Ten o'clock in the morning.
The classroom hummed with the steady drone of the professor's lecture, the kind of ambient noise that could either lull you to sleep or sharpen your focus, depending on how well you'd slept the night before.
Takahashi Mio had claimed a seat near the air conditioner, and the cool breeze threading through her bangs kept her more alert than usual. So far this period, Nagata Nanase hadn't poked her once to wake her up—a small victory.
"Life is only empty and bland to those who view it as empty and bland."
Takahashi Mio scribbled the words into her notebook, her pen moving on autopilot. Maybe if she wrote down enough of these inspirational-sounding lines, they'd somehow help her hit that million-yen milestone faster. She doubted it, but it didn't hurt to try.
The class ended quickly, and the moment it did, exhaustion crashed over her like a wave. She was halfway through a yawn—mouth open, eyes half-lidded—when the girl beside her spoke.
"Let me see your notes. I want to check if there are any issues."
Takahashi Mio paused mid-yawn, turning to blink at Nagata Nanase with confusion. Still, she slid her notebook across the desk without argument.
"I have work this afternoon. Last-minute shift change," Nagata Nanase explained, catching her questioning look. "So this is a good time to go over them."
"Oh. Right." Takahashi Mio nodded, and a flicker of sympathy crept into her expression.
She'd worked as a waitress for two weeks once. She knew how it went—someone always had an emergency, and suddenly your afternoon was gone. Running trays, washing dishes, smiling until your cheeks ached. The work itself wasn't the problem. It was the other thing.
The thing she dreaded most was running into classmates.
Unlike the friends who'd started part-time jobs in high school for pocket money or living expenses, Takahashi Mio had been largely shielded by her father's old-fashioned views—a woman shouldn't be out in public too much. During high school, she'd gotten enough allowance to scrape by. Not much, but enough to save a little, to go out for dinner with friends every so often.
College was different.
The money her family sent barely covered anything. And after the online loans… well. Work wasn't optional anymore.
She never knew what people thought when they saw her working. But her pride always whispered the worst—that they were looking down on her, that they could see straight through to the desperation underneath. She hated that feeling. So after one too many encounters, she'd quit that restaurant and found another one a few kilometers from campus.
Even so, the anxiety never fully left. There were only so many places to work near the university. It was only a matter of time before she ran into someone again.
But then again, she'd been incredibly lucky. She'd met Shiratori Seiya.
If not for him, her life would probably be pure darkness by now, wouldn't it?
"There's basically no problem," Nagata Nanase said, closing the notebook. "Memorize these points this afternoon. I'll check them when we go to the library the day after tomorrow—"
She stopped. No response.
Nagata Nanase turned to find Takahashi Mio staring into the middle distance, clearly somewhere far, far away from this classroom. She tapped the desk.
Tap, tap.
"Oh!" Takahashi Mio jolted upright. "Sorry, what was that?"
Nagata Nanase pressed her lips together, studying her with a look that held more concern than Takahashi expected. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine! I'll memorize everything this afternoon, don't worry."
"That's not what I meant." Nagata Nanase shook her head. "Your major's exams are in two months, right? Do you really have the energy to be spending time on other courses?"
"Ah… it should be fine. I just need to pass those."
"?"
Nagata Nanase's eyebrow arched. The confusion in her eyes was unmistakable.
Takahashi Mio blinked her peach-blossom eyes. "What is it?"
"Takahashi, you're in the Literature Department, right?"
She already knew this. Everyone knew this. But Takahashi nodded anyway. "Yes…"
"So why are you taking so many performing arts theory courses?"
The question had clearly been building for a while.
Nagata Nanase could understand taking a few electives if Takahashi was genuinely interested in performance psychology or something adjacent. But she'd gone further than that—she'd cross-enrolled in three core courses for the performing arts major. Used up all six of her cross-major credits.
What made it stranger was the way she prioritized things. She claimed she only needed to pass the core courses, but she was pushing for A's in subjects completely unrelated to her major.
Nagata Nanase had initially pegged Takahashi Mio as the diligent type—the kind of person who studied hard and took everything seriously. But after spending time with her, that image had crumbled pretty quickly. She had poor study habits, spaced out constantly, dozed off in lectures… she just wasn't built for academics.
Which made her course selection feel less like ambition and more like self-sabotage.
"Uh." Takahashi Mio hesitated, caught off guard by the directness of the question. "I'm just… interested, I guess. I've always been interested in acting. Maybe I'll pursue it in the future."
She couldn't bring herself to outright say I want to be an actress. Nagata Nanase was a performing arts major, one of the top students in her program. Saying something like that to her face felt presumptuous. Embarrassing.
But Nagata Nanase saw right through the deflection. "You want to be an actress."
Since the cat was already out of the bag, Takahashi Mio let out a small breath and nodded. "Yeah. I do."
Nagata Nanase didn't respond immediately. She just pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the other girl with an expression that was impossible to read.
It was the first time Takahashi had seen her look so serious. The scrutiny made her skin prickle with discomfort. "What's wrong?"
"…Nothing."
Nagata Nanase looked away and gathered her things without another word. But her eyes had said plenty.
You're aiming too high.
Takahashi Mio watched her disappear through the classroom door, her footsteps fading into the hallway noise.
"What was I even saying…?" she muttered, slumping back in her chair with a heavy sigh.
She regretted it instantly. Why had she said all that in front of Nagata Nanase? Of all people, she'd chosen to confess her half-formed dream to someone who actually belonged in that world—someone who'd probably been training for it seriously, not cobbling together scraps of knowledge from cross-listed courses.
It was embarrassing. Humiliating, even.
But beneath the shame, a smaller, more stubborn part of her bristled. So what if I'm not a performing arts major? That doesn't mean I have zero talent.
Her palm curled into a loose fist without her realizing it.
What if she did have talent? What if, like Shiratori Seiya had said, she just hadn't discovered it yet?
Nobody knew for sure. And it wasn't like she was doing nothing—she'd been taking notes, studying, even bought a few books on facial expressions and practicing in front of the mirror every night.
Her thoughts drifted to Shiratori Seiya. Yesterday, he'd said he was going to celebrate Hojo Shione's sister's birthday.
She wondered how that went.
Annoying, she thought. He already has a girlfriend, and he's out here going on dates with other women.
But even as the thought formed, it didn't carry any real heat. She reflected on how Shiratori Seiya acted around her—the way he spoke, the way he looked at her—and a strange realization surfaced.
He doesn't actually seem to like me that much, does he?
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Her phone vibrated against the desk, the screen lighting up with a notification. Takahashi Mio glanced at it lazily. Probably spam. She let it sit there, watching the light fade, until just before the screen went dark.
Then she reached out and grabbed it.
She tapped the message open.
Her expression froze. Her brows drew together.
"10:30. Meet me at the entrance of Literature Department Building No. 2. If you want to know about Shiratori Seiya, come alone."