Chapter 1: Collision Course

  Scene 1: The Accident That Started Everything

  I wasn’t supposed to be here. That’s the first thought I had when I realized I was lying flat on my back, staring at the blinding sky, while the distant sound of tires screeching echoed in my ears.

  That, and the fact that I really, really hated mornings.

  Somewhere to my left, a crowd was forming, voices mixing into a jumble of panic, but my brain was still rebooting, trying to process what the hell just happened.

  Oh, right. I got hit by a car.

  But—wait—why wasn’t I in pain?

  I groaned, blinking rapidly, and shifted slightly. Everything seemed… fine? My limbs were intact. My ribs didn’t feel broken. No major blood loss. I could still breathe, though a bit shakily. Which meant—

  Someone groaned beside me.

  I turned my head and nearly had a heart attack.

  A few feet away, sprawled face-down on the pavement, was a guy who looked just like me.

  Same messy black hair. Same height. Same general high schooler build. But there was a distinct difference: his school uniform wasn’t a wrinkled mess like mine, and—oh yeah—he was completely unconscious.

  I sat up way too fast. “What the—”

  The moment I moved, strong hands grabbed my shoulders.

  “Young Master! Are you hurt?!”

  I flinched, my brain going into emergency shutdown mode as I found myself surrounded by four very large, very serious-looking men in black suits.

  One of them knelt beside me, inspecting me like I was some kind of precious artifact that had just been dropped from space. The others were already moving, blocking off the area like trained professionals. I glanced around, half-expecting to see actual bodyguards.

  Wait. They were bodyguards.

  What the hell was going on?!

  My first instinct was to bolt, but then I caught a glimpse of the other me still lying there, completely out cold. The realization hit me like—well, like a speeding car.

  The guy who got hit wasn’t me.

  Which meant—

  “Oh, hell,” I muttered.

  “Young Master?” One of the suited men gave me a puzzled glance.

  I froze. Young… Master?

  A sinking feeling settled in my gut. They thought I was him.

  I glanced at the unconscious guy again, mentally connecting the dots. Rich kid. Bodyguards. Clearly important.

  I was not important.

  And yet, they were treating me like I was their boss.

  I took a shaky breath. “Uh…”

  The one closest to me frowned. “You hit your head, didn’t you? You’re disoriented.”

  I could just tell them the truth. Correct the misunderstanding. Explain that I was just some random transfer student who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Yeah. I could do that.

  …Or I could live long enough to get to my first class.

  Because if these guys were who I thought they were—people who worked for the real unconscious guy—then there was a high chance they were dangerous. And if they suddenly realized I wasn’t their Young Master, who knew what they’d do?

  I forced a nervous chuckle. “Uh. Right. Disoriented. Totally.”

  The bodyguards exchanged looks.

  Before I could think of another bad excuse, the wail of sirens filled the air.

  The paramedics arrived in record time, rushing past us straight to the unconscious guy. The real Young Master.

  I held my breath as they checked him over. He was alive—a little banged up, but alive.

  “Looks like mild trauma. We’re taking him in.” One of the paramedics waved at the waiting ambulance.

  The bodyguards nodded in understanding, but none of them followed.

  Instead, they stayed with me.

  I swallowed hard. Oh no.

  One of them glanced at the paramedics loading their Young Master onto the stretcher, then turned back to me. “We will handle this quietly.”

  Quietly?

  Another one sighed. “It would be best if we didn’t inform your father about this, Young Master. He would not be pleased.”

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  I nearly choked. FATHER?!

  Oh. Oh, no.

  I barely processed the moment when the real Young Master was driven off, his phone slipping from his pocket and skidding across the pavement.

  My eyes darted to it.

  My biggest mistake of the day? I picked it up.

  Because the moment my fingers wrapped around that phone, there was no going back.

  Scene 2: A Case of Mistaken Identity

  My heart was pounding violently as the bodyguard led me toward the gates of Fujihama High, his grip on my shoulder gentle yet unyielding. I felt like a criminal being marched toward my execution, helpless and desperate, trapped in a misunderstanding that seemed to spiral wildly with each passing second.

  Around me, the gathered students whispered feverishly, eyes wide with shock and awe.

  "Isn't that him?" someone murmured. "That's Ryuji Sakamoto—the heir to the Sakamoto family!"

  "I heard he wiped out a whole rival gang last year," another whispered reverently. "Look how calm he is! He's not even rattled after almost getting hit by a car!"

  Calm? I'm having a panic attack! I thought, eyes darting frantically for any possible escape route. But everywhere I looked, curious faces stared back, blocking every possible path to freedom.

  I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak. "I—I think there’s been a misunderstanding," I began weakly, turning toward the towering man beside me.

  He paused, raising a concerned eyebrow. "Young Master, are you feeling unwell? Perhaps you suffered more of a shock than we realized."

  "No, that's not what—" I started again, but the second bodyguard appeared suddenly on my other side, cutting me off.

  "Don't worry, Young Master," he assured me with solemn reverence. "We'll inform your father that you're safe."

  My father? What father?!

  Before I could protest further, they gently but firmly guided me through the front gates and straight into the main building. As we entered the crowded hallways, students parted hurriedly, pressing themselves against lockers and walls to give us space, like I was royalty—or perhaps something far worse.

  I desperately avoided eye contact, but I could feel their stares burning into me, each whispered rumor sinking my heart further into despair.

  "Did you see that? Even his bodyguards look scary!"

  "He really is the heir of a Yakuza empire!"

  "I bet he planned that whole car accident himself!"

