Chapter 2: The Collapse of the Perpetrator’s Side

──Morning of September 7th, from the perspective of a junior in the soccer club──

Exhaustion clung to us as we trudged back to the clubroom after practice. With a major tournament looming, we had no choice but to push through the fatigue. Our soccer club had been a nobody team until Kondou-senpai arrived. A high school prodigy, he single-handedly transformed us into national contenders. Last year, we even reached the nationals, and in our hometown, Senpai was already a legend for turning a weak club into a powerhouse.

Inspired by him, those of us who joined in our second year and beyond were no slouches either—standout players from middle school. With a deeper roster than last year, we were poised to surpass our previous results at nationals. Our devotion to Kondou-senpai was absolute. We’d do anything for him.

That’s why we targeted Aono. It was all to meet Senpai’s expectations. If it would make Kondou-san happy, no task was too far.

“Kondou-senpai’s unreal, right? Barely practices, yet he’s that good,” Aida gushed, his voice brimming with admiration. He was even more obsessed with Senpai than I was, practically a fanatic.

“Yeah, that gentle touch of his, you know?”

“It’s J-League level already! I’ve never seen a genius like him. Senpai’s gonna be a treasure of Japanese soccer, no question!” Aida’s excitement was infectious, but I forced a wry smile, trying to stay grounded.

Takayanagi’s questioning earlier had been easy to dodge, but a faint unease gnawed at me. I knew I was a bit of a coward for feeling it. Aida, blindly convinced of Kondou-senpai’s perfection, would probably laugh if I voiced my doubts. “What, you think Senpai could mess up? Get real.”

“Hey, there’s a weird envelope by the clubroom door. Someone drop it?” Mitsuta-senpai, a third-year, called out loudly.

“What’s that? No address on it,” I noted. “Guess we’ve got no choice but to open it.”

“Fair point,” Mitsuta-senpai agreed, tearing the envelope open with a sharp rip.

“What the hell is this?” His face flushed red, then drained to a ghostly pale. His hands shook, and the envelope, along with the photos inside, slipped to the floor.

We scooped up the photos and examined them together. We should’ve left them alone. Some truths are better left unknown.

The first photo was a candid shot of Kondou-senpai entering a love hotel with Amada Miyuki, their closeness undeniable. Aida and I froze, shaken. Hadn’t Senpai said he was helping Amada with her boyfriend Aono’s supposed violence and stalking? The photo’s date was unclear, but it didn’t look like counseling—it looked like they were together.

Was Aono really the one harassing Amada? This photo suggested otherwise. It looked like Senpai was the one cheating with her.

“No way, this has to be a mistake,” Aida muttered, his voice trembling. I could feel his perfect image of Senpai fracturing. If we thought it through, it meant Senpai had lied to us, and we’d done something unforgivable.

“This is straight-up misconduct,” a third-year senpai spat. “Love hotels don’t allow anyone under eighteen. If this gets out, can we even compete in the tournament? Even if the team’s allowed, can we win without Kondou?”

The third-years were banking on this tournament for university recommendations. This was their make-or-break moment.

“Who took these photos? Someone from the club? Why else would this envelope be left here?” Mitsuta-senpai’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. Suspicion sparked, and suddenly everyone was eyeing each other, as if anyone could be the traitor. In an instant, allies became enemies.

“Hurry up and show us the next photo.” someone demanded.

I flipped to the next one, revealing a scene even more gut-wrenching. Amada was being grabbed by a police officer, while Kondou-senpai, trying to flee, was tackled to the ground by another.

“No way. This is a scandal,” Mitsuta-senpai wailed. “The team’s ace arrested? We’ll all take the fall—our recommendations will vanish. Worse, the club could be disbanded! What happens to us then!? I can’t deal with this!!”

Disbanded? What would become of our futures? Why was Senpai being arrested? Had we been roped into a crime? Was Aono actually innocent? If so, were we the guilty ones…?

The bright future we’d been chasing moments ago crumbled with a deafening crash.

“Whoever took these photos, show yourself! If you don’t, I’ll kill you!” one member shouted.

“Was it you? You were always griping about Senpai!” another accused.

“What was the point of working so hard in this club for three years!?”

Suspicion spread like wildfire, turning the clubroom into a crucible of blame and betrayal. Everyone was a suspect, desperate to pin the fault on someone else.

Into that inferno stepped the former charismatic leader.

※

──Same morning, from Kondou’s perspective──

The police fiasco finally behind me, I dragged myself home. My old man stayed to handle Miyuki’s mess, sending me back as things got messy. I crashed hard, sleeping like the dead, and now it’s the morning of the practice match.

That whole ordeal relieved some stress, but it left a sour taste.

I head to the clubroom, ready to dominate. Some mid-tier school from another prefecture is coming to face us. I’ll crush them, then have some fun with that convenient girl who promised to cheer me on.

“Haa~ Life’s too good!”

Alright, let’s go bully some weaklings to blow off steam I’m still half-asleep, but whatever.

