As the protagonist was lost in his evil plans, mentally cackling like a villain, he suddenly heard a voice calling his name. At first, he ignored it, but as the voice grew more insistent, a shiver ran down his spine.
"Why me?" he muttered under his breath before reluctantly responding.
He turned to find the teacher staring at him expectantly. She instructed him to follow her. His immediate response was a firm, "Nah," but under her unwavering gaze, his resistance crumbled. With stiff, awkward movements, he got up, deliberately keeping his eyes high to avoid looking at her chest, and shuffled after her like a prisoner on his way to execution.
As they exited the metallic gray-themed classroom, she stopped and asked, "So, what do you think about your decision to leave school now?"
His mind screamed: Hell yeah, I want to leave even more! This place is full of psychos!
But what actually left his lips was a stammering, "I... I regret my behavior, ma'am." His body trembled slightly, keeping as much distance as possible from her.
The stunning teacher smirked. "Looks like you've come to your senses. Good." There was a glint of amusement in her eyes, but he could tell she didn't believe a word of it.
As soon as she left, he exhaled deeply, muttering, "Even the teacher is a psycho..." Without hesitation, he ranked her third on his imaginary list of Most Dangerous Girls and pretended to tuck the nonexistent notebook back into his bag.
With the ordeal over, he decided to head to his dormitory—only to realize, once again, that he had no idea where to go. Fortunately, he remembered the device mentioned in class. After fumbling through it and enduring two agonizing minutes of unnecessary animations, he finally found the map. Feeling victorious, he followed the directions with a lighthearted bounce in his step.
The campus was beautiful, lined with cherry blossoms, their petals dancing in the wind. But his peaceful walk was abruptly ruined when he spotted two of his greatest enemies—Kushida and the pink-haired girl—chatting like childhood best friends.
He froze. His mind immediately categorized their closeness as a sinister plot. They must be planning to take over the entire school! Kushida will lead them as their 'best friend,' while the pink-haired one will act like their 'mother,' using their... He gulped. ...their big breasts to manipulate people!
Without hesitation, he enacted Operation: Strategic Retreat.
Springing into the air as if propelled by hidden wires, he bolted at full speed, weaving through the crowd like an Olympic sprinter. His feet landed on unfortunate bystanders in his desperate escape, earning him curses and confused glances. Some people stared, baffled by his ridiculous movements, while others were too caught up in their conversations to care.
Meanwhile, the two girls remained completely oblivious, too engrossed in their gossip to notice the chaos unfolding around them.
Finally reaching safety, the protagonist wiped his forehead, still disturbed by their unnatural closeness. He came to a firm conclusion—these two are scheming to take over the entire school, and I will have to stay as far away from them as possible.
After arriving at his dorm, the protagonist cautiously looked left and right, scanning for potential peepers before entering. With a swift motion, he confirmed the password and slipped inside, locking the door behind him as if he had just entered a top-secret hideout.
His eyes darted around the spacious flat, taking in the modern interior. Three doors stood before him—one leading to the toilet, another to the bathroom, and the third to the bedroom. A living room stretched in front of him, and in the corner, a sleek glass wall separated the kitchen.
His thoughts immediately short-circuited.
"A sofa..." he whispered in awe.
Like a man who had wandered through deserts and finally found an oasis, he lunged onto the plush sofa, wrapping himself around it as if fulfilling a long-cherished dream. "Finally! My suffering ends! This is the soft embrace I've always romanticized!"
But his moment of bliss was short-lived. A sudden wave of thirst struck him, and he bolted toward the kitchen, frantically searching for the tap. The moment he found it, he abandoned all civilized manners, drinking directly from the faucet like a caveman discovering fresh water for the first time.
His eyes shone with pleasure.
After quenching his thirst, he wiped his mouth dramatically and muttered, "Finally, life-saving water... I should start a sect dedicated to its blessings." He chuckled at his own ridiculous thought.
With his immediate survival needs met, he sprawled lazily on the sofa before deciding to explore the flat properly. To his surprise, everything was beyond his expectations. Every appliance, every piece of furniture screamed high-class.
"Holy crap... The government is really serious about this school," he murmured. "From a middle-class perspective, this is absolute luxury."
Satisfied, he moved to his bedroom. A bed stood neatly against the wall, with a small storage area above it. A thick curtain covered the large window, while a smaller one remained open, no doubt offering a perfect nighttime urban view.
Observing the gray walls and the subtle lighting, the protagonist reached a profound conclusion.
"This room is designed for nighttime flexing," he declared. "In the morning, it's just... meh."
Feeling a little more at home, he sat on his bed and pulled out his device. He had to double-check—was this whole setup really not some elaborate government scam? After a thorough inspection, he sighed in relief.
