Even after returning to the house I shared with my dad, my thoughts kept circling back to Renko.
"Hey, hey, didn't see that coming, right? The shota I bought just went up in value again!"
The door to my dad's room was wide open. He was sitting in front of the computer, deep in a heated conversation with a client.
Of course, my dad wasn't some shady trafficker. He's useless, sure, but not that useless.
He just couldn't handle the shock of the divorce from my mom. He went from being a university lecturer to relying on his online store income to raise me.
I should be grateful, right? My mother had run off with some foreign professor before I was even a month old, and no one knows where she is now. Even when I see old photos of her smiling sweetly, it doesn't give me that warm, comforting feeling of a mother.
Dad isn't short—he's about 6'0"—but his legs are a bit stubby (I take after him there). With his black-rimmed glasses and quiet demeanor, he still looks like a lecturer. He treats me well, too—he doesn't issue orders; he talks to me like an equal.
Yet here I am, dissatisfied with him. Yeah, plenty of people would call me greedy.
—But my dad's Taobao store is beyond embarrassing.
Censored stuff. I've mentioned it before: he sells products that cater to the oddest sexual tastes of socially withdrawn otaku. H-manga, onaholes, prostate stimulators, skimpy figurines, love pillows featuring cat-eared girls in shy poses, inflatable dolls… you get the picture.
Once, he mysteriously promised that if I ranked in the top 15 of my class (44 kids in total), I could pick any item from his H-store.
"I recommend an onahole! The R20 model has great reviews!" he suggested with a creepy grin.
I refused him, chills running down my spine.
Lots of boys my age are curious about that stuff. But I refuse to have my dad know what I buy—or worse, use something he gave me.
Sometimes, having a father even more perverted than you is a headache. He even comes to you to discuss the latest H websites. And he wasn't always like this; he only slipped into perversion after Mom left.
"Huh? You don't like that S&M book? How about The Three Sows?" Dad's voice carried again.
I helped him close his door, feeling a wave of disgust.
Sure, I'm a pubescent boy—so some of it was tempting. But every time I saw the lonely expression on Dad's face, I got terrified of women.
He's locked himself in his room crying and screaming a woman's name while drunk more than once. That woman must be my mother—the woman who abandoned her son without a second thought, yet left my dad completely broken.
What a destructive force.
That's why, even though school is full of beautiful girls, none of them leave a good impression on me. They have venom deadlier than a cobra.
That's why I cherish the memory of fighting the Little Tyrant. Pure, intense, honest rivalry. Even when Renko asked me to be her girlfriend, I could sense the same hidden venom behind her smile.
The doorbell rang—dad's food delivery. I glanced at the dining table, handed the change to the delivery guy, and said, "It's time to eat!"
After being called more than three times, Dad reluctantly left his computer and sat down to a boxed meal of rice, meat, and vegetables. He was reading Ichigo 100% while eating.
"Don't read while eating!" I scolded.
Our roles had completely reversed.
"Oh, right. Remember Auntie Ren? The woman who lived in that complex with us?"
"Oh, our neighbor? Yeah, smoking hot! Look! Doesn't she look like this character?" He raised the manga to show me a nude woman stepping out of the bath.
"Stop messing around!" I tried to snatch it, but Dad dodged nimbly.
"Dad, what do you know about Auntie Ren's kid…?" I asked, pretending I wasn't eagerly waiting for a reply.
"That tomboy who ran wild every day? I think… her name was Xiao Qin! She had zero femininity. How's she going to get married?" Dad sighed, shoveling food into his mouth.
So he already knew Renko was a girl! I was the only one completely in the dark.
When I was bullied by the Little Tyrant, I always claimed my injuries were from pride or losing my toys. If I'd just told Dad the truth, he would have said Renko was a girl, and I wouldn't have been so confused all these years!
Anger and frustration welled up. I went back to my room without a word and took an afternoon nap.
Damn Little Tyrant! She forced me up early, we didn't fight, and I couldn't even save my brother, Optimus Prime. What a failure.
I glanced at the exercise equipment under my bed: dumbbells, sandbags, pec machines. I felt like an idiot. No excitement, just a reminder of my laziness.
Didn't Renko stay holed up for three years? Her muscles must've atrophied. She lost the Little Tyrant's physical advantage, right? And did she even go to school? Was she homeschooled? Why do I keep thinking about her?
She ruins my afternoons and my nights. I wish I could beat the Little Tyrant in dreams to release my anger.
But when I finally pinned her down, her sinister face shifted… into Renko's face, the one I just saw today.
Snow-white skin, long lashes, misty eyes, soft pink lips…
"Hit me. Hit me until your anger is gone," Renko said, turning and lying like a fish on a chopping board.
I woke with a scream. The fluorescent clock glared: 3:00 a.m.
And yes… I had a physiological reaction. A natural one, a boy's reaction at 3 a.m. Nothing to worry about.
I will never have feelings for Renko. The only reason she's in my mind is she hasn't returned my brother, Optimus Prime.
That's it.
Even after using the washroom, sleep eluded me. I feared the same dream would return. My head swirled with thoughts of Renko.
This isn't good. The fierce image of the Little Tyrant is slowly being replaced by her delicate figure. My nemesis is… evolving.
No, scarier than before—just like my mother, abandoning my father. Ruthless, venomous, unstoppable.
I realized it: the Little Tyrant isn't gone—she's just changed tactics.
Before, she bullied with fists. Now, she's a cute girl, trying to worm her way into my heart. Once I'm trapped, her fangs will strike. She wants to make me as miserable as my dad.
Cold sweat coated my body. Terrifying. Too terrifying.
I'm smart enough to see through her plan. I cannot agree to her request. Boyfriend? No way. She's playing with the heart of an innocent young man.
Even if she doesn't give up after today, I'll be ready.
If she dresses prettily, I'll call her ugly like Sister Feng.If she makes me a bento, I'll spit it out and call it worse than animal feed.If she talks to another girl, I'll flirt back.
I'll beat her at her own game.
Don't blame me. She declared war first. She forced my hand.
Finally, I could sleep, comforted by the thought: the snake known as Renko wants to inject poison called "love" into me. She's delusional.
I'm smart. I've got this.