I swing open the clubroom door with my usual swagger, expecting the team to rally around their ace. But nearly everyone’s already here, and instead of the usual warm welcome, their cold glares stab into me.

“W-What’s with you guys?” My voice falters. The ace—me—doesn’t get treated like this. Something’s off.

“Kondou, you bastard!!” Watanabe, the team captain, lunges forward, grabbing my collar and slamming me against the lockers.

“Ow, that hurts!! What the hell!?” I protest as the metal digs into my back. Captain or not, this is crossing a line.

“Shut up! What’ve you been doing at a time like this for the club!?!” His voice is raw with fury.

“Huh?” I’m completely lost. Have they all gone insane?

“Don’t play dumb. Look at these!” He shoves photos in my face—me and Miyuki slipping into a love hotel, and another of me pinned by a cop. Crystal clear.

Who the hell took these? My blood runs cold. A traitor in the club? My mind races. How much do they know? Have the teachers seen this? My old man was supposed to bury this, but now there’s proof of me nearly getting arrested. This is bad—really bad.

My recommendation, my glorious future—it’s all slipping away.

“I don’t know anything about this! That’s not me!” The words tumble out, a flimsy lie even I don’t believe.

“It’s clearly you! Stop screwing around!” Watanabe’s grip tightens, slamming me against the lockers again. Dull pain pulses through me, each hit stoking my humiliation.

Humiliation, humiliation, humiliation. I’m the king of this club! Defy me, and you’re dead!! If the ace—me—gets injured, what then?

“Shut up!”

“Because of you, what’s gonna happen to our last tournament?” Watanabe’s voice cracks with desperation. “I was counting on a sports recommendation. No time to study for exams now. If we can’t compete because of your delinquent crap, what’s your plan? If the club gets disbanded, my life’s over! Give me back my youth—give us all our youth!”

“You’re so damn noisy!” I shove him back with all my strength, itching to swing. “You leeches only got this far because of my talent, and now you’re yapping like dogs!”

“You bastard!” Watanabe’s eyes burn with murderous intent. I match his glare, unyielding.

“Listen up,” I sneer, voice dripping with venom. “The school can’t touch me. This is just some ‘improper conduct.’ Tons of high schoolers do it. At worst, a short suspension—nothing that’ll tank the club. My old man’s a politician, upper class. A scandal like this? He’ll crush it. We’re not in the same league, you and me. Don’t judge a chosen one like me by your pathetic standards!”

“What!?” Watanabe’s face twists in shock.

“The school can’t afford to let me go. If word got out that they punished me—a star in high school soccer—it’d be a massive scandal, and the school’s reputation would take a hit. Those conservative teachers would never allow that, right?”

I rattle off my words quickly.

“He’s right!” a junior pipes up, and a few others clap, feeding my ego. Yeah, that’s how it is. The mood shifts, and I feel the rush of control returning.

“Got it? I’m invincible. The expectations on me are nothing like the ones on small fries like you!!” That’s right, I’m special. My old man will fix this. My soccer talent will carry me. No one can touch me.

“Kondou!” Watanabe steps forward, but I cut him off.

“Let me ask you,” I taunt, “you’re all my lackeys, right? That whole thing with bullying Aono doesn’t just vanish. What happens if that gets out? And without me, can you win at the tournament? Huh? Can you? Without me, you think you’ll get those recommendations?”

Watanabe trembles with rage, but he’s got no comeback. My words hit their mark. Talentless nobodies like him should be grateful to serve me. Spit your complaints, then bow down. Be my slaves.

“Damn it!” Watanabe mutters, trying to shrug it off. He kicks a trash can, scattering its contents across the floor. Perfect. After the match, I’ll make him grovel and beg for forgiveness. That’s the only way I’ll feel satisfied.

“You get it now? You can’t win without me. So shut up and fall in line, you small fries!” I sneer at the room and start changing into my uniform. I’m the king, and they’re nothing but commoners!!

“If your actions screw us over, you better take responsibility,” Watanabe says weakly, a slave’s pathetic yapping. I laugh it off.

“Then you better be ready to cry and apologize to me!!” I throw the words at him, keeping him in check. A guy like me can’t afford to be underestimated.

It’s fine. It’ll all be fine. I’m a chosen one, after all. I’ll burn off this stress in the practice match and prove my worth.

I stride to the field, my body trembling—not with fear, but with the thrill of battle.

※

──Same day, from Endou’s perspective──

From an empty classroom in the school building, I observe the soccer club’s practice match. Our college-prep school opens study rooms on weekends, but with most students at cram schools, the first- and second-year classrooms are deserted. Perfect for surveillance.

Through binoculars, I track the soccer club’s movements. As expected, passes rarely reach Kondou, and the team’s coordination is sluggish. Yesterday’s photos must have shaken them. Kondou, growing impatient as the game slips from his control, isolates himself further, hemorrhaging points to a weaker opponent.

It’s a deliciously crushing defeat. If the entire soccer club is complicit in the bullying, they deserve this collapse.

