Heart

Whew, so that first challenge? Way easier than I expected. Honestly, I thought this would be some epic uphill battle, but we cut through her schemes like a hot knife through butter.

Oh, and check this out—a massive time skip from the last chapter! I mean, just bam—two whole months went by in a flash.

It's like the story just went on a little vacation, skipped over the boring bits, and now we're back right where the action picks up again.

But hey, I get it. Who needs to see every second of a meticulous, strategic takedown when we can jump straight to the fallout, right?

So here we are, two months forward, and trust me, a lot went down in the meantime. It's just that this story's pacing knows what it's doing—why drag it out?

Now we're primed and ready for what's next. And believe me, things are about to get really interesting. Buckle up, because it's only getting better from here!

Naturally, after two solid months here, I've settled into campus life pretty well.

The routines, the shortcuts, the faces—everything's starting to feel second nature.

I know exactly where to go for a quiet spot or the best place to observe without drawing too much attention. At this point, even the quirks of the different departments don't surprise me anymore.

I've learned the flow of the place, the social circles, and a few little secrets most students miss. It's safe to say this place feels more like my playground now than just a university.

Sip.

Ah, I love this tea. There's something satisfying about the flavor—it's almost as if each sip brings a bit of calm to the chaos around here. And having a brewing club on campus? Genius. It's like a little oasis in the middle of all the noise, and I appreciate every second of it.

Just as I'm savoring my tea, letting the quiet sink in, someone suddenly steps right into my personal space. The peace shatters instantly—my little bubble of solitude popped without warning.

"Enjoying the tea time, Mr. NTR'd?" A voice chimes in, dripping with playful mockery.

I look up and see a girl, Korean, by the looks of it—long, jet-black hair with stylish bangs that frame her face perfectly.

There's a knowing smirk on her lips, and a sparkle in her eyes that says she's sharper than she lets on.

Her clothes are carefully chosen, casual but not too casual, like someone who knows exactly how to draw attention without looking like they're trying.

She's clearly someone who reads people for sport, but it takes one to know one. I can already tell she's used to walking up to people uninvited and probably has a habit of poking at weaknesses, just for the thrill of it.

"Sorry, who are you, beautiful lady?" I ask, a curious smile tugging at my lips. "And more importantly, how exactly do you know that information?"

She narrows her eyes slightly, crossing her arms in a way that's less friendly and more… evaluative.

"Ae Ri," she says, as if testing the name in my presence.

"I'm with the newspaper club." She taps her notebook against her leg, eyes studying me with careful suspicion.

"Seems like you've been busy for a normal student. Quite a bit of dirt is getting dug up around here…coincidence?"

I lean back, feigning innocence. "Busy? Maybe I just have that natural gift for making friends." I let the statement hang, watching her reaction.

"Oh, come on," she says, raising an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

"Word is, a few students you've been involved with have hit… let's call them 'hard times.' And then there's Ayame and Kazuo."

She doesn't take her eyes off me, almost like she's waiting for a slip. "So I've been wondering, are you actually here to study? Or is something else going on?"

I smile, trying not to let her hook me. "Well, journalism must be a cutthroat game if that's how you're sizing up a new student. But no need to worry, Miss Reporter—I'm just here to learn. And if some people happen to trip over their own choices along the way, well, that's hardly my fault, right?"

She's not buying it, but I can tell she's intrigued. "Sure, if you say so. But I'll admit…" She glances at me sideways. "There's a rumor that you're… enjoying these 'coincidences.' You'd tell me if there's a story there, right?"

"Depends," I reply, leaning forward, matching her tone. "If there is a story, you'd have to work for it. Can't give away all the fun in one sitting, can we?"

She laughs lightly, but her eyes stay sharp. "All right, but fair warning: I'll be watching. Something tells me you're the kind who always has another move up his sleeve."

"Fair enough," I say, raising my cup to her. "And who knows—maybe I'll even let you in on the next one."

I narrow my eyes, keeping my tone light but curious. "Also… how exactly do you know I got NTR'd?"

Ae Ri raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence, but there's a spark of mischief in her expression. "Oh, people talk. And I'm pretty good at listening when it's… juicy." She taps her notebook, as if the information might be written right there in ink.

I chuckle, though it's more out of disbelief than amusement. "Wow, you dig fast. I didn't expect my personal life to make it to campus news in record time."

She shrugs, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "What can I say? A transfer with a scandalous past gets attention. Besides," she adds, eyes gleaming with interest, "I heard it was quite a scene."

"That's one way to put it," I reply, letting a smirk of my own slip. "Though I'm curious—how much do you think you know?"

She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Enough to know you've got a bit of a score to settle… or at least something to prove."

I glance at her, impressed despite myself. "Sharp eyes, Ae Ri. But maybe some things are better left as… rumors."

She grins, like a cat that knows it's on to something. "Rumors are my favorite, after all. Just don't be too surprised if I uncover more. This is only the beginning, isn't it?"

I laugh, taking a sip of my tea. "We'll see."

Ae Ri glances down at her watch, then back at me with a warm, slightly teasing smile.

"Well, looks like it's that time," she says with a sigh, slipping her notebook back into her bag. "Duty calls, you know? Stories to chase, mysteries to unravel."

She winks, giving me that look that somehow feels both friendly and like she's already piecing together every detail about me.

She rises from her seat gracefully, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she gives a small wave. "See you around, Takuya-kun," she says, her tone lingering just enough to let me know she's not done poking into my life just yet.

"Don't get into too much trouble without me."

And with that, she strides off confidently, leaving me there to wonder what exactly she'll come up with next.

That Korean girl, Ae Ri, is definitely someone to watch out for.

There's something about her sharp eyes and that confident air she carries that makes me feel like she's always a step ahead.

I can't afford to underestimate her, especially with how she's already digging into my past.

