By the second day, the "Premium Seat" plan was now fully operational.
Every morning, a small crowd of nervous boys gathered near my desk, clutching coins, snacks, and whatever treasures they thought might buy them a few minutes beside Kae.
Some offered candy bars, some offered keychains. One even offered a poem. (It did not work.)
One of them even wanted to pay with his body, I barely managed to escape, his grip sure was tight and overwhelming…
Kae, sitting there with arms folded and an expression carved out of pure superiority, took it all in with quiet amusement.
One boy slid forward a manga volume, face red with hope.
Kae tilted her head, her voice dripping with royal disdain.
"You're rather bold for thinking bribery is charming."
I smirked. "Compliments won't get you far, but hey—money speaks."
A few snickers ran through the room. Someone whispered, "He's actually serious," and another muttered, "That guy's running a scam."
The next day, a braver one arrived with both hands full of coins. They clattered onto my desk like tiny cymbals.
Kae's lips twitched into a small, superior smile.
"You really think devotion can be bought with spare change?"
"Isn't that?" I said, giving her a mock salute.
Her sigh was elegant, laced with disbelief. "You're impossible."
"Thank you," I replied sincerely.
By then, the "Kae Market" had become a morning tradition.
Boys lined up like pilgrims, knowing full well none of it would impress her—but they came anyway. She, in turn, offered daily lessons in graceful rejection—each smile sharper than the last.
And me? I was the middleman in this absurd little economy—half-proud, half-ashamed, and somehow still profiting.
Even if I'd sold my "VIP seat," I couldn't help but feel like I'd won something too.
By the fifth day, the morning auction went on as usual but today, things were different. The boys trying to buy the seat next to Kae all ended up in spectacular, humiliating defeat.
One boy arrived with a bouquet of flowers, chest puffed with misplaced confidence. He presented them to her with a dramatic flourish. Kae cast a single, unimpressed glance at the petals and muttered without raising her voice:
"Did you think I'd fall in love? What a joke."
Another boy stepped up next, holding out a carefully wrapped bag of sweets, hoping to sweeten his chances. Kae took the bag, turned it over in her hands, and then handed it back with the faintest smirk.
"You are better off asking out a preschooler." (She did not say that, right?)
The third boy tried the classic approach: tell a joke. A lame, desperate attempt at humor, delivered like a punchline he had rehearsed in the mirror a dozen times. Kae raised one elegant eyebrow, her eyes sharp as ever.
"You might just be the most hopeless person I've ever met."
By mid-morning, the line of bidders had completely evaporated. Coins, snacks, and awkwardly offered tokens of affection all gone—leaving only awkward glances, slight mutterings of defeat, and boys quietly cursing their life choices. Apparently, no amount of effort, strategy, or charm could move Kae from her throne-like composure.
I glanced around, eyebrows raised. "So that means today… nobody's buying the seat?"
Kae crossed her arms and scanned me with the same imperious smirk she always carried, utterly unshaken.
"It seems everyone has finally learned something," she said lightly. "You can't get what you want with flattery or money. Consider yourself lucky, Souta."
I shrugged, hiding a surge of relief under my indifferent exterior. "Well… free seat, free company, zero competition. Can't complain about that."
From that day on, the seat next to Kae wasn't part of any auction. Instead, it settled into a quiet, tense ceasefire. My daily profits had stopped, yes, but so had the relentless elbowing, desperate scheming, and frantic bids. Peace had returned—sort of.
Kae remained calm as ever, radiating that untouchable majesty. She made me wary, yes—but also… strangely entertained. Every tilt of her eyebrow, every subtle smirk, was a reminder that the mayor's daughter didn't just dominate the classroom; she dominated the hearts, minds, and wallets of everyone around her… including me.
And for once, that didn't feel so bad.
By the end of the week, the money I'd squeezed out of the seat-auction hustle was enough to treat myself to something nice—nothing life-changing, but you know… something shiny enough to make me feel like a responsible young entrepreneur instead of a morally flexible middleman.