Near the field, I spot my ex-girlfriend cheering. My childhood friend, now a stranger, has sunk so low it’s almost repulsive. My plan is unfolding smoothly. A battered Kondou will likely take out his frustration on her. It’s pathetic—she clings to him even as his toy.

If everything proceeds as planned, I’ll witness something entertaining. Leaking that spectacle to Amada will shatter Kondou further, stripping him of both his pillars: the soccer club and his girls. Compared to Aono, who lost everything and more because of Kondou, this revenge is still merciful.

Gathering concrete proof that Kondou orchestrated the bullying is tricky. With the whole soccer club likely involved, no one will confess unless something drastic forces their hand—they’re all protecting their own skins. That’s why my strategy hinges on sowing suspicion among the culprits, rattling them until they self-destruct.

I’ve already leaked info to the school, tightening the screws. The pressure might push someone to crack spectacularly. If that happens, I win. Fostering enough distrust will inevitably lead to betrayal.

Kondou will be abandoned by his own and socially obliterated.

“Put on a grand show, you scum!” I mutter, my gaze fixed on the field, where nearly everyone is a target of my revenge.

※

──On the field, from Kondou’s perspective──

“What the hell is this?” I stare at the scoreboard: 1–4. We should be dominating. Why are we four goals down to a weaker team, limping into stoppage time? The bench, usually buzzing with praise for me, is deathly silent—practically abandoned.

Why, why, why?

“No way I’m accepting this!!” My desperate long shot soars far over the goalpost. The whistle blows, sealing our defeat.

“All that big talk, and you end with a shot to the stars? Where were you aiming?” Watanabe’s voice drips with mockery.

“What’d you say!?” I whirl, glaring at him.

“Just saying, as expected of an upper-class citizen! Your lofty consciousness is too much for us commoners to follow.” His malice is blatant, unflinching.

Fury surges, my fist itching to fly, but teammates rush to hold me back. The opposing team gawks, stunned. Our team is in shambles—a cruel prelude to our downfall.

Seething from the loss, I lash out at everyone as we trudge back to the clubroom. I kick the trash can, already battered from earlier outbursts, denting it further. “Why didn’t you pass to me!?”

I turn my frustration on Mitsuta, a midfielder and one of my lackeys. “Hey, Mitsuta! Why didn’t you pass!?”

“You were tightly marked, Kondou. There was no lane,” he replies, voice steady but defensive.

“You bald, slow idiot! Then move your ass and make a lane! Do your job, small fry!” I snap.

“Eek, sorry!” Mitsuta flinches.

Useless. This team exists to make me shine. You commoners are supposed to sweat to shake off defenders and let me play freely. Why can’t you grasp something so simple? If I have to run too much, I’ll burn out by the second half. Why don’t you get that?

“You say that, Kondou-senpai, but you were completely read by their defense. You kept losing the ball and didn’t even cover after,” a second-year mutters under his breath.

Blood rushes to my head. I slam the locker with a bang. “Who was that!? Which second-year badmouthed me!?”

No one meets my eyes.

“Damn it! The forwards were useless, so we couldn’t attack. The only goal came from the PK I earned. You can’t win like this. And you think you’re getting recommendations? Watanabe, don’t screw with me. You’re only useful when you’re serving me!” I roar, my voice echoing.

Watanabe’s all talk, no action. Hilarious. These guys lose the ball instantly and can’t attack without me. That’s why they’re dysfunctional!! And they have the nerve to talk back!?

“Say something! You’re my leeches. Act like it and make your king shine without whining. Can’t even do that, you useless idiots!?” I sneer, savoring the moment. No matter his captain status, Watanabe can’t defy the king. He gets it now—my importance.

Think you can replace me over some scandal? You’re a century too early.

“Shut up,” Watanabe growls, trembling but defiant.

“Huh?”

“Shut the hell up, you trash!” His fist slams into my stomach.

Caught off guard, I crumple. The unguarded punch sends pain ripping through me. I clutch my gut, collapsing as nausea surges and a pathetic whimper escapes. Why does the king—me—have to take a hit from this guy? It makes no sense.

“Urgh!” My throat burns, the pain suffocating. I’ve hit others plenty, but never been hit. It hurts this much? I fight back vomit, struggling to breathe. Watanabe looms over me, his glare sparking fear.

“H-Hey, everyone, you saw that, right? He hit me! I’m telling the coach. Watanabe’s done!” I gasp, desperate.

But no one backs me. Cold eyes meet mine. Why? I’m the king. Without me, you’re nothing at nationals. Your recommendations, your college plans—gone. Apologize now, and I’ll forgive you. Condemn Watanabe!

“Hey, you all saw it! The captain assaulted the ace!” I try again.

Silence. Then, a collective sneer ripples through the team, mocking me.

Watanabe’s smirk is the coldest. “What, did you hit your head when you fell? You just tripped, right? That’s what everyone saw, yeah?”