I know I have a tendency to be overly confident, to think I'm the smartest one in any room—but with her, I can't be that reckless.

She's clever, observant, and already seems to have me figured out better than I would like. If I'm not careful, she might just unravel everything I'm trying to keep under wraps.

I have to play this game more cautiously now.

I finish my tea and went to my class...although it's too early but I gotta go there for a sleep, as I walk the hallways I see....Haruka....

Haruka approaches, I feel a sharp pang in my chest. It's sudden, unexpected—a deep, painful wave of emotion that hits me out of nowhere. Sadness. Hurt. It's like someone took a knife and twisted it in my heart, and I can't shake the feeling. I try to push it down, but it lingers.

Damn it. This isn't me. Or at least, it shouldn't be. My mind is clear, focused—sharp as always. But now, I'm battling something else. Takuya's feelings. His pain. They're flooding in, overwhelming my thoughts like an unwanted wave.

Why is this happening?

Why did I get isekai'd with his mind but not his heart?

I didn't sign up for this emotional baggage. It's frustrating, this tug-of-war between who I really am and what's coming from him. I can't let this mess with my plans, but damn, it's hard to ignore when it feels so real.

This is a complication I didn't need.

Haruka flinches, her face contorting with the weight of my words. She opens her mouth, but I don't give her a chance to respond. My voice comes out sharper, more strained than I want it to.

"You didn't even wait for me... why?!" I repeat, the question echoing in my head like a broken record. The anger burns in my chest, but underneath that, I can feel something else — something unfamiliar, something I don't want to feel.

"Why would you choose that kangaroo-looking guy Hiroshi over me? After everything? You knew how I felt about you, and yet... you went to him!"

I try to control my breathing, but it's no use. I'm not even thinking clearly.

It's like I'm speaking, but the words are just tumbling out of my mouth, and I can't stop them. This isn't the logical, cool-headed guy I usually am.

This is something else — something raw, something messy. Takuya's heart's a tangled mess of confusion, frustration, and... regret?

Haruka's eyes well up, her hands trembling at her sides. "Takuya... I—"

I cut her off again, more harshly than I intend. "What? What, Haruka? Are you going to tell me it was a mistake? Are you going to tell me you didn't mean it? Because guess what? I don't buy it anymore."

The words hit harder than I expect, and a part of me wants to take them back, but I can't. It feels like I've opened a floodgate, and everything I've been holding in is rushing out.

Haruka looks down, tears welling up in her eyes. "I was scared... Takuya, I didn't know how to—"

"Scared?" I scoff, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You were scared? Please. That's your excuse? After everything, you thought running to him would fix it? You left me, you chose him, and now you want to say you were scared?"

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, but it's not just the anger anymore. It's something else — a sickening, gnawing feeling that I can't shake. It's the emptiness I never wanted to acknowledge, the vulnerability I've tried so hard to avoid.

For a moment, everything's quiet. It's like the whole world has frozen, and I'm just standing here, heart racing, my head swimming in chaos. Haruka doesn't say anything. She just stands there, looking at me with those same sad, regretful eyes.

I can't even look at her anymore. My gaze flickers away, but the words won't stop coming. "You broke me, Haruka. You broke everything we had. And for what? A guy who didn't even give a damn about you?"

She's silent now, and I can't tell if it's guilt or sorrow in her eyes. But I don't want to know anymore. I don't want to feel any of this.

I turn away abruptly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. You made your choice. You don't get to come back."

With that, I walk away, leaving her behind. The bitter taste of the confrontation still lingers in my chest, but at least I've said it. At least I've told her what I needed to.

But even as I walk, I can't help but wonder: Is this really over? Or have I just lost myself in the process?

An hour passes, but the heavy feeling still clings to me.

My thoughts are a chaotic mess, constantly swirling around the same questions, the same words that I just spewed at Haruka.

It's like a tidal wave that crashed into me, drowning me in emotions I didn't want to feel.

The anger.

The frustration.

The bitter regret. 

I didn't want to feel any of it, not really. But there it was, and it was overpowering everything I had built up in my mind.

As the minutes stretch on, I finally start to breathe again.

The intense wave of emotion begins to recede, like a storm slowly losing its fury.

My thoughts start to clear. And that's when it hits me — Takuya's feelings.

Those feelings are so strong, so deeply embedded into the body I'm inhabiting, that they almost overpowered my own mind.

They've been lurking in the back of my head, waiting for the right moment to break through. And when that moment came, they did.

I sit down on a bench outside, rubbing my temples in frustration.

So this is what it feels like, I think to myself. Takuya's feelings, his past pain, his attachment to Haruka, they're more than just memories in this body — they're like a second nature.

And when they take over, there's no fighting it. When his emotions rise up, it's like my brain is drowned in them. Logic, reason, the stuff that usually keeps me grounded? It's all gone.

I sigh, deeply. So that's it, huh?

It feels like a cold realization hitting me in the chest.

I've been walking around with Takuya's heart all this time, not even realizing how strong it was. And now, I finally understand.

When Takuya's emotions are stronger than my own willpower, they have the power to control me. They make me act, make me speak, make me feel things I didn't choose to feel. And as much as I want to be the rational, logical guy, I'm not immune to it.

For a moment, I sit there in silence. The weight of it all is pressing down on me. But then I let out a long, steadying breath. I can deal with this. I have to deal with this. After all, I didn't get isekai'd into this mess to fall apart.

I stand up, shaking my head as I look around. The world hasn't stopped, and neither can I. Whatever this is, whatever Takuya's emotions are doing to me — I need to find a way to control it. Because if I don't, this body, this mind, will slip away from me entirely.

I give a half-smile to myself. Time to reset. Time to take control again.

I stood up and head to class.

After the boring class ended I go back to my dorm room...

