Chapter 4

A NEW FAN OR WHAT??

Wow. I'm still trying to figure out why she pointed me out. Hope I'm safe. I don't think I know her from anywhere—even if I do, I forget people easily. People are forgettable, after all.

The class ended. It was just blah, blah, blah. I wasn't interested in whatever she was saying. The teacher dropped her chalk, cleaned her hands, and looked straight at me. "Hananoi-san, I'd like to have you in my office. Please follow me now."

*Eh? What the hell?* I exclaimed internally but kept my face blank. I followed her like a criminal being led to court. She didn't say a word. We took a right turn, climbed the stairs, and arrived at her office. She dropped her things on the table and sat down, hands crossed.

"Hananoi-san, how old are you currently?" she asked.

*That's cheesy. Is this some kind of interrogation?* "Nineteen," I replied flatly.

"That's an unusual age to be in second year at high school I had to go through rehabilitation after the incident happens, takes years for me to be back to normal physically.

Bring myself to the current conversation;

*She could've just checked the student file.*

She leaned back, giving me that bossy CEO look. "I know you."

A cold, timid air blew into the room. Silence ruled.

"What do you mean?" I asked, though I already knew where this was going.

"Fukuoka. Ten years ago. The suicide incident."

*It's eleven years, lady. Do your math.* I kept my face neutral, but my mind raced. *Another fan girl. Great.* I remembered junior high—third year. A girl had confessed to me after hearing about me from the staff office. She said she liked "psychos or sociopaths." I was bored back then, so we went out. It lasted two months.

"So, what does that have to do with why I'm standing here?" I asked, bringing myself back to the conversation.

She leaned forward, her eyes piercing. "You still have that look of yours."

"Change is gradual, not fast. People don't change that easily," I replied, my tone icy.

"Well, since you're here, I hope you can adjust that perspective of yours. I'll be watching you throughout your stay at this school," she said, a faint smile playing on her lips.

*Ah, I'm cooked. This lady just ruined my life at this school.*

"You can take your leave," she said.

"Thank you," I replied, turning to leave.

"By the way," she added, stopping me in my tracks. *What is it now?* "Have you made any friends?"

I was facing the door, my hand on the handle. *Friends? With an 's'? Who makes friends that easily? It's only my second day here.* But I knew she wouldn't let me off if I said no.

"Inoue-san, I guess," I said, pulling the name of the girl I'd bumped into earlier. I'd seen her name on the billboard.

"She's kind of popular. Lucky you," the teacher said, her tone almost mocking.

*Lucky me?* I wrinkled my eyes and frowned slightly. "Yes, I'm totally lucky," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

I locked the door behind me and saw groups of girls chatting in the hallway. Among them was Inoue-san. She paused and looked at me for a few seconds before walking away.

I entered the classroom. No one was inside except a few girls sitting on my desk. I hate talking too much, so I sat in the chair closest to the door, ready to leave as soon as people started coming in. They were gossiping about something, and I stayed silent, listening attentively.

"I'm sure your boyfriend ratted out your relationship. He's always asking you for money. Don't you think it's time to break up with him, Misaki?" one girl said.

"Yeah, Fuyuki's right. He's just toying with you. He doesn't love you at all," another added.

"No, that's not true!" Misaki protested, though her voice wavered. "Even if he did, he must have a reason."

*What kind of relationship is that? Is she an idiot?* I thought, my lips curling into a faint smirk. *That guy's clearly keeping a parasitic relationship. How pathetic.*

The echoing sound of footsteps grew closer. Inoue's friends vacated my seat, and class started. The day dragged on, and finally, it was over.

I stepped outside, looking up at the dull sky. The atmosphere matched my mood perfectly. I received a message from the bar I'd applied to yesterday evening. They worked late and it's perfect for me.

*I can start anytime,* the message read.

I went home, dropped my things, and walked into my mom's bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, holding a baby picture of me. I looked so innocent back then. That's what she wanted—a sweet, innocent kid. Instead, she got a monster.

"I've told the driver to come around five pm to pick up your things and move to your new apartment," she said, her voice slurred. She was drunk again.

I already knew why she wants me to move to an apartment, it's not to close the distance between school and our location;

"Thanks. That reduces the stress," I said, though she didn't reply. She just lay down and went to sleep.

The driver did came at the designated time. I set everything up and decided to head straight to the bar. It was close to the new apartment. I was supposed to start tomorrow, but I couldn't wait. Another sleepless night would've been unbearable if I stayed idle.