The others nod slowly, their agreement a blade. Don’t mock me! I’m your hope! I carried this weak team. Without me, you’d crash out in regionals. You’ve been living easy because of me, and now you’re throwing it away.

But they really didn’t get it. The commoners have revolted against the king.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Senpai tripped ‘cause he was pissed.”

“Everyone’s saying it, so it’s true.”

Their eyes glint with malice. Some juniors even smirk.

These bastards…

“Fine. You want to take me on? You’ll regret it,” I hiss. I’ve got dirt on them. If I lean in later, they’ll crawl back. Keep the pressure on, wait for them to crack.

“Listen, you naked king,” Watanabe spits. “We followed you because you won. A loser’s worthless. Get that through your thick skull, idiot!”

I ignore him, knowing it’ll rile him more. Fuming, I storm outside. No one follows. I was going to contact Miyuki, but after yesterday, it’s safer to avoid her.

Fine, Number One will do. She said she’d cheer today, right? That girl’s so convenient, probably waiting without me even calling.

“Kondou-kun!” There she is—Ikenobe Eri, the girl I stole from her childhood friend in middle school.

Back then, she was the long-black-haired, pure type. I made her dye her hair brown and cut it short to suit my tastes. I forced her to dump her childhood friend, then ditched her right after. She skipped school for two months during third-year exam season—hilarious. Still, she clawed her way into this high school to be near me, losing all her middle school friends. Now, she barely studies, her grades in the gutter.

She’s given everything for me, but we never got back together—just this convenient, dragging arrangement. A pathetic girl whose youth I’ve stolen, she’s a living trophy of my power. Even after losing it all, she still loves me. The ultimate loyal dog.

Before me, she was a straight-A student, bare-faced. Now, she’s all gaudy, a shadow of her old self.

“The practice match was such a shame. The other members are so useless, it’s frustrating,” she says, her once-kind nature twisted.

“Yeah, exactly. You’re the only one who gets me, Eri,” I reply, knowing it’ll make her melt. Time to relieve some stress with my favorite toy.

※

──After the match, soccer clubroom, from Shimokawa’s perspective──

The practice match ended in a humiliating rout. A weaker team crushed us, leaving no room for excuses.

The coach’s debrief was a storm of fury—water bottles hurled, his voice raw with disappointment. But our real problems dwarf his anger. If the team fractures like this, someone’s bound to turn traitor. If that happens, the truth about our bullying of Aono will spill out. We won’t just miss the tournament; the school could punish us. For main culprits like me, it might not stop at suspension. Expulsion? How do I face my parents? I clawed my way into this prestigious high school, and now I’m teetering on the edge of ruin.

“Don’t let the word ‘bullying’ fool you in this case. This isn’t some childish prank or harmless mischief—it’s a crime. I want you to remember that.”

Takayanagi-sensei’s words stab into my chest, echoing relentlessly.

We dodged the last round of questioning for lack of evidence, but this is different. It’s dire. Whoever took those photos could snitch to the teachers any moment—or maybe they already have. One slip in our stories, and our fragile defense crumbles. We’d have to scramble, aligning our lies to avoid contradictions.

After the coach stormed out, a heavy silence blanketed the clubroom. Doubt crept in—could we keep this up?

“There’s no way. We can’t keep hiding it,” I muttered, the words slipping out.

Aida, my classmate, whirled on me, eyes wide with shock. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? No way… you’re not planning to betray Kondou-senpai or us, are you!?” His voice was shrill, tinged with paranoia.

Mitsuta-senpai, the captain, and other club members closed in, their presence suffocating.

“No, no, that’s not it!” I stammered, my voice trembling. “I’m not betraying anyone. I just… I’m not sure we can dodge the next round of questioning.”

A flimsy excuse. Why did I say it aloud? In a room thick with suspicion, those words were like painting a target on my back.

“Don’t screw around!” Mitsuta-senpai snapped, yanking my uniform. “You and Aida graffitied Aono’s desk on your own. Don’t drag us into your mess!”

“But you told us to do it!” I shot back, desperation creeping in.

“Huh? Talking back to your senpai?” His grip tightened. “You’re the guiltiest, and now you’re pinning it on me? Take responsibility! If you confess, we won’t forgive you. If you can’t keep it hidden, just die. Die and take the fall for everyone. That way, they won’t dig deeper.”

“No way!” My voice cracked.

I looked around, hoping someone would step in. But no one did. Their sharp glares branded me the villain. Then the captain spoke, his tone cold.

“Mitsuta, that’s enough. Got it, Shimokawa? If you crack, we’re all done. Don’t say reckless things.”

Why am I the only one taking heat? The captain didn’t stop us—he was spreading rumors with his secret account. Am I alone to blame?

“Y-Yes,” I mumbled, buckling under the pressure. Panic and inferiority clawed at me. Maybe I should confess, beg the teachers for mercy. If I say I was forced, scared of being bullied myself, they might believe me.

Dark, selfish urges for self-preservation swelled within me.

But the rest of the club seemed determined to bury the truth. They still believed we could escape unscathed.

