper in my dream earlier.
My eyes shot open half expecting the scenery would change to my room at home, however, against my expectations it was still the same.
Haaaaah. What an unpleasant experience.
My eyes looked up a bit into the reflection on the window. There I could make out the figure of a girl in a school uniform. I couldn¡¯t discern her features very well, but I could tell she wasn¡¯t unattractive.
Knowing that definitely didn¡¯t make me excited or anything. But that didn¡¯t mean I didn¡¯t feel somewhat nervous. I decided not to budge an inch and hold my ground. I would not concede my seat to anyone, regardless of who was asking. This seat was mine. Whether you were attractive or not made no difference to me.
Without her saying a thing I suddenly felt her index finger gentlye into contact with my left cheek. Her smooth finger slid along my cheek brushing past my ear lobe thening to a stop dead center behind my neck. With her index finger on the back of my neck, she whispered again, ¡°I really don¡¯t like being given the cold shoulder you know.¡±
I raised my arm behind my head and grabbed her hand while I sat up. I pulled her finger away from my neck then turned to her with a calm expression on my face. While I held onto her unreasonably soft hand, I told her disinterestedly, ¡°Can you please refrain from touching me without my consent?¡±
¡°Huh? Uh, sorry?¡± Seemingly caught off guard by my unfavorable response, she apologized slightly confused. I could immediately understand why too. Judging by her looks, I was certain there wouldn¡¯t be a man in his right mind who¡¯d reject close contact with her.
Her two tranquil ruby red eyes stared back at me as I sized her up in my head.
When I scrutinized her looks more closely, there was no doubt in my mind she was a girl who was popr with guys.
She had her waist-length long red hair tied up in a ponytail high up at the back slightly off-center to her left. Her bangs were parted from right to left at a forty-five-degree downward diagonal to reveal her fair white unblemished skin beneath. A small portion of her bangs hung down to the left side of her face, though it was a bit shorter than her bangs angled to the right, that was because it was tucked under a horizontal braid in her hair that stretched to directly under her off-center ponytail.
She had a ck ear piercing in the helix of her left ear. Her light pink lips were petite and cute. Her eyshes, long, fluttered whenever she blinked. She had everything going for her, the term ¡®pretty face¡¯ was undoubtedly made for people exactly like her.
It was a shame I was already a grown adult at heart and knew fully well for every pretty face there was an ugly underside hidden beneath it.
¡°Uh¡ how long do you n to hold onto my hand?¡± She asked, slightly troubled when I didn¡¯t immediately release it.
¡°It¡¯s unpleasant being touched without consent, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said to prove a point.
¡°Oh? So it¡¯s unpleasant being touched by me?¡± She squinted and looked at me like she wasn¡¯t convinced.
¡°Precisely, so don¡¯t do it again.¡± I released her hand and returned to my previous position with arms crossed, head lowered on my desk.
¡°Heheh, sure, acting like you don¡¯t like it.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not acting. I¡¯m 100% serious. Also, I¡¯m not giving you my seat so please take another. Just take the one on the opposite side at the back if you want a back corner seat so badly.¡±
¡°You¡¯re seriously not giving up your seat when I¡¯m asking nicely?¡±
¡°Regardless of whether you asked nicely or not, the answer would be the same.¡±
¡°Are you sure about that?¡± She ced one hand, palm t down, with her galish long fingernails on my desk then raised her leg a bit revealing her snow-white skin beneath her short id ck and red skirt. I suddenly felt the warmth from the side of her right upper thigh transit to me through the back of my right upper arm in contact with her as she leaned her rear on the edge of the desk while looking down at me with a razor-sharp look in her eyes. Her hair that hung down low behind her back also brushed against the side of my cheek. The air around her turned heavy, threatening, and even imposing. She was pretty domineering about it as if she wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer.
Despite her best efforts to intimidate me, unphased, I responded, ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±
She said in a low voice, ¡°You know, it would be a real shame if you make the wrong people angry. It¡¯s the first day of your high school life, it would be a shame if¡ something bad happened to you.¡±
¡°Is that supposed to be a threat?¡±
¡°Not at all. Just a warning.¡± Her lips moved to say one thing, but her eyes told an entirely different story.
¡°Since it¡¯s not a threat, then please scram. I appreciate your thoughtful warning, but I can¡¯t be bothered with such childish nonsense.¡±
¡°Hmmm~ I see. I just hope you don¡¯t regret your decisionter.¡± As she said that and hopped off the edge of my desk, she curled her index finger and tapped on the underside of my chin with her long well-kept nail with a sly smile.
