Chapter 19

The next morning during the break of the morning reading class, while most of the students were still asleep, Nakahara Chuuya pulled Dazai Osamu, who was also lying face down on the desk, out of the classroom.

In a blind spot away from the surveillance cameras, he grabbed Dazai’s collar and demanded, “What are you sneaking around doing?”

Chuuya knew full well that Dazai would never tell the truth under such questioning. Since he could easily brush him off, it would be more efficient to investigate on his own.

But Chuuya had no allies he could rely on here. After weighing the consequences of staying up all night to follow Dazai, he felt a pain as unbearable as death.

People must sleep; without it, they would truly die.

He had already decided—if Dazai refused to talk, he would have to get ruthless.

And no one would suspect him after that, since rumors about the one-eyed boy’s indomitable spirit attending high school were already widespread.

Faced with Chuuya’s fierce questioning, Dazai acted indifferent. Instead, he leaned closer, sniffed around Chuuya’s body, then fanned the air with his hand and asked curiously, “What’s that smell on you?”

Chuuya replied, “Preserved mustard greens with pork and steamed buns.”

His deskmate had switched to selling noodles and had brought a backpack full of steamed buns, pancakes, and such that morning.

After Dazai repeated the phrase awkwardly, the two fell silent.

Because both suddenly realized: why were they speaking Chinese when it was just the two of them?

They shared a brief silence before tacitly moving past the topic.

Still, no matter how many times Chuuya pressed, Dazai maintained his act of feigned ignorance, stubbornly refusing to say where he went every night, even planning to pretend nothing had happened.

“I didn’t go anywhere. It’s just that Mr. Mori picked a place too far away, so I found somewhere nearby to rest,” the boy with sharp eyes spoke confidently, completely unfazed by being grabbed by the collar, wearing an expression of helplessness. Anyone watching would think Chuuya was just looking for trouble.

Generally responsible and diligent, Chuuya found Dazai’s provocative attitude infuriating and would usually lose his temper at this point.

But this time, armed with evidence, he remained unusually calm and even found Dazai’s performance somewhat amusing.

“Oh? Is that so?” Chuuya sneered coldly as he pulled his phone from his pocket and lit up the screen to show the step counter: “I want to ask you—where exactly is this ‘nearby’ that requires you to walk eight thousand steps to school?”

He deliberately emphasized “nearby,” seizing the opportunity to mock: “Do you know the balding old man barely walks that far in a day?”

Seeing the screen, Dazai quickly realized his oversight.

The phone here was entirely different from those outside. Upon receiving it, he had checked for any hidden devices or GPS tracking apps but never imagined his data would be exposed through a seemingly innocent chat app.

Dazai fell silent for a moment.

“Hold on a sec, Chuuya,” he said.

The boy with one eye wrapped in bandages pulled out his own phone from somewhere, tapped rapidly with one hand, then said to Chuuya:

“Ask me again.”

“Huh?”

Dazai’s expression turned serious. “Just the same question you asked me before. Ask again.”

Because he appeared sincere, Chuuya half-believed him and repeated, “Where exactly is this ‘nearby’ that you have to walk eight thousand steps to school?”

Unexpectedly, Dazai shrugged innocently. “What eight thousand steps? The little shorty must be hallucinating from lack of sleep.”

“What—?!”

Dazai’s blatant denial enraged Chuuya, who shoved the phone in front of him: “Look carefully! It’s right there! How can you deny it when it’s on your own screen?”

“I see nothing,” Dazai said.

Chuuya’s voice cut off abruptly because the top-ranking screen that had just been there mysteriously disappeared.

At sixteen, Chuuya lacked the experience to outwit Dazai. He was stunned for a few seconds, then vaguely recalled Du Zhengxuan telling him yesterday that user rankings would vanish once the service was turned off.

In other words, Dazai had just closed the app in front of him.

He was determined to deny everything.

“...Fine, fine,” Chuuya said bitterly with a forced laugh, releasing Dazai’s collar. “You better get going quickly after school today.”

Chuuya was no fool. The break was too short, and if they fought then, they would get punished.

But after school, outside the campus, it was a different story.

He walked back into the classroom and waved goodbye over his shoulder: “You said you’re leaving? Then get lost quickly. Don’t hang around here causing trouble.”

Dazai stared coldly at his back for a few seconds, then, with a tone starkly different from his icy expression, said, “Interesting. Is the little shorty planning to ‘show off’?”

His words were loaded, obviously referring to the usual “attraction” scheme.

Chuuya caught on and almost stumbled. Though embarrassed and angry, he still turned around calmly: “What business of yours? You’d better tuck your tail and slink away instead of getting in the way.”

