Sac High prided itself on being a prestigious institution, a pce where the city's brightest and most ambitious students were molded for greatness—or so the school liked to cim.

  But even in a sea of sharks, there were always leviathans lurking just beneath the abyss.

  These were Mako’s thoughts running through his mind as he realized said bigshots barged into his slice of paradise, unannounced. And when he barely made eye contact, his skin crawled.

  He knew these girls.

  He knew them quite well.

  And he had hoped—prayed, even—that now that they were in the Role Course, he’d never have to cross paths with them again.

  Sadly, it seemed like fate wouldn’t let him escape the Goody Two-Shoes that easily.

  To anyone living under a rock, the Goody Two-Shoes were the undisputed queens of the school. Popur, rich, and practically untouchable, they wielded their influence like a weapon, bending the school to their whims and wiping away anyone who dared to cross them.

  They weren’t just mean girls—they were the meanest girls.

  Take Mr. Al Truist, for example. A nice guy who made the mistake of trying to give them detention during homecoming st year.

  The st Mako heard, he’d been mysteriously transferred to teach English in O-Io.

  Not that he needed a history lesson—he knew exactly what they were capable of. Especially since they were some of the many bullies he acquired through his time in Sac High. And he got to know them quite personally, much to his chagrin.

  First, there was Larsa “Pepper” Spicer—gossip enthusiast and tattle-tale extraordinaire. She was the brains of the operation, priding herself on knowing everything about everyone. If you had a secret, it was only a matter of time before she uncovered it. Worse, she was a popur influencer who publicly aired people’s dirty undry under the guise of “justice.” Mako had been a frequent topic in her exposés, which was one of the reasons why most girls avoided him like the pgue.

  Next was Avery “Tina” Nyce, the dullest tool in the shed with a G-minus in somehow everything. A complete and utter ditz, but what she cked in brains, she made up for in pure brawn. Towering over most of the jocks and even some teachers, she was like a wrecking ball in human form.

  Holding the entire cheer squad on her shoulders?

  Easy.

  Launching a grown man into the horizon?

  Also easy—Mako knew that firsthand after a rather memorable run-in where he accidentally touched her bountiful chest. He ended up briefly reaching eye level with a family, dining at a restaurant five stories up.

  And finally, there was Krystal “Sugar” Roche—the head of the Goody Two-Shoes and the undisputed queen of the school. Don’t let the good looks and designer wardrobe fool you; this girl was a pure bitch in sheep’s clothing. As the mayor’s daughter and heir to a high-end fashion empire, Krystal had everything handed to her on a silver ptter. But what made her truly insufferable was that, despite her spoiled upbringing, she was naturally gifted—acing both academics and sports without even trying while everyone else at Sac High struggled to keep up. Most of the student body practically worshiped her like a goddess. And, much like an angry deity, she could ruin a life like his with just a snap of her fingers.

  And yet, she didn’t.

  Because, according to her, he was “fun to torment.”

  Mako wanted to fight back, he really did, but with his family’s fish market and restaurant on the line, he had to take his punishment like a champ.

  At least, until the Role Test came around.

  The moment they learned he was Roleless, all the fun they had with him seemed to finally dry up, and he was cast aside like yesterday’s trash.

  Or so he thought.

  Mako tensed up as the Goody Two-Shoes approached. Reflexively, he took a step back, hoping they were just here to steal this spot and call it a day.

  But much to his surprise, they weren’t paying attention to him.

  Rather, their focus was on someone else.

  “So you're one of the new girls that arrived today?” Krystal flipped her golden hair and strutted towards Ashita like she owned the pce—which, technically, she did.

  Ashita stiffened, her fingers twitching, ready to reach for her bat. But before she could react, the girls circled around her like a shiver of sharks, cutting off any escape.

  Mako tried to jump in to stop whatever they were doing, but one look at the Sugar Queen and her entourage was enough to stop him dead in his tracks.

  Years of abuse kicked in, as he realized that fighting back was not ideal, especially when Avery could easily throw him off the roof, and nobody would bat an eye.

  “Pepper. Analysis.” Krsytal barked.

  “Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec.” Larsa stepped closer, eyeing Ashita up and down like she was sizing up a product in a store. Before Ashita could even ask what was happening, the dark-haired girl snapped her fingers.

  “90-57-90. Not bad, but she could stand to lose a little around the waist…”

  “What?!” Ashita recoiled in arm, jumping back out of their circle. In response, the girls began to giggle before Krystal and Larsa turned to Avery.