As I stand there in the doorway, I take in the scene. Akikatsu is sitting across from a woman with pink hair and an easy smile, clearly at ease in each other's presence. The two of them are almost too absorbed in their conversation, exchanging soft words and subtle glances. It feels like they're in their own world.

"Ah, you're back early," Akikatsu says casually, not missing a beat as he gestures to the woman sitting next to him. "This is Kana. We met through the Entrepreneurship Club."

Kana, the woman with the bright pink hair, looks up and gives me a polite smile.

She's small but carries herself with a quiet confidence, her eyes warm but not overly eager. Her body language suggests she's a bit reserved, but there's no mistaking the way she's positioned next to Akikatsu — comfortable and natural.

I raise an eyebrow, feeling a smirk tug at the corner of my lips. "So, this is the 'secret' you've been hiding from me, huh?" I tease, stepping further into the room. "Didn't expect you to get all romantic on me, Akikatsu."

He lets out a small laugh, a genuine one, the kind that comes from being comfortable with someone. "What can I say? You can't always be about business, right? Sometimes it's nice to kick back."

Kana shifts in her seat, a little more composed now, but her eyes are curious as they flick to me. "I didn't expect you to be this... direct," she says with a slight laugh, tilting her head. "But Akikatsu's told me a bit about you. You seem... different."

I give her a playful grin. "Different? I'm just me. But what about you? Are you keeping Akikatsu on his toes, or are you letting him take the lead?"

Her smile grows a little softer, though there's a thoughtful look in her eyes. "I think it's more about balance. He keeps me grounded."

I glance at Akikatsu, noting the subtle pride in his expression as he looks at her. He's always been the one to take charge, but I can tell he respects her quiet influence. There's a certain ease between them, a dynamic that doesn't need words to explain.

"Guess you two work well together," I comment, my gaze flicking between them. "I'd say it's good for him to have someone like you around."

Kana gives a small smile, her voice calm but confident. "I think we balance each other out."

I nod, a little impressed. "Well, it's good to see you're keeping Akikatsu from turning into a workaholic. Gotta remind him to have a little fun every now and then, right?"

Akikatsu chuckles, clearly appreciating the comment. "Yeah, well, someone's got to make sure I don't get lost in spreadsheets all day."

I give him a mock salute. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you two to it then. You've got your quiet moments, and I've got my own chaos to get back to."

Kana laughs softly, a more relaxed smile on her face. "It was nice meeting you, Takuya."

I nod back, the playful tension in the air fading. "Same here. Take care, you two."

As I make my way toward our double-decker bed, I glance at the top bunk before settling under my own—the bottom bunk.

I can't help but think that maybe Akikatsu's not as hard-headed as I thought.

Maybe he's figured something out that I haven't. Either way, it's good to see him with someone who can keep up with him, even if he doesn't always show it.

I lie down, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with a mix of thoughts.

The isekai... the challenges, the unexpected turns, the people I've met, the ones I've outwitted, and the ones who've left their marks on me. It's all a blur of strange moments, but somehow, it's my reality now.

As my thoughts begin to quiet, the weight of the day pulls me deeper. The constant mental buzz fades, and I slowly drift off to sleep, the events of the day slowly blending into dreams.

Meanwhile, in the dingy, dimly lit apartment of Hiroshi, a storm of rage brews.

The room, cluttered with discarded fast food wrappers and half-empty bottles of alcohol, now feels even more suffocating, as if the air itself is thick with his anger.

Hiroshi stands in the middle of the chaos, fists clenched, his chest rising and falling as he grits his teeth.

"How the hell is he so damn calm?" he snarls through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with fury. His hands shake as he picks up an old, cracked vase from the table, hurling it at the wall. The ceramic shatters in an explosion of sharp fragments, but Hiroshi doesn't flinch.

"Takuya... that bastard, he's thriving... when I'm the one who should've been on top!" His voice cracks with frustration, the words laced with bitterness. He storms around the apartment, his mind racing as his thoughts spiral.

Hiroshi's fists slam into the nearby countertop, causing the stack of magazines to fly off the edge. He breathes heavily, eyes wide with the twisted intensity of his emotions. "How is he still winning? How is it that he's the one everyone loves, the one they all admire? And I—I—I'm left here in this shit-hole, broken, humiliated."

His breathing grows faster, more shallow.

He's practically choking on his anger.

He takes a deep breath and then lets out a growl, a guttural sound that comes from the very pit of his stomach. "Everything's going right for him... while I'm stuck in this mess."

His mind flashes back to Takuya, still so unshaken, so calm and collected, pulling strings behind the scenes, making everything look effortless.

How? How did Takuya—who should have been crushed by his own heartbreak—become the most charming, most successful, and somehow most popular guy in the room?

"I was supposed to be the one with everything... the one in control. I was supposed to be the one who walked away with her... but no! Takuya had to swoop in like some damn hero and steal it all. And now, he's got everything." Hiroshi's voice cracks at the last word, a strangled sob mixed with the fury.

He punches the wall, his knuckles splitting open on impact, but the pain doesn't register. It's as if the physical pain pales in comparison to the sharp sting of his pride, shredded and left in tatters.

"You think you're better than me, huh, Takuya?" Hiroshi mutters, his eyes now a dangerous, manic glint as he looks around the room, as if Takuya himself might be watching from the shadows.

"I'll show you. I'll show everyone just how much better I really am. You won't keep winning. I'll make sure of it."

A twisted smile curls on his lips as he watches his reflection in the cracked mirror across the room. His gaze hardens, the anger transforming into something more sinister, something cold.

The storm inside him isn't over—it's just beginning. And as the silence falls over the apartment, Hiroshi stands there, seething, plotting, consumed by a singular obsession: taking everything from Takuya, piece by piece, until there's nothing left.

Next day.

"Aki, let's go out somewhere... maybe grab a bite to eat?" Kana asked, her voice soft, a hopeful tone in her eyes as she looked at Akikatsu, who was busy looking through his phone.

