Chapter 29

“The sun is high, so it’s about time you woke up.”

An unfamiliar, neutral voice jolts me awake. In a state of half-sleep, I try to sit up straight and shake off the sleepiness, but persistent hands keep shaking me.

Ever since my parents passed away, there hasn’t been anyone to wake me like this… But then, I vaguely remember a certain girl. Yeah, she knows the secret code to my house.

Somehow, the voice seems to have changed significantly. As I open my eyes, a boy stands there greeting me, having pulled back the curtains.

Why is this boy here? My head feels clouded, as if filled with hazy smoke, preventing clear judgment, even though I haven’t been drinking.

The boy, roughly dressed in a white shirt, strangely looks more feminine. To me, feeling that something is feminine often implies that it might lead to love.

First and foremost, I need to respond appropriately, but my sleep-addled body struggles to even stand up. Why is my body so weak in the mornings?

“Why are you here…”

“Can’t you remember what happened last night?”

I can’t. The memory may return with time, but by then the situation will likely be resolved already. With a dull thud, I leap out of bed.

Though I can barely see it, my body’s landing is surprisingly perfect, even though my bra isn’t worn properly yet. Impressed with my own skill, I applaud, and the boy joins in.

“Amazing, right?”

“Actually, hearing it from you feels like I’m being teased.”

No, I don’t understand why, after losing my memory, this person feels comfortable enough to approach me casually.

Could something scandalous have happened during that lost time? I turn my waist to check, but it’s unharmed. My buttons are intact, and there’s no unusual dampness on the bed. Once I confirm everything is fine, I point at the door with my chin.

“First, leave the room.”

“…Are you going to change clothes?”

“Yeah, if you’re not some pervert who enjoys peeking, leave. Honestly, I’ll hate you if you don’t.”

This is practically an ultimatum. Though I don’t remember what decision I made yesterday that brought this boy here, if he doesn’t leave, it will be war.

I don’t just feel physically repulsed; I’m prepared to ignore everything this boy does next. With a glance showing my chilling determination, the boy seems startled and walks toward the door but doesn’t leave without saying anything.

“…Forget that secret I told you?”

“No, I remember everything you said, though.”

Since I don’t recall hearing any secrets, my statement isn’t technically a lie. The boy looks at me with an odd expression before leaving.

Though he hasn’t left the house completely, I immediately lock the door and pick out clothes from my closet. Everything in my wardrobe is white, but my underwear is black.

After quickly shedding my white pajamas, I put on my underwear. Though it feels like a white obsession, finding good combinations in this closet is tough. But I don’t want to look good for the boy outside, so I put on a plain white dress.

Although dresses like this have their own types and names, I don’t specifically care what this flowing white dress is called.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

Though changing underwear daily is good, I find the process time-consuming, so doing it every few days seems more convenient.

With that done, my preparation is over. I check and notice the system panel I expect to see hasn’t popped up yet—likely due to what happened yesterday.

*

Who are the people who go out to eat? They are either too lazy to cook, hate doing dishes, or simply can’t cook.

A white wristband is wrapped around my wrist, but it is known in school that I engaged in self-harm, so there’s a high chance this boy knows what’s on my wrists too. It wouldn’t be good if water gets into these wounds.

I assumed I wouldn’t be asked to cook, as even preparing a meal might risk water or onion juice getting on my wounds.

But I hadn’t thought of this—walking under the gradually heating weather, directly facing the sun’s wrath. It’s not long after we’ve set out, and I’m already thirsty.

The boy moves briskly, grabbing my hand, as if energized by the sun. Moving during the night can be difficult with fewer people around, and the heat makes movement cumbersome during the day.

Perhaps I didn’t realize it since the hallways at school have strong air-conditioning. I open my mouth, half tense, half apprehensive, as I ponder how I will survive the real summer.

“Isn’t it wasteful to go out for lunch in the daytime?”

We aren’t working adults who earn money. Typically, protagonists pretend to be ordinary, so we aren’t rich and only receive average pocket money. There’s no room for splurging on lunch just because it’s a weekend.