  “You were supposed to keep her there, Tina,” Krystal sighed, shooting a gnce at the towering brunette. “Don’t tell me you spaced out again.”

  Avery twiddled her fingers. “Sorry, Kryssy, I just feel kinda light headed since I hadn’t gotten to eat yet.”

  “You could stand to lose a few pounds yourself...” Larsa muttered. “Anyway, what do you think, Krystal?”

  The Blonde Bombshell rubbed her chin, scanning Ashita like a predator sizing up its prey. Ashita gred back, refusing to back down, but Krystal continued to check her out, unimpeded by her hostility. Then, suddenly, the Sugar Queen stopped her assessment with a satisfied smirk, and with a small nod, she delivered her verdict.

  "You’re passable," she decred.

  Passable?

  Mako’s brows furrowed beneath his hair as he unintentionally eavesdropped on the conversation.

  Ashita seemed to share his thoughts as she squinted at her, offense fshing across her face. “Excuse me?”

  Krystal waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She reached out to pat Ashita’s shoulder—only for Ashita to sp her hand away.

  For the briefest moment, Krystal’s smirk twitched. But she quickly recovered, her tone saccharine as ever. “Look, you’re new, so I get that you don’t know the rules yet. But there’s no need for you to speak or think about this, so I’ll just have someone tell you what you need to know. Pepper, be a dear and expin to bubblegum hair how things work, will you?”

  Larsa grinned. “Sure thing, Krystal! Alright, listen up, friend. Krystal has graciously approved you to be her new servant. It’s nothing too crazy—you just do what the Sugar Queen says and you can have the ability to walk behind us on the way to css. It’s an honor, really. Most people don’t even have the right to talk to her.”

  Suddenly, the Goody Two-Shoes all turned to Mako.

  He stiffened at the sudden attention. Their gazes bore into him, and instinctively, he looked away, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. And though they weren’t making direct eye contact, Mako could feel they were smirking at his submissiveness.

  Ashita raised a brow at his reaction before turning back to Krystal, who fshed her a wicked smile.

  “So anyway,” Krystal continued, “you can start by carrying my books. I’ve got math next period, and I really don’t want to ruin my manicure. So be a good girl and—”

  “No.”

  “...”

  “...”

  “...”

  “...”

  Krystal blinked as her pstic smile twitched.

  “... Come again?” She tilted her head, her voice still sickly sweet, but there was an unmistakable edge now, like a bde was pressed between their necks.

  “I said… No.” Ashita repeated, crossing her arms.

  Krystal leaned in, her ear was practically in Ashita’s face as the Sugar Queen seemed to tremble, not with fear, but anticipation.

  “Say. That. Again.” She purred aggressively. “Because I must be hearing things. Otherwise, there’s no way you just said what I think you said.”

  Mako swallowed hard. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He could feel where this was heading, and before he could stop her—

  “Well, if you’ve got a hearing problem, I’ll say it again.” Ashita smirked, “Fuck. Off.”

  Suddenly, the air shifted around them. A shiver ran through the peanut gallery as the temperature seemed to plummet. It was as if Death himself had stopped by to watch the two contenders square up and fight.

  Krystal’s eyes widened. Her perfect face contorted, twisting into something ugly—disgust, contempt, and fury converging all at once. A vein pulsed at her temple, stark against her otherwise fwless skin.

  “You’ve got some balls talking to me like that, you strawberry-fvored shit stain.” Her voice, once syrupy sweet, had curdled into a venomous hiss, sharp enough to slice through the icy atmosphere like butter. “I am offering you and your Valentine’s Day Fashion Disaster of an ass a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and this is how you treat me!?”

  “That’s how respect works, Princess.” Ashita stuck out her tongue. “Treat me like shit, you get shit.”

  Krystal’s right eye twitched. She nearly grabbed Ashita by the colr before stopping herself with an exaggerated, obnoxious sigh. Rubbing her temples, she forced a smile that almost seemed prepared to tear Ashita’s jugur if given the chance.

  “Pardon me, but you probably don’t know who I am.” Her voice was sweet like honey-ced poison. “So allow me to introduce myself.”

  With a practiced flourish, Krystal pulled out a sleek bck business card, embossed with the symbol of a snake forming an infinity loop.

  “I am Krystal Roche, daughter of Ignatius and Lova Roche. You should be familiar with those names, right?” She held the card out eagerly, her porcein smile back in pce.

  Ashita took it, turning it over in her fingers. “The Mayor of Sacramentokyo and the CEO of Prime Oroboro, right?”