“We need to find who took those photos first,” the captain said. “It couldn’t be one of us, right?”

Everyone shook their heads. Even if the culprit was among us, no one would admit it. Suspicion tainted every glance. Maybe a benchwarmer with a grudge? A first-year bitter about hazing? If we pin it on a traitor, we could make them the sole scapegoat.

“Senpai, let’s find who took those photos!” I blurted, desperate to shift the focus. “We need to track them down, rough them up, and shut them up!! If this keeps up, we’re all screwed. Don’t the first-years seem suspicious?”

The words poured out, a frantic bid to redirect the club’s anger. After being told to die, I needed to point the finger elsewhere.

Aida seized the opening, zeroing in on a first-year. “Come to think of it, Ishigami! You were badmouthing Kondou-senpai, weren’t you!?”

The spotlight swung to Ishigami, a brash first-year. Perfect—I was off the hook.

Ishigami faltered, then deflected. “I didn’t do anything like that! If that’s the case, Chiyoda was badmouthing him with me!”

The club, already steeped in distrust, erupted into accusations, each member scrambling to shift blame. Insults flew, and the hell we’d created deepened, a festering wound.

Yesterday, we were a united front, eyes set on nationals. Now, consumed by suspicion, we’d turned on each other, launching a witch hunt to save ourselves.

The soccer club had collapsed entirely.

※

──A few hours later, from Miyuki’s perspective──

After an overnight stay in the hospital room, I return home to sort through my things. At the front of my house, I cross paths with an old friend out for a run—Satoshi, the childhood friend I dreaded facing.

“Satoshi-kun…” My voice is barely a whisper.

I know what’s coming. The moment I’ve feared has arrived, the one where I lose everything.

“It’s been a while, Miyuki. You know why I’m here, don’t you?” His tone is steady, resolute.

“Yeah,” I murmur.

Even my mom has turned her back on me. My friends are next—there’s no escaping it. Satoshi was saved by Eiji, so in this mess, he’ll side with him. I’ve seen their bond up close; I know it better than anyone.

“Exactly. I can’t see you as a friend anymore. I just needed to make that clear. Thanks for everything.” His words are a formal severance, laced with anger but precise, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

He walks away, and I stumble to the front door, collapsing as tears spill out.

Why did it come to this?

Why did I do it?

Regret gnaws at my heart, relentless.

All I wanted was to protect my happiness with Eiji. But when I got entangled with Kondou-senpai, my greatest fear was Eiji finding out and our relationship crumbling. I couldn’t let anyone know about me and Senpai. I was terrified of losing everything, so I wove those lies.

I thought it would fade naturally after Senpai graduated—a temporary fling, nothing more. I knew it was wrong to Eiji, but I justified it. You’ve got to have fun while you’re young. It’s fine to have a serious boyfriend. As long as you love him, it’s okay. Kondou-senpai offered an escape, and I took it.

Then came the day Eiji learned of my betrayal. My heart shattered. Those joyful times were gone forever. Panic and regret consumed me—what would I be without Eiji? We’d shared more than half our lives.

It was over. Drowning in despair, I made selfish choices. To bury the fear of Eiji’s rejection, I clung to Senpai, foolishly believing he’d love me. If I couldn’t have happiness with Eiji, I didn’t care what became of me. A reckless urge for destruction and self-deprecation birthed this lifelong regret.

And I lost everything.

I lied to protect what I had, but it all slipped away. Everything I cherished… Soon, even my honor student status, which I fought so hard to maintain, will be gone.

“I want to go back,” I sob. “I want to go back.”

Back to that day, to celebrate Eiji’s birthday with laughter and warmth. Back to before I met Kondou-senpai, to the pure me who hadn’t betrayed Eiji. In the end, Eiji was the only one who mattered.

“If I’d never met Senpai, I’d still be smiling with Eiji,” I whisper, hating myself for the words.

Self-loathing festers, overwhelming me. I’m the one who betrayed him.

Feeling sick, I step outside for air. My eyes catch on an envelope in the mailbox. Absentmindedly, I open it.

Inside is a photo—a dagger to my heart.

“No way, it’s a lie, right?” My voice trembles. “You said it was only me, Kondou-senpai. This can’t be. Please, don’t abandon me!”

The photo shows Senpai, arm-in-arm with another girl, entering her house, his face alight with joy.

──At Eri’s house, from Kondou’s perspective──

“Kondou-kun, I love you,” Eri murmurs, her soft skin warm against me as I unwind.

She’s got a different charm compared to Miyuki—less polished, more raw. Maybe I’m starting to tire of Miyuki’s predictable perfection.

“Man, that was amazing.”

“I’m so happy. I’m totally devoted to you, Kondou-kun.” Her eyes shine with adoration.

That’s the annoying part. She acts like we’re a couple, even though we’re not. Delusional, but convenient. I’ll keep her around for now.

“Hey, Kondou-kun,” she says, voice tinged with need. “Only look at me, okay? I gave up everything for you, so don’t cheat on me.”

