Morning sunlight crept through the curtains, painting my room in dull stripes of gold. For the first time in days, there were no sirens, no kidnappers, no helicopters rattling above my head. Just silence, heavy and accusing.
Kae was back at her father's mansion, safe. The mayor had shaken my hand like I'd single-handedly rebuilt the city as the officers saluted with respect. My friends cheered me like I was some kind of legend.
It should've felt like victory.
Instead, it felt like a bad hangover I hadn't earned.
Because the truth was simple: I could've ended all of it with one wish.
"Kae Asamiya never gets kidnapped."
But I didn't trust the Unknown. Not with loopholes, not with reality, not with… well, anything.
That's when the voice slithered in, right on cue.
"You may still make a wish, Souta Renjiro."
I groaned, dropping back onto my bed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But why the hell do your contracts ban conjunctions? Who even does that?"
The Unknown chuckled, the sound like glass grinding in my ears.
"I do. Otherwise, you'd distort reality worse than you already have."
"Distort?? Buddy, you've clearly never read my high school essays. If a teacher can survive those run-ons, reality can survive an 'and.'"
There was pure silence, maybe my jokes were drier than usual. There was just that pressure in the room, like a shadow trying to wear me as a coat.
Day One: I stood in front of the mirror, hair looking like a crime scene, and said:
"I wish I was no longer the richest man in the world."
And, boom. The entire world re-booted itself… Turns out the billions in my account were a bank glitch—a typo the universe finally corrected.
Day Two: I faced the ceiling like it was God's inbox.
"I wish everyone forgot I was once the richest man in the world."
And, boom. Headlines blinked to "404," reporters forgot my name mid-sentence, a documentary crew quietly packed up and cried on the curb. My landlord remembered my rent again… so sad. Everyone forgot I was rich, except for those who'd witnessed the kidnapping chaos firsthand—they still remembered me, but only for what I did, not what I owned.
I didn't tamper with the kidnapping incident. Either I wasn't brave enough to gamble with distorting reality again, or I just wanted it that way, so my life wouldn't be so mediocre.
I pulled the napkin over my face as I sat waiting for class to start. "Forget it. I'm not wasting today's wish, not on lunch, not on schoolwork, not on—"
My phone buzzed.
"Today's plan is on, don't ditch on us now. We saved your sorry ass too, remember?"
I stared at the screen and snorted. The kidnapping incident wasn't completely altered…
The Unknown purred behind me. "You still carry one wish today."
I groaned, burying my face on my desk. That's right. After all the chaos, the fear, the gas, the briefcase stunt… this was now my life. Six of my so-called friends had decided that saving Kae wasn't enough. No, apparently, today, they all had to date her. And naturally, I was the only one who could babysit this disaster.
I peeked at the messages:
Ryu: "12:00—Café rendezvous. Don't screw this up, Souta."
Kenta: "13:00—Arcade. I hear she loves Pac-Man. Don't get lost."
Hiro: "14:00—Bookstore. Apparently she has a thing for obscure poetry."
… and so on, all six of them meticulously scheduling their "dates" like military operations.
I stared at the screen, feeling my brain attempt to short-circuit.
"Wait a second…" I muttered. "None of them realize she's human, right? Not some collectible item you unlock even after three billion yen."
Kae, oblivious to the madness orchestrating this weekend, strolled past my seat to hers. "Souta… what's with that look? You look like you just realized the sky is green."
I sighed. "Imagine coordinating six guys, all of whom are ridiculously overconfident, to take turns dating you."
Kae blinked at me, a mix of disbelief and irritation as she sat down. "A date? Seriously? Six of them? In one day?"
"Yep." I rubbed my temples. "And no, it wasn't me. It's… just how things played out." I tried to keep my tone light, but the weight of the absurdity made my shoulders stiff.
"Why on Earth would you even do such an absurd negotiation?" She asked.
"It was them… If I didn't do so to save you, your father would most likely lock me up in jail and swallow the key like it was his birthright." I replied.
She groaned, flopping onto the chair. "You're kidding, you're seriously telling me I have to endure six separate… dates with those things who think they carry value?"
"Those 'things' are the reason why you are here. How cruel could you possibly be, Asamiya?" I said.
She huffed, folding her arms. "You're ridiculous."
"Class is about to start." I pointed at the board to dodge the conversation as a male teacher in his mid-30's came in.
Class droned on, the teacher's monotone lecture about the periodic table sliding off my skull like mercury off steel. I slouched low, eyes half-shut, trying to convince my notebook to double as a mobile pillow. The teacher scribbled formulas across the board, his voice droning on like a lullaby for the damned. Around me, the pens scratching, notebooks flipping, and the occasional coughs punctured the silence.
I buried my head into my arms, pretending to listen. Kae sat upright beside me, pretending not to burn a hole in my skull with her glare.
She finally leaned closer, her voice a sharp whisper. "Souta… you have to put a stop to this."
I tilted my head lazily toward her, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Why would I do that? Watching six egos self-destruct in broad daylight? I'm planning to sit back with popcorn."
Her eyes flared, desperate now. "I'm serious. I can't—this is humiliating! Why should I play along with their stupid fantasy?"
I chuckled, not bothering to hide it. "Because I want to see misery up close. Six flavors of it, crashing like a train wreck. Honestly, it sounds way better than math class."
She glared, lips pressed tight, waiting for me to drop the act.
My smile faded. I leaned in, voice low enough to cut through her stubbornness.
"Look, Asamiya… they did save your life. Whatever you think of their methods, whatever you think of them, this is the least you can do. Show your face and just endure their nonsense for a day. That's a small price to pay for still being alive right now."
Her arms tightened across her chest. She turned her eyes to the front, refusing to answer, her jaw set stubbornly as the teacher's chalk scratched across the board.
The silence stretched. I figured that was the end of it—until, a few minutes later, she muttered just loud enough for me to hear:
"…I'll consider it."
I smirked, sinking deeper into my chair. "That's more like it."
The teacher's voice droned on about noble gases, but for the first time all morning, I felt the tension lift just a little.