Tokyo Metropolitan Third High School, Special Counseling Room.
Yin Ze sat upright in a stiff, months-unwashed black school uniform, hands neatly resting on his knees. A cup of premium green tea sat in front of him, its rich aroma gently wafting through the air—but he wasn't in the mood to enjoy it.
Across the low table sat three stern-faced teachers: his homeroom teacher who had tracked him down, the friendly school nurse with the older brother vibe, and the balding, potbellied head of student affairs.
"Takizawa-kun, there's no point going over your absences again," the head teacher began, pushing up his glasses and flipping through a stack of dismal grade reports. "The real issue is your academics. Given your track record, you can't afford to be skipping class in your final year of high school."
"The university entrance exams are barely a month away. What's your plan?"
"I know I'm basically doomed," Yin Ze replied calmly. "So can I just skip the exams?"
"You mean repeat a year?" His homeroom teacher frowned.
"That'll go on your permanent record. It's not ideal," the student affairs head said thoughtfully, setting down the printouts.
"Any subjects he excels at?" he asked the homeroom teacher. "Maybe we could give him targeted tutoring, help him scrape by on the standardized tests, and apply to some achievable universities."
"He's decent at history. Math… less so," replied Ms. Yasukawa.
"History, huh? I used to teach that," the head said with new interest, adopting a professor-like air. "Let me toss a few questions at you."
"…Go ahead," Yin Ze cleared his throat.
"Japanese history, then. You've heard of Sakamoto Ryoma?"
"A national icon," Yin Ze brightened, ready to parrot some half-remembered trivia.
"Hold on, don't jump the gun. Ryoma trained with swords, sure, but he was known for using a pistol. When attacked at the Teradaya Inn, he defended himself with a firearm—do you know which manufacturer made it?"
"...?"
"Don't know? The answer is Smith & Wesson. Too tough? Fine, let's try another."
"You've heard of Amaterasu?"
"Of course! And Susanoo and Tsukuyomi too!" Yin Ze smiled.
"Great. So Amaterasu had a son named Masakatsu Agatsu Katsuhayahi Ame-no-Oshihomimi no Mikoto. He and a goddess named Yamatohime birthed a grandson. What's his name?"
"???"
Is this a pop quiz or a rap battle?
"No idea again? The answer is Amatsuhikone no Ninigi no Mikoto—it's right there in the Kojiki, Japan's oldest chronicle!" The head gave him a look that screamed, Kids these days...
"One more," Yin Ze rolled up his sleeves, desperate to save face.
"Fine. How did Yamato Takeru infiltrate and assassinate the Kumaso brothers?"
"…Who?"
"He dressed as a maiden—braided his hair, wore his aunt's robes, the whole nine yards. Our nation's original crossdresser, you know? A classic!"
"???"
"Takizawa-kun, your history knowledge is severely lacking!"
"Wait—are test questions really this bizarre?" Yin Ze was wide-eyed.
"Of course not," Ms. Yasukawa sighed, rubbing her temples. "Please stop giving out off-syllabus questions, sir."
"Fine, fine. Takizawa-kun, what era are you most confident in?"
None of them, really. But he had played Nobunaga's Ambition and Taikou Risshiden as a kid, so...
"The Sengoku period."
"You know Uesugi Kenshin?"
"The Dragon of Echigo? Who doesn't?"
"Why did Kenshin abstain from women his entire life?"
"Didn't he become a monk or something?"
"That's not the main reason."
"...Some kind of medical issue?"
Now the head teacher was banging the tea table in disbelief.
"No! Kenshin was a woman! She cross-dressed her whole life. Her gender was only discovered after her death and later confirmed by scholars. It's in the textbook, clear as day!"
The man was practically fuming.
"You don't even know the correct gender of one of the most famous warlords in history? You call this being 'good at history'?!"
Yin Ze was stunned.
Damn. That's crazy.
This world… this world wasn't quite right.
This is a parallel timeline full of fake trivia! He was losing it.
"In that case," he asked solemnly, "Is King Arthur a girl?"
"Of course not! A man!" the head barked, then added somberly, "If you're this bad at your best subject, I worry for your future."
"I admit I haven't studied well, but I still have logical reasoning skills! As an educator, surely you don't judge someone's worth just by their grades?"
"So you're saying your adaptability and comprehension are top-notch?"
"Exactly."
"Alright. Prove it. Here's a lighter—try to sell it to Ms. Yasukawa in three minutes."
