The corridor where they'd posted the midterm exam grades was an absolute warzone of emotions—cheering students who'd found their names among the top 100, contrasted sharply with the significantly larger number shuffling away in defeat.
As I passed through the crowd, the symphony of disappointed sighs was almost overwhelming.
Okamoto finally managed to bulldoze his way through the mass of anxious students, with me following in his wake like debris caught in a hurricane. At last, we could actually see part of the massive results board.
The enormous table posted on the wall displayed the top 100 students in our grade in eye-catching fonts, complete with total scores and subject averages that would either make or break a student's day.
Everyone crowded around was desperately searching for results that would validate their efforts, their faces displaying every shade of hope and terror imaginable.
Okamoto was scanning the list with barely contained nervous energy, his breathing becoming increasingly shallow with each passing second.
"WHAT?!"
A cry of pure anguish erupted from directly in front of me, so pitiful it could have made angels weep.
"I really want to get hit by a truck right now and be reincarnated into another world..." Okamoto wailed, his face turning the color of fresh snow.
The dramatic transformation from his lunchtime bravado to this complete existential collapse was honestly impressive in its scope.
"What's wrong, Okamoto? Why the sudden breakdown?" I asked, though I had a pretty good idea of what had happened.
"I knew I probably wouldn't make it into the top 100, but this average score... there has to be some kind of mistake, right?" His face was a masterpiece of shocked disbelief.
"That's not what you were saying before," I pointed out helpfully. "Didn't you tell me to wait and see your amazing performance?"
"Ginjo-san, do you understand the concept of self-hypnosis? People need to find ways to make themselves feel better about impending doom!"
It seemed this guy was remarkably skilled at deceiving himself, but the massive gap between fantasy and reality had delivered a brutal reality check.
"How did you do, Ginjo?"
"Haven't found my name yet," I replied honestly.
To be fair, this densely packed display of names is giving me a headache just looking at it. Add in the crowd of noisy, stressed students, and this really wasn't my ideal time for result-checking.
"I'll help you find it!" Okamoto declared with sudden enthusiasm, apparently desperate for a companion in academic misery.
"Great, great, I haven't seen your name yet," he said, working backwards from 100th place with the kind of vindictive glee that comes from shared suffering.
"Yeah, still nothing. You're nothing special after all, Ginjo-san," he continued, his eyes scanning line by line with increasing satisfaction.
"WHAT?!"
His second cry of anguish was so devastating that nearby students turned to stare at him like he was having some kind of public mental breakdown.
Which, to be fair, he probably was.
"TENTH PLACE?!!!"
Well. That explains the reaction.
"Ginjo, you're actually in the top ten of our entire grade!"
Top ten. Huh. Not bad, but not entirely surprising either.
"You traitor! You abandoned us, your brothers-in-academic-arms who shared life and death with you!"
"Please, someone send a truck! No, wait—send a giant boulder from the sky to crush me! I need to be reincarnated immediately to restore my lost glory!"
I stared helplessly at Okamoto's increasingly unhinged performance. This kid had definitely been reading too much manga—his brain had clearly been compromised by excessive exposure to fantasy tropes.
Under the bewildered gazes of everyone around us, I physically dragged him away from the results board before his public meltdown could get any worse.
"Hey, hey, try to act normal. Don't be so surprised," I said, attempting to calm him down.
"You're not surprised by this?! Then how much did you expect?!"
"You're in the top ten of our grade! There are only two names from our class ahead of you, which means you're third in our class!"
"I never see you taking classes seriously! This is completely unfair!" he continued his passionate complaints.
I rubbed his shoulder consolingly, trying to bring him back from the brink of complete despair.
Being able to achieve these results was definitely helped by having learned the material a while ago. Even with a gap of several months, picking up familiar concepts wasn't particularly challenging.
Long experience had taught me that the gap between tenth place and first place was often greater than the gap between hundredth and tenth.
At the highest levels, raw talent starts to matter more than just hard work. That's the reality of academic competition.
