Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Do You Believe In Aliens?

Honestly, moving to the back wasn’t so bad. At least now, Shimizu Sakuya could focus on sorting out her current situation without being distracted by Ayase Aoi.  

Setting aside the NPC issue for now, the most glaring anomaly was the drastic change in Aoi’s behavior.  

Her attitude toward Sakuya and the timing of her appearance completely deviated from the established plot.  

By the original script, Aoi shouldn’t have met Sakuya until after Fujiwara Yuki announced the formation of the light music club and dragged Aoi into it.  

If Aoi had undergone such a radical transformation, could the same be true for Amami Saori and Fujiwara Yuki?  

Hmm…  

Saori seemed mostly unchanged based on their lunch conversation. She was still the kendo club’s ace, soon to represent the school in the national tournament.  

As for Yuki, Sakuya would have to interact with her to know for sure…  

Without the System’s guidance, every question was a mystery she’d have to unravel herself.  

Then there was the “perfect ending” she’d left behind—one where no one got hurt.  

But that ending was too perfect. Unrealistically so.  

Because the System’s route had steered her toward a harem ending.  

In other words, aside from the adult content, she’d have to juggle all three heroines, balancing their relationships like a circus act.  

But how was that possible?  

Love wasn’t a cake you could slice into equal portions for everyone.  

Love was about possession.  

And let’s not even consider whether her frail body could handle three people’s simultaneous… enthusiasm.  

Aoi, Saori, and Yuki weren’t the flawless heroines of a typical galgame. They had flaws—deep, ingrained ones.  

Ayase Aoi was drowning in loneliness.  

Amami Saori was shackled to perfection.  

Fujiwara Yuki was lost in the suffocating grip of control.  

On the surface, their tragedies stemmed from unrequited love for Sakuya.  

But in truth, it was their personalities—shaped by their environments—that led them astray.  

So even if she “saved” them with love, building a harmonious harem would just be self-deception.  

Trying to maintain balance with flimsy affection was the dumbest decision possible.  

Love couldn’t conquer anything. Even devoted couples faced the seven-year itch—let alone love split three ways.  

The roots of their personalities were like depth charges, destined to explode one day, shattering everyone involved into broken, wailing fragments.  

Existence precedes essence.  

Only by addressing the extremes in their natures could they reach a true happy ending.  

Even if the person walking beside them in the end wasn’t Sakuya, they could still heal and find real happiness.  

But human hearts were inscrutable. Love and hatred tangled inextricably.  

Without the System, how could she possibly rewrite their flaws?  

For now, she had no choice but to take it step by step.  

Follow the plot, establish the light music club, prevent tragedies, and wait for the System’s return.  

Sakuya massaged her temples and sighed.  

When she finally snapped out of her thoughts, the classroom was empty—save for the sunset bleeding through the windows, keeping her company in the quiet.  

Right, it’s this late already. Time to go home.  

She slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out—only to freeze in the doorway.  

…Wait. Where’s my house?  

It hit her then, the System’s gone. No one knows where I live now.  

Back when she’d treated this like a game, she’d just skipped through scenes. Why would she memorize her address?  

My phone!  

She could call her family—or Saori. Weren’t they supposed to be living together?  

Fumbling for her phone, she hurried toward Class C to find Saori.  

But fate seemed to be mocking her.  

Class C was deserted.  

And her phone was empty—no contacts, no call history, no messages.  

How is there zero trace of my life here?  

It was as if the System’s shutdown had wiped all her data clean.  

Groaning, she smacked her forehead, then dug out her wallet.  

At least her emergency cash was still there. Sleeping on the streets wouldn’t be necessary.  

But it was a hotel. Staying out all night… was not a great habit.  

As she pondered where to stay, her gaze landed on a familiar slender figure by the school’s gilded entrance plaque.  

The girl from the System’s shutdown.  

She looked the same as this morning, neat uniform, soft shoulder-length hair, clear amber eyes.  

Leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed, she stared blankly at the cherry blossom-strewn slope, the toe of her shoe scuffing the ground absently.  

Waiting for someone.  

Whether that someone was Sakuya or not, she needed to talk to her.  

After all, the silver tabby cat keychain the girl had shoved at her still hung from Sakuya’s skirt.  

Judging by the girl’s stammered words, it must’ve meant something to her.  

The wide-eyed cat’s dazed expression mirrored its owner’s. Cute.  

“What are you looking at?”  

The sudden appearance of her most treasured keychain made the girl flinch backward.  

Sakuya dangled it with a friendly smile.  

“You’re the one who talked to me this morning, right? I can’t keep your cat friend. It seems important to you.”  

“You should take it.”  

The girl straightened, her expression deadly serious. Her gaze seemed to pierce through time itself before settling on Sakuya.  

“I’ve been waiting for you. I was rude this morning—I apologize. We’re strangers, but… I have my reasons.”  

“What reasons?” Sakuya tilted her head.  

“Before I explain, I need to ask you something. Please answer honestly.”  

The girl’s interlaced fingers trembled slightly. She took a steadying breath.  

“First—do you believe in aliens?”  

“No.”  

“What about superpowers?”  

“Nope.”  

“Then… prophetic dreams?”  

“Sorry, I don’t believe in any of that.”  

The girl’s voice grew frantic, words tumbling out. 

“Then what if I told you I’ve dreamed of you falling from a skyscraper? Of you smoking in pain in a tiny bathroom? Of you locked half-naked in a basement? Of you sinking into hell itself—would you believe me?”  

With each denial, her voice faded, nearly lost to the evening breeze.  

Then, abruptly, her eyes lit up.  

“We’re strangers, right? Then how would I know your apartment has a sunflower on the balcony? Or that you have a pink mole on your left breast and a heart-shaped birthmark below your right hip?”