Seijirou arrived at the far, quiet end of the school grounds. The air felt heavier here, quieter, as if the rest of the school simply didn't exist.
The abandoned storage room stood where he remembered it would be, door weathered and cracked, the walls marked with graffiti that had been half-heartedly painted over.
It looked like the kind of place no teacher would bother visiting.
He grabbed the rusted doorknob and pushed.
The hinges groaned softly — but what met him inside wasn't the dusty, forgotten space the exterior promised.
The interior was organized. Too organized in fact.
Baseball bats and gloves rested neatly against the wall.
A punching bag swung lightly from the ceiling as if someone had just used it.
Two comfortable-lookinh couches circled a table stacked with magazines, with a pool table behind them.
Bikini posters stared down at him from every wall, smiling under the faint hum of the mini-fridge in the corner.
It was exactly as he remembered.
He stood there for a moment, frozen.
This was the place.
The hideout.
The lair of Kageyama Seijirou and his gang.
Memories from the game came flooding back, sharp and cruel — scenes where this room became a nightmare.
Where Rei or Haruka or whichever heroine you failed to protect was dragged here, their route ending in tears and broken smiles.
He clenched his jaw.
"This is where it happened," he muttered.
This room had been burned into his mind after countless playthroughs.
In one of the darkest routes, this very place stopped being just a hideout.
Seijirou turned it into a brothel, a place where heroines were humiliated beyond saving, the player forced to watch as the credits rolled over their despair.
His stomach twisted.
"Damn it."
He took a shaky breath. The thought of stepping into this room made his skin crawl.
But at the same time… he couldn't look away.
This was his now.
His eyes landed on the table, besides the magazines, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. It probably belonged to Seijirou or some of his lackeys.
He hesitated for a moment before grabbing one.
"Guess this is what he did to unwind, huh," he said under his breath.
He lit it with a click, took a drag, and felt the smoke fill his lungs. He closed his eyes and exhaled, watching as the white smoke rose and dissipates.
He wasn't stranger to smoking and drinking. He has a social life in his first life and during his college days he was a party animal.
Unfortunately, he couldn't find any job and degenerated into becoming a NEET.
He sank into the couch, staring at the ceiling as the smoke curled upward.
"I can't believe this. Of all people… I became him. Even an extra would be better."
He closed his eyes, memories of all the times he fought against Seijirou playing in his head.
The hours spent strategizing, grinding stats, desperately saving heroines one by one.
And now, he was in the body of the man he hated most.
"...No. This doesn't have to play out the same way."
He tapped the cigarette against the ashtray, his expression hardening.
"This time, I'm not the villain."
Now that he thought about it. Isn't it better that he became the villain? At least then the heroines wouldn't have to suffer tragic fates.
He nodded to himself.
Alright then. He just have to stay away from them right? And they can safely be together.
As for taking the heroines himself...he doesn't have that idea.
He's a pure vanilla enjoyer. He absolutely despises NTR, be it Netori or Netorare.
There's a billion girls in the girl, why take someone who already belongs to someone else?
Just then, the door creaked open.
Seijirou turned his head just as a flash of blonde entered the room.
Kurokawa Suzune.
Her long ponytail swayed behind her as she stepped inside, an easy grin on her face.
Her jacket was unbuttoned, showing off her uniform blouse and the hint of midriff that every teacher complained about.
Her skirt was short enough to make anyone look twice—not that Suzune cared what anyone thought.
"Yo, Sei!" she said brightly, closing the door with her foot.
She didn't wait for an invitation, just strutted over and dropped onto the couch beside him, the scent of her perfume filling the room.
Even though he had seen her hundreds of times in CGs and event scenes, seeing her move, hearing her voice, being this close to her in reality felt… strange.
This was the Kurokawa Suzune.
The girl who, in every route, acted as Seijirou's right hand. The one who smiled sweetly at the heroines, gained their trust, and then laced their drinks with powder before delivering them to this very room.