Cheat? We’re not together, you clueless girl. Talk about a misunderstanding.

“Yeah, sure,” I mumble, dozing off a bit while basking in the moment.

After some casual time, I head out. Eri’s parents gave up on her, so she lives alone. Dropping by for dinner when I’m hungry is routine. But she gets clingy fast, and her mood swings are a hassle—high-maintenance for a side girl.

As I walk home, my phone buzzes.

“Kondou-kun? You free right now?” It’s her—the girl who set me up with Miyuki. “There’s this girl with a boyfriend you might like. Wanna know about her?” she’d said.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I answer.

“Nothing big, but… got any plans? Wanna hang out?” Her voice is casual, but there’s a pull in it.

This girl’s got a thing for me, too.

“Sure. What’s going on?”

“I mean, I helped you corner that guy, and I haven’t gotten any reward. Thought it’d be nice to see you.”

“Yeah, your clever plan worked like a charm. Wish you could’ve seen Aono’s pathetic face.”

“God, you’re awful,” she laughs.

“Says the evil mastermind herself,” I shoot back. “By the way, I’ve got something to talk about.”

“Oh?”

“Some annoying stuff’s going on with the soccer club.”

We set a meeting spot, and I head there, a spark of excitement cutting through the day’s frustrations.

※

After my secret meetup with her, I head home. As expected, the house is empty. My old man’s probably buried in work, and my mom’s off somewhere, doing whatever she does. Those two are a sham couple, famous for it. Doesn’t matter—as long as I can use their status, I’m untouchable. With parents this powerful, I can dodge anything. Add my soccer talent and sharp mind, and I’m unstoppable.

The path to pro soccer is wide open. Even if I retire early, I can slide into my old man’s company or inherit his political seat if he climbs higher. Japan’s hereditary system is my playground.

“Born into the right family, and life’s a breeze. Easy mode, rose-colored world. Man, having powerful parents is the best,” I say aloud, my voice sharp to drown out the anxiety gnawing at me. She promised it’ll be fine, said she’d come up with a plan. I cling to that.

My words echo in the cavernous, empty house. Damn, it feels pathetic.

My phone rings—a payphone number. Suspicious. Getting a call to my personal number is already weird. I ignore it, but it keeps buzzing, relentless.

“Stop being so persistent! Who the hell are you!?” I snap, jabbing the answer button.

A distorted, helium-pitched voice crackles through, like a clown’s mockery. “Kondou, you’re finished.”

“You bastard, calling me by name? Unforgivable!” I snarl. It’s probably some cheap voice changer. Ridiculous. I’m about to hang up when—

“Hey, don’t hang up. I’m the one who took those photos.”

My finger freezes. Damn it, this guy—the one sneaking around, trying to corner me.

“So it was you, spreading those photos around the soccer club. I’ll never forgive you!”

“Spreading? Oh, you mean when I accidentally dropped them in front of the clubroom?” The voice drips with false innocence.

“Don’t play dumb!” My words grow venomous.

“If you keep talking like that, I might accidentally drop them somewhere else.”

This jerk. My blood boils.

“Don’t mess with me! I’ll kill you! My old man’s a politician—he can bury anything. I’ll make the teachers shut up. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again!”

“Then I’ll make my move.” The voice is calm, a hollow threat.

“Try it. I’ll find you and beat you to a pulp!” A genius like me gets away with everything. I’ll make you regret this.

“Is that so? That’s a shame. You really think you’re never in the wrong, huh?”

“Obviously. I’m a chosen one.”

“Even after framing Aono Eiji?”

“How do you know about that?” My voice catches, a chill creeping in.

“Because I’m closer than you think, watching you.”

Those words ignite my rage. How does he know about Aono? Only the soccer club and the girls know about the frame-up.

“That guy’s just a weakling. Weaklings are meant to be preyed on by the strong. They don’t get to complain, no matter what’s done to them. You’re from the soccer club, aren’t you? I’ll never forgive a traitor, so you better be ready!” I bellow, expecting to overwhelm him.

Silence. Then a sigh. “Kondou, you’re truly foolish and pathetic.”

The words hit like a blade. I slam my phone onto the floor, the screen cracking. It feels like my heart splinters, too.

I’m a chosen one. It’s fine. Even if the soccer club turns on me, my track record will land me at mid-tier schools, if not top-tier. “Failure? Me, fail? No way…” I mutter, stunned at the flicker of doubt in my chest.

“Damn it, damn it!” I curse, trying to shake it off. To calm down, I dial Miyuki.

※

──From Miyuki’s perspective──

“What time is it?” I murmur, curled up alone, drowning in the despair of betrayal. I hadn’t noticed, but the sun has set. No curtains drawn, no lights on—just me in the darkened house, utterly isolated. No one offers kind words. I brought my mom’s clothes to the hospital earlier, but she was out for tests, her room empty.

With nothing to occupy me, I returned from the hospital and let time slip away.

“It’s all my fault,” I whisper.

