Kanade couldn't quite recall when he had fallen asleep—or if he had even slept at all. His thoughts had been spinning in endless loops, haunted by the words his friends had spoken. It was only now that he was beginning to understand how others truly saw him.
Honestly, the revelation left him with a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand, he resented the version of himself that existed in their eyes. The ideals he had carried from a bygone era clashed with the reality of modern Japan. But in this world, a person like him—someone polished, accomplished, and outwardly untouchable—would never be cast aside. On the contrary, he was admired, sought after, even revered. And, of course, that extended to the many excellent girls who gravitated toward him.
In contrast, those who kept to themselves—loners who avoided social interaction, who seemed indifferent to the world—were often excluded or, worse, bullied. Society even had a cruel label for them: the 'gloomy ones.'
But had Kanade ever truly felt that way? No… or maybe, at some point in the past, he had. There was a time when he drifted aimlessly, caring about nothing. Until, that is, he met her—the first 'heroine' who had seized his full attention. From that moment on, his world had narrowed, fixated solely on them. Everything else faded into the background, irrelevant. It was only through his relentless pursuit that he broke free from his previous self, shedding his former role until he became the person he was today.
Looking back, he hadn't realized the transformation as it happened. He had simply acted, driven forward by his own will. But now, in hindsight, he could see it clearly—his efforts hadn't been in vain. In fact, his pursuit had yielded something unexpected: 'by-products' that, in reality, were rewards in their own right.
Through chasing after these heroines, he had steadily refined himself. He had learned how to cook—and had become exceptionally good at it. His grades skyrocketed, earning him the top spot in his year. He trained his body, sculpting a physique far stronger than before. And beyond the tangible improvements, he developed patience, emotional resilience, and a tolerance that had shaped his personality in ways most wouldn't notice at first glance.
Without question, meeting those girls had made him a better person. His growth was proof that effort wasn't futile; that hard work bore fruit—even if the outcomes weren't exactly what he had envisioned. And while the friendships he had built weren't the 'endings' he had initially hoped for, they were still something precious in their own way.
That being said, there was another matter that lingered in his mind, one that required deeper contemplation—his friends. More specifically, his female friends, like Mahiru and Eriri. How much did they actually know about the strange rumors surrounding him?
If it were just random classmates, he would assume they had picked up on at least some of the gossip. But Mahiru and Eriri weren't just bystanders—they were directly involved. And yet, surely no one would walk up to them and bluntly ask, "Hey, were you dumped by Kanade?" Right?
No, that wasn't how it worked. Especially since, technically speaking, they were the ones who had rejected him. If they had been the ones spreading the rumors, things wouldn't be so muddled. The fact that these stories still existed meant that Mahiru and Eriri had not personally addressed them.
But that didn't mean they hadn't heard whispers. After all, in this school, information spread like wildfire. And Kanade couldn't help but wonder—how much had reached them? Had they merely laughed it off? Or had the rumors reached a point where they started questioning his motives, suspecting hidden intentions behind his actions?
And most importantly—had they known about these rumors before he confessed to them? Had those stories influenced their decisions to reject him?!
These questions gnawed at him, looping in his mind like a cursed incantation, robbing him of any chance at sleep. He had spent the entire night battling his own thoughts, searching for an answer that refused to come.
For Mahiru, he could confidently say this wasn't an issue. But for the upperclassman and especially Eriri… it was a different story. It was entirely possible that this had played a role. No, scratch that—when it came to Eriri, it was very likely. She was someone who cared about appearances, who was easily swayed by the opinions of those around her. If she had rejected his confession because of some baseless rumors, then he honestly wouldn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He might put on an act now, pretending that staying friends was good enough, but deep down, was that really the truth? Was he really okay with just being a friend? If given the chance, if the circumstances were different—how could he not want to be something more?
Yes, he knew his past confessions had been influenced by other factors—environment, timing, a mix of emotions he himself couldn't fully untangle. But that didn't mean those feelings weren't real. That didn't mean the affection he had developed over time was fake. If anything, after spending so much time together, those emotions had only deepened, solidified into something undeniably real.
And now he was at a crossroads—should he ask Eriri and the others if the rumors had swayed their decision? Or should he just pretend nothing happened and continue on as if everything was normal?
The first option was risky. The chances of him getting the answer he hoped for were low—painfully low. And if things went south, if he pried too much, what if it made them uncomfortable? What if it ruined the friendship they had managed to rebuild?
—"So you still have those kinds of feelings for me…? I'm sorry, but I don't think we can be friends anymore."
If she said something like that, it would be over. Completely over. A second rejection, with no chance of return.
Did he really want to take that risk? Did he have the courage to lose it all again?
The truth was, the real reason he leaned toward staying silent wasn't just because of the fear of rejection. It was because, at some point, he had grown used to having them around. Their presence had become something natural, something comfortable.
If he were to start dating someone now, that balance would break. He would have to keep a distance from the others, just as he used to before. Could he really do that? Could he really go back to how he was?
Before, he wouldn't have even hesitated. But now… now he wasn't so sure. And the fact that he was hesitating at all meant something, didn't it?
If even the tiniest sliver of doubt existed in his heart, then that was a crack—a weakness. And if something happened to widen that crack, if emotions spiraled out of control, if circumstances changed just enough… what then?
The last thing he wanted was to hurt the people he cared about. If he made the wrong decision, it wouldn't just be himself who got hurt—it would be everyone.
And so, he had only one choice.
He had to be absolutely certain—about his feelings, about his intentions. There was no room for hesitation. If he wanted to move forward, he had to know exactly where his heart truly lay.