The office smelled faintly of coffee and chalk dust, sunlight spilling lazily through the blinds and painting stripes of gold across the worn-out desk. Piles of exam papers leaned precariously on one side, and the air conditioner hummed softly overhead.
Across from him, Hiratsuka Shizuka leaned back in her chair, holding a thin stack of results with an arched brow.
"Huh… I really didn't expect this from you," she said, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "You broke every single record in the physical tests. The P.E. teacher was stunned—you didn't even look winded."
Haruto Amakawa sat casually, his arms folded behind his head as if he were lounging on the couch at home. His black hair caught the light, his smile easy and a little mischievous.
"So? Want to join the special sports class?" Hiratsuka asked, setting the papers down. Her tone was firm, but her eyes betrayed a trace of curiosity.
"No interest."
The reply came instantly. His voice carried no hesitation, just a simple dismissal.
Shizuka clicked her tongue. "Tch, figured you'd say that." She waved it off. "Fine, I'll deal with the P.E. teacher."
Haruto grinned. "Thanks, Hiratsuka-sensei. You're a lifesaver."
She sighed, half-annoyed, half-amused. This kid…
---
Lunch break came, and the rooftop air was sharp and cool, the kind of breeze that tugged playfully at hair and skirts. The distant chatter of students from below floated up faintly, but up here it was quieter, almost like a different world.
Miura Yumiko hesitated by the door, her palms damp. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open—only to find him already waiting, leaning against the railing with that same infuriatingly calm smile.
"You're here," Haruto said softly, turning toward her. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Then let me show you who I really am."
Crack.
A sudden chill swept across the rooftop, the temperature plunging as if winter itself had stepped into the world of spring.
"W-what…?"
Yumiko's breath caught as she watched crystalline wings unfurl from his back—massive, translucent wings of glacial blue, each feather like carved ice refracting the sunlight into shards of cold fire.
"This," Haruto said, his voice low and steady, "is my true self."
For a moment, the world felt unreal. The sky, the concrete beneath her shoes, the wind in her hair—all faded before that impossible sight.
Yumiko's lips trembled. "…What are you?"
"As you can see—something not bound by the ordinary." He lifted a hand. A delicate rose of pure ice blossomed between his fingers, its petals spinning gently before floating toward her.
She hesitated, then reached out. The moment her skin touched it, a sharp chill kissed her palm. The cold was real. He was real.
"I didn't show you this to impress you," Haruto continued, his tone almost too calm. "I showed you because I don't want you to judge me by normal standards. I don't want to miss out on you."
Her heart twisted. She pressed her lips together, trying to steady her voice. "…Then, what about the others you mentioned?"
Haruto's smile deepened faintly.
A soft chime echoed in her mind.
> [Dimensional Trade Chat Group Notification]
Group leader Haruto Amakawa has designated Miura Yumiko as a subgroup member.
Suddenly, knowledge poured into her head. Concepts of "different worlds," "trades," and "contracts" flashed through her thoughts. She staggered, clutching her forehead.
"This… this is insane…" she whispered. "Trading with other worlds…?"
When her gaze returned to Haruto, it carried both fear and wonder. "So you've been living with this… this secret all along."
"Now you understand a little," Haruto said gently. "This is the other half of me."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "So, Yumiko… now that you've seen my true self—do you still like me?"
Her chest tightened. She had seen the records in the chat group, whispers of trades involving women, even bodies. He hadn't lied when he admitted being with others.
Instead of answering, she shot back her own question. "Then what about you? You've done all that with them—will you take responsibility?"
Haruto's gaze sharpened, the easy warmth cooling into something far more dangerous.
"If they want me to, I'll take responsibility," he said evenly. "And if they try to leave me… I won't let them. I don't let go of what's mine."
Yumiko's eyes widened. He wasn't joking. He wasn't the kind of boy who would bow and scrape for forgiveness. His possessiveness wasn't just words—it was law.
"I'm attracted to many people," Haruto admitted without shame. "Even girls at school. Like Yuigahama Yui, for example."
"Y-Yui?!" Yumiko blurted, her heart lurching.
"You heard me right. I fall fast. At first sight, even." His honesty was brutal, unflinching. "And yes, that includes you, Yumiko."
He stepped closer, his shadow falling across her as his voice lowered. "To be honest, I didn't notice you much before today. But right now—you move me."
Yumiko bit her lip, cheeks burning. "…That's not being moved, that's just flirting."
He chuckled, a deep, careless sound. "Maybe. Call it what you like."
"But my heart tells me I want you. And I always follow my heart."
Her face flamed under his gaze. She turned her head, her voice trembling. "C-could you… only like me?"
The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something solemn.
"…I'm sorry. I can't."
The silence cut like glass. Yumiko had braced herself, yet the blunt refusal still left a sting in her chest. She lowered her gaze, her knuckles white against the railing.
He's someone beyond my control, she thought bitterly. Someone too wild, too untamed to belong only to me.
Haruto could have lied. He could have strung her along, made her another conquest. But he didn't. Instead, he showed her the truth—his power, his hunger, his dangerous honesty.
The choice was hers alone: to accept, or to walk away.
And Yumiko realized with a shiver… that was the cruelest mercy he could give.