Akikatsu glanced up at her with a gentle smile, but his expression quickly shifted to one of mild regret.

"Sorry, Kana, but I'm busy today," he replied, his voice calm but firm, his attention quickly snapping back to the messages on his screen.

Kana's smile faltered slightly, though she tried to hide it behind a nod.

"Oh... it's fine, I understand." She said, trying to mask the disappointment in her voice, but it was hard to ignore the weight in her chest.

Without a moment's hesitation, Akikatsu leaned in and kissed the top of her head, a gesture that was meant to soothe her, but in that moment, it felt like a hollow comfort.

"I'll make it up to you, okay? I've got some things I need to take care of. You know how it is."

Kana nodded again, but this time there was no warmth in the gesture.

She watched as Akikatsu grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door, leaving her standing there alone in the dimly lit living room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, a sense of emptiness slowly began to creep in.

The apartment felt quieter than usual, the silence pressing in on her, and the void Akikatsu's absence created felt all too tangible.

Her mind wandered, her thoughts drifting back to the days when he would spend hours with her, when they could talk for hours about everything and nothing.

Those moments now felt like distant memories.

She sank into the couch, curling her legs up beneath her.

The loneliness washed over her like a heavy wave, and she pulled her knees tighter to her chest.

She wasn't angry—no, that wasn't it—but there was an ache in her heart that she couldn't quite shake off.

It wasn't just the loneliness that stung, but the feeling that she had become an afterthought. Akikatsu was always so busy—too busy for her.

She understood his work and the ambition that drove him, but there were days, like today, where it felt as if he was slowly drifting further away.

She thought back to their earlier days together, when everything seemed simpler.

Back then, they would spend time together, enjoying the smallest of moments—laughing over silly jokes, sharing random thoughts, or just sitting in comfortable silence.

But now, all those moments felt like they belonged to another time, another version of their relationship.

Kana sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as if to push away the thoughts swirling in her head.

But the longing remained. The yearning for something more, for those moments of connection that seemed to be slipping through her fingers, no matter how hard she tried to hold on.

She couldn't help but feel... forgotten. Or at least, neglected.

The person she loved was always just a little too far away, always too focused on something else.

She longed for his attention, his affection—just a little more of the man she had once known so well.

After a few tense moments, Kana finally lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

She glances around, her mind racing as she tries to shake off the stress that's been building all day. Her hands clench and unclench as she looks for an escape, some place where she can let off some steam without letting her emotions completely unravel.

Then it hits her—the brewing club.

The idea brings a small sense of relief, a place where she can focus on something as calming and repetitive as tea-making.

She stands up with a quick decision, smoothing out her clothes and letting her feet carry her to the familiar room where the club meets.

As Kana steps into the brewing club, the soft scents of dried herbs and freshly brewed tea immediately start to soothe her nerves.

She breathes in deeply, filling her lungs with the warm aroma that fills the room.

The club has always been her quiet haven, a place where she can escape the noise of campus life and just center herself. Here, among the carefully arranged teapots and delicate teacups, she feels like she can finally unwind.

Kana takes her time selecting her favorite teapot and gathering the ingredients.

She starts to pour the hot water slowly, watching the steam rise in lazy curls.

Someone taps her shoulder and it's kangaroo-looking Hiroshi

Kana hesitates, feeling Hiroshi's presence beside her as he follows her toward the quiet corner of the brewing club. She doesn't recognize him, but his intense stare makes her feel as though he knows more than he should.

"Hey," Hiroshi says, his tone suddenly softer, as if he's trying to read her. "Tough day?"

She blinks, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. "Uh… yeah, you could say that. Just needed some time to clear my head."

Hiroshi nods, his expression understanding, almost too understanding. "I get it. Relationships can be complicated, huh? Especially with someone like… Akikatsu, right?" His voice is smooth, casual, but Kana can feel the weight of something unspoken in his words.

Kana glances at him warily. "You know Akikatsu?"

"Only by reputation," Hiroshi replies, shrugging with a practiced ease. "People like him are... consistent, I guess. Determined. Stubborn." He pauses, letting his words sink in before continuing. "But I imagine that might make things harder sometimes. Like you're just part of his routine."

She gives him a cautious look, feeling both seen and unsettled by his insight. "It's not like that," she says, but her voice lacks conviction.

Hiroshi raises an eyebrow, a small, almost pitying smile creeping onto his face. "If you say so," he murmurs, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Just remember to think about what you want, too. Sometimes, it's easy to get lost in someone else's plans."

Kana shifts uncomfortably, feeling his words hit a little too close to home. She tries to brush it off. "Thanks for the... advice, I guess."

"Anytime," Hiroshi says smoothly. As she turns away, his gaze lingers, calculating—already plotting the next step in his own game.

Hiroshi's expression softens further, his tone shifting to an easy, almost friendly warmth.

"Hey, if you ever need someone to vent to—or even just grab a coffee with—I'm around. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone outside of it all, you know?"

His words are carefully chosen, calm and inviting, as if he's there purely out of concern.

Kana's shoulders relax slightly, caught off guard by his kindness. "Yeah… maybe," she says, letting down her guard just enough.

He nods, casually pulling out his phone. "No pressure, of course," he adds, with a small, disarming smile. "But if you want to share your socials, I'm here. Could be good to have someone who gets it."

She hesitates briefly, but his approachable demeanor seems genuine enough—or at least, non-threatening.

With a quick glance, she unlocks her phone and taps her profile to pull up her account. "Sure, here," she says, extending her screen so he can add her.

He quickly scans her profile with a smile that seems equal parts casual and practiced. "Thanks, Kana," he says, slipping his phone away. "I'll let you know if I find a good spot for that coffee, alright?"

As he steps back, giving her some space, Kana feels oddly comforted. Hiroshi waves a small goodbye, leaving her with a lingering sense of calm… even as he walks away, inwardly smirking, knowing he's just opened another door into her life.

