Chapter 12: Re: School Life Starting from Zero

Ch-12

“We’re off. Oppa, don’t do anything stupid, just sit still. Like you always do, okay?”

My sister left behind some unnecessary nagging and got out of the car, disappearing into the school. The reason we don’t go to the same school is the age difference; my sister is sixteen years old, a third-year middle school student. I’m eighteen, a second-year high school student.

Eighteen is an important age for otaku. It’s the age when you travel between reality and another world, battling to save an otherworldly beautiful girl, or when you coincidentally meet a beautiful girl who talks to an air friend, or when you experience a chaotic situation surrounded by beautiful girls because of your dark past.

Other possibilities include fake dating a beautiful girl, triggering flags, playing games together, receiving confessions, going on dates, being hugged, being pushed down, seeing a naked body, kissing, and… ah, thinking about all the otaku heroines, I almost forgot the most important thing. It’s the time when you decide to form a school idol group with your precious childhood friends for the future of the school!

Well, I’d never become an idol, even if asked. It’s impossible anyway. Physiologically impossible. Idols are professionals, and being a professional entertainer is no joke, you can’t do it half-heartedly. Still, compared to the past, when I hated and abhorred idols because of their strong normie vibes, my view of them has become much more favorable. Naturally, limited to 2D. 2.5D (voice actor content) is within my acceptable range. Well, in this age of “Idolmaster” live-action adaptations, I’m not sure if such distinctions are even meaningful (laughs).

“Where’s the parking lot entrance?”
“Through the back gate. Turn this way and go straight.”

I came to school in my father’s car for the transfer procedure. This is kind of funny. I’ve been attending this school since my first year. On paper, the school I attended is some unknown school in a remote corner of Gangwon Province. What if they ask me if they really barter with potatoes there? I wouldn’t know.

“You can go now, sir. Yes, yes. Thank you for your time.”

My father bowed his head, paused, looked at me, and blinked. Then, he smoothly closed the door to the teachers’ office and left. My new homeroom teacher is… wait, what was their name? I quickly concluded that it was a pointless question. After all, I couldn’t even remember my previous homeroom teacher’s name, proving I’m an idiot. I’m terrible at remembering names. Or maybe I just don’t care. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

I was fiddling with the hem of my pants when my new homeroom teacher, the teacher for Class 2-3, came and stood in front of me. Ah, it’s not like I didn’t buy a skirt. My sister half-coerced me into it – well, the girls’ uniform is originally a skirt, so I bought both a skirt and pants since I needed them anyway.

“The morning assembly is about to start, so we need to hurry. Let’s go.”
“Okay.”

If I remember correctly, this teacher was pretty popular. Young, reasonably good-looking, unmarried, generally stoic, but reasonably humorous. In girl language, “sweet.” I remember he was the world history teacher. I paid attention in Western history class, so I remembered his face. He’s also a good teacher who doesn’t say anything even if you openly play mobile games during class. Other than that, I don’t know much about him. As a student, there’s no need to know much about a teacher as a person, no way to know, and no desire to know. A brief understanding of their outward demeanor is enough.

I wonder what someone like him would think if a high school girl like me confessed to him?

It was simple curiosity. Before my imagination could wander into unpleasant and useless territory, I stopped walking. Fortunately or unfortunately, Class 2-3 was right next to the teachers’ office on the third floor, so there was no time to talk to my new homeroom teacher. Creak, the teacher opened the door. A typical classroom scene: students gathered in small groups, chatting, some studying, some reading books.

Meanwhile, five or six students in the front were talking about subculture. Something about “Re:Zero” and “Mushoku Tensei.” Ugh. That protagonist is really… Taking upskirt photos of his little niece’s naked body while his parents’ funeral is going on… I can’t even bear to imagine it. He’s worse than the average poster on the controversial novels gallery. People say the official version is different, but the impact of the web novel version is too overwhelming to forget.

As they say these days, even the devil could learn a thing or two from him.

Despite the seemingly loud chatter, the classroom wasn’t that noisy or chaotic. The overall atmosphere was orderly. Orderly enough to make me unconsciously relax a little. My first impression was that this class would be more peaceful than my previous one.

“Introduce yourself to the class. Tell us about yourself.”

“I’m Ha Yuna. It’s a pleasure to…”

I was about to finish with “…meet you,” but the morning assembly bell rang. Ah, the world must hate me. I’m already scared of standing in front of people. My future classmates giggled softly. Embarrassing. The gazes directed at me were filled with curiosity, interest, goodwill… unfamiliar things.

Embarrassed, I lowered my gaze and it landed on the otaku group. Their eyes were wide open, so much so that it was obvious, and I shuddered. But it wasn’t just them, most of the class had similar expressions. Well, I was the same when I first looked in the mirror.

“…It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I wanted to tell them to leave me alone, that I wasn’t asking anything of them, but I held back. There’s no point in creating a bad impression. I’m a good person. A harmless person.

I’m an underachiever who skips school whenever they feel like it, so I wish they would just forget about me. Nevertheless, my voice was clear, beautiful, seemingly blunt, yet somehow captivating. All eyes were on me, and in those gazes, I saw an unfamiliar emotion. Familiarity. Am I mistaken? No, I’m not. Because the person who felt familiar, I knew them.

I don’t really know what it feels like to be lucky. It’s not that I’m particularly unlucky. Ah, except for Dungeon Fighter Online and League of Legends. I’m incredibly unlucky in those games. I have over 700 epic items on my account, but not a single mythic. How is it even possible not to have even a Flowing Arin? And in League, my team luck is absolute trash. If my teammates were human, I would have reached Diamond 1. The only reason I’m Gold is because of my bad teammates.

Anyway, excluding games, my luck is neither particularly good nor bad, but at this moment, I seriously thought I was unlucky. There are seven classes in the second year. Excluding my original Class 2-6, there were six remaining options. I hit the one-in-six chance. Of course, I didn’t know she was in the second year either, so I was so stunned that my mind went blank. I had a bad feeling about this.

Normally, almost no one approached me. Naturally, I didn’t know how to politely reject someone who approached me, so I just froze, my face pale. I don’t enjoy exchanging animosity with people. Indifference is the ideal distance. Online, even if there’s conflict, the repercussions are minimal, and you can just forget about it, but reality is different. It was clear that having to constantly watch my back at school would be incredibly stressful.

I hate talking to people in the first place. I absolutely hate it. I even brought a book to read quietly in the corner. Not an otaku novel, a regular novel I borrowed from the library. I also brought earphones to wear.

So, I wish she wouldn’t look at me with those clear eyes. The girl who helped me at the PC bang. The self-proclaimed Love Liver. If she knows the response calls, it’s unlikely she’s just a casual anime watcher. This is a major crisis in my life. I feel pathetic for having to call this a crisis, something most otaku would be happy about.

…Calm down. There’s no way no one would be interested in me, being this cute. This was just an aftershock.