  “Correct!” Krystal cpped her hands, delighted. “They’re wonderful parents, and even though I might be too old to say it, I just love my mommy and daddy sooo much! They practically give me anything I want, whenever I want.”

  She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as her hair seemed to cover her eyes in shadow..

  “They even come rushing to my aid whenever someone is mean to me. So bullies learn real quick to get along with me.” The Sugar Queen paused, letting that info sink in. “So how about it? Are we going to get along?”

  Larsa and Avery giggled while Mako anxiously clenched his fists.

  He admired Ashita’s guts, but deep down, he knew how this would end. He had seen it before—students ostracized, suspended, even expelled for daring to stand against the Queen.

  Mako himself had once been one of them. But the moment Loan Sharks started circling his house? He had fallen in line.

  And, sadly, it seemed like Ashita was going to be Krystal’s new toy for the rest of her time here in Sac High.

  He grit his teeth, frustrated by his inability to do anything, and for a fleeting something in him wanted him to act. But one gnce from Krystal’s entourage was enough to shut him down.

  Stay where you are, Bottom Feeder.

  That’s what they were thinking. Or something close to it.

  Meanwhile, Ashita looked… annoyed. Probably because she hadn’t expected to find herself in this situation.

  Mako sighed internally. At the very least, I can try to cheer her up after this.

  If nothing could be changed, the least he could do was help her pick up the pieces.

  “Well… I’m waiting,” Krystal cooed, her voice dripping with a false sense of patience.

  Ashita took one st look at her before she exhaled through her nose, and finally nodded. “... Sure, Krystal. We’ll get along.”

  “Splendid!” Krystal cpped her hands once more. “Anyway, about my books—”

  “Wait, wait, before we get into that, it’s only fair that I introduce myself, right?” Ashita grinned.

  Krystal’s smile twitched. “... Whatever do you mean? You’re Ashita Oashi, are you not?”

  “Well, that’s what I go by, since my dad’s kind of famous,” Ashita muttered, reaching into her coat pocket. “But I go by another name…”

  The group exchanged confused gnces—until Ashita pulled out a gleaming gold business card, embossed with the symbol of a Poppy flower.

  The moment Mako saw that logo, his breath caught in his throat.

  “You might be familiar with Dustin Deust, correct?” Ashita smirked, flipping the card between her fingers. “He’s my dad.”

  Krystal’s eyes widened. “You’re Dustin Deust’s kid?...”

  Without hesitation, she snatched the card from Ashita’s hand, scanning it for signs of forgery. Her once-confident smirk flickered as she desperately tried to find something, anything, to prove that it was a fake. But to no avail.

  Slowly, she turned her gaze toward Larsa, who flinched under her leader’s gaze, realizing that she royally messed up.

  Then, just as quickly, the Sugar Queen’s expression morphed back into its cheshire grin as she turned back to Ashita.

  “Well, isn’t that just fantastic!” she chirped, handing the card back. “You certainly have one incredible father.”

  “I know, right?” Ashita beamed. “He can be a little hard on me, but he really loves me. If anything bad were to happen to me, he’d make sure whoever was responsible regretted it—no matter who they were.”

  “Well, I’d certainly hate to be the one to piss him off.” Krystal’s smile stayed frozen, but the veins on her forehead pulsed, almost ready to pop at any moment.

  “Same!” Ashita nodded, fshing a goofy grin. “So, with that out of the way, how about we cut the bullshit and pretend this little meeting never happened?”

  Ashita’s warm tone immediately became cold as she gred at Krystal and the Sugar Queen met said gaze with her own frigid stare. The air around them seemed to electrify as the two girls were deadlocked in a venomous staring contest. The tension was so intense, that it almost seemed to crackle like sparks.

  Then, with an exaggerated sigh, Krystal relented, throwing her hands up in mock surrender.

  “Alright, alright, you win this round, Ashita.” Her voice dripped with a teaspoon of sugar and cyanide. “But I wouldn’t celebrate too soon. You stood up to the Queen, and nobody—nobody—messes with the Queen.”

  “Whatever you say, you wannabe Bizney princess.” Ashita clicked her tongue and flipped her off. “Pride comes before the fall, and I can’t wait to watch yours.”

  Krystal’s smirk twitched. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  And just like that, she turned sharply on her heel. “Pepper. Tina. We’re leaving.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” her ckeys chimed in unison, scurrying after her toward the exit..

  But just as Krystal reached the door, she stopped— locking her head towards Mako. The sudden attention caused his stomach to twist.

