As soon as I entered the cafeteria, a wave of mixed scents hit me. The strongest came from the bakery items, their aroma warm and heavy, followed by the sharp tang of spicy noodles. Unfortunately, there was also the unmistakable stench of someone's fart, souring the atmosphere.
My sense of smell was about ten times sharper than that of a normal human. I could detect even the faintest scents—odors most people wouldn't notice, either overpowered or masked by stronger smells.
I walked toward the counter and looked at the menu displayed on the screen.
The meals here were divided into two categories. One was the free food, called the Normal Lunch, provided by the school. The other was the Premium Lunch, which featured expensive dishes students had to pay for.
The premium section was tailored for students from wealthy families—those willing to spend lavishly either to show off or to avoid the "inferior" feeling of eating free food.
It was also, conveniently, a way for the school to make some extra money on the side.
Anyway, I decided to order from the premium menu.
"Excuse me, I'd like to order the Almas Caviar French Toast," I said to the person at the counter—an average-looking middle-aged woman. I'm sure there's a specific job title for her, but I've forgotten the word.
I quickly pulled out my Japanese bank card and handed it to the cashier next to the woman who wrote down my order. The cashier swiped my card, I entered my PIN, signed the receipt she handed me, and slipped my card back into my pocket, and also a token number for my dish.
I then took a seat at an empty table—four chairs, all unoccupied. As I sat, I cast a casual glance around the cafeteria. Several students were watching me, probably because I'd ordered one of the most expensive items on the menu. The only exceptions were a few other wealthy students who had ordered similarly extravagant meals… and the main character, Tatsuya, who seemed far too busy with his phone, likely reading personal messages.
"What're you looking at? Mind your own business…" I said, and the students quickly averted their eyes.
I waited for my order—about twenty minutes—before my token number finally appeared on the display screen. Getting up, I collected my tray and returned to my seat, slowly eating and savoring the taste. The flavors were rich, the texture smooth, and the juices melted pleasantly on my tongue.
In my previous life, I would never have been able to enjoy such a luxury. So… I guess this life wasn't all that bad after all.
"Hmm… hello. Would you mind if I sit here?"
A voice drew my attention. I turned to my side and saw—at first glance—a woman. No… a man, though he looked every bit as delicate as a fragile maiden. He had a slender frame, long silky black hair, and vivid emerald eyes. In his hands, he held a simple bowl of plain ramen.
I recognized him immediately—Yuta Yamamoto. The "trap," or rather, the femboy of this anime. He was also the main antagonist of the second arc.
Now, I know some of you might be wondering why I wasn't surprised to see a main antagonist sitting this close to me. The answer? I honestly didn't care. Besides, he hadn't yet gone through the events that would lead him into his villain arc.
"Okay, have your seat. You don't have to ask for permission, you know?" I said, taking another bite.
Yuta quietly sat down, murmured a short prayer, and began eating his ramen. I kept working on my own meal, though my attention drifted toward the way he ate. I had to admit—the way he moved, the little pauses, the way he held the chopsticks—it was… well, sensual, if you thought about it. I'm not going to use that word; it would make this whole scene inappropriate.
Still, I could see why he was often targeted by bullies—both boys and girls. The girls hated him outright because he looked better than the majority of them, while the boys… well, let's just say his femininity messed with their sense of masculinity. I'm not sure if that's the right way to phrase it, and I don't really want to get into the details. I don't like talking about that kind of thing.
I am extremely homophobic.
Well, the only exception to that rule was Yuta—and others like him. To me, they were basically girls… and also a bit of a weakness of mine.
Not just mine, though. Plenty of other men too.
Anyway, I finished my meal and stood up. Yuta had also just finished his ramen, and he rose from his seat as well.
"Thanks for letting me sit at the same table as you," Yuta said, giving me a small bow.
"Geez, no need for that. I didn't do you any favors."
"It's just… people usually avoid me because of my appearance," Yuta said.
"Well, this is Japan after all. People here tend to bully anyone who stands out too much from the norm. And you…" I looked him over, "you're basically perfect bully material."
I paused, then added, "To be honest, I fall into the same category."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm a foreigner who looks drastically different from your average Japanese student. The only difference is that I come from a rich and powerful background, so I can handle any bully stupid enough to try something."
"If only I was in the same position as you…" Yuta gave a small sigh. "Back in middle school, I was bullied a lot. I'm sure it'll happen again in high school. The only reason it hasn't yet is because it's only been five days since school started, so I'm not on anyone's radar—for now."
"I agree with that," I said, exhaling. "Well, I've got to go. It was fun talking to you, but I need to head to my next class."
"I see… that's kind of sad," Yuta replied. Then he added, "You haven't washed your hands yet."
"Oh, I'll wash them on my way to class. You know the basin near the water cooler by my classroom—1-D."
"Why not here?"
"Let's just say… I'm not a fan of mirrors," I said, before leaving the canteen and making my way back.