I drifted through a narrow alley near school, half-celebrating, half-exhausted, when I spotted it: a tiny antique shop squished between a ramen joint and a laundromat like it owed both of them rent. The dusty sign read "Timeworn Treasures," though it looked like Timeworn was describing the sign, not the treasures. The window display was absolute chaos—trinkets, old lamps, something that looked like a shrunken head but might've just been a weird stress ball.
I stepped inside, and the place greeted me with the scent of old wood, forgotten memories, and maybe someone's dead uncle.
From behind a counter buried under papers and teacups, an elderly shopkeeper looked up at me, smiling like he had already judged my soul.
"Hello, kid. Looking for something special?"
I scratched the back of my head, trying to look mature and failing.
"Uh… something cool. Unique. Preferably cheap. Actually, preferably not expensive at all. Actually, preferably… free-adjacent."
I wandered down the aisle, eyeing frayed books, dusty globes, tiny brass animals, and what might've been a haunted toaster. My wallet trembled inside my pocket, begging me not to do anything stupid.
That's when I saw it—a small, black, heavily worn book wrapped in metal chains like it was either cursed or extremely kinky. The cover was faded, but still… it had that irresistible aura of, 'Touch me and something weird WILL happen.'
I pointed at it. "How much is this?"
The shopkeeper squinted at it as if remembering a terrible memory, then shrugged.
"Oh, that one? It's been here longer than I have. Nobody wants it. You can take it for free."
I froze.
"…Free? The word that hurts my heart the least?"
He nodded with the calm of someone who definitely knew something I didn't.
"Free. Think of it as a gift… or maybe fate."
And that was the problem.
When adults say "gift," what they really mean is "I have washed my hands of this problem."
When adults say "fate," what they really mean is "Good luck surviving."
Still… free was free.
So I slipped the book into my bag like I was accepting a cursed relic from a demon but pretending it was totally fine.
"Heh… maybe my luck's finally turning around."
As I left the shop, clutching the shabby little book against my chest, a strange mix of triumph and dread washed over me.
It didn't look flashy, but something about it felt too special. Special in the "I hope this doesn't ruin my life" way.
Free things are always the most expensive. But at least this time, the receipt wouldn't hurt.
When I finally dragged myself back into my cramped little room, the first thing I did was place that battered black book on my desk. The chains around it clinked lightly—not loud, just soft enough to sound like a tiny bell.
A bell that could either be warning me… or calling me in.
Neither option felt great.
I took a deep breath and unhooked the chains.
The moment I opened the book, a cold, unnatural wind slipped out from between the pages and brushed across my skin.
All the windows were closed.
All the vents were shut.
Yet here I was, getting air-conditioned by a cursed object.
The letters on the page glimmered faintly, wriggling like they were alive.
Then one line burned straight into my eyes:
"SEEK WHAT LIES BEYOND AND IT SHALL AWAKEN."
I frowned hard.
"…It?"
I flipped to the next page, and suddenly the whole room tightened. The air grew heavier, thicker, unnervingly still. The shadows on the wall stretched themselves out like they were waking up from a nap they never should've taken.
Before I could even swear, something flickered at the edge of my vision.
It wasn't a person, it wasn't an object, it wasn't even fully real. It was more like reality itself glitched and formed… a silhouette.
A distortion shaped vaguely like a figure, but blurred around the edges, like a memory someone tried to erase halfway through.
My body froze. My throat dried up instantly. But somehow, a croak slipped out:
"W-Who… are you?"
The shadow tilted its head. The chains around the book slithered back, coiling around its wrist like a living thing. After a theatrical little bow, it suddenly howled:
"I am… I am… I AM—!"
"You could just say your name." I cut in.
" I… I can't remember…"
"Then why bother with the suspense?"
It ignored me completely and raised its hand. A contract materialized in midair, glowing with some creepy light.
"Sign it, and your life will be forever changed. But refuse, and…"
Its voice trailed off, savoring the silence like it was part of the act.