  “Oh, by the way, Bottom Feeder.” Krystal hissed like a snake at him.

  Mako stiffened at the sound of her voice. “Y-Yeah?”

  What does she want now?

  The two were silent for a moment, Mako expected to get insulted or something but much to his surprise, she smiled. “I hope you enjoy your day.”

  “...”

  “...”

  “... Uh thanks?” Mako muttered, wary of the compliment the Sugar Queen just gave him. But before he could realize her motive, she turned to Ashita, her smirk widening.

  “By the way, girl to girl,” she cooed, “I’d advise you to stay far, far away from this one.”

  She cutely tilted her head towards him. “This guy is a lecherous predator who doesn’t even have a Role to his name.”

  Ashita blinked, gncing at Mako, only for him to look away. He already knew what Krystal was doing.

  “That Bottom Feeder might expose your tits to the entire school if you hang with him for too long. So if you want to make it easy for me to get my payback, be my guest!” Krystal cackled, her entourage ughing along as they strutted toward the stairwell. ughter echoed through the rooftop, lingering in the air long after they disappeared.

  And then, silence.

  In their absence, the lighthearted and fun atmosphere had shifted into something suffocating, and the weight of Krystal’s words clung to Mako like a curse.

  It was over.

  Krystal had exposed his notorious reputation to Ashita.

  And no matter what the truth was, he knew how this story ended.

  No girl would believe him.

  Not now.Not ever.

  Ashita herself was silent, her expression gloomy—perhaps out of pity?

  …No. She probably felt stupid for thinking she’d made friends with a freak.

  That was usually what people assumed since he looked apparently creepy. And it’s not like he could talk back, not in a way that mattered.

  What was he supposed to say?

  That he actually had a Role, but it just happened to curse him with accidental perversion? That fate had saddled him with a joke of a power—something so ridiculous that even in a world of strange abilities, nobody would believe it?

  Even he could barely believe it.

  And, if he told her the truth, it would probably only make things worse.

  What would people think if he admitted that his Role was Harem Protagonist?

  Like that would ever go well.

  Ashita moved closer suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

  Quietly, he braced himself, expecting her anger, her disgust, and maybe even a sp across the face if possible.

  If this is how our friendship ends, then so be it…

  He sighed internally, ready for what happened next.

  Yet despite how tense he felt, nothing came.

  “...”“...”

  “So you’re Roleless, huh?” she asked with a surprisingly casual tone.

  “... What?” Mako blinked beneath his bangs, his head leaning forward.

  “The Prima Donna said you didn’t have a Role,” she crified. “That true?”

  Mako’s brain stalled for a moment.

  That was what she cared about?

  Not his former position as Roleless?

  Not his so-called reputation

  Not the accusations?

  Just that?

  “...That’s what you’re worried about?” he blurted, still trying to process his thoughts.

  “Yeah, duh. You technically lied about it, so of course I’d be shocked.” She leaned in slightly, arms crossed, her brows furrowing in an adorable scowl.

  “O-Oh…” He scratched his head. “Yeah… I guess I did.”

  She kept silent—staring at him expectantly, and after a moment, he sighed in defeat.

  “Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hide the fact that I was Roleless—I just… I didn’t want to look me in front of you.”

  Ashita was quiet for a second, but then, a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.

  “Well, you did say I was cooler than you,” she teased, flicking his forehead lightly. “So I get why you’d try to keep up.”

  She ughed, and despite himself, Mako let out an awkward chuckle. But as her ughter faded, her expression softened.

  “...I had a feeling you were hiding something.”

  Mako’s breath hitched for a second. “...Was it that obvious?”

  She tilted her hand in a so-so motion. “Sorta. It felt like you were carrying some baggage. Like your Role—or, well, ck of one—was really weighing on you.”

  Mako clenched his fists, scowling. “...Yeah.”

  Ashita rubbed her chin thoughtfully before plopping back down on the rooftop floor, patting the space beside her.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  Mako hesitated for a moment, and let out a resigned sigh—reluctantly taking the spot next to her

  “If you’re expecting me to cry about it, I think I’m way past that stage.” Mako growled. “Still, yeah—I had feelings about the fact I was Roleless.”

  Ashita nodded. “I can imagine. I’m guessing people gave you shit for it?”

