"Atherton-san."
Albert stopped breathing. His eyes snapped open. He froze. He did not lift his head immediately.
The voice was female. It was quiet. It lacked the loud, cheerful energy of the extroverts in his class. It sounded perfectly calm.
He slowly raised his head. He looked straight ahead.
Someone was standing right in front of him.
It was the girl from the intersection.
"Ogawa-san," Albert said.
Her eyes widened a fraction. A small, genuine smile appeared on her face.
"You remember me," she said.
She took a few steps forward. She turned around and sat down on the empty space of the wooden bench. She positioned herself on his right side.
She maintained a very precise distance. It was close enough for a normal conversation. It was far enough to avoid breaking basic personal boundaries.
Albert looked at her. Her presence here was not a random anomaly. He already possessed the necessary data to solve this interaction. He met her once. She asked him about his foreign surname. She used that topic as a bridge to ask about Leo.
The equation was simple.
"Of course," Albert responded. His voice was flat. "You are here because you want to ask details about Leo, right?"
Ogawa blinked. Her shoulders jumped a fraction of an inch. She didn't answer immediately. She raised her right hand toward the side of her head. She caught a strand of her own dark hair. She twirled the hair around her finger in slow, continuous circles.
"Yes, of course," she said. Her voice was slightly higher than before. "What other reason could I have?"
Albert stared at her moving fingers. He watched the tight loops she made with her hair.
Of course. It is about Leo.
He looked down at her lap. Her hands were empty. He looked at the space next to her on the bench. There was no bag.
"If you are here to gather details," Albert said, "why are you not bringing any notebook? Do you have a pen with you?"
Ogawa stopped twirling her hair. She seemed startled. Her hand dropped back down to her lap.
"I..." she stammered. She looked away for a second. "I just did not bring it. I accidentally saw you sitting here and just came over to you."
Albert processed the excuse. It made sense. An impromptu gathering of data.
"I will give you details about Leo," Albert stated. He kept his tone completely serious. "But only the allowed ones. I will not cross any boundaries. I will only share public data about him. Personal data, I cannot give you that. His private life is strictly off-limits."
Ogawa looked relieved. She nodded her head quickly. "I understand. That is perfectly fine."
"Can you memorize it?" Albert asked.
"Yes, of course," she replied.
Albert watched her face. She looked like she was hesitating. Her eyes darted toward the old club building for a split second before returning to him.
He ignored the micro-expression. He started his data dump.
"Leo is an athletic prodigy," Albert began. He recited the facts from memory. "He was the absolute ace of the track and field team in our middle school. His specialty is the short sprint. His personal best record for the one hundred meter dash during his third year was exactly ten point eight three seconds."
Ogawa nodded. She kept her eyes on him.
"That speed was recorded last year," Albert continued. "His muscle mass has increased since then. His stride length is longer. His speed might have increased by now. He will likely break the high school records."
He moved to the next public data point.
"His physical height is currently one hundred and eighty-two centimeters. He prefers to eat meat. He specifically craves fried chicken after heavy physical exertion. He hates studying history. He usually falls asleep during lectures."
Albert kept talking. He provided a steady stream of harmless, public information. He talked about Leo's preferred sports brands. He mentioned Leo's tendency to lose small objects like keychains and pens. He listed the exact layout of Leo's typical lunch tray.
Ogawa just sat there. She kept her eyes on him while he spoke. She nodded her head. The rhythm of her nods was completely steady. It didn't pause when he listed complex numbers or speed records. It just continued at the exact same pace regardless of the data output.
I gave her a lot of data. Did she really memorize it all?
Albert narrowed his eyes slightly.
Either way, the transaction is complete.
He fulfilled his end of the equivalent exchange. He gave her the data. She received it.
Once she fully processes the information about Leo, she will completely forget about me. The bridge will be burned.
Albert stopped talking. He closed his mouth.
Ogawa blinked. She seemed to realize the lecture was over.
She stood up from the wooden bench. She smoothed down the front of her pleated skirt.
"Thanks for today, Atherton-san," she said. She gave him a bright, gentle smile. "See you later."
She turned around and started walking toward the main campus building.
Albert sat alone on the bench. He watched her walk away.
See you later?
He analyzed the phrase. What does that mean? They didn't share any classes. They didn't share any clubs. The probability of them intentionally meeting later was almost zero.
Nah. I should not overthink it. It was just a standard social phrase. It is entirely synonymous with the word 'goodbye.' People say it all the time without any actual intent to meet again.
He let out a quiet breath. He was about to take his smart phone.
Then, it happened.
Ogawa was about ten meters away. She took a step forward. The tip of her leather school shoe caught the edge of a raised concrete tile on the pathway.
