“Mizuki-sama, are you all right? If you’re feeling unwell, perhaps we should—”

“I’m fine. Really, I am.”

With a faint, awkward smile at the concerned voice, Toudou Mizuki stepped out of the car.

Perhaps because he’d been cooped up indoors for so long, his skin was pale, his frame slender enough that—at a glance—he could easily be mistaken for a girl.

“Still… it’s the first day. I should at least try today.”

At those words, the attendant beside him, Mikado Rei, his assigned aide, bowed deeply, admiration in her tone.

Seeing that, Mizuki’s expression grew faintly complicated for a moment before he turned his gaze toward the towering brick entrance before him.

Shirayuki Academy.

One of the nation’s most prestigious high schools—and the place where Mizuki would be obliged to spend the next three years of his life.

For someone who had barely set foot in middle school, this marked his return to student life after a very long time.

“This is your alma mater, isn’t it, Mikado-san?”

“Yes. These magnificent gates were built in the mid-Meiji era and are designated cultural properties. A fitting school for someone of your standing, Mizuki-sama.”

While Rei proudly introduced her old school, Mizuki cast his eyes around.

Here and there, groups of first-year girls could be seen chatting excitedly. A few of them were already sneaking curious glances his way.

Shirayuki Academy’s gender ratio stood at one boy for every thirty girls. Even if that was unusually high compared to the outside world, it didn’t make him any less of a curiosity.

Back in middle school, Mizuki had never been good at dealing with those kinds of looks.

In elementary school, things had been simpler—eyes filled with innocent admiration, not intent. But as the years passed, he began to sense something else in those gazes—something sexual.

After a certain incident in middle school, it became unbearable. Eventually, he stopped attending altogether.

Then, during the winter of his third year, an accident left him unconscious—and when he woke up, strange memories from a previous life stirred within him.

Since then, the fear had curiously faded.

“Hm?”

He stopped mid-step. Near the gate, a girl was crouched by a vending machine, fussing over something.

After a brief hesitation, Mizuki approached her.

“Hey, are you all right? What happened?”

“I—I dropped my key and it fell down there…”

The girl looked up—and Mizuki froze.

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

Long, jet-black hair tied in a half-up style, sharp almond eyes, and the refined grace of someone raised in a noble household.

For a heartbeat, Mizuki could do nothing but stare. Then, realizing himself, he looked down toward the grate beside the vending machine.

The key had fallen into a drainage slot covered by a thick iron grating. The screws holding it down were of a special type—no chance of prying it open by hand.

“Hmm… looks like it’s bolted tight. You could probably ask the staff to remove it later, but…”

Setting down his brand-new school bag, Mizuki opened it and took out a lunch box.

“Um…?”

The girl blinked, utterly bewildered.

Ignoring her confusion, Mizuki extended one of the chopsticks toward the slot.

“Ah—almost got it.”

He hooked the fallen key neatly and pulled it up.

“Here you go.”

“I-I’m so sorry! To trouble a gentleman with such a thing—!”

He wiped the key with a handkerchief before handing it over. The girl bowed repeatedly, flustered.

“I’ll pay for the cleaning! Please—!”

“It’s fine. You should hurry, though—girls have their orientation first, right? You’ll be late.”

Shirayuki didn’t hold a formal all-school ceremony. Boys and girls attended separate orientations before meeting their homeroom classmates.

Seeing the girl still bowing and frozen in place, Mizuki decided to leave first.

“Thank you so much! Please, at least tell me your name so I can repay you later!”

“Toudou Mizuki. But… it’s better if we don’t meet too often, I think.”

“Eh?”

Her puzzled eyes met his—and he smiled faintly.

“Because I’m from the lowest-ranked class.”

◇◆◇

“…And as stated, your class rank will fluctuate according to your accumulated Class Points. Students of Class A, while you can no longer rise any higher, continued diligence is expected to retain your class selection rights.”

Houjou Noa listened to the droning orientation with half an ear, her thoughts elsewhere—specifically, on the empty seat before her.

The Houjou family was one of the Shikoku Eighteen Houses—ancient noble lineages that had existed since before the Edo era, once playing key roles in Japan’s modernization.

And the girl who should have been sitting ahead of her, Isshiki Shizuku, belonged to another of those prestigious families.

(Now this is strange…)

As far as Noa knew, Isshiki Shizuku was the very picture of a model noble daughter: brilliant grades, impeccable conduct—the kind who would never skip an entrance day.

Unless there’d been a death in the family, which surely she would have heard about, there was no reason for her absence.