  “Oh, people gave me shit long before that.” Mako scoffed. “I had a bit of a hero complex, y’know? Thought I could be an Advocate or a Descensionist one day. But people found me annoying since I kept butting into their business. Eventually, I realized trying to help just caused more problems, so I just settled with just trying to help those around me by just getting a decent job once I got a Role. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be...That, and, well…”

  He paused, his hand instinctively moving to scratch the back of his head. While he technically wasn’t Roleless anymore, it didn’t change the fact that he thought having a Role like Harem Protagonist wasn’t any better. Not like he was going to expin that, so better to just pretend he was still Roleless, even if he despised it.

  Plus, there was the big white elephant that he viewed as the real problem.

  The fact that Krystal outed him as a pervert.

  Before he could fumble his way through an expnation of his luck-induced accidents, Ashita suddenly coughed hard, her face turning a light shade of pink.

  “If this is about you being some pervert, I already heard about that before that stuck-up bitch waltzed in.”

  Mako’s eyes widened beneath his bangs. “You… knew?”

  “Since before gym css.” She eborated, crossing her arms. “Some girls were ranting about how you barged into their house to peep on them or something.”

  Mako winced at that. “Oh… Word travels fast, huh?”

  He chuckled awkwardly, turning away. He’d been stupid to think he could keep the rumors from reaching her. But then, a realization struck—

  “Wait… You knew, yet you still acted like we were friends?” His brows furrowed. “Were you suspicious of me or something?”

  “Rude! We are friends, dumbass!” Ashita shot him a gre before sighing. “But yeah, I was a little suspicious. You do look like a creep with your hair down like that all the time.”

  “Hey! It’s not like I have a choice! My parents won’t let me get a different haircut, and every time I try to cut it myself, it grows back immediately!” He scowled. “I can’t change how I look, even if I wanted to!”

  “Well, have you tried hair gel?” Ashita inquired, tilting her head.

  “...”

  “...”

  A heavy silence settled between them before a bead of sweat dripped from Mako’s temple.

  “...What’s hair gel?” he asked sheepishly.

  “Are you ser—” Ashita stopped herself, rubbing her temples. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll expin ter. Point is, I already knew what people said about you, but I wanted to see for myself.”

  Mako stiffened at her words. “Wait… Is that why you went to the infirmary? To try and figure me out?”

  “...Yeah.” Ashita rubbed the back of her neck, looking guilty. “But if it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re a bad person… Sorry.”

  Mako exhaled through his nose, understandably offended—but he couldn’t exactly bme her. He knew what it was like not to trust people.

  “It’s fine. Trust issues are something I’m all too familiar with.”

  “I can feel that.” She muttered before gncing at him again. “...Y’know, when I first met you, I definitely did think you were some creepy, gloomy, dumbass who wanted to look up my skirt.”

  “Ouch.” Mako scowled.

  “But,” she smirked, “while I still think you’re pretty stupid, I’ve noticed more about you in less than a day than most of these dunderheads probably have in four years.”

  Mako tilted his head. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

  “Depends on how you take it.” She grinned. “Look, while my assumptions could be wrong, you seem genuine. You don’t act like some annoying hero-wannabe, and while you haven’t denied the perverted rumors… you also haven’t tried anything with me.”

  Mako sighed, rubbing his neck. “Would you believe me if I said all of it was just really, really bad luck?”

  Ashita squinted. “I’d say they’re lying, because there’s no way someone in reality could be that unlucky.”

  Mako frowned. “Yeah, well… reality’s stranger than fiction.”

  Ashita blinked, mildly shocked at the sheer bitterness in his voice. But he spoke in a tone so drained of any attempt at lying, that she could only exhale in resignation. “Well… whatever the case, nothing’s happened yet, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. For now.”

  She smirked before elbowing him. “Besides, at least I get why you’re such a downer now. Not having a Role sucks, so you get a pass.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Mako chuckled dryly.

  Ashita chuckled with him, and for a moment, the tension faded into something lighter. Their conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, and when their eyes met, Mako hesitated—before finally smiling.

  “... Thanks for believing in me, Ashita.” He muttered.

  Ashita’s eyes widened slightly before she scoffed, tapping his arm. “Just don’t betray that trust, dumbass.”

  Mako ughed, and in response, he punched her back, sparking an impromptu game of punchies—until a familiar arm bred in his head.

  CONNECTION STRENGTHENED

  Mako jolted as the Red Strings of Fate notified him that his bond with Ashita had deepened, and in turn she noticed his reaction—looking at him puzzled.

  “You’re acting weird. Are you seeing things again or something?” Ashita inquired, tilting her head.

  Technically, I am. You just can’t see it.

