In this life, the hardest thing to obtain is freedom.
Ideals are called ideals because harsh reality exists. In reality, we're constantly forced to do things we don't want to do but must anyway—these things are given a lofty name: responsibility.
Countless responsibilities, whether assumed willingly or not, become heavy chains that lock us inside the prison of reality, making it impossible to move toward the unknown future without worry.
To put it more simply:
He wasn't someone with nothing to do—he still had work.
After discovering his "golden finger", he felt hopeful about the future and, for the first time, slept through the night without nightmares.
Then, around 8 a.m., just as he was about to enjoy a freshly microwaved ham and egg sandwich, the General Student Council sent over the weekly documents that needed to be handled by Schale.
It wasn't too much. Even without Yuuka, with just himself and Arona, it would take maybe ten or so hours to complete.
That was Schale's entire weekly workload. In other words, if he didn't take on any optional missions and just coasted along collecting a base salary, he'd only need to work about two hours a day.
The past three days of overtime with Yuuka had been to clear the backlog that had built up after the president of the student council went missing.
All things considered, he realized he actually had a lot of free time.
So, he decided to devote the entire morning to work, hoping it would calm his excitement and allow him to plan rationally.
It was his first day working without Yuuka. Thoughts of her kept popping up and affecting his productivity.
At one point, he even found himself thinking, "If only Yuuka were still here."
But he quickly shut down the idea. She disliked him now. There was no way he could shamelessly ask for her help again. It was better to keep some distance.
He worked steadily until lunchtime. Then, he went downstairs to the Angel 24 convenience store, bought a grilled meat bento, and returned to his office to eat.
Afterward, he opened a blank text document on his computer and began drafting a plan.
The first thing he typed was:
•First, let's define what it means to 'romance' someone.
He stared at the sentence, fingers hovering above the keyboard, but couldn't continue.
Moments later, he swiftly grabbed the mouse, clicked the "X" in the corner, and closed the file without saving.
"I seriously don't know the first thing about this kind of stuff!"
The self-assured person from yesterday—the one who'd confidently declared, "I'll make this work"—was now slumped over his desk, holding his head and groaning.
Romantic theory? Emotional intelligence? Those weren't things someone with amnesia and only basic common sense could grasp. Not even someone who read a ton of fiction could fake expertise here.
He wasn't some natural-born flirt who could win someone over with instinct alone.
Thinking it through, his only real assets were a decent appearance and his role as Schale's Sensei. Hardly impressive.
At this point, only one viable strategy remained.
He picked up his tablet and spoke the activation phrase. A familiar tone indicated a successful connection, and in the blink of an eye, his consciousness entered the Chest of Shittim.
Inside was a half-ruined classroom, its floor partially flooded with seawater. The ceiling and walls were collapsing, and through the gaps, one could see desks piled on a sandy beach stretching into an endless blue sea.
In the classroom, a blue-and-white-haired girl lay asleep on a desk, smiling goofily as she mumbled in her dreams. Drool shimmered on her lips.
Seeing her adorable, silly expression made him smile naturally.
This was Arona, the central system of the Chest of Shittim.
With her comforting level of intelligence, her incredible ability to sleep twenty hours a day, and her pure, cheerful nature, she was someone he could trust deeply.
That's why—when it came to completing the prerequisites for his plan—she was the most reliable ally he had.
His thinking was simple: since he lacked experience, he had to accumulate it. For example, by running simulation practices with high-performance AIs loaded with immeasurable amounts of data.
If he could become a master of simulated dating games, surely he could use that skill in real life to easily win the hearts of many girls.
However, when he walked over to wake up Arona and heard her mumbling in her sleep, his expression twisted.
"Sensei… no more… I can't eat that much… it's going to overflow… ehehe…"
What the hell was Arona dreaming about?!
He took a deep breath and silently shook her slender body.
"Nyah! The milk is getting away!"
Startled awake, Arona suddenly sat up, nervously looked around, rubbed her eyes, and mumbled to herself that it had just been a dream. Then, she looked at him and gave a bright, unguarded smile.
"Sensei~ Good afternoon! Are you here to set the schedule, or are you planning to select a job?"
"Neither. Arona, I have a favor to ask. It's very important to me, and I can only ask someone I trust the most—you."
"Eh? Eh?! Really? Got it! I, Arona, will give it my all!"
Seeing Arona grip her umbrella rifle tightly with a serious look on her round face, he also took on a solemn expression.
In that serious atmosphere, he took a deep breath and spoke in the most sincere tone:
"Arona, may I ask you to be the person I confess to?"
The world fell silent.
A sea breeze passed by, rustling the edges of their clothes.
Arona's eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly in surprise. Her small face quickly flushed red.
He understood—faced with such a request, a pure-hearted girl like Arona was bound to feel shy and conflicted. Even if she rejected him, it wouldn't be surprising.
Still, in hindsight, maybe jumping straight to a confession simulation was too rushed.
Unaware that he had misspoken, he quietly watched Arona, waiting for her response.
Arona froze for a moment as if her program had crashed, flailed her arms in confusion, then grabbed the fabric on her headband to try and cover her face, making soft muttering sounds like a small animal.
Eventually, with her head hung low and her hands gripping the umbrella rifle behind her back, she peeked at him occasionally and whispered:
"Please… do as you wish…"
"Great! Thank you, Arona."
He smiled happily. "Then I'll need you to first act as an ordinary Trinity student. I'll also count on you for the pre-scenario parts."
Crack.
He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he thought he heard something break.
Arona looked up, and the light in her eyes seemed to have dimmed.
"Sensei. What exactly… did you mean by that just now?"
"Huh? Just what I said," he replied, slightly unnerved by her stare. "I wanted to ask you to help me with confession practice."
Crack.
This time the sound was even clearer.
"What you said at the start—didn't you ask me to be your confession target?"
"…Did I? Sorry, I might've gotten nervous and misspoke…"
Hearing that, Arona turned red again—this time out of anger.
She rushed up to him, clenched her fists, and started hitting him with little force.
"Idiot! Playboy! Bad teacher! Love-obsessed fool! You've barely started working and you're already eyeing someone! Ugh…"
After calming her down and getting her to forgive him, he asked her again and received her reluctant agreement.
Arona wrote scripts based on her stored data and played different types of students to receive his confessions: a newcomer in the General Student Council, an executive, even the president.
However, every time he got to a critical moment, he froze in nervousness and blanked out, failing multiple simulations and having to pause the practice for now.
Possibly still sulking from earlier, Arona seemed quite amused watching him fail repeatedly.
In contrast, he felt frustrated.
He could only console himself: no matter how much galgame he played, he still couldn't learn how to love, could he?
Virtual and real worlds were totally different.
After all, love was about exchanging true feelings. Cold calculations couldn't compare to genuine connections.
So he'd stop overthinking and charge forward recklessly!
Translation: he gave up.
With yesterday's big talk thrown out the window, he felt a new sense of freedom. He had Arona schedule suitable outings, planning to naturally form bonds through work.
But first, there was something else he needed to handle…
Half an hour later, at the General Student Council.
"Rin-chan! Please assign me a bodyguard!"
"Who are you calling Rin-chan?!"