With nothing left to do, he headed to the bathroom, changed into more comfortable clothes, and was about to relax when he suddenly remembered—he needed to visit the mall.
Wait, wait, wait... If I'm going outside, I should blend in.
Glancing at the school uniform, he sighed but reluctantly put it back on. Everyone here seemed unnaturally obsessed with wearing it—most likely for style. He wasn't going to stand out as the weird one.
However, his real motive for going to the mall had little to do with shopping.
With a villainous grin, he muttered, "Time to scout for my future crime spot!" He broke into an evil laugh, loud and unrestrained.
BANG!
A muffled voice yelled from the other side of the wall, "WHO THE HELL IS DISTURBING MY PEACE?!"
The protagonist froze.
Silence.
Then, with a bitter expression, he clenched his fists and muttered resentfully, "Damn government... can't even install proper soundproofing." He clicked his tongue like a scorned ex-girlfriend before silently making his way out.
Haruto Sazanami arrived in front of the mall, only to be greeted by a tragic sight— a juice vending machine lay in ruins, its metallic frame twisted like a victim of some unknown rage.
He blinked.
Turning his head, he noticed several people casting accusatory glances in his direction, as if he were the one who had personally reshaped the machine with his bare hands.
Among the murmurs, a few voices stood out:
"Wait… isn't that the guy who crashed into the Sakura tree this morning? That was quite the spectacle!"
"Ugh, he's disgusting. I saw him trying to enter the girls' washroom earlier!"
Haruto's face twitched. He gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, "These psychos are truly ruthless… And I, Haruto Sazanami, an unnoticed man merely trying to exist, continue to carve my path with nothing but sheer disrespect and condemnation."
With those dramatic words, he adjusted his posture, shot a shameless glance at the security camera above, and strutted into the mall, as if none of this concerned him.
Maybe the government automatically covers such damages? Or do they just deduct it from next month's funds? he mused. Public money shouldn't be wasted on incompetent people…
His thoughts briefly drifted to his past grievances. I was forcefully sent to this school, and that damn village chief accused me of wasting government funds by not being the top student. I really hate that bald old man—always punishing me with emotional blackmail over village expenses…
Somewhere in a rural village…
A bald man in traditional attire suddenly shuddered.
At that exact moment, he was mediating an absurd dispute—someone demanded that the village chief pay for their lost chicken after Izagi, the local troublemaker, had stolen and eaten it, sending only its feathers in return.
The bald man clenched his fists and roared, "IZAGI! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU GONE?!"
Back to our world…
Haruto entered the mall, glancing around at its standard layout.
Then, adopting a strange, rigid gait, he began walking like a malfunctioning robot, carefully observing the floor. No hidden underground rooms? His brows furrowed in disappointment. Tsk, what a waste. This government has no imagination.
To confirm, he casually slammed himself against various walls, pretending to be mentally unstable. But just as he was about to complain about the government's lack of secret facilities, something else caught his eye—countless products with a bright FREE tag.
His body jolted like he had been struck by lightning.
His mind snapped to his most pressing concern—how much money was left in his account?
In an instant, he rushed toward the nearest shopkeeper and, without hesitation, ordered the biggest bag available. The shopkeeper, visibly confused, handed him the largest one.
Haruto, now armed with his loot bag, covered his face with a handkerchief like some mysterious bandit and began sweeping entire shelves of food and supplies into the bag.
Twenty of each item.
His eyes gleamed like a prospector who had just struck gold.
Then, he rushed back to his dorm, dumped everything, and immediately returned to the mall to repeat the process.
The bizarre cycle continued—load, dump, return.
By the fourth round, the entire mall was in shock.
The shopkeeper finally intervened. "Sir, you can come back later! Please don't stockpile everything at once!"
Haruto clicked his tongue in disappointment but ultimately complied. He stuffed his current haul into his bag for future looting and, with a final sweeping glance around the mall, noticed something peculiar.
Instead of solid concrete walls, everything in the structure seemed… strangely transparent. The security cameras shone ominous red lights, while the smoke detectors emitted a faint green glow.
Haruto smirked, and in a low voice, he murmured a cryptic poem:
> Bricks are burning,
Flames remain unseen,
Radiation falters,
When met with the trickster's sheen.
(Translation for fools (Author excluded): There exist chemicals that can burn bricks, ones with invisible flames, and those that can fool radiation-based detectors.)
With that, he turned and made his way back to his dormitory.
Later that night…
In his flat, dozens of products lined up neatly on the floor. Beside them lay a notebook, its pages filled with notes about certain chemicals—potential ingredients for a scheme only he knew.