  Mako scratched his head, his gaze flickering to the red thread protruding from her chest. It was more pronounced now, far more visible than it had been in the infirmary. No doubt because he strengthened their connection like the skill said.

  Though, he had to admit, while the skill was definitely useful in showing what his retionship ship statuses are like it was still weird to hear it whenever it popped up. It would take some time to get used to this strange ability, and the sudden notifications always have been catching him off guard.

  Unfortunately, Ashita seemed to pick up on his reaction. But since he couldn’t exactly expin his Role to her, he needed a distraction—fast. Racking his brain for ideas, he suddenly remembered the bombshell Ashita dropped earlier, and decided that it would do for now.

  “Oh, I just remembered who your dad is…” Mako blurted. “Dustin Deust, right?”

  CONNECTION WEAKENED

  “...!?” Mako flinched, not just from the notification but from the sudden shift in Ashita’s expression. She was gring at him, her eyes sharp as daggers.

  Crap… I messed up!

  Earlier, she’d brought up her father almost casually, even boasting about him. He had assumed she thought of her family fondly. But now, watching her reaction and remembering her earlier words back at the infirmary, it clicked—she hadn’t said it with pride. It had been a shield, a deterrent to keep bullies at bay.

  She doesn’t actually like being associated with him.

  And while he definitely succeeded in changing the subject, it utterly backfired on him as the thread started to get thinner the moment her dad was brought up.

  Gritting his teeth for his folly, Mako lowered his head. “...You’re not fond of your dad, are you?”

  Ashita’s scowl lingered for a moment before she sighed, exasperated. “...Yeah. Sorry.”

  She turned away, arms crossed. “People at schools like this usually want to hang out with me for one of two reasons: because I’m hot or because I’m reted to him. So yeah, I don’t exactly enjoy being reminded of it.”

  Her voice dropped slightly. “I don’t hate him, just… his reputation.”

  “I see…” Mako scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s not like I have a good role anyway,so working with him is basically impossible for me.”

  “True…” Ashita rubbed her chin before smirking. “Guess it’s just a reflex for me.”

  “Yeah.” Mako chuckled. “Happens to the best of us.”

  The two fell silent for a moment before he looked at her curiously. Confused, she met his stare with a gnce.

  “What’s up?”

  “Oh it’s nothing.” He turned away, scratching his head. “Just thinking about what kind of Role you have. You must have a pretty strong one if you’re reted to him, right?”

  “Oh, totally.” Ashita smirked. “It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

  “Huh. Well, that sucks.” Mako nodded before turning his attention back to his lunch.

  Ashita blinked, surprised by his sudden indifference. “...You’re not gonna ask to see it?”

  Mako shrugged. “It’s your business, right? You don’t like funting your dad, so I figured you don’t like funting your Role either.”

  At his response, Ashita began to ugh for some reason.

  “What’s so funny?” Mako tilted his head.

  “W-Well, you’re not wrong about me not showing off my dad,” she said, catching her breath. “But the reason I don’t funt my Role is completely different.”

  Just then, a Role Menu flickered to life next to her. Seeing the menu in full dispy, Mako’s eyes widened.

  Role: CLASSIFIED

  Instinctively, he brushed his bangs aside to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Ashita quickly turned away, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks.

  Then, just as fast as it appeared, the Role Menu vanished without a trace.

  Mako stared for a moment before nodding. “So your Role is that kind, huh?”

  Seeing his bangs back in pce, Ashita gnced back at him and nodded. “Yeah, it’s that kind.”

  “I see…” Mako exhaled, rubbing his temples. “That makes sense. With a Role like that, of course you’d be here.”

  “Yeah…” Ashita scowled. “It fucking sucks.”

  “...”

  “...”

  “We should probably finish our lunch.”

  “...Yeah.”

  The rest of lunch passed in comfortable silence as they finished their burgers. The meat had gone cold thanks to the whole Goody Two-Shoes interruption and their heart-to-heart conversation, but neither of them particurly cared.

  Mako himself was wondering about his retionship with Ashita now. The red thread connecting them was still there, but it had dimmed slightly after he brought up her dad and weakened the connection.

  A simir phenomenon happened earlier with Haze—their retionship was already rocky, but after they interacted, the bck tendril had subtly shifted as well, growing in mass. Though he himself didn’t think he did anything to offend Haze, mostly because she was acting like her usual self.

  And he could only come to one conclusion as to why that was:

  He’s not the only one that can affect the Red Strings of Fate.