  My knees went weak. Please, someone, just listen to me!

  At that exact moment, Mr. Tanaka, our homeroom teacher, stepped out of the classroom into the hallway, eyes widening at the sight of me flanked by two intimidating bodyguards. Sweat immediately glistened on his forehead, his usually cheerful face growing pale.

  "A-ah! S-Sakamoto-kun!" he stammered nervously, bowing repeatedly. "Welcome back! I hope you're not injured?"

  I waved my hands frantically, trying to correct him. "Mr. Tanaka, this is a mistake! I'm not—"

  But before I could finish, the bodyguards bowed formally to the terrified teacher and smoothly vanished into the background, leaving me standing awkwardly in the doorway of the classroom, speechless and helplessly trapped.

  Mr. Tanaka cleared his throat anxiously, motioning toward a seat near the back of the room—clearly reserved just for me. "P-please take your seat, Sakamoto-kun. Let’s…let’s start homeroom, everyone!"

  Feeling dozens of eyes on me, I stumbled toward my assigned desk, sinking slowly into the chair as if the weight of the world had crushed my body. My head spun, barely comprehending the insane predicament I'd somehow landed in.

  Just as I thought things couldn't possibly get worse, the phone in my pocket suddenly buzzed sharply. Startled, I yanked it out, staring at the screen in horror. An unknown number flashed ominously, a single text message burning itself into my eyes:

  "We'll see if you're worthy soon."

  I swallowed, my mouth dry as paper. Worthy? Worthy of what?!

  As my mind raced with horrific possibilities, the students around me continued whispering, excitement and fear mingling in their voices. Meanwhile, Mr. Tanaka hurriedly began homeroom announcements, his voice trembling as if any wrong word might set off a catastrophe.

  With each passing second, the surreal nature of my predicament sank deeper into my bones. A sinking dread filled my chest, pressing down on me until it felt impossible to breathe.

  What have I done? I thought miserably, staring helplessly at the unfamiliar phone in my shaking hand.

  Then, with horrifying clarity, a single thought emerged above all else:

  I need to go back to bed.

  Scene 3: The Birth of a Legend (Against My Will)

  Homeroom had barely started, but the atmosphere was already thick with tension. The entire class seemed to hold their breath whenever I shifted in my seat. Eyes constantly darted my way, some fearful, others awed—most disturbingly, a few looked at me with an eager curiosity, as if I were some kind of exhibit in a traveling circus.

  I sank lower into my chair, pretending to study my desk while desperately wishing for invisibility.

  "I heard he destroyed a whole rival gang last year," whispered a girl behind me, her voice trembling with excitement.

  "I heard even teachers are scared to give him detention," added another voice conspiratorially.

  I shut my eyes tightly, biting back a groan. Where are these people getting these insane stories from?

  From across the room, a low chuckle caught my attention. Turning slightly, I spotted Tetsuya Nakamura lounging casually at his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes watching me intently. Nakamura was notorious around Fujihama High—the toughest delinquent in school, famous for never having lost a fight. Our eyes met briefly, and a slow, challenging smirk spread across his face.

  My stomach churned painfully. Please, not another one.

  Before I could worry too long about Nakamura’s unnerving attention, a sharp movement drew my eyes to the front of the classroom. Reina Kisaragi, class president and staunch defender of rules and order, was staring at me with undisguised hostility. Her usually serene face was now rigid with righteous indignation. She scribbled furiously into a notebook, her pen scratching the paper loudly enough for the whole class to hear.

  "Corruption…crime…gang activity," she muttered loudly enough for the closest students to hear. Each word hit me like a dart, making me flinch.

  I watched helplessly, feeling trapped between Nakamura’s dangerous amusement and Reina’s unyielding judgment. Somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, I'd become public enemy number one. All because of a stupid phone and one idiotic misunderstanding.

  Desperately, I turned to the front, staring at the chalkboard, begging time to move faster and release me from this torment.

  "They say he doesn't even need to fight," came another hushed whisper behind me. "Just one look and his enemies surrender!"

  "I heard someone fainted just from him glaring," someone added solemnly.

  I gripped my desk, knuckles white, biting back the hysterical laughter bubbling dangerously in my throat. Who exactly is spreading these absurd rumors? I haven't even done anything!

  I glanced around nervously. Nakamura’s smirk had widened into a confident grin, his eyes bright with anticipation. Reina’s notebook filled with more angry scribbles. The whispers around me intensified, each rumor building on the last.

  Suddenly, I realized something even more terrifying: They genuinely believe this insanity.

  Nakamura leaned back further, his chair balancing precariously on its back legs. His eyes never left mine. He looked as if he’d finally discovered an opponent worth his time, and the excitement in his expression sent chills down my spine.

  "The young master finally shows himself," Nakamura murmured just loudly enough for me to hear, his voice laced with a disturbing eagerness.

  My heart nearly stopped. Young master? Not again...

  At the front, Reina slammed her notebook shut decisively, making me jump. Her glare drilled into my soul, her expression resolute and unforgiving.

  "This is unacceptable," she said firmly under her breath. "I will fix this criminal."

  She adjusted her glasses with a decisive push, and I could almost see her plotting the downfall of my nonexistent empire. Why does everyone assume I’m some master criminal?!

  As the rumors continued buzzing around me, growing louder and wilder, I stared blankly at the front of the room, eyes glazed over with dread.

  "I'm doomed," I whispered softly, utterly resigned. My life had officially spiraled completely out of control, and somehow, impossibly, it was only my first day.