Romantic Troubles of Duanmu-kun

She was a thick-browed girl whose appearance was difficult to describe as either “pretty” or “ugly.” Her swaggering figure emerged from beyond the door, her eyes, brows, and movements displaying more masculine traits than those of an ordinary woman. Simply put, she was the “tomboy” type, and her expression gave off an impression of frivolity.

Behind Thick-Brows stood two tall, broad-shouldered athletic female students. Like two pillars standing as door gods, they remained expressionless behind her.

After she walked out of the school gate, she was methodically surrounded by girls waiting outside. Thick-Brows, the center of attention, was speaking, but the specific content of her words couldn’t be heard due to the distance.

Next, the group of girls from various schools proceeded without any hindrance, striding confidently toward the depths of the school. Why did the security guard not stop them, and what was his reasoning? Whether he was bribed or intimidated, this point required additional intelligence.

“…I think we should leave now,” Misao, who had been quietly observing since getting off the car, suddenly said.

The ponytailed girl’s expression was surprisingly calm, as if her previous curiosity and enthusiasm for the tailing activity had been a façade.

“Yes, you’re right,” the Novelist nodded.

If they continued investigating, there might be unexpected dangers. Earlier, when there was only Nishikawa-san alone, they were able to follow her here because her mind was elsewhere. But with such a highly organized group, it wouldn’t be so easy to fool them.

The possibility of infiltration was zero.

Class Rep and Misao might have had a chance. But their outstanding qualities and appearances would make them stand out even among ordinary girls, and if that group was as rumored… they probably wouldn’t be easily accepted.

“Exclusivity” was the nature of groups.

Most importantly, he couldn’t go in with them—and it was even more impossible to let his two female friends infiltrate such a dangerous place alone.

Class Rep was just an ordinary person and should stay away from places with malicious or abnormal possibilities. After noticing Itou Maho’s somewhat worried eyes, he reassured her softly.

“I’ll keep an eye on Nishikawa-san and find answers through other means. Now that we know her whereabouts and destination, we’ll find a way later…”

“If there really is a problem, we’ll notify the police to handle it,” Misao added with a smile.

Class Rep didn’t answer, just nodded silently in agreement.

So, the three returned along their original path.

…

Half an hour later, after confirming that Misao and Itou Maho had returned home, the Novelist, now wearing a coat and a duck-billed cap, returned to the front gate of Harumida High School.

Because he had seen a concerning figure among that group of girls earlier, he decided to sneak in.

Climbing over the wall into a high school girls’ paradise—it seemed he had taken a solid first step on the path to becoming a pervert. He wouldn’t continue further down that path, and that wasn’t a joke.

The sunlight… was so scorching.

The girl raised her head, instinctively squinting her eyes. From the shadow of her lowered eyelids, she observed Thick-Brows standing on steps higher than the other girls.

Ah, in this increasingly hot weather, how I wish to spend the entire day lazily in the activity room—

Why had she become so troubled? No. She should be asking when it had started.

Her past life was like a riddle at a lantern festival. Without finding the answer, she moved on to the next lantern—

“Suicide wave.”

This was the mystery that had been surrounding her environment recently. To thoroughly solve it, Asami Yuko had actively joined a group that “might be related to it.”

Perhaps because of her usual unkempt appearance and hair that had grown long like a yokai due to her laziness, after attending several gatherings, she was gradually being accepted by this group.

The leader, Thick-Brows, was named “Mitsue.” No surname, age unknown, simply “Mitsue-sama”—a name reverently agreed upon by the girls.

The uniform she wore was indeed from Harumida High School, but Asami Yuko doubted whether “Mitsue-sama” was actually a student. In fact, her high school age was questionable; she probably didn’t have time for studying?

She might even be an adult who extracted adoration from high school girls. Especially the two bodyguards beside Thick-Brows—if age wasn’t a factor, they had probably overdosed on hormones.

…

“Come, everyone raise your hands together—”

At this time, the girls were on the rooftop of the teaching building. The normally closed iron door had been reasonably opened with a key. Had the teachers and janitors of this school been controlled by Thick-Brows?

Asami Yuko, like the others, held hands with the girls on her left and right. More than thirty people eventually formed a serpent-like circle, closing in on itself.

Thick-Brows stood alone on the steps. Her speaking voice was hoarse, really difficult to compliment as pleasant. But in the ears of the girls below, it was undoubtedly the reassuring voice of a savior. Asami Yuko silently yawned; because it was a group activity, she could relax a little. She followed along with them and raised her arm.

As she made this motion, the sleeve of her uniform shirt slid down under gravity, revealing the girl’s snow-white wrist, which had several shallow, irregular red marks crisscrossing it—not just her, but all her companions around her had the same marks without exception, differing only in quantity.

The girls’ wrists, raised high toward the sky, swayed back and forth in midair, like shallow, surging red waves—a scene that would only make ordinary people feel disturbed and nauseated.

“Death is frightening… for them… it’s different for us… incomprehensible… full of misunderstandings… I am here…”

Thick-Brows’ voice fluttered faintly in the brilliant sunlight and the piercing wild wind that had risen on the rooftop.

“…It hurts.”

One of the wounds was from last week. The flesh that had been cut open and curled back hadn’t healed so quickly.

Asami Yuko frowned unconsciously.

…Actually, it doesn’t hurt that much.

But if she didn’t focus on the pain, she might fall asleep during the other’s boring speech.

Next, besides continuing the weekly routine of collective wrist-cutting practice, rehearsals for jumping off buildings, and tributes, there was actually something more important—

At this rate, continuing would just be a waste of time.

She decided to take the initiative.

…Before falling asleep.