"But she doesn't seem like a smoker."
"I'm the client. Don't complain, just tell me if you can deliver. Also, why'd you assume she doesn't smoke?"
"She's smoking right now," Yasukawa said calmly.
"Noted. Will report that later."
"…Sir, seriously—can I skip the college entrance exams? Honestly, I don't have big dreams. Just getting a high school diploma is enough."
"That's your choice. We can't force you to test. But if you want to graduate, you'll need to stop missing class. That's why we're having this intervention."
The head touched the sparse hairs at his temples.
"For truly struggling students, we make exceptions. Based on what I know, what happened to you counts as school violence. To help with your recovery, I've brought in Mr. Niimura, our school counselor."
"I used to work at a top institution. I'm licensed in psychology. You can trust my judgment."
"…Then why'd you settle for guarding the nurse's office?" Yin Ze asked, puzzled.
"Our school's cheerleading team is famous city-wide."
"...?"
"Let's start. Relax and answer a few questions." Niimura picked up a notepad. "How's your sleep? Appetite? Any palpitations? Sudden tears?"
"Nope. I sleep fine, drink warm milk before bed, and stretch a little."
"Mind sharing what you've been doing while out of school?"
"Sending out résumés."
"Oh? Why such initiative to join society early?"
"My finances aren't great."
"Can you elaborate?"
"My dad passed away. Mom remarried. I get allowance, but I don't want to depend on her forever."
True. He always felt awkward asking Takizawa's mom for money—she had a new family now, even a baby girl. She was busy enough as a housewife.
"I see." Niimura jotted something down. Then he placed a photo on the table. "What do you think of this picture?"
Yin Ze leaned in.
"Looks like a normal class photo?"
Niimura tapped one girl with his pen. "How about her?"
Yin Ze shook his head, confused.
"Thanks. I've reached a preliminary conclusion."
"Well?" the head asked.
"Not great," Niimura said seriously. "He's likely suffering from mild depression, with cognitive and memory issues."
"You got all that from a few answers?!" Yin Ze gawked.
"Don't panic. Deep breaths. I'll explain."
Niimura spoke gently, like soothing a distressed baby.
"Your home life is fractured. You lost your father. Your mother moved on. You're physically and emotionally the one left behind. That's traumatic for a teen."
"I've looked into your school life—you're an outsider, don't join clubs, but have a ton of part-time job applications. You've been isolated for so long you don't feel connected to anything."
"The crush incident was just the trigger. You rushed to find work to prove you're independent. You're using this tough front to fight off years of loneliness."
"This is all unfounded speculation!" Yin Ze protested. "I'm not sick, just having a fever—you'd still check my temperature, right?"
"Your cognition is clearly impaired. Your memory's faulty. That's the proof."
Niimura sighed.
"You couldn't even answer the Kenshin question. Any basic history buff could."
"I've just read too many alternate takes…"
"And your reaction to this photo. No flicker of emotion." He lifted the picture again. "These are the classmates who bullied you. Don't you remember?"
"A grudge only begets more grudges," Yin Ze muttered philosophically.
"But you don't even recognize the girl," Niimura pressed, pointing again.
Lightning struck in Yin Ze's mind. He saw it now—this was a trap. A psychological minefield.
"It's Huixiang. The girl I liked. How could I ever forget her?"
He adopted the pained look of a heartbroken teen. His voice trembled.
"I don't blame her. I blame myself. If only I were better, she might have chosen me. If I had better social skills, classmates would've cheered us on instead of mocking us. It's my shame to bear."
He bowed his head in sorrow, sneaking a peek at their reactions.
The teachers looked visibly moved. Saddened.
Yin Ze was proud. His performance? Impeccable.
But then—
"Delusions tend to be airtight," Niimura said quietly, breaking the silence. "No matter how much truth you give them, the patient will always rationalize their own fantasy."
He pointed again.
"Takizawa-kun, that's not Huixiang. That's the girl who sat in front of you. Huixiang is three spots to the right."
Yin Ze froze.
His confident smile vanished.
In his ears, a single scream echoed:
I got played.
They out-predicted his prediction.
Damn it! This isn't fair!
"He's just a child… what's going to happen when he really grows up?" the head sighed sadly.
"I knew something was off about you," Yasukawa muttered, wiping the corner of her eye.
"I… I can still explain—"
"Recovery is still possible," Niimura nodded.
"I mean I can explain this situation!"