Meanwhile, at my apartment...

I wake up, stretch out my arms, and yawn like I'm auditioning for a sleepy lion.

Another day, but ah, it's the weekend—usually prime time for an aimless walk around campus. But wait! I jolt up, remembering: I need to submit my club form to the photography club today. Right. I did decide to try something new, didn't I?

I jump out of bed, energized now, and head straight for the bathroom.

After a quick shower that leaves me feeling refreshed and ready, I throw on some clothes, grab my bag, and head out the door, practically bouncing down the hallway.

I stroll down the hall, humming to myself, fully in the zone. Then… I stop. Wait. A pang of realization hits me—I've totally forgotten which room the photography club is in. Great.

I stand there, looking around at the endless line of identical doors.

Alright, think. I could ask someone…but no, no, that's too easy. Maybe I can retrace my steps from last time?

TOTOTOTRON TORROOOOON—MIND PALAAAAACE TIME!!!

I close my eyes, deep focus mode activated. I visualize filing cabinets, each drawer filled with all the scraps of memory I've gathered over the last two months. I reach for the one labeled "Photography Club," fingers itching with hope.

With a dramatic click, the drawer slides open. I shuffle through, looking for any trace of the room number, a vague sense of direction, something. But it's... empty. Nothing. Just a void of blank papers and dust.

Desperation mode: activated. I scan the room like a detective at a crime scene, checking every inch, every corner. I even peek into Akikatsu's pile of stuff—books, notebooks, that weird leather-bound planner he never uses but insists on keeping around. Maybe he wrote the room number in there for some reason?

Nothing. Not a single clue.

I almost lose it, spiraling into the depths of my own mental chaos, when—wait, what's that? Right beside me, in plain sight, is a door with a sign that reads, clear as day: "Photography Club."

I couldn't help but laugh at myself. I was so caught up in the mental gymnastics, thinking I was some kind of genius, but here I am—standing in front of the door I was looking for the entire time.

I'm dumb. I thought I was clever, but in reality, I'm just as clueless as that starfish from that cartoon show. I shake my head, chuckling at how I got wrapped up in my own mind for no reason. It's almost impressive how my brain can overcomplicate the simplest things.

But hey, at least I found the damn club.

I push open the door and step into the clubroom, the smell of paper and ink immediately hitting my senses. It's not a huge room, but it's spacious enough to feel like it has character.

There are large windows letting in just enough light to give the room that perfect balance of brightness without it feeling sterile.

Along the walls, a few black-and-white prints are framed, showcasing the work of past club members—some of them are abstract, others just simple portraits, but it all gives the room a bit of an artsy vibe.

On the far side of the room, I see a row of printers, the kind that seem to hum with potential—probably for printing out photographs in high quality.

Beside them, a few shelves are lined with photography gear: tripods, lenses, camera bags, and rolls of film. It's clear that this place is well-equipped for anyone serious about photography, yet there's also an air of casual creativity about it.

A few desks are scattered throughout the room, each one cluttered with cameras, photo albums, and notebooks. Some members must have been here recently because there's a stack of photo prints drying near the windowsill. 

I glance around the room, my curiosity piqued by the quiet hum of activity, when something catches my eye—a dude lounging in one of the chairs, head tilted back, snoring lightly. His laptop is wide open on the desk in front of him, a few stray papers scattered around, but what really draws me in is the screen.

I squint, unsure of what I'm seeing at first, but then it hits me. His stock trading interface is up on the screen, and—holy hell—his numbers are ridiculously good. I lean in closer, my eyes scanning the graphs, the numbers, the green ticks that seem to be multiplying faster than I can follow. He's making 19 million yen a day?! Wait, what? 19 million yen a day?!

I blink a few times, trying to process what I'm seeing, but no matter how many times I look, the numbers stay the same. This guy is pulling in more money in a single day than most people could ever dream of. And he's doing it in his sleep.

Who the hell is this guy? Some kind of financial genius? A stock market prodigy?

I stare at the screen for a few seconds longer, dumbfounded. This guy could basically walk into any bank and demand a loan the size of a small country's GDP. He could buy anything he wanted, live anywhere, and still have more money than he'd know what to do with. It's insane. But the weirdest part? He's napping through it all, with no idea I'm standing here watching him rake in millions of yen.

I feel a mix of disbelief and a slight twinge of envy. Like, how the hell did he get here? Was it luck? Skill? Some secret trading strategy he's holding back? Or is this just what happens when you hit the jackpot in life and never have to worry about money again?

I shake my head, laughing at myself. "Man, some people really do have it easy..."

Just as I'm standing there, trying to make sense of the insane amount of money this guy is pulling in, I feel a sudden, sharp grip on my wrists.

Before I even realize what's happening, I'm yanked backward, my body jerking in surprise.

My heart skips a beat as I turn to see the guy who was just casually napping now wide awake, staring me dead in the eyes with a look that's almost too calm for someone who just caught a random person hovering over his laptop.

His grip tightens slightly, and for a second, I'm caught off guard. What the hell? Was he awake the whole time? Was he pretending to sleep, waiting for someone to stumble onto his private business?

"You've been staring at my screen for way too long," he says, his voice low and almost too smooth, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Did you think you could just walk in here and start poking around?"

I blink a few times, trying to regain my bearings. He's not acting like someone who's scared or defensive. Instead, it's almost like he's treating this whole thing like a game. And I don't know whether I'm intrigued or seriously worried.

"Hey, I wasn't—" I start, but he interrupts me with a smirk, his grip still firm but not threatening.

"Look," he says, almost casually, "You're either really brave... or really dumb." He leans forward slightly, and I can see that calculating look in his eyes, as though he's measuring me up. "But you're not leaving this room until you tell me exactly what you were hoping to find."