“Next, regarding the incoming male students. This year, eleven boys have enrolled. Classes have been organized from A to K. Students in Class A will be given one-time selection rights, allowing transfer to a lower class of their choice. However, once you have formed a pairing with a boy, your selection rights will be nullified, and further transfers will be prohibited. Please act with discretion.”

On the classroom screen, the faces of the eleven male students appeared, divided by class.

The atmosphere, sleepy moments ago, instantly turned lively.

“The academic data of male students will be viewable through the school network. Sharing such information externally is a serious violation punishable by expulsion—and possibly criminal charges. Refrain from viewing in public places such as trains or cafes.”

Noa glanced at the wall clock. Twenty minutes left in the session. Shizuku was still absent.

“Likewise, female student records are visible to the boys. Grades, family backgrounds, histories of selection rights—everything is stored. Be especially cautious with your selection history: male students tend to avoid girls who have previously chosen someone else’s class. It’s best not to exercise your right during the first year.”

Class A, Noa’s class, was composed of top-ranking girls—the elite.

They alone held the option to transfer down to any lower class.

In practice, though, the right was rarely used.

Choosing to descend meant openly declaring interest in a lower-class boy. Once exercised, other boys would lose interest entirely, closing all future opportunities.

Usually, it was only invoked if relations within the class had broken down beyond repair.

“Well then, let’s briefly introduce this year’s male students—something I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for.”

Noa’s thoughts snapped back at the teacher’s words.

“First, Class A: Kichijoji Susumu. Third-tier citizen. As you can see, his public-service score is exceptional. He’s changed aides three times and has been paired three times.”

Noa studied the projected image of a tall boy. Typical elite type, she concluded. High ambition—shown by his rank—and perhaps difficult to work with, given the aide turnover.

“Next, Class B: Koba Takumi. Fourth-tier citizen. Two aide changes, sixteen pairings.”

The classroom buzzed.

Sixteen contacts before even entering high school—that was high. It meant he was… popular.

“Class C: Shirakawa Kento. Fourth-tier citizen. Five aide changes, seven pairings, three incidents of violence.”

Noa grimaced.

Three violent incidents. Clearly trouble.

Yet his handsome looks still earned him heated gazes from several girls.

“Class D—”

After that, the rest blurred together—average stats, unremarkable faces.

As the classes descended, notes like “dislikes women” appeared more often. The earlier excitement gradually cooled.

“Finally, Class K: Toudou Mizuki. Zero aide changes, zero pairings. Only twenty days of attendance during middle school. Almost no public-service record. Diagnosed with gynophobia.”

Noa’s eyes widened slightly at the face on the screen.

Delicate features, gentle eyes—beautiful, almost ethereal. Far above the others in appearance.

From the term gynophobia, she surmised he must have suffered something traumatic—likely because of that beauty.

(What a waste…)

She sighed softly.

Zero aide changes—rare indeed. Most boys switched at least once during adolescence. That he hadn’t spoke volumes about his temperament.

A calm, kind soul.

If not for that one condition, she would have chosen him immediately.

Instead, she considered other candidates—none ideal.

(Perhaps… I’ll have to look outside the academy.)

As the eldest daughter of the Houjou house, it was her duty to ensure a worthy bloodline.

Her gaze drifted again to Shizuku’s empty seat.

Still no sign of her.

The orientation was drawing to a close.

◇◆◇

In Class K, Kaminari Nene hunched her tall 178 cm frame as the orientation droned on.

(…This might not be so bad.)

Being in the lowest class meant she had no selection rights—no escape route.

So having a harmless-looking boy in her class felt like good luck. Even if she never spoke to him, just watching from afar would be enough.

“Any questions before we finish?”

The tension in the room loosened; whispers spread.

Nene shrank further into her seat, trying not to stand out. Her height often intimidated boys.

“If not, then please have Toudou-kun come in.”

The teacher spoke toward the doorway.

Moments later, a boy stepped into the classroom.

(He’s even prettier than in the photo…)

The air shifted.

The instant Toudou Mizuki crossed the threshold, every girl’s gaze locked onto him—curious, cautious, some tinged with something warmer.

He stood quietly at the front, like an actor on stage.

Dressed in the same uniform as everyone else, yet somehow—he shone.

Pale skin. Graceful features. Shoulder-length hair that caught the light like silk.

The teacher gestured toward him.

“Please, Toudou-kun—introduce yourself.”

Mizuki nodded slightly, stepping forward.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Toudou Mizuki. I couldn’t attend school much during middle school, so there’s a lot I’m still not used to. I hope you’ll be patient with me.”

His voice was soft, yet steady—strangely confident.

