Two days of classes have passed already. It's Wednesday, and I wish I could say everything is going according to plan. But let's be real—my life is a total train wreck.
The moment I walked into the classroom on Monday, I knew something was horribly wrong. It became glaringly obvious as soon as I sat down. The person sitting in that pair of desks next to mine was now sitting alone. You might not get what that means just yet, but for me, it was as clear as day. The person who sat there for the rest of the week wasn't the blonde girl.
Before you start bombarding me with clueless questions about how I figured that out, let me explain. When I first entered the classroom, I made the strategic decision to sit in the middle of the room. It might seem trivial, but that's the most neutral spot. I didn't want to draw too much attention to myself—especially not the kind that would lead to girls confessing their feelings to me.
When the blonde girl came in, there were plenty of open seats. So, naturally, you might wonder: why sit next to me? The uninformed might assume she was interested in me. But let me tell you, that wasn't it. She gave off this aura of a social butterfly—the type who wants to be in the middle of all the chatter. Sitting in the center, and with someone next to her, was the perfect spot. And I'm 100% certain it wasn't a romantic interest. Her legs were pointed toward the door—a subconscious signal that screamed disinterest. Plus, she was wearing sunglasses. Who shows up in shades if they're trying to impress someone? Only a complete idiot would.
Anyway, my plan to find out which club the blonde girl belonged to was dead in the water. At first, I thought I'd hit rock bottom. But then the person who would end up sitting next to me walked in, and I realized that rock bottom had a trapdoor straight to hell.
Enter Shin, "The Shinigami." He strutted into the room with spiked hair slicked back like he'd just walked out of an anime convention. His outfit? Let's just say it was hard to miss. You might ask how I instantly knew his nickname the second he walked in. Easy. The idiot had it written on his jacket.
Yes, he was wearing this flashy jacket over his school uniform, and because it's technically a jacket, the school has no choice but to let him wear it. At first glance, you might think it's just a case of someone who likes to show off. But no. It was painfully clear to me that this was a full-blown case of chuunibyou—eighth-grade syndrome.
I thought having one person like this around was already bad enough. But two? Two of them would completely destroy my sanity. And to make things worse, this guy was about to sit next to me.
"Good morning, dear comrade!" Shin said, slamming his hand on the desk with unnecessary force.
"Morning," I muttered.
"So, we're destined to be companions at this school teeming with vampires, right? Don't worry—I'm a first-class vampire-slaying Shinigami. I'll teach you how to survive, partner!"
The look of absolute disdain and disgust on Koji's face was unmistakable.
"How about we never talk again?"
"HAHAHA!" Shin laughed, a loud, overly dramatic laugh that sounded completely forced.
"What a fantastic sense of humor, partner! Our fates are intertwined. We're connected."
The faint flicker of life in Koji's eyes dimmed entirely.
"Right…"
I realized instantly that arguing with this guy would be like trying to reason with a chimpanzee. Pointless. So, I decided to play along for now, keeping my responses short. Once the club activities started, I could dodge him more easily. This was only temporary.
Or so I thought, two days ago. I spent all of Monday with him. And all of Tuesday. Those were, without a doubt, the two worst days of my life. Well, second and third worst. I'll never get over the time the girls in my class tricked me into believing they all had heterochromia. But still, it was bad enough that I wouldn't wish it on my enemies. By Wednesday, I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy.
For some reason, this lunatic thinks Professor Tatsuo—the one who invited me to join the writing club—is the leader of the vampires. Honestly, I can't entirely blame him for that. If I believed in vampires, Professor Tatsuo would absolutely be my prime suspect. That aside, the writing group is definitely a bit weird. Apparently, everyone there secretly dreams of becoming a novelist or a mangaka. Given how much time they spend holed up at home writing, they really do seem like vampires. Some even resemble zombies.
Actually, even Tatsuo gave writing a romance novel a shot. I find that kind of hilarious. Too bad his idea of a poorly paid teacher at a prestigious school having a romance with a waitress 13 years his junior didn't go over so well. Actually, it almost got him arrested.
Just as I was about to pack up my notebook and call it a day, Shin leaned in close, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically serious whisper.
"You should be careful," he said, glancing around the room like he was sharing some top-secret classified intel.
"Careful of what?" I sighed, already dreading his answer.
"The club," he said, his eyes narrowing. "There's something off about them. They're hiding something. And I don't mean just their bad drafts."
I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess, you think they're vampires too?"
"No," he said, his tone deathly serious. "Worse."
I blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. "What's worse than vampires?"
Shin hesitated, his gaze flicking to the door, then back to me. "I think Tatsuo's club isn't about writing at all. I think it's a front. And whatever they're actually doing in there—" he paused for dramatic effect, lowering his voice even further "—someone disappeared last semester because of it."
"Disappeared?" I repeated, not sure if I was more skeptical or intrigued.
He nodded gravely. "Gone. Poof. No trace. And the last place they were seen? Tatsuo's office."
Before I could process what he was saying, the classroom door creaked open. I glanced over, expecting another latecomer, but the figure standing there wasn't a student. It was Professor Tatsuo.
And he was staring straight at me.
"Koji," Tatsuo said, his voice calm but with a distinct edge. "We need to talk. Alone."
Shin's grip tightened on my sleeve. "Be careful, partner," he hissed under his breath. "This is how it starts."
I wasn't sure if Shin was messing with me or if he was genuinely scared. Either way, the chill that ran down my spine as Tatsuo motioned for me to follow him felt very real.
"Koji..." Tatsuo said, pausing for dramatic effect, arms crossed. "I've heard you're not just talented at writing, even though you won the action and drama light novel contest in the same year."
"Oh... Thank you, sir. I worked really hard on those." Lies. I wrote both of them in two days each, only because my mom nagged me into it.
"You know, Koji... If you don't join the writing club, do you know what's going to happen?" He glared down at me, his tone dark and foreboding.
Crap. Is this the first time Shin is actually making sense, and it's going to end with me getting kidnapped to write in a basement until I die?!
"THE CLUB WILL BE SHUT DOWN!" Tatsuo suddenly dropped to his knees, grabbing both of my hands.
What?
"Koji! We need to place well in the next contest! If we don't, the school will shut the writing club down! Please, join and save us all!"
Oh, thank God. I'm not getting kidnapped.
"I'd love to help, sir, but I'm still considering which clubs to join. I have a lot of interests, you know..." Lies. My only interests are the school's Three Queens.
"You know, Koji." Tatsuo stood up, dusting himself off. "I didn't want to do this, but I'm in charge of club registration." He slipped a golden ticket into the front pocket of my uniform. "If you agree, just drop this ticket in the ballot box instead of the regular one. I'll take it from there."
After that bizarre exchange, he walked away. The regular registration form had four slots for clubs, and depending on demand, you'd get into one to four of them. But the golden ticket? The first slot was already filled with the writing club, leaving three blank spaces. Which meant I was guaranteed to get into three other clubs of my choosing. Perfect! It completely eliminates my worst enemy from the equation of the plan to join the clubs, luck.Tatsuo, you've made yourself an ally. I'll even rewrite your novel idea—adjust the ages, spruce up the setting, and make sure it doesn't bomb like last time.
From a distance, a silver-haired girl watched as Koji clenched his fist in triumph, unnoticed.
"Gotcha you now, prodigy freshman." Smiling.
END OF CHAPTER 5