Sure, here's a revision of the last one you provided:

The guy's grip on my wrists loosens, but he doesn't let go completely. His eyes lock onto mine with a sharp, calculating gaze. It's like he's sizing me up, trying to figure out what exactly I'm up to.

"Okay," he says flatly, his tone dry but sharp. "You've got a minute to explain why you're standing over my laptop, staring at it like you're trying to crack some secret code."

I blink, caught off guard by how quickly he's assessing me. I try to pull my wrist free, but he's still holding on, just tight enough to let me know he's in control of this conversation.

"Listen, I wasn't—" I start, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.

"Cut the crap," he interrupts, his voice calm but firm. "I don't know if you're trying to hack into my computer or if you're just weird, but you need to answer. Now."

I swallow hard. This guy's sharp, and I've never felt more exposed. I rub my wrist, finally managing to slip free, and shift uneasily on my feet. It's like he's dissecting every little movement I make.

"Fine," I say, trying to regain some composure. "I'm here to join the photography club."

He doesn't seem satisfied with that answer. He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, like he's waiting for me to say something more.

"You sure about that?" He asks, his gaze piercing through me. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're here for something else. Something more... analytical. You didn't come in to learn about photography, did you?"

I blink, caught off guard by how quickly he's pieced it all together. It's like he's read my mind—or worse, like he's already predicted this exact situation.

"Okay, fine," I admit, knowing it's pointless to lie. "I was curious about your stock trading."

His eyes narrow even further as he leans back in his chair, looking at me like he's trying to figure out if I'm worth his time or just another random person who wandered in.

"Stock trading, huh?" he mutters, tapping his fingers on the desk, still processing what I just said. "I'm guessing you don't care about the cameras or photography at all."

I'm not sure how he deduced that so quickly, but there's no denying it. He's right.

"I'll give you credit for being blunt," he continues. "But you're not exactly good at hiding your motives. A guy like you doesn't just 'accidentally' stumble into a photography club without some kind of agenda."

I feel like I've been caught in a trap I didn't even realize I'd walked into. He's analyzing me, dissecting everything I've done in the past few minutes, and somehow, he's got me figured out.

"So, what is it that you really want?" he asks, now looking at me with a slight smirk, like he's enjoying watching me squirm.

I hesitate, then sigh, realizing there's no way out of this. "Fine, you got me. I'm just here to join the club... but I was also curious about you and your trading. You seem to know what you're doing."

He leans back even further in his chair, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he simply says, "Alright. You can join the club, but if you're here for anything else, I'm not interested in being part of your little investigation. Understood?"

I nod, feeling a bit relieved that he's letting me off the hook for now.

He shrugs. "Good. Just don't make it weird."

With that, he goes back to his laptop, and I take the hint, quietly sitting down to watch, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. This guy's mind works faster than mine. I'll have to be a lot sharper if I want to get anything from him.

I sit there, watching Asahi's fingers fly over his laptop, typing with a kind of precision that's both impressive and... unsettling. There's no rush, no sign of hurry in his movements, just a calm that comes from someone who's completely in control of the situation. Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out what exactly he's up to and why the hell he doesn't seem phased by my presence.

Finally, he leans back in his chair, as though he's just finished working through an intricate puzzle in his head. His eyes flicker over to me, not surprised, just... aware.

"Right," he says, his tone flat, like this is the most normal thing in the world. "I should probably introduce myself."

I blink, momentarily thrown off by the delay. "Introduce yourself?" I repeat, a little amused by the fact that this guy—this quiet, intense guy—is only now getting around to that.

"Yeah," he says, almost like it's an afterthought. "Asahi. President of the photography club."

The words hit me like a splash of cold water. The president? The guy who's been glued to his laptop, crunching numbers or analyzing data, is running the photography club?

"You're... the president of the photography club?" I ask, not bothering to hide my surprise.

He looks at me, expression deadpan, like my reaction is irrelevant. "Yeah. Someone has to do it."

I lean back in my chair, trying to make sense of this guy. He's the president of the club, but he doesn't seem the type to care about photography the way most people do. He doesn't give off the vibe of a creative soul. But I can't shake the feeling that there's more to him than meets the eye.

"Okay, fine," I say, my curiosity piqued. "But you're into stock trading too, right? I saw you earlier, looking at charts and numbers."

Asahi doesn't flinch. His gaze doesn't leave me, but his expression doesn't change. "Stock trading," he says slowly, "is just another system. Photography is the same. Understanding patterns, making predictions. Different mediums, but the same principles."

I raise an eyebrow. "You're telling me photography's about patterns? About systems?"

He shrugs. "In a way. It's about understanding light, perspective, composition. It's all logical. Predictable, even."

I laugh, not in mockery, but because it's just... fascinating. "Wow. You've really got everything figured out, don't you? I thought photography was about, you know, art and expression, but you're telling me it's all just math and logic?"

Asahi doesn't react. He just looks at me like I'm the one missing the point. "There's nothing wrong with thinking logically. It's more efficient."

"Efficient, huh?" I cross my arms, leaning forward. "Isn't it kind of boring though? Where's the fun in it? The spontaneity? The weirdness?"

He looks at me, his eyes narrowing just slightly, as though he's evaluating the question. "Spontaneity is inefficient. It doesn't lead to reliable results."

I can't help it. "Well, that's one way to look at it. But I don't know, I think life's too short to plan everything. Sometimes you've got to just... jump in, you know?"

Asahi leans back in his chair, considering me for a moment, before responding flatly. "Jumping in without understanding the consequences is reckless. If you want something done, you need a clear plan. That's how you get results."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're all about results, huh? Guess that makes sense, seeing how much time you're putting into stock trading."

His eyes flicker, just the slightest sign of interest. "Stock trading isn't about luck. It's about recognizing patterns. Predicting outcomes."