My eyes flicked between the contract and the shadow.
"'One wish per day'…? And here— 'No matter where you are, I will be there?' Yeah, no. Absolutely not."
"What!?" the shadow blinked.
"That's not a contract, that's a restraining-order speedrun."
"You don't understand. When you need your wish, I will—"
"—show up on your own, yeah, yeah. It literally says so. What next, you gonna ask for a goodnight kiss too?"
The shadow froze for a beat, then slowly leaned in close.
"…Is that a possibility?"
"…There is definitely something wrong with you," I said flatly.
." I said flatly, staring straight into its featureless face.
The shadow recoiled like I'd slapped it. The chains clinked softly in embarrassment.
The shadow drifted toward me, wavering like smoke. Its form was so unstable I couldn't focus on it for more than a second. The book's chained cover rattled faintly, the metal links crawling across the surface as if they were alive.
"You still don't understand," it whispered.
Its voice was low, persistent, curling around my heart like a coil tightening slowly.
"Your life… your potential… without me, they amount to nothing. One wish per day, I can grant it. All you need is acceptance."
I swallowed and reached out, touching the edge of the floating contract.
"One wish a day…? That's insane. There's got to be some kind of catch."
"Catch?"
The shadow tilted its head.
"There is no catch, only opportunity. One wish each day, one choice each day. Whatever you desire, whatever you need. Everything life has refused to give you, I am offering right now."
My heart pounded. The words weren't persuasion, they were excavation, digging up the ambition I'd buried long ago. All the desire to become something more, something greater, something I'd convinced myself was impossible.
*A wish a day? Anything I want…? Does seem like a pretty good deal…*
The contract pulsed faintly. The chains traced lazy circles around its edges, as if tempting me. The shadow flickered around the room, filling it with a weightless pressure that wrapped around me, drawing nearer with quiet certainty.
"You've suffered," it murmured, its voice unexpectedly soft and almost intimate.
"You've dreamed of power… dreamed of freedom. Sign, and they will be yours."
My hand hovered over the paper. Reason screamed at me to stop, but something deeper—something hungry—began trembling with anticipation.
"Just one signature," the shadow breathed.
"Today, your life changes. Why waste another second?"
Before I could think, my fingers closed around a pen.
Almost unconsciously, I lowered the tip to the page.
The moment ink touched paper, the chains burst with blinding light and tightened around the book. The words on the page shimmered:
"It begins now."
I froze. A sharp pressure squeezed my chest. The contract was sealed—yet before the ink even dried, a cold realization sank heavily into my gut.
I had walked into a trap.
The air shifted the instant the contract was complete.
The shadow thickened, stretching across the walls like dark fingers. The air turned heavy and electric, trembling with invisible force.
The figure's outline throbbed faintly—satisfied, or perhaps thrilled.
"It is done," the shadow said.
"From this day forward, your life is no longer yours alone."
I swallowed.
The weight of what I'd done pressed down hard.
"Your wishes… your desires… they will summon me. One wish each day. And I will appear, wherever you are. Be careful what you wish for."
Trying to mask the rising fear, I forced out a shaky laugh.
"Yeah… sure, easy enough. What's the worst that could happen?"
The shadow rippled again, and the chains gave a faint, warning rattle.
"The worst," it said quietly,
"is that you do not yet know the limits of what you have unleashed."
I leaned back in my chair, gripping the book tightly.
A dizzy mix of excitement and dread washed over me—possibilities spun through my mind, every one of them dangerous, every one of them unreal.
Outside, the world went on unknowingly.
Morning sunlight streamed through the window, calm and warm… utterly oblivious to the storm I had just invited into my life.
I exhaled, my hands trembling slightly.
"Well… Souta," I muttered to myself, "looks like you've finally stepped into a life that's anything but normal."
The chains settled and the shadow receded.
But I already knew. it would be back.
Whatever I had awakened—whatever I had named—it was patient. And fate was no different.
Heh… I had even decided on its name.
The Unknown.