Tatsuki wasn't in the mood to care about any of that.
"It's nothing serious. Some 'anomaly' just managed to piss me off."
That's what he said out loud, but in his head he was dragging the Apocalypse Game through the mud without mercy.
That thing was seriously a sore loser.
Honestly, though, he got it.
Whatever was powering the Apocalypse Game couldn't be that strong right now—otherwise it wouldn't have let him slip through the cracks in the first place. The fact that it went into "maintenance" after he blew up a whole galaxy basically proved it couldn't afford to pay out that kind of reward.
Because once you convert it… that was 3.5 quadrillion Apocalypse Points.
Going from Lv.8 to Lv.9 would only cost 100 million.
So what did 3.5 quadrillion even mean?
More likely, his stunt made the Apocalypse Game's calculations bug out. That would explain why it spammed him with condemnations like it was having a full-on tantrum.
If the Apocalypse Game could swear, it probably would've been cursing even harder than he was.
And yeah—looking at how the last few rounds went, rewards clearly scaled with the gap between the game's intended power level and the player's actual strength.
The original scoring was probably designed around the team's average combat ability, so each interstellar bug was worth a certain amount, but Tatsuki broke the whole framework. He didn't clear a battlefield, he erased an entire galaxy.
If every bug was still worth the old value, the points would inflate into something completely absurd.
Going from 3.5 quadrillion to 350 million stung—obviously, but after sulking for a minute, his mood stabilized.
He gave a bitter little laugh. "Yeah… guess I can't get greedy."
Then he waved casually. "I'm good, Hiratsuka-sensei. I'm gonna head out—go home after school."
He took one last deep drag and, without thinking, slipped the cigarette right back to Shizuka's lips, then sauntered out of the office like he owned the place—leaving behind nothing but a carefree silhouette.
"…"
Shizuka sat there, frozen.
The cigarette felt… damp.
Before she could stop herself, her tongue flicked against the filter in reflex—
"!!!"
She yanked it away like it burned, grabbed her hair with both hands, and buried her face in her palms.
"I'm losing my mind!"
What was that reaction?! Was she really that desperate now?!
She spiraled straight into self-doubt.
bzz-bzz
Her phone buzzed.
Annoyed, she snatched it off the desk.
"…Haruno again?"
Please don't tell me this is another spy mission.
She opened the message
It wasn't a spy mission. It was somehow worse.
Haruno: I've been bored lately. Wanna grab a drink when you're free?
Shizuka: The Yukinoshita family's eldest has time to be bored?
Haruno: Mm. Thanks to my man, I don't have to deal with any Yukinoshita family stuff anymore.
Shizuka: ???
Last time Haruno said she had a boyfriend.
Now it was my man? And she'd already ditched the family responsibilities? Were political marriages seriously this efficient now?
Shizuka was shocked… but more than that, she felt a quiet kind of regret.
"Something real" wasn't something everyone got to have.
She could only hope Haruno would be happy.
And even thinking that, Shizuka's mouth twisted into a wry smile.
Who was she to judge? If she hadn't chased the real thing so stubbornly, she wouldn't have ended up like this—alone, unwanted, and bitter about it.
Maybe Haruno's path was the one that actually fit her.
Haruno: Hit me up when you're free. I might even let you meet my man sometime.
Shizuka didn't want to comment on someone else's personal life. She just replied.
Shizuka: Okay.
…
Tatsuki didn't rush out of school either.
Yukino and the others were still waiting for him—and Yui, who didn't know the full story, looked genuinely worried.
He explained what happened, clearly and calmly.
Megumi and the others were stunned by what he'd done, but it also somehow felt… inevitable. Otherwise the Apocalypse Game wouldn't have panicked that hard.
Once they understood the situation, Chika and Megumi relaxed and headed out.
Yumiko lingered, stealing awkward glances at Yui, then bolted too.
She didn't know how to face her best friend now.
She also asked Tatsuki to keep her relationship with him secret for the time being—she wanted to come clean later, once she'd sorted herself out.
It reminded him of Chika.
So you want the secret relationship route too, huh?
Tatsuki agreed without hesitation. It wasn't like he'd be the one losing out.
After that, Yumiko left as well.
That only left Yui, Yukino, and Eriri.
Yui was still fuzzy on the details, but she understood enough to know it was abnormal stuff.
"Yui, there's something I need to tell you."
"Hm? What is it?" Yui tilted her head.
"It's about your mom."
Tatsuki didn't hide what happened—he just skipped over a few specific details.
"Ehh?!" Yui's eyes went huge.
"My mom got pulled into the abnormal stuff too? And she became your Redemption Angel?!"
She never would've imagined that, but what she cared about most was her mom's safety. "She's not hurt, right?"
Tatsuki shook his head. "She's fine. Give me her contact info."
Then he added, "Yukino—send me your mom's contact too."
"Okay!"
"Mm."
After saving both numbers, he messaged them—and Haruno as well—just to confirm everyone was safe.
Tatsuki: Mrs. Yukinoshita / Mrs. Yuigahama / Haruno—this is Tatsuki. Did you get home safely? I just want to confirm you're okay.
Haruno replied first.
Haruno: Home safe. I'll be waiting for you all~ Also, tell me what happened earlier. There'll be a reward. (photo)
It was a picture of her mouth—lips rounded in a teasing "O," the tip of her tongue peeking out, glossy and shameless.
Tatsuki felt his pulse jump and typed back:
Tatsuki: Got it. Sounds like I owe you a reward too.
Then the other two messages came in, one after the other.
Mrs. Yuigahama: I'm home safe, Tatsuki-kun. Don't worry about me. (photo)
Mrs. Yukinoshita: I'm fine. Thank you for checking in. Is Yukino okay?
"…?"
Tatsuki hadn't expected Mrs. Yuigahama to send a photo too—so when he opened it, he froze.
She was wrapped tight in a bath towel, clearly fresh out of the shower. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin still dewy, and that mature, gentle mom vibe of hers looked… dangerously seductive in a way that hit straight to the gut.
"…"
He burned every detail into memory—then deleted it immediately.
Phones were a no-go for anything private. Not even a trace.
If a gift like that existed, it belonged in his head—and nowhere else.
Then Tatsuki started typing his reply.