Of course, I didn’t express worry for the boy, but rather a suggestion to slow down. The boy, who was rushing toward a famed eatery, slows down to answer me.

Upon sudden observation, the boy shows no signs of secondary s*xual characteristics: his voice lacks a deep pitch, and his fingers feel softer than usual for a boy. This information, though irrelevant, stays in mind.

“You should’ve stopped me from spending money all night at the arcade. You were the one who kept challenging, insisting you’d win one more round. Why worry about money now?”

“Hmm, I can’t hear that coming from someone bad at rhythm games.”

Memories of last night subtly return as we walk. Though I continued losing during our gaming session, in rhythm games, I scored an impressive 2 wins out of 22 losses.

Since those two victories were in the final rounds, it was my definitive triumph after honing my skills. I will never play rhythm games with this boy again, making this my absolute victory in rhythm games.

“It’s only because it was time to go home that I let you win a couple of rounds. Couldn’t be satisfied with just one win, huh? So I gave you another.”

“Excuses! Accepting defeat gracefully makes this loser sound better.”

Our honest exchange about last night’s gaming—though tinged with excessive excuses—evokes a strange sentiment in me.

Since that event, I never imagined I’d be having this kind of chat with a male peer of my age. Though technically, this boy is younger, the moment still feels fresh.

“You’ll really get nothing if you keep pushing.”

“Kim Ha-neul, what exactly are you doing?”

Tired from the heat, was I reacting slowly? Seeing the woman facing us, my heart began to race, despite having thought I was exhausted by the heat.

Coolly dressed, as if heading to someplace refreshing, the person was Lee Seo-ra, the student council president—a former lover associated with this body and someone close to my ideal partner.

“Didn’t you clearly promise not to trouble Erica?”

“No, what’s troubling Erica here? In fact, I’m the one being troubled. Look, this one claims victory from just barely managing two wins.”

“Then it must’ve been Erica’s win. How petty, boasting about giving someone a single win while continuing to cause trouble.”

“You wouldn’t know because you weren’t affected. Don’t you find it annoying to be mentioned over and over, like ringing an alarm?”

“Erica’s words must’ve been sweet, then. Are you making fun of me? I’ve been continually hearing Erica’s voice, so feel free to envy me.”

“This is simply maddening.”

The boy releases my hand and mutters as he steps toward the woman.

What they form—an ideal pair—is typically what you see in front of you. Different genders, the neutral charm of the boy and the mature allure of Lee Seo-ra, their equally exceptional abilities…

Right before me is a classic romance visual novel unfolding.

Although she mentions my promises, ultimately…

These two probably like each other more than they like me.

Is what lingers in my heart disappointment or frustration?

I don’t know that, but what stays within my sight is clear.

[System Recovery Completed.]

[Clearing pending accounts will begin now.]

I must view this world as a visual novel close to reality instead of true reality to avoid hurt.

It is only now, realizing others’ feelings do not align with me despite my trust, that I truly understand.

My overly trusting nature makes me despise myself.

But I can’t stay like this forever. It’s too hot, so if we’re not eating soon, I’d at least like to step into a cafe.

Of course, being short on cash, I’d be grateful if someone paid. You can’t wrangle money out of a beggar, they say. On reflection, I should’ve gotten money from someone I label as “sister” but failed to consider it.

“…So, how long are you going to talk?”

“It’s hot, right? Considering the time and location, you’re probably heading to the famous cold noodle shop for lunch, right? So, why don’t we go together?”

A cold noodle shop? Assuming by the time we’ve met, we must not have eaten, the woman suggests we join. The boy agrees.

“Anyway, I was just thinking this pig would eat too much, so I needed someone to help pay.”

“Erica looks cute no matter how much she eats.”

“Stop talking and let’s go already.”

With the student council president suddenly joining, we head out for lunch. As for the system’s clearance message flashing in the corner of my vision, I choose to ignore it.

If I just wait, it will appear eventually.

The system will provide enough information about these people after we part ways.