To reach the absolute top, effort alone wasn't sufficient. At that level, natural ability would inevitably play the more critical role.
Thanks to Okamoto's dramatic announcements, passing students had started sneaking glances at me with renewed interest.
The whispered conversations were becoming increasingly audible:
"Ginjo-san is really incredible!"
"Right? He's handsome AND academically gifted!"
When we returned to the classroom, most students had already checked their results and departed. Only Mizutani-san remained, sitting at her desk with her hands covering her mouth, apparently trying to contain her overwhelming emotions.
"Congratulations, Mizutani-san. First in the grade again," I said, having heard the result from Okamoto's earlier reconnaissance.
"Ah... Ginjo-san... thank you!" she replied, her voice trembling with barely contained excitement.
She'd been so nervous waiting for results, and now she was equally intense in her excitement. Having such extreme emotional swings over a simple midterm exam made me genuinely concerned about her future stress management.
While leaving the school building, I encountered Shiraishi-senpai in the hallway—perfect timing as always.
"Ah, Ginjo-san! Your sophomore results are out now, right? How did you do?" she asked, her face immediately lighting up when she saw me.
"Not bad. Tenth place," I replied with studied casualness.
"Tenth in the grade? That's excellent! You're worthy of being the coach I chose for the water polo club—you really are exceptional in every way."
Her happiness for my success seemed completely genuine, which was both touching and incredibly attractive.
"What about you, Shiraishi-senpai?"
Instead of answering, she held up her slender index finger in front of me, forming an adorable '1' shape with a playful expression.
"That's incredible. Congratulations, Shiraishi-senpai."
Academic brilliance, student council leadership, water polo captaincy, stunning beauty, and a personality that made everyone around her want to be better.
If there's a weakness in her armor, I haven't found it yet.
"Want to walk back together?" I asked, glancing toward the school gate.
"I have to handle some student council business, so I can't join you today, Ginjo-san," she replied with a genuinely regretful expression.
I had no choice but to say goodbye and leave school alone, though the disappointment was definitely noticeable.
After another busy day had drawn to a close, I finished my evening routine and collapsed onto my bed, reaching for my phone out of habit.
Time to wind down and see what the digital world has been up to.
LINE indicated new unread messages, and when I opened the app, I immediately recognized Kana Kobayakawa's distinctive silhouette in dim lighting.
Speak of the devil. Or should I say, speak of the goddess.
Ever since those pajama photos she'd taken at the hotel had received my enthusiastic approval, Kana had been regularly sending artistic updates from her business trips.
And by 'artistic updates,' I mean increasingly bold photography that probably violates several workplace conduct policies.
I had become an eager connoisseur of these elegant artistic works, and in just a few days, my phone's photo album had accumulated quite an impressive collection of beautiful masterpieces.
The definition of 'masterpiece' has definitely evolved since I started university.
After scrolling through several new selfies that tested the boundaries of what could be considered appropriate professional travel photography, Kana had included a text message:
[Kana: Sosuke, I have wonderful news! My business trip is almost finished, and I'll be back in Tokyo in just a few days! ♡]
Oh.
Oh no.
She's coming back.
Outside my window, the night sky that had been clear just moments ago suddenly turned ominous and cloudy.
Even the weather seemed to sense the impending complication.
A breeze drifted through my room carrying a slightly damp smell that suggested incoming rain.
Kana Kobayakawa—beautiful, confident, aggressive, and apparently very interested in continuing whatever had started between us during her last visit.
And I'm currently involved with Tomoko-san, developing something serious with Shiraishi-senpai, and trying to maintain some semblance of normal university life.
This was about to get very complicated very quickly.
The first drops of rain began pattering against my window, as if the universe was providing a soundtrack for my impending relationship crisis.
My peaceful harem protagonist life was about to become significantly less peaceful.
But honestly? I'm kind of excited to see what happens next.
Though I should probably start mentally preparing for some very awkward conversations in the near future.