"Predicting outcomes," I repeat, leaning in a bit closer. "You really think you've got everything figured out that easily?"

Asahi's expression doesn't change, but I can tell he's enjoying the back-and-forth. "It's not about figuring everything out. It's about understanding what you can control and what you can't. The rest is just noise."

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. "You know, for someone who doesn't seem to care much about people, you sure spend a lot of time trying to figure them out. The stock market, photography, even the way people behave... It's all the same to you, huh?"

Asahi meets my gaze directly, eyes sharp. "People are just another pattern. Nothing more, nothing less."

I can't help but grin. "Well, if people are just patterns to you, I guess I should start behaving like a problem for you to solve, huh?"

His lips twitch, just barely. "You're welcome to try."

I lean forward again, intrigued. "Alright then, Mr. Pattern-Recognizer. If I wanted to join the club, what's your pitch? What makes you think I'd want to stick around?"

Asahi doesn't even flinch. He just looks at me, almost as if he's analyzing whether I'm genuinely interested or just here to stir things up.

"You can join the club if you want," he says, voice steady. "But if you're just here for stock trading, or some other agenda, I'm not interested."

I raise an eyebrow, the challenge hanging in the air. "Oh, I'm definitely here to learn. But I might also be here to mess with you a little."

His gaze doesn't waver.

I grin, leaning back in my chair.

I sit there, trying to make sense of this guy, but the longer I look at him, the more I notice the little details. His black hair, slightly tousled, falls just the right way to look effortlessly cool—like he doesn't have to try. His glasses add to the effect, giving him an air of quiet intelligence. There's something about the way they sit on his nose that makes him look sharp, like he could pick apart a complex problem in seconds without even breaking a sweat.

But what really catches my attention are the subtle signs of exhaustion—the faint bags under his eyes. They're not the kind of bags that come from a sleepless night or a late study session. No, they look like the result of too much thinking. He's the kind of guy who overanalyzes everything, and I can tell it's taking its toll.

I stare at him for a moment, analyzing his quiet, almost detached demeanor.

The way he moves, the way he holds himself, it all radiates a sense of someone who's used to being alone with his thoughts.

He's not exactly "handsome" in the traditional sense—there's no flash or bravado—but there's something about him that's... compelling.

Quietly handsome, if anything. He doesn't have to say a word to command attention, and somehow, that makes him all the more intriguing.

His eyes flicker to me, catching me in the act of staring. For a moment, I'm almost embarrassed, but I quickly mask it with a grin, shrugging as if I've just been lost in thought.

"So," I say, raising an eyebrow, "You seem like the kind of guy who doesn't sleep much. Or is it that you've got too much going on in that head of yours?"

Asahi doesn't flinch, but I can see a faint flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe something else—pass through his eyes before he regains his usual calm. "You're observant," he says, voice still as flat as before. "Maybe a little too observant."

I grin, leaning in a bit. "I can't help it. There's just something about you that's... interesting."

He narrows his eyes, and for a moment, I wonder if he's going to brush me off or if I've finally hit a nerve. But then, just like before, he leans back, almost as if I didn't even make a dent in his cool exterior.

"You're here to join the photography club," he says, his tone neutral but with a hint of challenge. "But it doesn't take a genius to see you're not really here for just that."

I give him a casual shrug, but my mind is already turning. He's observant, that much is clear. But maybe he's not the only one who can read people.

"I'm here for a lot of things," I reply, matching his level of cool. "Photography being one of them. But you're right. I've got a bit of curiosity about you too, Asahi. You don't strike me as someone who does things for fun. So what's your angle? What's got you running a photography club and trading stocks?"

Asahi's lips twitch—just the smallest hint of a smile, but it's gone before I can even pinpoint it.

"Like I said," he replies, "It's about understanding patterns. Photography is no different from stock trading in that way."

I lean forward, genuinely interested now. "Patterns, huh? I've got to admit, you've got me hooked. You make everything sound so... deliberate."

His gaze sharpens, and for a second, I think I've pushed too far. But then he surprises me by giving a slight nod. "Everything has a purpose. Even if it doesn't seem like it at first."

I chuckle, taking a moment to really take him in—the black hair, the glasses, the subtle hints of exhaustion.

Asahi's eyes never leave mine, the cool composure he's been maintaining still intact. His posture shifts slightly, just enough to let me know he's fully aware of everything going on. And then, in that calm, almost measured tone, he adds something that catches me completely off guard:

"Don't make it gae."

I blink, processing the words. My mind immediately goes to the most obvious meaning of what he's saying, but I pause, trying to make sure I heard him correctly. Did he just tell me not to make it weird?

He raises an eyebrow at me, almost as if he's expecting a reaction. But there's no smile, no humor in his expression—just a dead-serious look that makes it clear he's not joking.

"I mean it," he says, his voice dropping even lower, barely above a whisper. "Whatever you're planning, just... don't make it awkward."

At first, I'm not sure how to respond. It's not like I've done anything weird yet, right? But then again, maybe I've been pushing him a bit too hard with all my questions, my observations. Asahi isn't the type of person who invites chaos, and I realize that, in his mind, I might be a little too unpredictable for his taste.

I chuckle nervously, trying to mask the tension that's slowly creeping in. "I wasn't planning on making anything weird, don't worry about it."

He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he just looks at me, as though evaluating the sincerity of my words. Then, just as I start to think this might be a fluke, he leans back in his chair, hands folding neatly on the desk in front of him. The briefest flash of amusement flickers across his face, but it's gone so quickly that I can't be sure if I imagined it.

"I'm not saying you're going to, but you do seem like the type to blur those lines," Asahi adds, his voice back to its usual calm, calculating tone. "I don't want things to get... complicated. Keep it professional. Keep it simple."

His gaze is steady, almost challenging, like he's daring me to test him.