He said it just to save face—he was actually thinking about leaving.

Not out of cowardice, but to be efficient.

Based on information from Sister Momiji, if they intended to succeed with the so-called charm method, the initial choice of “bait” must consider the target’s preferences and tailor the approach accordingly.

Appearance was not the deciding factor; personality, hobbies, and many other aspects had to be balanced, like a customized matchmaking event.

Moreover, such missions rarely succeeded if emotional intimacy wasn’t established before the target’s novelty toward the bait wore off.

Chuuya had been here nearly two months. He hadn’t even developed anything close to an “intimate relationship” with Du Zhengxuan, much less known how to.

During the few weeks as deskmates, their feelings remained pure, just like the kids on Erbo Street who shared ice pops.

Du seemed to awaken any sense of gender only when looking at Chuuya’s face.

Usually, he was on suppression missions and didn’t play up his charm... and yet, he treated someone who genuinely cared for him like this...

Thinking of this stirred a complex mixture of emotions in Chuuya’s heart.

Dazai smiled slightly and said, “The one causing trouble isn’t me.”

His words hinted at something, but before Chuuya could ask more, the class bell rang.

The day proceeded as usual, but this time Chuuya had checked the schedule early and knew the last class in the morning was gym.

His deskmate told him that after gym class dispersed freely, he could sneak out early.

“Just pretend you’re a middle schooler. The junior high lets out earlier at noon,” Du paused, then said sincerely, “If you go right out, the security won’t check you. Trust me.”

Chuuya seemed to understand what she meant: “...”

Well, it was a kind gesture.

Besides that, Du seemed still guilty about leaving him behind yesterday and came looking for him after morning exercises.

“I asked the guy who called you to the research building. He says he doesn’t remember it.”

When Du confronted that student, he didn’t remember even speaking to Chuuya, let alone the notification’s content.

If not for Chuuya’s memorable impression and multiple witnesses who saw him stop Nakahara, the matter would have been impossible to verify.

Still, despite many witnesses, the student couldn’t recall any interaction with Chuuya and apologized sincerely:

“Sorry, I must have been half-asleep and talking nonsense. Sorry, I’ll go apologize to him later.”

The student’s attitude was earnest, so Chuuya didn’t pursue it.

But it reminded him of yesterday’s encounter with the grade supervisor.

Long Wan repeatedly assured him that Dean Yan had definitely gone home, but then who had Chuuya seen in the elementary section?

“Must be a ghost,” Du said firmly.

Chuuya, still pondering whether Dazai was up to something, was momentarily stunned by Du’s leap in logic.

Du swore, “Absolutely. Believe me. The research building’s feng shui is bad—I have experience with ghosts there.”

Long Wan raised two fingers: “I’m a materialist. I’m out of this topic and won’t sit with you for the next class.”

“Suit yourself,” Du said, having already spotted a phone tucked in Long Wan’s uniform. She waved her off, waiting to play games during gym.

Then she turned to Chuuya and asked, “You also materialism?”

Faced with this brief mix of Japanese and English, Chuuya didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head—it felt wrong either way.

Fortunately, Du didn’t insist on an answer. With a wave, she took Chuuya under her wing: “Don’t worry, you listen to me. I have a red string here for you to wear—it’ll bring you luck. If you don’t believe me, just look here.”

Du rolled up her right sleeve to reveal five or six red strings.

She introduced each one:

“This is green phantom quartz—brings wealth.”

“This is tiger’s eye—brings wealth.”

“This is citrine—brings wealth.”

…

Chuuya listened silently, and when she reached the last one, amethyst, he couldn’t help but ask, “—Does this one bring wealth too?”

Du shook her head, “No, this one’s for academic success... Well, anyway, trust me. They’re all effective.”

She pulled out another red string sealed in a clear bag, rummaged through her desk for a while, and said, “I’ll put some cinnabar on this one for you. It’s been blessed; it’s lucky and wards off evil. I wish you peace and success in everything.”

She threaded a small crimson bead onto the string, then gestured for Chuuya to hold out his left hand and tied it around his wrist.

After hearing the string’s auspicious meaning, Chuuya looked at the thin red cord on his wrist, a bit dazed.

The string was new, and the bead contained specks of gold dust that shimmered in the light—pretty but cheap, clearly not expensive.

Chuuya had received many gifts before, all pricier than this red string. Yet none carried so simple a blessing for him as a person.

He covered the tiny red bead with his sleeve, feeling he ought to return the favor.

Humming softly, Du packed her things, hearing Chuuya ask,

“Do you like gemstones?”