By this point, I had fully accepted that the universe hated me.
Not passively, either.
Not like, "Oops, sorry bro, here's some bad luck."
No, this was targeted. Personal. A spiritual vendetta from the gods of romance, fanservice, and misunderstandings.
Every time I tried to be decent?
Every time I took the moral high ground?
Someone tripped. Someone blushed. Someone's boobs collided with my face like heat-seeking missiles fired by fate itself.
So today, I tried something new.
Stealth mode.
No eye contact.
No conversation.
No proximity to any girl with visible legs, emotional baggage, or an armband labeled "main heroine."
I even wore a damn surgical mask for extra protection.
Kazuki Sakurai: certified NTR hazard, now fully sanitized and socially distanced.
And it worked.
Sort of.
For like, half the morning.
Until the letter happened.
It started innocently enough.
I opened my shoe locker after gym class and—bam. There it was.
A soft pink envelope.
Frilly edges. Tiny red hearts on the seal.
The universal sign of a love confession.
Now, to be clear, I didn't touch it.
Didn't open it.
Didn't even sniff it, which I feel deserves applause given my current track record.
I just stood there, blinking.
Because here's the thing:
In Sweet Love Spiral: The Cuckold Chronicles, there's a side character in the second arc named Shiraishi Mei.
Disciplinary Committee. Straight-cut black hair. Eyes like knives. A voice that could castrate you from ten feet away.
She confesses to me in the manga.
But not out of love.
Oh no.
She confesses because she wants to reform me.
To take the infamous NTR villain and whip him into shape with pure, lawful fury.
That letter in my locker?
It was how it started.
And now it was starting again.
"…No," I muttered.
I closed the locker.
Walked away.
Fast.
I didn't have time for another slow-burn tsundere redemption arc.
But fate?
Fate is a petty little goblin.
And five minutes later, as I turned the corner on my way to the library, I ran face-first into a girl's chest.
AGAIN.
"Watch it," came the voice. Cold. Sharp.
Like someone had weaponized disdain and installed it into a teenage girl.
I looked up.
And there she was.
Shiraishi Mei.
Disciplinary armband. Hair so straight it could slice bread. Expression like she was permanently judging you for how you chew gum.
She held the pink envelope in her hand.
Crap.
"You didn't open it," she said.
"Correct," I replied instantly.
"Didn't open it, didn't lick it, didn't even emotionally acknowledge it. In fact, I'm allergic to paper. I'm so paper-phobic I can't even read manga anymore."
Her eyes narrowed. "That was meant to be private."
"And it was! I treated it like a sacred scroll. Didn't even read the sender. You could've signed it 'The Tooth Fairy' and I wouldn't have known."
She took a step closer.
Now, to the average observer, this might've looked romantic.
But I knew better.
This was a threat display.
"I've been watching you," she said.
That's not creepy at all.
"I know what you are, Sakurai. What you've done. Girls smiling at you. Laughing. Following you around."
I raised my hands like she was holding me at gunpoint.
"Totally unintentional. I've been trying to repel affection. I practically sweat Axe body spray and regret."
She ignored me.
"You're dangerous," she said, voice low. "You ruin relationships. Break hearts. Turn pure girls into blushing messes."
"…That's exactly why I've been avoiding people," I said.
"And that," she said, "is why I'm going to save you."
Record scratch.
"…Come again?"
She held the envelope out like a badge of honor.
"I'm going to monitor you," she said. "Every day. Everywhere. Until your filthy urges are cleansed by the power of civic responsibility."
I blinked.
"…So… this is a… romantic confession… but with handcuffs?"
She didn't answer.
Just turned and walked away, her disciplinary armband flapping like a battle flag.
I stood there, frozen.
My brain doing mental gymnastics.
On the one hand: this girl clearly hated me.
On the other hand: I'm 90% sure she just asked me out in the most threatening way possible.
And of course, it got worse.
Because twenty minutes later, in the library, as I was hiding between two shelves pretending to read a physics textbook, Mio walked in.
The girl I consoled.
The girl who nearly kissed me last chapter.
And she looked around like she was searching for me.
"Nope," I whispered, sliding deeper into the shadows. "Not again. Not today."
I backed away—right into a chair.
And knocked it over.
Like an idiot.
She turned.
Eyes lit up.
"Kazuki-kun! There you are!"
No. Please. Mercy.
"I've been thinking about what you said," she said, walking closer. "About how I don't have to pretend to be perfect."
She sat down across from me.
"I'm going to be more honest with myself. Starting now."
She leaned forward.
Smiled.
Too close. TOO CLOSE.
And then she said it.
"I think I like you."
I died.
Again.
Fifth time this week.
Is this what hell is? Constantly respawning into your own harem against your will?
I opened my mouth to respond.
But before I could—
Yuna walked in.
Carrying a book.
Saw us.
Froze.
Eyes wide.
Mio turned, confused.
"Oh, hi, Yuna!"
Yuna stared at me.
Her gaze flicked to Mio.
Then to how close we were.
Then to me again.
She didn't say anything.
Just turned around.
And walked out.
"NO—YUNA WAIT—"
I stood up.
Tripped on the damn physics book.
Faceplanted.
Because of course I did.