Of course it is. Eiji and his mom, who always spoke to me with warmth, are gone. When my mom worked late, I could go to Eiji’s house and never felt alone. Their home radiated family, treating me like a daughter. Now my mom’s furious because I betrayed those kind people. Kondou-senpai saw me as a plaything—I should’ve known. My head understood, but my heart refused to listen.

My desires dragged me here. That photo snapped me back to reality, the passion of my so-called love revealed as a lie, my blood icing over. But what did I say to Eiji back then? I remember.

“No, don’t abandon me! I can’t live without you, Senpai!”

“Eiji was my childhood friend, but… he was so clingy, like a creepy stalker and a violent boyfriend.”

“Sorry, Eiji. I can’t be with you anymore. Don’t talk to me at school either.”

The memory churns my stomach, nausea mingling with self-loathing. Why did I say those things? I’ve regretted them countless times, but this disgust is sharper, deeper. From the moment I first cheated with Senpai, I became a stranger to myself, foolish and unrecognizable.

The nausea surges again. Eiji was kind, my beloved boyfriend. I fell for him first—my first love. I worked so hard to win him, and when we became a couple, I cherished his kindness, his heartwarming stories, the warmth of his home. Now it’s all gone. After that incident, Eiji hasn’t returned to class. Framed by Senpai, isolated, his desk defaced with insults, trash stuffed in his shoe locker. His family’s restaurant, which I loved, slandered. I could’ve stopped it—I was the only one who could’ve—but I turned away for my own sake. No, worse. I helped, driving Eiji into a corner. I became a ringleader in the bullying.

I called him a stalker, accused him of violence. But kind Eiji would never do that. I was the one in the wrong.

I’m the worst. I cheated on my boyfriend on his birthday. The one to blame isn’t Eiji—it’s me.

Somehow, I drag myself out to the convenience store for dinner. Even though I want to die, my body demands food. Pathetic.

In the distance, a couple passes by. I freeze. It’s Eiji, laughing brightly. Beside him, of course, is Ichijou Ai. Even to me, her effort is obvious—stylish, radiant, like she’s on a date with her boyfriend. Eiji gives her the gentle smile he once reserved for me.

My mind blanks. I duck behind a corner so they don’t see me.

“Thank you so much for today. Our first date was so fun,” Ai says, her smile brimming with genuine joy.

“I’m really glad you feel that way,” Eiji replies, his voice warm.

“I’m looking forward to next time. It’s a bit late, but can I treat you for your birthday sometime?”

“Huh? How’d you know about my birthday?”

“Your mom told me! You were such a great escort today, so I want to thank you.”

Her voice and expression are achingly sweet, like a girl in love. Even I feel my heart skip at her angelic charm.

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it,” Eiji says.

In that moment, I realize Ichijou Ai has taken my place. Accepted by Eiji’s mom, planning to celebrate the birthday I should’ve cherished, basking in his kindness—all the treasures I lost. Despair and hunger twist together, or maybe it’s the vomiting from not eating, but my strength drains. My vision blurs, my breathing shallow.

I cry silently, dirt and pebbles catching in my mouth as I stifle the sound. Hell is just beginning.

My anemia eventually eases, and I stand. Eiji and Ai didn’t notice me. I buy a ready-to-heat soup at the convenience store and head home. What should be a simple meal feels like a grim task to survive. What are Eiji and Ai doing now? Eating happily at Kitchen Aono? Dining somewhere fancy? Or maybe… a special night together?

My heart splinters. I’m starving, but my appetite is gone.

Then Kondou-senpai calls.

“Hello, this is Miyuki,” I answer, voice flat.

“Yo, Miyuki? What’re you up to?” His tone is casual, oblivious.

“I was eating…”

“Got it. I need to calm down, so can you talk for a bit?”

Normally, I’d leap at his call, but after this betrayal… He knows my mom’s in the hospital but doesn’t ask about her.

“Um… I’m not feeling well right now,” I say, testing him.

So that’s it. To him, I’m just a toy.

“Please, just a bit. Listen to me right now,” he presses.

The words confirm it. “In the end, you only saw me as a toy, didn’t you, Kondou-senpai?”

If it were Eiji, he’d notice my distress, worry about my mom, maybe even check on me. I lost that precious childhood friend.

“Huh? What’s that out of nowhere?” Senpai sounds caught off guard.

“You don’t even care about me. And I saw a photo of you going into a classmate’s house, looking all cozy.”

“No, that… that’s from before we met. I broke up with her, and someone’s been harassing me, spreading old photos to the club. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it. I’m stressed out, so sorry for bringing it up so suddenly.”

His apology rings hollow, a flimsy excuse.

“I see,” I say curtly, my anger simmering.

“That’s right. Believe me.” His smug tone fans the flames.

Does he think he can fool me with this? Disgusting. I see him clearly now. I threw away everything for this!? Unbelievable.

“In that photo, you’re wearing the misanga I gave you. And you still say it’s an old picture?”

[T/N: misanga, a type of friendship bracelet.]

