Chapter 18: How to Fool Your Classmates

Two weeks had passed since Mom grounded me.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, it was September 1st—the first day of the new term.

“…Hard to walk in there.”

I muttered to myself, standing alone in front of the classroom door.

Even from outside, it was obvious that the room was buzzing with excitement.

Someone was bragging about “where they traveled,”
Another was gushing about “getting a boyfriend at the summer festival.”

Everyone was hyped up, trading stories from their unforgettable summer memories.

A quick glance at my watch.

It was about five minutes before the bell rang.

If I wanted to avoid getting called out, I needed to get to my seat soon.

Summoning my courage, I opened the door and quietly slipped toward my seat by the window, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

…But it turns out that sensing someone’s presence isn’t something people can just turn off.

By the time I sat down, all the lively chatter had completely vanished, replaced by hushed whispers.

“Nitta’s here… Nitta actually came…”

“Rumor has it he got picked up by the cops more times than you can count this summer…”

“I heard he was wandering around the red-light district in the middle of the night…”

…This was the secret I hadn’t been able to tell Hikari the other day.

To put it simply—I got into a brawl not long after starting high school, and ever since, I’ve been a total outcast in class.

On top of that, rumors had painted me as some kind of notorious delinquent…

So now, I was treated like some kind of pariah.

“Yo! Nitta-kun! Long time no see!”

And yet, despite all that, there was one guy who still talked to me.

When I turned around, I was met with a dazzling smile that practically sparkled with pristine white teeth—so bright it gave me goosebumps.

“…Gōenji.”

“Still the same cold greeting for your dearest friend after a whole month apart, huh? Well, I guess that’s just so you, isn’t it!”

This guy’s name is Gōenji Tatsuya.
Even his name feels hot-blooded. And fittingly, his personality matches—he’s the definition of a passionate, all-in kind of guy.

He was involved in that earlier brawl too, and ever since, for some reason, he’s grown way too attached to me. Constantly calling me his “soul friend” at every opportunity.

“Hahaha! It was the summer of youth! Surely you’ve got some raw, unfiltered memories to share? Don’t hold back, spill it all to me!”

“C’mon, c’mon!” he egged me on, annoyingly persistent.

A quick look around showed that it wasn’t just me getting side-eyes—Gōenji was also attracting some cold glares.

Honestly, the vibe was basically: “Ugh, can those two just go somewhere else already?”

…Well, to be fair, it’s not like he’s a bad guy.

He doesn’t so much as flinch even when hanging out with me tanks his social reputation.

It’s just… his total inability to read the room is a massive problem.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing worth sharing.”

“You sure about that? I heard you went overseas, Nitta-kun.”

“…And who the hell told you that?”

I was planning to play it off, but that unexpected comment caught me off guard.

Before I could help myself, I’d already bitten the bait. Gōenji puffed out his chest and grinned like it was the best news in the world.

“Your dear mother did! I ran into her at the supermarket just the other day, and we had a lovely chat. She was more than happy to tell me all about it!”

“Of course she did…”

Apparently, this was Mom’s way of doing damage control in advance.

Whether picking him of all people was the right call is highly questionable, though…

Not that I needed much more time to think of an excuse.

Just then, the familiar chime of the school bell echoed through the classroom.

As if on cue, our homeroom teacher entered, and Gōenji’s line of questioning was forcibly cut short.

And just like that, homeroom began right before the opening ceremony—but the teacher's usual preachy story ended quicker than expected.

Why? Because one of the boys cut him off midway.

“Sensei! Is it true we’re getting a transfer student in this class?”

“…You’re well informed, Akatsuki. Yes, that’s right.”

The teacher nodded with an easygoing smile, and the classroom instantly stirred with excitement.

Is it a boy or a girl?
If they’re athletic, maybe we can get them to join our club.

Whispers buzzed through the room.

“Alright, come on in.”

Without trying to quiet the class, the teacher clapped his hands twice.
Well, it was just homeroom—he probably figured this level of noise was fine.

Then, the door slowly creaked open.

And in walked a silver-haired girl—a familiar face to me.

But in that moment—

The entire classroom fell utterly silent, like someone had poured cold water over it.

“My name is Mikoto Ardigan. It’s nice to meet you all.”

She stepped confidently onto the platform, wrote her name crisply on the board in katakana, then turned on her heel with practiced grace and gave a gentle smile to the entire class.

Her clear soprano voice rang out with ease.

Everyone in the room collectively held their breath.

The school’s designated summer uniform was pretty standard—white dress shirt, navy skirt. A plain design with little in the way of ornamentation, save for the red necktie at the collar.