  His dad once told him that a healthy retionship required effort from both sides—each person giving and receiving support, consideration, and trust to keep the bond strong.

  Or, in simpler terms:

  "Love isn’t a One-way road, but a Two-way street."

  If that logic held true, then the Red Strings of Fate didn’t just measure how people felt about him; they also depended on how he felt about them. Affection wasn’t something he could manipute alone—both parties had to contribute for the bond to grow.

  At least, that’s what he hoped was happening.

  For all he knew, the Red Strings of Fate worked on some arbitrary system that decided affection levels on its own. Like some amateur author online, randomly choosing when and where to change his affection levels. But his theory made sense for now, and that was good enough.

  Still, it raised some unsettling questions in his head.

  Would he have to keep this ability active at all times when talking to girls?

  Would he start second-guessing everything he said just to make sure their affection levels went up?

  The thought made his stomach turn.

  If he relied on the Red Strings too much, wouldn't that make his retionships fake?

  Just a series of carefully crafted responses designed to manipute emotions?

  Never being able to say what truly felt just to satisfy someone else?

  Mako let those questions simmer in his head for a moment before coming to a decision.

  Better to leave it as is. Don’t obsess over it. Don’t let it dictate his every move.

  The Red Strings of Fate were part of him, sure, but that didn’t mean he had to rely on them to navigate his retionships. If he did, he’d end up some spineless yes-man, saying whatever people wanted to hear just to boost their affection. That wasn’t the kind of person he wanted to be.

  No. He’d just be himself.

  Even if he sucked.

  Still, he couldn’t ignore what he’d learned today. Every word, every action—any of it could strengthen or weaken his bonds with those of the opposite sex. So he needed to be careful from now on, lest he make new enemies in the future.

  “Hey, so were you actually serious about your luck being that bad?” Ashita asked, finishing the st bite of her burger before turning to Mako.

  Taking a good look at her, Mako simply closed his eyes and sigh. “I wish I could say no.”

  “...Can you prove it?”

  “What?”

  “Prove it. Prove that your luck is really that bad,” she eborated.

  Mako tilted his head. “...How am I supposed to prove that?”

  Ashita rubbed her chin in thought, then grabbed a piece of her burger wrapper and pointed to a distant trash can below. “How about this? Try nding this wrapper in the trash can, and I’ll believe you.”

  Mako looked at the wrapped he was handed and frowned. “What part of that proves I’m unlucky? There’s a higher chance of missing than hitting it.”

  “I dunno, but if your luck is as bad as you say, wouldn’t something even worse happen?”

  Mako opened his mouth to argue, then promptly shut it. His mind fshed back to what had happened just an hour ago with the st trash can incident. The wrapper trembled slightly in his grasp.

  …Well she isn’t wrong, but is it really worth it to be right?

  He gripped the wrapper tightly, weighing his options. Then, with a resignated sigh, Mako winded up his arm and prepared to throw.

  Aiming carefully for the trash can, he let the wrapper fly—

  Only for it to plop down right in front of him.

  Then, as if to add insult to injury, it fluttered off the roof and down to the ground below.

  Seeing his pathetic dispy of strength, Ashita turned to him. “That. Was the worst throw ever. Of all time.”

  Mako’s face burned with embarrassment, as he looked away. “...Sorry?”

  Ashita could only shake her head with a sigh. “Well, lunch is almost over, so let’s just—”

  “HEY! YOU!”

  Mako and Ashita froze. Slowly, turning their gaze downward toward the source of the voice.

  There,two girls stood at ground level. The first was short and lean, her jagged blonde twintails tied up in bck bows, fists clenched at her sides. Beside her was a tan-skinned gyaru in an outfit that could only be described as bizarre.

  Upon seeing them, Ashita furrowed her brows. That voice sounded familiar.

  The twintailed girl held something tightly in her fist. When Mako squinted, dread settled in his gut.It was the wrapper.

  Slowly, he and Ashita turned to each other. Realization dawned on them at the exact same time.

  Oh.

  Oh No.

  “HEY, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME, YOU ASSHOLES!” The twintailed girl shouted, shaking her fist. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST CHUCK YOUR TRASH AROUND AND EXPECT OTHER PEOPLE TO PICK IT UP FOR YOU?!”

  Mako frantically waved his hands. “S-Sorry! We were just making a bet! We didn’t mean to hit you!”

  “YEAH? WELL, I’M ABOUT TO COME UP THERE AND HIT YOU BACK!” she roared. “SO WHY DON’T YOU COME DOWN HERE AND—WAIT. IT’S YOU!”