The player base both hated and admired her—a perfect femme fatale sidekick.
And despite everything, she was also the only one who stuck by Seijirou to the bitter end, no matter how dark things got.
And yet, for all her closeness, the game never showed them as lovers. Not once. Suzune never shared a CG in bed with Seijirou.
Not even in one of the routes where Seijirou completely degenerated and completely ruined the heroines and turned them into prostitutes.
It seems like, no matter how much Seijirou degenerated, Suzune was always someone he refuses to take.
Due to this, she would sometimes pout at the heroines, teasing them, saying she was jealous that they got to sleep with him while she didn't.
Suzune reached into her bag, pulled out two bento boxes, and set one in front of him.
"Here," she said casually. "You skipped breakfast again, didn't you?"
He blinked at the sight of the food.
He didn't know how Seijirou usually answered—but she clearly expected him to eat.
"…Thanks," he said finally, and took the chopsticks.
Suzune grinned at him as if that was the most normal thing in the world and opened her own bento.
They ate in silence for a moment.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was humming softly as she chewed, legs swinging lazily, completely at ease in his presence.
He couldn't shake the thought: if he wanted, he could probably have her.
No, he was sure he could have her. Suzune was ready to give all she is to Seijirou in the game; her body and soul.
If he push her down there and then, she wouldn't refuse, but would even happily strip for him.
But he shook those thoughts out of his head.
Just then, the door opened again.
Three figures stepped in, filling the room with noise.
"Oi, boss!" said the first one — a short, fat boy with a buzz cut, one hand clutching a bag of potato chips he was already halfway through.
His name surfaced in Seijirou's memory: Sakai Daisuke.
He was the most durable out of Seijirou's lackeys. In the game, he had spent a lot of time taking him down that by the time he was defeated, Seijirou already took down the heroine.
His family owns a famous brand that produces various snack crackers.
Behind him came a tall, lanky boy with a perfectly styled pompadour and dark shades perched on his nose despite being indoors.
He gave a lazy salute.
His name is Okamoto Renji.
Despite his looks. He is terrifyingly strong. He used to be in a boxing club in middle school and even reached the nationals, but quit when he didn't win.
The last one trailed after them, looking half-dead. His black hair was messy, his uniform wrinkled, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days.
He muttered a half-hearted greeting.
He is Nakamura Shou. Despite his looks, he has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and is also a former teack-and-field ace who can reach the nationals.
These three were more than just background characters. They were Seijirou's core crew.
In the game, they stood by him through every route, helping him harass the protagonist, covering for him during fights, even taking beatings for him when things went bad.
They were loyal to the end.
And as for why they became delinquents like him, well, it isn't something for Seijirou to tell.
"Yo, boss," Renji said, tossing his shades up and catching them with one hand. "Heard some bastards senior provoked you this morning cuz you took his girl?"
Sakai grinned through a mouthful of chips. "Shall we beat him up?"
Shou flopped onto one of the couches and let out a long yawn. "... We pretty much conquered the first years already. I guess it's time to move on to higher years."
Seijirou stared at them for a moment, the cigarette between his fingers burning slowly.
They were exactly as he remembered. Loud, loyal, half-dangerous, half-ridiculous.
And now they were looking at him, waiting for him to say something, to act like the Seijirou they knew.
He took a drag, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, and let a smirk pull at his lips — not forced, but not entirely natural either.
"…Nah," he said finally, his voice low. "Not today. Not in the mood."
The three of them exchanged glances, surprised, but none of them questioned it.
Suzune tilted her head, watching him closely, her golden-brown eyes sharp as if trying to read his mood.
Seijirou leaned back on the couch, tapping the ash into the tray.
Anyway, he wasn't afraid of a fight. He had completely inherited all of Seijirou's skills and memories, and this body was also incredibly trained from various martial arts that Seijirou mastered.
He just doesn't want to get into a fight first day he transmigrated.
For now, he wanted to think of his future.
What shall he do now?