There's a subtle, almost imperceptible tension in the air now. I can't decide whether he's genuinely trying to set some boundaries or if he's playing some kind of game. But one thing's clear: I've hit a nerve. Asahi may be quiet, but he's not someone who lets things slide when they cross a certain line.

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms and letting out a deep breath. "Got it. No complications. No weirdness. I'm just here to join the club and see what you're all about."

Asahi gives a slight nod, his expression unreadable. "Good. Glad we understand each other."

For a moment, the silence stretches between us, but it's not awkward—not anymore. It feels like we're both testing the waters, seeing just how far we can push without upsetting the fragile balance that's been established. I can tell that Asahi values clarity, precision, and control, and I'm starting to realize that if I want to stick around, I'll have to respect that.

Got it! Since Akikatsu is your roommate, the dynamic can be more personal, with a bit of familiarity and perhaps even a sense of underlying tension. Here's the revised version, with Akikatsu as your roommate and the conversation reflecting the closeness (and occasional annoyances) that can come with living together:

I finally make my way down the hallway, my mind still buzzing from the photography club meeting. Asahi's cool, calculating demeanor is still fresh in my mind, and I can't help but wonder what I've gotten myself into with that group. But for now, I just need a little space—a moment to breathe before diving into whatever strange dynamics I've found myself surrounded by.

The dorm hallway is quieter than usual, but as I approach the door to my room, I spot Akikatsu standing by the bulletin board. He's holding a couple of papers in his hands, probably organizing or double-checking something. Typical Akikatsu. The guy's all about structure—always planning, always making sure things are done perfectly.

His uniform is as pristine as ever—tight, crisp, and ironed like it's been taken straight from a store display. His glasses sit on his face in that annoyingly precise way, and his hair looks like he's just left a military academy. Yeah, that's Akikatsu for you.

I roll my eyes but can't help but smile to myself. Roommates. You think you know someone, and then they turn out to be a walking example of everything you're not. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms.

"Hey, Aki," I call out with a lazy grin, watching as he straightens up, clearly startled for a second before his sharp gaze falls on me. "Done with the errands?"

He adjusts his glasses and sighs, looking less than thrilled to see me.

"I've told you a thousand times, don't call me that,"

he says, his tone clipped, but there's a hint of warmth beneath the exasperation. "And yes, I'm done with everything. Are you done with your 'important' club meeting, or are you going to drag me into whatever chaos you've created this time?"

I can't help but laugh at the way he says "chaos." Akikatsu's idea of chaos is simply me not adhering to whatever meticulously laid-out plan he's devised for his day. The guy's a walking agenda, a model of order. But I get under his skin by doing the opposite—just enough to mess with him.

"Not much chaos today," I say, taking a step closer. "Though I did check out the photography club. They're a pretty... intense group. Got me thinking about how to shake things up a little."

Akikatsu raises an eyebrow at me, clearly not fooled. "Yeah, I'm sure you've got lots of great ideas to shake things up. I bet you were the one stirring the pot in there, weren't you? Creating some kind of distraction for everyone else so you could get a laugh out of it."

I grin, shrugging like it's no big deal. "What can I say? I do like to keep things interesting. Someone's got to make sure no one gets too comfortable, right?"

He shoots me a flat look, but it's that look that tells me he's probably considering how he might put me back on track—which is a terrifying thought, considering his methodical approach to everything. "You're impossible,"

he mutters, flicking through the papers in his hands. "You're also completely incapable of sticking to any kind of schedule, aren't you? That's why you're in a photography club and not... I don't know... something more practical."

I tilt my head, almost in mock consideration. "Practical? Oh, you mean like living a life that's all about efficiency and following the rules? Sounds fun." I throw him a playful grin. "But I'm just not cut out for that. I like the idea of bending the rules—finding the rules, and then breaking them in a way that works for me."

Akikatsu's face hardens, but not in anger. More like... concern. "Look," he says, voice almost too calm, "it's fine if you want to mess around with things, but you can't always do that and expect it to work. Sometimes there's a reason people follow the rules. Structure isn't just for show. It's necessary if you want to get things done."

"Structure?" I mockingly mimic his serious tone. "Man, that's your problem. You think everything has to be structured to have value. Life's not a textbook. It's about flexibility, adapting, changing plans when you have to. You can't plan everything."

He sighs loudly, clearly done with my antics. "I don't expect you to understand," he mutters. "Some of us actually manage our responsibilities. We don't leave everything to chance."

"Oh, I manage," I say, poking at him a little more. "Just in my own... unique way. No need to follow everyone else's boring path. But hey, you do you, Aki." I wink at him, just to make sure he knows I'm not taking this conversation too seriously.

Akikatsu rolls his eyes, clearly frustrated by my constant need to challenge him, but there's a small twitch at the corner of his lips that tells me he's not entirely annoyed. Maybe he's more used to my antics than he lets on. "You're a pain in the neck, you know that?"

I laugh, thoroughly enjoying the moment. "You wouldn't have it any other way. Admit it—you secretly enjoy trying to keep me in line. If I wasn't around, you'd be bored out of your mind."

He glares at me, but it's a familiar glare. The kind of look someone gives you when they're tired of your nonsense but don't actually know how to escape it. "I don't need you for entertainment," he says, adjusting his papers once again. "But just... keep things down to a dull roar tonight. I'm already dreading having to listen to your plans for tomorrow."

"Plans?" I raise an eyebrow. "I don't do plans, remember? But don't worry—I'll keep things interesting enough for both of us." I chuckle, leaning against the doorframe, giving him one last teasing look.

Akikatsu sighs again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, sure. Interesting. Just don't wake me up at 3 a.m. with whatever random idea you come up with."

I nod, smirking. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll find something to keep you on your toes. It's what roommates are for, right?"

He shoots me one last look before turning back to his papers, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

I walk into the room with a grin plastered on my face.

TO BE CONTINUED.....