“Wha…?” His voice falters.

I hate how sharp I am in moments like this. The handmade misanga I gave him, a wish for victory in his practice match, glares from the photo. It was meant to symbolize our bond; now it’s proof of my betrayal. I didn’t sacrifice everything for this.

“Don’t lie to me.” I say, my voice chillingly cold.

“W-Well, that’s a fake…” he stammers.

His voice grates, each word a reminder of my misplaced love.

“And?” It’s practically an admission. If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.

He’s been cloaked in lies from the start, and I mistook them for gems. His kind words were worthless pebbles, and I destroyed the true treasure beside me for them. I have no right to judge him—I’m just as vile, selfish, ungrateful. We’re both scum, mirror images of the worst humanity offers.

“…Tch.” He clicks his tongue, loud and brazen.

“What?”

Angered by my questioning, he lashes out.

“Girls like you, acting all clingy and girlfriend-like, are so annoying,” he spits.

The words pierce like a cold blade. I knew he was like this, but the raw truth staggers me. Girlfriend-like… I gave up my childhood love for him. How can he say that?

I’m speechless, the cruel reality sinking in.

“What’s this about cheating? Were we even dating? No, right? Don’t play the victim with your delusions. Did I ever say we should date? Did I ever confess to you!? And aren’t you one of the main culprits in the bullying? If you hadn’t helped me, Aono wouldn’t be in this mess. Considering your past with him, you’re the worst of all, you get that, you filthy girl!? It’s all your fault!!”

His vicious words sever the call.

“Why… why did I throw everything away for a guy like that… I did something I can’t take back,” I whisper, my voice a lonely echo in the empty room.

※

──From Kondou’s perspective──

After the call, I lose it.

“Every single one of them… Why do they all do whatever they want!? Trusting others over me? Unforgivable!” I roar, my voice bouncing off the walls. My room’s a wreck—shelves toppled, my precious middle school trophies shattered on the floor. Damn, damn, damn them all.

“Haah, haah. The university soccer guys, my club members, Amada Miyuki—they should all just disappear!” I pant, fury burning through me.

I need to call someone, anyone. With Miyuki out of the picture, it’s down to Eri, that girl, or her junior. No, the girl from earlier’s too sharp—show any weakness, and she’ll pounce. Not her.

Eri, then? No good. I just saw her, and her clingy girlfriend act is too much hassle. I need space from that. Girls are useless when I need them most.

“No choice,” I mutter. “I’ll just spread more rumors about Aono with my burner account.” Putting that weakling in his place, a pathetic slave who lost his girl, is the ultimate thrill for a king like me.

I open SNS, expecting the usual flood of Aono slander. But the timeline’s shifted.

“Yo, it’s true. Aono Eiji and Ichijou Ai were on a date today.”

“Details!”

“I went shopping at the station, and I saw them coming out of a fancy café.”

“I saw them going into a movie theater.”

“So they’re really dating, huh?”

“Ichijou-san’s so strict with guys, so why’s she with Aono, who’s got all those bad rumors?”

“I heard from her classmate that she’s the one who’s into him. She’s been making big moves.”

“If Ichijou-san’s that smitten, there’s gotta be something to him.”

“Were those rumors about Aono even true? All we had were some shady photos. Could they be fake?”

“I thought they were fishy from the start. I was in Aono-kun’s class last year, and he was super kind. Not the type to hurt girls.”

“It’s all so confusing.”

The tide’s turned. How? Is Ichijou Ai’s reputation that strong? She’s just a first-year! I flooded the platform with soccer club accounts, and the sheer volume of our rumors lost to one girl’s influence?

No way. Why’s Ichijou Ai so fixated on that loser? When I hit on her, she brushed me off, even insulted me. I snapped back then.

“Don’t get cocky! Do you know who my dad is!?”

“That smug, lone-wolf face of yours pisses me off.”

“You’re like a robot.”

She ignored me and walked away. I cooled off quick, wondering why a cold, robotic girl like her is so popular. Even if she’s against me, what’s to fear? I’m Kondou, the soccer club’s ace!!

It’s not over. I can flip this. To tarnish Ichijou Ai’s reputation, I jump into the thread with an anonymous account. “Don’t be fooled, guys. That Ichijou Ai is a crazy girl. Cold as a machine and insults guys she rejects.”

The response is brutal.

“Ugh, what a pain.”

“Just some loser bitter about getting rejected by Ichijou-san. Ignore, ignore.”

“Kinda makes her less suspicious.”

My post is dismissed like nothing. Damn, why won’t anyone believe me? I’m the next king of soccer!

Rage consumes me. I hurl my phone at the window. Glass shatters, and my already battered phone crashes to the ground outside.

“Crap,” I mutter, rushing out to retrieve it. The screen’s a spiderweb of cracks, and it won’t turn on. Now I can’t even contact girls. Where do I vent this? Everyone’s a bastard for crossing a genius like me.

“Damn it! So annoying!” I shout into the empty night, my isolation tightening around me. No one answers.