What a troublesome kid. Was there such a girl in my ss back then? I don¡¯t remember any of my ssmates at all. After all, the majority of my time was spent with my head down in ss not paying attention to anyone else. Ipletely ignored the world around me in high school. Let alone any interactions I had with my ssmates, which were already sparse in number to begin with, I sadly couldn¡¯t so much as remember any of their names, faces, or voices from all those years ago.
Seriously, what¡¯s the worst she¡¯s going to do though? Bully me? Like hell I care about something like that. If someone tried something like that, I¡¯d viciously bite their hand off like a mad man if I had to.
If she gets guys in the ss to beat me down I¡¯m sure as hell going to fight back. Trouble or no trouble, I¡¯m no pushover.
Thinking that our interaction was over, I folded my arms on top of my desk and put my head down again.
Only secondster I heard something that forced me to rotate my head slightly to take a peek to my right. I felt nothing but dismay when I confirmed my suspicions after I heard the sound of a chair pulled out directly beside me.
As if noticing my gaze directed toward her she leaned forward over her desk and propped her right cheek up with her right elbow on the desk in the palm of her hand as she locked eyes with me.
¡°Is there something wrong, Mr. Neighbor? Do you have something you¡¯d like to say?¡±
This was a rather unpleasant development. I thought if I disyed how terrible a personality I had she¡¯d want to stay far away from me and sit across the room.
¡°I¡¯d like to tell you to move, but you¡¯re free to sit wherever you want.¡±
¡°Good.¡± She had a cheeky smile on her face as if she¡¯d somehow found a fun toy to y with.
If I really stayed here I was certain she¡¯d continuously bother me whenever I tried to make myselffortable.
Her move had really turned this into a lose-lose situation for me. If I stayed, she¡¯d bother me endlessly throughout the year during lessons in ss. If I changed seats for one far away from her she¡¯d win and take my seat. If her n had been to bother me outside of ss hours by bullying or something, I wouldn¡¯t have particrly cared. But because she sat down beside me and made it obvious that I¡¯d have no peace in ss if I remained there, I was left with no other choice.
A small sigh inadvertently leaked out from in between my lips and rather than fold to the little threat she made, I decided to fold willingly of my own ord
I pushed my chair back with the back of my knees while standing up. I bent down and picked up my bag from the ground beside me and put it over my shoulder.
When she saw me abruptly stand up she asked, ¡°Oh? Where are you going now?¡±
¡°The toilet. Is that any of your business?¡±
¡°Is that really okay though? Aren¡¯t you afraid I¡¯ll take your seat?¡±
¡°If it¡¯s taken, so be it.¡±
¡°If you¡¯re concerned about it being taken, why not leave your bag in your chair instead of taking it with you?¡±
¡°I¡¯m worried there might be a petty woman who doesn¡¯t know how to keep her hands to herself that will hide it somewhere or rummage through my belongings without my permission.¡± I never left my bag unattended or out of my sight when I was at school. It was a habit to always take it with me everywhere I went.
¡°A petty woman who doesn¡¯t know how to keep her hands to herself? Whoever could that be referring to?¡± She smiled and yed dumb.
It seems my efforts to keep my seat had all been for naught. When I thought back on it now, I finally vaguely remembered an event simr to this had transpired on my first day of high school.
I couldn¡¯t remember the girl¡¯s face because I hadn¡¯t so much as spared her a nce at the time and we never really interacted back then. In contrast to back then, I¡¯d lethargically stood up and surrendered the seat immediately because I didn¡¯t have the energy to open my mouth to talk to her. Talking to others had been something too exhausting for me and I considered it unnecessary. I only ever talked when it absolutely required me to. For something I considered optional like this, I kept my mouth shut and wordlessly moved to the opposite side of the ssroom. As far as I could recall, the two of us never interacted again after this since she got what she wanted.
I exited the room and stood outside the door for a bit. I didn¡¯t look back, but on the way out the door, I¡¯d heard her chair pull out which confirmed she¡¯d taken my seat.
Counting down from sixty in my head I let a minute pass while leaning against the wall out of sight around the corner. When I figured it had been long enough, I reentered the ssroom and took a seat at the back corner opposite of hers.
¡°Mr. Neighbor, what are you doing? I saved your seat for you.¡± She called out to me from the side.