It contradicted everything the girls had heard, drawing their attention all the more.

(Is this really a lowest-class boy?)

Nene’s fists tightened unconsciously.

For girls in Class K, getting involved with a boy was risky.

And yet—

(I don’t want anyone else to have him.)

The feeling welled up before she could stop it.

“Please take the center seat,” the teacher instructed.

“Yes.”

Mizuki walked to his desk—the one in the center of the room. Right beside Nene’s.

The room fell utterly silent, every motion of his hands and every flick of his hair followed by thirty pairs of eyes.

“Now, girls, please introduce yourselves—starting from the window side. Keep it short, around thirty seconds each.”

“Y-Yes! I’m Aihara Yura, from Hokkaido! I’ll be staying in the dorms—”

A sudden knock echoed from the door.

The teacher frowned. “Come in.”

“Pardon the intrusion. My name is Isshiki Shizuku. I’ve exercised my class-selection right to transfer here. The office told me to attend orientation first—they’ll bring my desk later.”

“You… used your selection right?”

The room buzzed.

(A selection right? On the first day?)

Such a precious right was never used so recklessly. It was meant for after you’d decided on a partner—or if relations in your class had completely broken down.

And this was Class K—the lowest of the low. No one voluntarily transferred down.

(Isshiki…?)

Even a commoner like Nene knew that name—one of the Shikoku Eighteen Houses.

For a noble daughter to descend here… impossible.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance,” Shizuku said calmly, bowing. “Until my desk arrives, may I stand in the back?”

“Y-Yes, of course. I’m sorry there’s no seat yet.”

Graceful and composed, Shizuku bowed once more and stepped to the back of the room.

“Now then—Aihara-san, please continue.”

“Yes… as I was saying, I’m Aihara Yura, from Hokkaido—”

Though the introductions resumed, the classroom’s mood remained uneasy.

Every girl kept glancing at the quiet figure standing at the back.

Shizuku’s presence was commanding, radiant—utterly out of place here.

To voluntarily fall from the highest rank to the lowest was unheard of.

No one could guess why.

As the introductions moved toward the center row, Nene felt her stomach twist tighter.

Her own turn was coming.

At 178 cm, she already stood out enough.

Next to Mizuki, it felt even worse.

She wanted to vanish.

“Next, Kaminari-san.”

The teacher’s voice made her flinch.

She rose awkwardly, almost tripping, and stammered out her words.

“I-I’m Kaminari Nene. I, um… was in the volleyball club. Please take care of me.”

Barely fifteen seconds.

Her face burned as she sat down again. She couldn’t tell if Mizuki had looked at her or not.

All she could do was stare at the wooden grain of her desk, motionless, until every last girl had finished introducing herself.

◇◆◇

Orientation ended without further incident, and the class was dismissed.

Yet none of the girls moved.

A tense silence hung in the air—unspoken rivalry.

Nene sat perfectly still, trying to disappear.

The one who finally broke the quiet was Isshiki Shizuku.

“Toudou-sama, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Ah—this morning…”

“Yes. Isshiki Shizuku. I wanted to thank you properly for retrieving my key.”

She bowed deeply, eyes shining as she looked straight at him.

“It really wasn’t a big deal,” Mizuki said, scratching his cheek. “But… did you really use your selection right to come here?”

Every girl in the room froze, listening.

“Yes. I wished to see you again. I understand you’re uncomfortable around women. Should anything trouble you, please come to me—I’ll protect you.”

The room erupted in whispers.

It was a bold declaration, overflowing with confidence befitting a noble’s daughter.

Dozens of sharp gazes turned on her—some jealous, some wary.

Nene’s heart thudded painfully.

“I appreciate it,” Mizuki replied, “but… actually, I’m not that afraid of women anymore.”

“Is that so? Then, if you’d like, we could have tea together sometime—”

Her persistence only deepened the tension.

Sensing it, Mizuki shook his head gently.

“Sorry. I’m just a bit tired today. Maybe some other time.”

“My apologies. I’ll see you another day, then.”

Nene exhaled quietly in relief.

For now, there would be no bold moves.

She stood up slowly, hoping not to attract attention—

“Wow, Kaminari-san, you’re really tall!”

Her heart skipped a beat.

She turned—and there was Mizuki, smiling up at her with pure, unguarded warmth.

“Ah—uh, s-sorry—”

“You look like a model. It’s really cool.”

It had been barely an hour since they’d met. Barely ten seconds of conversation.

And yet—something inside her shifted.

Toudou Mizuki had become special to her.

And from that moment on, Kaminari Nene knew—

She didn’t want anyone else to have him.