Chapter 2

GUESS IT'S NICE TO MEET YOU

I didn't pay a single bit of attention in class—not because I couldn't, but because I didn't care. The bell for lunch rang, and I grabbed my bag, slipping out of the room before anyone could notice. The hallway was chaos, students flooding out like they'd just been released from prison. Can't blame them, though. Classes here are suffocating, like a cage designed to crush any sense of individuality.

I paused at the notice board, scanning the school map. *Where can I disappear for a while?* My eyes landed on the rooftop. Perfect.

Navigating the stairs wasn't hard, and the reward was worth it. The rooftop was quiet, the wind gentle, the sunlight faint but warm. A bench sat in the corner, wide enough to lie down on. I dropped my bag, pulled out a sandwich and an orange juice, and stretched out. The breeze carried the faint scent of freedom, and for a moment, I felt at peace.

But peace never lasts.

A voice cut through the silence, reciting lines from what sounded like a cheesy movie script.

"My prince, why do you do this to me? No, that's not it. I have to improve if I want to be a valuable member of the acting club!"

I cracked an eye open. A girl stood a few feet away, practicing her lines with exaggerated gestures. Her acting was... painful. I rolled my eyes and feigned sleep as she noticed me.

"Oh, hi!" she called, but I pretend to be asleep. She hesitated, then hurried off when someone called her name. The door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

For about five minutes.

The door creaked open, and footsteps approached. I kept my eyes closed, listening. The sharp *click* of a lighter. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke.

*Well, well. Looks like someone's got a secret.*

I stayed still, pretending to sleep, as the footsteps drew closer. I could feel his presence looming over the bench. He waved a hand in front of my face, testing to see if I was awake.

"He's asleep. Phew."

I opened my eyes. "Don't worry, Mr. Council. I'm not the type to run my mouth."

He jumped, startled. "You weren't asleep?"

"Not really." I sat up, brushing off his concern. "Do I look like someone who cares about your little habit?"

He stared at me, then laughed nervously. "Fair point. But why are you calling me 'Mr. Council'?"

"Aren't you Itoshi Sato? I saw you at the opening ceremony student council president

He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "First year?"

"Second. Just transferred."

"Ah. Well, sorry if I'm ruining the school's image for you. Not everyone's as perfect as they seem."

I shrugged. "Like I care."

He took another drag of his cigarette, studying me. "What's your name?"

"Hananoi Tojiko."

"HT, huh?" He grinned, clearly amused by the initials.

I raised an eyebrow. "HT?"

"Yeah. I like giving people nicknames. Weird, right?"

"A little."

He laughed, but there was something hollow about it. "Most people think it's cool. Thanks for being honest."

"Why are you thanking me?"

"Because everyone else just nods and smiles, even when they think I'm being ridiculous. It's exhausting."

I leaned back, watching him. "Pressure of being a big shot, huh?"

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression darkening. "Something like that. People expect perfection, but..." He trailed off, gesturing to the cigarette. "Guess I'm not as put-together as they think."

"I get it."

He glanced at me, surprised. "You're not coughing. Most people do when they're around smoke."

"I've tried smoking before. Didn't stick."

He chuckled. "Guess you're not a saint either."

"Maybe not."

He stubbed out the cigarette and stood. "Well, duty calls. Thanks for the conversation, HT."

"You forgot my name already?"

He paused, then shrugged. "Go with what you're comfortable with."

"Fair enough."

As he walked away, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity. Poor guy. That's why I hate being in the spotlight—too much pressure, too many expectations.

I'm not the type to fake who I am. When I meet someone new, I show them my real self immediately. No masks, no pretenses. It's up to them to decide if I'm good or bad.

Most people put up with things they hate because there's something in it for them—status, money, approval. Not me. I don't play those games.

I'm not a saint.

I'm not a god.

I'm just me.