I tilted my head in her direction and peaked at her. She directed a deceptively pretty smile on her face toward me. If a man didn¡¯t know any better, they would in all likelihood instantly fall for her on the spot. Against my expectations, she was still seated where she had been previously. I wasn¡¯t quite able to understand the situation immediately as I¡¯d heard her get off her chair when I exited the ssroom. But when she leaned back a little, I figured it out. Thinking I¡¯d be a while, she¡¯d stood up and rested her purse on top of my desk to prevent it from being taken by an uninvolved third party.
I didn¡¯t bother to respond, I simply looked away, folded my arms then put my head down on my desk and ignored her.
I looked forward and only now realized our homeroom teacher had watched our entire interaction with a somewhat amused expression on his face. ¡®Ah, youth.¡¯ That was the type of thought the look on his face described. Don¡¯t you, ¡®Ah, youth.¡¯ me and pretend you¡¯re watching some shitty drama on TV! I red at him angrily to convey my intent before I lowered my gaze to my desk and closed my eyes.
With that, I figured it would be over. ss would soon begin and students would soon start piling in.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 3. A Nosy Neighbor (3/4)
However, it was as if the gods wereughing at my naivety. To my left came the sound of someone standing up from their chair. A few footstepster the chair closest to me on my left was pulled out.
I rotated my head to the left and peaked from the corner of my eye. There sat the touchy red-haired beauty staring at me with a taunting smile while waving her hand as a greeting close to her face.
She spoke softly, ¡°Rise and shine, it¡¯s almost time for ss sleepyhead.¡±
That was it, checkmate. I had no more moves. I had been thoroughly defeated in andslide victory on her part. My only option left would be to leave the room and skip ss, but who was to say she wouldn¡¯t follow me out of spite?
Frustrated beyond belief as a result of this persistent petty woman, I wordlessly stood up and returned to my original seat. She immediately followed right behind me with a victorious smile having sealed off all my escape routes.
¡°Jeez~ heheheh, you sure are indecisive with where you want to sit, make up your mind already.¡± She said teasingly, finding my actions humorous.
¡°Haaaaah. Can you please leave me alone and stop following me around?¡±
¡°I¡¯m not following you, I was just verifying where was easier to see the ckboard at the front of the ss from back here.¡±
¡°Oh, how convenient.¡±
¡°Yes, it turns out it¡¯s easiest to see beside wherever you sit.¡±
¡°Does it look like I have some sort of ¡®make ckboard easier to see to my neighbors¡¯ superpower or something?¡±
¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty convinced of it now.¡±
¡°What a shitty power, I don¡¯t want it. Do you think it¡¯s possible to request a refund from whoever gave me this shitty unwanted superpower?¡±
¡°Last time I checked all sales were final.¡±
¡°I never purchased anything.¡±
¡°There¡¯s a no returns epted policy then.¡±
¡°I¡¯d like to throw it away in the garbage then.¡±
¡°That would be considered pollution, you¡¯ll face divine retribution.¡±
¡°Haaaaaah. This is quite unpleasant.¡±
¡°It sounds like it.¡±
While we senselessly bantered back and forth like this, other students finally showed up and entered the ssroom.
With their presence, I shut my mouth unwilling to associate myself any further with this woman. It would be nice if someone else would draw her attention. Maybe a hot athletic guy with good looks would be enough to entertain her or something.
Every student who entered the ss had their eyes drawn to the two of us seated at the back. Well¡ rather than the two of us, it would be more correct to say the girl seated beside me who¡¯d at some point taken out a nail file to take care of her nails.
She paid no attention to the people entering treating them like air and only cared for the maintenance on her nails.
To her, this was likely a daily urrence. The gazes directed at her meant nothing at all. She was far more concerned with her nails than their gazes.
A bit curious because of how much care she gave them, I took a closer look at them myself. Her nails were painted a deep red that suited her well, but they appeared to be quite sharp.
I couldn¡¯t help but mutter to myself, ¡°Are you trying to kill someone with those things?¡±
She didn¡¯t respond, but I still noticed her lips formed an almost unnoticeable smile as if she found my words humourous. Thought that might have been my misunderstanding. She might not have even heard me and was smiling because she liked the way her nails looked.
Seeing as she was leaving me alone now and wasn¡¯t responding, I returned to my usual position on my desk.
