After homeroom wrapped up under Asama-sensei’s lazy guidance, Harutaki passed the time half by admiring Nogami’s beauty and posture, half by fiddling with the ReverseWorld Game system. When he snapped back to reality, he brushed off Akihisa, who wanted to chatter about the April anime season, and instead focused his eyes on Murai.
Once Murai Ren was quietly memorizing the class roster, alone at his desk, Harutaki stood up and walked straight over.
“Pardon me, Lord Murai Awa-no-suke. Might I trouble you with a small request?”
Murai lifted his head at the voice. Spotting Harutaki, he smirked and cracked a joke:
“Let me say this first—the troubles of adolescence are outside my jurisdiction, you know, erm…?”
“Hoshikawa. Hoshikawa Harutaki.” Harutaki extended his right hand. “I believe this is our first proper meeting. I’ll be in your care for the next two years.”
“No need to be so formal, Hoshikawa-kun.” Murai clasped his hand firmly, then clapped him on the shoulder with a mock-serious expression. “Easing my classmates’ burdens—that is the solemn duty of Murai Awa-no-suke!”
“So then, Hoshikawa-dono, what vexation do you bring before me today?” he asked, imitating the pomp of a samurai drama.
“It’s nothing major, just that…”
Harutaki tapped his head and leaned in slightly.
“…do you have any good salons to recommend? Your haircut looks sharp, so I thought—”
Making friends boils down to two paths: mutual interest, or mutual benefit. Harutaki lacked both, but flattery was easy enough—most people never minded a little praise. And besides, he did need a proper stylist; waking up every morning with “seaweed hair” was getting old.
“To be honest, I used to just let my sister cut it at home to save time and money, but it’s never quite right.” Harutaki lied without a flicker, inwardly apologizing to Ayaka.
“How about your budget?”
“Anything under ten thousand yen.”
It dawned on Murai then. At Nichiya High in Minato Ward, even the “poorest” student came from at least a middle-class household.
“If you want cheap, Takadanobaba’s full of three-thousand-yen cuts. If you don’t mind spending, I recommend GARDEN in Harajuku. Haircuts are seven thousand, perms and coloring go over ten thousand. But you’ll need a reservation.”
“Then could I trouble you for the number or website for the latter?”
Harutaki smoothly pulled out his phone, opened Line.
“Let’s add each other.”
His contact list now had four names. Harutaki whistled, pleased.
He hadn’t just scored salon intel; Murai also filled him in on class gossip. The red-buzz-cut in front of him was Koyama Haruto, a basketball club regular. Shihou really was a Kyoto ojou-sama, while Nogami’s family was so powerful that even the principal couldn’t touch her.
“Oi oi oi, Harutaki—you were chatting away with that guy like old pals?”
On his way back to his seat to pack up and go shopping for clothes, Akihisa rushed up in disbelief.
“What do you mean that guy?”
“You know, a full-on normie boss. A radiating sunshine type!”
“Talking with Murai’s actually pretty easy.”
Harutaki only smiled. Compared to the self-absorbed types who dumped monologues without a care, Murai’s balance of words and distance made for smooth, never-boring conversation.
“Um, Harutaki… could you maybe teach me your secret? If I could talk to Murai that easily, my dream would be halfway there.”
“At the next hangout, I want to talk to the princess-sama more. If I could even make her smile…”
So humble it was almost sad. In Harutaki’s mind, the closest term was keep-kun—the perpetual backup guy. But Akihisa didn’t even qualify for that. More like an ATM.
Still, Harutaki mulled it over. Was basic conversation really such a hurdle?
“Just pick topics you both find interesting. That’s it.”
“You say that, but I have no talent for socializing at all…”
“Don’t dump everything on ‘talent.’”
But Harutaki wasn’t about to coach him step by step; he had his own schedule to keep. Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the time, and on his mental shopping list added one more item—a watch.
“Anyway, look at the time. Sorry, Akihisa, I’ve got errands. Next time I’ll give you a proper lecture on social arts, alright?”
“N-No, sorry, I shouldn’t keep you. Go on ahead…”
“Nye. See you tomorrow.”
Left behind, Akihisa slumped into his chair with a sigh. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝘯𝘦𝘵
“…Feels like Harutaki’s a completely different person now.”
The chair creaked under his weight, followed by the sudden crash of a desk being kicked.
“Oi, four-eyes. That guy you were grinning with just now, who was he?”
The venomous voice pierced his ears, froze his lungs. Akihisa looked up, terrified.
Standing there with a scornful smirk—Nogami.
“Well, well. Even a bug like Tazaki can have a friend?”
At her left, a tanned, short, brown-haired girl sneered playfully. A total gyaru vibe.
“Not quite, Sae. Even cockroaches show up in swarms.”
On her right, a tall, chestnut-haired girl giggled behind her hand, eyes curved like crescent moons.
“Answer me. That gross purple seaweed head, the one giving me those filthy eyes—what’s his name?”
Nogami’s words struck like a death sentence.
Akihisa collapsed over his desk, gasping, choking—barely able to breathe.