Honestly, it could come off as a little bland.

But when someone like Hikari wears it?

The thin fabric of her shirt highlighted her porcelain skin, almost radiant in its translucence.

And her silver hair—already striking from a distance—danced in the breeze coming through the window, catching the light like strands of spun glass.

She was, in the most literal sense, breathtaking.

I was certain every single person in this classroom—boys and girls alike—was experiencing the same moment of stunned awe I’d felt when I first saw her in the park.

And the way every pair of eyes tracked her every move proved it.

“…Ahem. As you can see, Ardigan-san is from overseas. She’ll be attending our school as a foreign exchange student. Any questions?”

The first to snap out of it was, unsurprisingly, the adult in the room—our teacher.

He cleared his throat and nudged the class into action with a prompt.

Right away, one of the boys raised his hand—the same one who interrupted the teacher earlier.

“Um, I have a question… Did Ardigan-san come to Japan with her family—or, uh, did you come alone?”

The confidence he’d shown earlier when addressing the teacher had vanished completely.

Now, squirming and fidgeting, he directed a nervous question toward Hikari.

“Oh, it’s fine! You don’t have to call me ‘Ardigan’—just ‘Mikoto’ is better. I’m used to it. As for your question: No, I didn’t come with my family—I came to Japan alone.”

“So… you’re living by yourself?”

This time the question came from a girl.

It seemed the ice had started to break thanks to the boy’s lead. Everyone now looked genuinely curious.

“Not exactly. I’m staying at someone else’s house. Kind of like a homestay, I guess?”

“…Ardigan-san is currently living at Nitta’s house. They met during his trip abroad over the summer.”

“What’s going on…?”
“Why is she living at Nitta’s house…?”

The teacher’s clarification sent another wave of murmurs rippling through the class.

…Alright.
Let me explain this, just in case—it’s all complete fiction, carefully fabricated by my mom.

That two-week grounding?
It wasn’t just to make me catch up on my studies—it was also meant to create an alibi: that I’d been overseas.

There were two reasons for this.

First, the obvious one: to explain how a Japanese guy like me could possibly be connected to a foreign girl named “Mikoto Ardigan.”

The fact that Hikari was living in my house wasn’t something we could realistically hide.
All it would take was someone saying, “Hey, can I come over?” and the secret would be out.

So in that case, it’d be easier to just come clean from the start and build a story around it.

And then the second reason… had to do with my leg injury.

…Just like Mom had said before—my leg was never supposed to heal. No matter how many doctors saw it, the prognosis was always the same: no chance of recovery.

That was something even the school had been officially informed of, not to mention all my classmates knew.

But what if I suddenly came back after summer break, perfectly healed without explanation?

There’d be no avoiding suspicion. And it’s not like I could keep faking it forever.
More than anything, if I couldn’t participate in PE class, then Hikari’s return to this world—and her use of healing magic—would have been meaningless.

—Which is why we decided to put on a little performance.

We crafted a scenario: I’d heard of a brilliant surgeon overseas, someone capable of performing an operation that would be impossible in Japan. So my father and I traveled there to get it done.

Coincidentally, this miracle doctor happened to be a relative of “Mikoto Ardigan,” and in exchange for the surgery, we agreed to take responsibility for her care while she stayed in Japan.

That was the story.

For the record, the alibi is strictly for paperwork purposes—we have no plans to give anyone a detailed timeline of exactly when or where we were abroad.

Maybe someone did see me and Hikari at the mall.
Maybe no one cared.
Either way, we’re going to keep things as vague as possible.

“…So, Mikoto-san and Nitta-kun—what kind of relationship do you two really have?”

And while I was lost in thought, another question came flying in.

This time, from a girl who couldn’t have made her gossip-hungry tone any more obvious if she tried.

…As for that question, I’d already given Hikari strict instructions in advance.

I told her to say:

“I’m staying with the Nitta family not because I’m close to Nitta personally, but because I didn’t have anyone else I could rely on.”

That’s what she was supposed to say.

Regardless of our real relationship, from an outsider’s perspective, we were just a teenage boy and girl living under the same roof—and that’s the kind of setup that always invites speculation.

The last thing I wanted was for Hikari to become an outcast like me, so I’d prepared a way to avoid that.

—And yet.

“I’ve spent many nights in the same room with Yōsuke! Right?”

She said that with a beaming smile, shooting me a pointed, heated look… and then capped it off with a bashful little wink.

As a result, the classroom atmosphere froze solid in an instant.