Somehow, even with my head down, I had an unsettling feeling I was being stared at by my touchy neighbor. I peaked to my side and our eyes locked for a moment confirming my suspicions. She didn¡¯t look away immediately despite being caught. It was like it hadn¡¯t bothered her at all that I knew she was staring at me. She didn¡¯t care.
Only after ten seconds, staring directly into my eyes did her focus return to her nails.
I closed my eyes and feigned I was asleep again. As soon as I did I felt the same gaze again. When caught for the second time our staring contest went on for a solid twenty seconds.
Suspicious about what was going on I closed my eyes for the third time only for the feeling to return. When I opened them again it was thirty seconds. Suddenly I understood what was going on. It was a form of harassment. For every time this process repeated, ten seconds would be added to how long she stared me down in the eyes.
I wouldn¡¯t be able to rx in ss like this at all if she kept this up! But surely she¡¯d get tired if I just didn¡¯t look back at her.
Actually, forget her, what the hell is with this dream anyway? When is it going to end? Actually¡ will it even end? Shouldn¡¯t I have woken up by now? Is it possible¡ that this isn¡¯t a dream like I thought?
Now that I thought it over¡ didn¡¯t I feel it when she was touching me earlier? The time her finger slid across my skin starting from my cheek toward the back of my neck. Then the warmth when my arm was in contact with her body. Her soft hair when it brushed against my cheek. Andstly, her finger tapping my chin.
If it was just one instance, I could dismiss it as nothing much, but I felt all of it, everything little thing she did. Even her gaze directed toward me.
My body jolted up. I finally looked down and examined my body more closely. I confirmed that my appearance was definitely that of when I was in high school.
My mind entered a state of chaos.
This has to be a dream. It has to. If it wasn¡¯t a dream¡ then what about before? When that knife was in my chest and the subsequent whisper I heard.
What happened before that point? What led up to that?
I couldn¡¯t remember.
My memories were hazy and indistinct.
Was I¡ actually¡ killed by someone?
A thought so absurd entered my mind.
Had the story idea I¡¯d yed around with before death turned into reality?
Slowly, but surely, I was gradually losing a grip on reality.
What was real and what was fake. I couldn¡¯t tell.
I even had the hysterical thought that the twenty-five years I remembered after this was all part of a dream I had before the start of my first day of high school.
I was much more inclined to believe that than something absurd like I¡¯d died and truly returned to relive my past from this point on.
C-Calm¡ I need to calm down. I need to slowly think this over properly and not immediately jump to conclusions. I¡¯ll have a nervous breakdown and an identity crisis on my hands at this rate.
Perhaps¡ neither of the two options I¡¯d thought up were correct.
Or maybe it was just a dream after all. Maybe I was in aatose state.
I couldn¡¯t decide. There really wasn¡¯t anything I could do even if I figured it out either. The only thing I could do at the moment was let things y out and see what would happen.
I took a deep breath in and held it in for several seconds before slowly breathing out steadily.
With that single action, my mind was clear and I¡¯d regained my senses.
¡°What¡¯s wrong? You looked pretty panicky just now out of nowhere. Did you forget something important at home?¡± My nosy neighbor asked while working attentively on her nails despite not looking at me.
¡°Well¡ it was probably a mid-life crisis of some sort.¡±
¡°Mid-life crisis? You¡¯re fifteen, aren¡¯t you? Isn¡¯t it way too soon for you to have something like that?¡±
¡°Leave me alone, I¡¯m a forty-year-old fart at heart.¡±
¡°I¡¯d nearly be inclined to believe it if you said that. I have a thing for older mature guys after all.¡±
¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± I raised one eyebrow at her strange response.
¡°Nothing in particr. I¡¯m just not really interested in high school boys I guess.¡±
¡°Ah, I see. You¡¯re looking for a free ride in life. Your typical high school boy certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to meet those standards.¡±
She closed her right eye and stared at me with her half-open left. ¡°I take offense to that. Though a free ride in life might not be so bad, it wouldn¡¯t necessarily be that fun.¡±
¡°You would prioritize a fun life over an easy life?¡±
¡°I suppose you could say that.¡±
¡°It must be nice having such a leisurely life that you can choose.¡±
¡°Oh? You¡¯re saying you can¡¯t?¡±
¡°I guess so.¡± Life isn¡¯t easy. Never has been, never will be.
¡°Hmmm, is that so? Why do you say that?¡±
¡°Why do you care?¡±
¡°No particr reason. Just a bit curious is all.¡±