  She pointed directly at Mako, as if he had personally dishonored her bloodline.

  “M-Me?” He gnced around before hesitantly pointing at himself.

  “YES, YOU!” she growled. “DON’T TELL ME YOU FORGOT ALREADY, YOU DISGUSTING PERVERT!”

  Ashita turned to him, tilting her head. “What did you do, Mako?”

  “I—I don’t know! I’ve never seen this girl before in my life!” he stammered, waving his hands defensively. “She’s probably new, like you!”

  “She’s my bestie, Mak-Mak~!” a sing-song voice chimed in, wicked and teasing.

  Mako and Ashita turned their attention to the gyaru, who was grinning like a cat with a fresh catch, phone in hand.

  “Wait… Pame!?” Mako took a step back, sweat forming on his brow. “You know this girl!?”

  “Well, duh~!” Pame twirled a strand of hair. “Her name’s Valerie Ampere—fancy, I know—and she’s my friend who just transferred here, ‘kay?” Her grin widened. “She’s also the girl you peeped on this morning.”

  “Wait, WHAT!?”

  Mako whirled back to the twintailed girl—Valerie. His eyes widened as realization struck like a bolt of lightning.

  This was her. The girl who had given him his bck eye earlier. The same one he had accidentally barged into when he forgot his homework.

  As Mako began to sweat bullets, Ashita suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh, I just realized where I’ve heard their voices before. They were the ones badmouthing you in the bathroom!”

  Mako paled. “You know them!?”

  “YOU WERE EAVESDROPPING ON US!?” Valerie screeched, her twintails bouncing wildly, as if they, too, were personally offended.

  Pame pouted pyfully. “Not fun, fun~. I don’t like being peeped on, even by another girl. Sooo, I’m just gonna let Valerie handle this one, ‘kay?”

  “What—what’s she gonna do?” Mako stammered, dread creeping into his voice.

  But before he could process it, Valerie began to spark.

  Unlike the subtle tension in Ashita and Krystal’s earlier stare-down, this wasn’t metaphorical. Actual electricity crackled through Valerie’s body, arcing wildly like a live wire. Even Pame took a cautious step back as Valerie raised one hand, forming a finger gun.

  Mako and Ashita barely had time to react before—

  CRACK!

  A bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips.

  Ashita dove to the side just in time, narrowly avoiding the bst, while Mako felt the static sizzle through his hair as he stumbled back.

  Unfortunately, in his frantic retreat, he didn’t realize how close he was to the edge of the roof.

  And with one step too far, the ground beneath him vanished.

  For a brief, horrifying second, he was weightless. The world spun around him as he tumbled backward into open air. His stomach dropped as his mind caught up to reality.

  He was falling.

  Ashita snapped out of her shock, instinct kicking in. A heart-shaped device materialized in her hand as she lunged forward, ready to activate it when—

  BOING!

  A sound like a trampoline echoed through the air.

  Mako shot back up onto the roof, briefly locking eyes with Ashita before dropping down again.

  BOING!

  Ashita let out a relieved sigh. As much as she wanted to question why there was a trampoline there, she was just gd he was safe. However, her relief quickly shifted to concern when she realized where he was about to nd next.

  "I didn’t even know we had a cactus garden."

  She winced as Mako crashed butt-first into a Saguaro, his scream of agony ringing through the air.

  As he writhed in pain, Ashita whistled at the impromptu dispy of torture. “Well, that was simultaneously the luckiest and unluckiest thing I’ve seen today… Maybe he really is as cursed as he cimed. How about that?”

  As much as she wanted to enjoy the irony, her focus snapped back to the culprits. She turned toward where Valerie and Pame had been—only to find the spot empty.

  "Damn it! They got away!” She groaned, smming a fist against the pavement, cursing herself.

  While she wanted payback, she also knew that Lunch was about to end soon. So she wouldn’t have time to track them down.

  At least not yet.

  And besides, Mako needed medical attention immediately.

  Shaking her head, Ashita hurried toward the stairwell, already bracing herself to pry him out of the cactus.

  As she descended, her thoughts drifted back to what she had learned about him today—his luck, his strange misfortunes, and, most curiously, his ck of a Role.

  And yet… something felt off.

  Furrowing her brow, she wondered what could be bothering her when she finally muttered to herself, “Back then, he didn’t say he had no Role… he said he didn’t have a Good Role.”

  That distinction gnawed at her.

  Maybe I’m just overthinking it…

  Charlie_Bones