She stumbled. She lost her balance completely.
She pitched forward. Her arms flailed out to catch herself. As her upper body dropped rapidly toward the ground, air drag and sudden physical momentum forced the back hem of her pleated uniform skirt to flip upward.
Albert's eyes widened. He saw it.
It was a sudden flash of bright color against the dull gray concrete. A split-second exposure of smooth skin. A stark, pure patch of white fabric.
Gravity instantly pulled the pleated skirt back down. Ogawa caught herself on her hands and knees. She scrambled to stand back up.
Albert moved with terrifying speed.
He violently snapped his head to the left. He stared hard at the trunk of a large oak tree. He pretended he was looking at the bark. He pretended he didn't see anything at all.
Simultaneously, his right hand dove into his pants pocket. He grabbed his folded handkerchief. He pulled it out and slapped it directly over his own nose. He pressed the cloth hard against his face.
He sat there. He breathed heavily into the fabric. His heart hammered rapidly against his ribs.
He slowly pulled the handkerchief away from his face and then he looked down at the cloth.
It was completely clean. There was absolutely no blood.
He stared at the empty fabric. A sudden wave of intense self-awareness crashed over him.
Ridiculous.
In anime, when the main character encounters the lucky lecher trope, his blood pressure spikes. The sudden arousal forces a massive nosebleed. It is a visual gag. It is cartoon biology.
Why did I instinctively put my handkerchief to my nose?
He gripped the cloth tightly.
It was a reflex.
Of course. I practiced this a hundred times in my room. I stood in front of my mirror and rehearsed the exact motion. I meant it as a joke. I just wanted to mock the anime trope. I never thought I would actually do it in real life.
The sheer nervousness of being caught staring at that white fabric must have completely overridden my conscious control. My body just defaulted to the muscle memory I built as a joke.
He felt a massive flush of heat rise in his cheeks. He was incredibly embarrassed by his own physical reaction.
He slowly turned his head back to the front. He looked toward the pathway to see if Ogawa was still there. He expected to see her glaring at him.
The pathway was empty. She was gone and she had already run away.
Albert let out a long sigh. He slumped back against the wooden bench.
Of course. This is real life.
Even if she suspects I saw it, she will be far too embarrassed to actually turn around and confront me. A normal teenage girl would never march up to a boy and demand to know if he just looked up her skirt. She would just run away and pretend it never happened. That is how real human psychology works.
He stared at the empty concrete path.
If this was an anime, the entire sequence would have played out differently.
He closed his eyes. He built a simulation in his head. He rendered the exact scene using anime logic.
In his imagination, Ogawa trips. The white fabric flashes. Albert snaps his head to the left. He pretends not to notice. He pulls out the handkerchief and slaps it over his nose. His heartbeat accelerates.
Then, instead of running away, the imaginary Ogawa turns around. She stomps back over to the bench. Her face is red with anger.
"Did you see?" the simulated Ogawa demands. Her hands are planted firmly on her hips.
Albert slowly turns to face her. He lowers the handkerchief from his face.
"See what?" the imaginary Albert says smoothly. "I don't know what you are talking about, Ogawa-san."
He calmly places the handkerchief back over his nose. He looks perfectly innocent.
The simulated Ogawa narrows her eyes. "I see."
"Yeah," Albert replies. He pulls the cloth away again to check it.
"How is it?" Ogawa asks. Her voice is dripping with suspicion.
"How is it what?" Albert asks back.
"The blood on the handkerchief," she says, pointing directly at the cloth in his hand. "Is there any?"
The simulated Albert freezes completely. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead. There is no blood on the cloth. The visual proof is missing. But the sheer act of holding a rag to his nose gave him away entirely. He practically confessed to the crime by acting like a bleeding pervert.
The simulation stopped. The imaginary characters vanished from his mind.
Albert opened his eyes. He sat alone on the real wooden bench.
He grinned. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
That is exactly how anime logic should work. The protagonist always traps himself with his own exaggerated reactions.
He reached into his pocket. He pulled out his smartphone. He unlocked the screen.
He opened his mobile web browser. He didn't use a standard search engine. He typed a specific URL into the address bar.
The screen loaded a very archaic webpage. The background was a harsh, pale green. The text was stark black. There were no flashy graphics. There were no user profile pictures. It was just an endless wall of anonymous text threads stacked on top of each other.
It was 555chan. The modern remnant of the old internet. It was a massive, anonymous message board where users posted raw text without any filters.
Albert tapped the search bar at the top of the green page. He typed a specific query using the digital keyboard.
"RomCom Trope in Real Life."
He hit enter. The screen refreshed. A list of blue hyperlinks appeared on the green background. He tapped the top thread. He began to read the anonymous posts.