By the time the lunch bell rang, I had learned exactly three things about my new reality:
First, this school took academics seriously, far more seriously than any school I'd attended in my previous life. The literature discussion alone had covered themes and analytical frameworks that would've made my old English teacher weep with joy.
Second, half the class had already memorized my face, and the other half were working on it. I could feel their gazes like physical weight, cataloguing every detail, every expression, probably comparing notes during the brief moments when the teacher's back was turned.
Third, and most concerning: Yumi and Mina had not stopped being acutely aware of my existence for the entire morning.
The moment the teacher gathered her materials and left the classroom, the atmosphere shifted completely.
Not subtly or gradually.
Instantly.
Desks scraped against the floor as girls stood up, chairs moved as groups began reforming, and voices rose all at once in a wave of sound that felt almost aggressive in its sudden intensity. It reminded me of a nature documentary I'd once seen, the moment when a school of fish suddenly scatters, sensing something dangerous in the water.
Only this time, I wasn't sure if I was the predator or the prey.
Actually, no. I was definitely the prey.
Yumi closed her textbook with a soft thud and turned to me with the calm, deliberate elegance of someone who'd already planned the next seventeen steps of this conversation.
"Do you have lunch?" she asked simply.
The question seemed innocent enough, but something about her tone suggested the answer mattered more than it should.
"I, uh, no," I admitted. "I didn't really have time to prepare anything this morning."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, just a fraction, as if that answer personally offended her on some level I couldn't quite comprehend. "You should have mentioned it earlier. I would have prepared something for you."
Prepared something? For me?
We had known each other for exactly forty minutes.
Before I could formulate any kind of response to that alarming statement, Mina leaned across her desk toward me, grinning with the confident energy of someone who thrived on chaos.
"Relax, Ice Queen," she said cheerfully. "I brought extra. You can eat with me, new kid. I don't mind sharing, especially with cute guys." She winked, completely shameless.
Several girls nearby gasped audibly at that statement.
Yumi's gaze sharpened immediately, her attention shifting from me to Mina with laser focus. I swear I felt the temperature around us drop by at least five degrees, though that was probably my imagination.
Probably.
"If he eats with you," Yumi said, her voice taking on an edge of ice that would've done her game characterization proud, "he might lose brain cells. I doubt your cooking meets even basic safety standards."
"Oh?" Mina's smile widened, taking on a competitive edge. "Jealous already, Yumi-chan? That's not very honor-student-like of you."
"I don't experience jealousy," Yumi replied with perfect composure, though her knuckles had gone slightly white where they gripped her textbook. "I experience concern for public health and safety. There's a difference."
The entire classroom went dead silent.
Even the girls who'd been chatting near the windows stopped mid-conversation, heads turning toward our corner with undisguised interest.
I blinked, completely at a loss for how this had escalated so quickly.
I raised one hand weakly, trying to defuse whatever this was becoming. "Ladies, please. I'm just trying to figure out where to eat lunch, "
Too late.
The damage was already done, the metaphorical match already dropped into the powder keg.
The classroom erupted into chaos.
"I'll share my lunch!"
"No, sit with us!"
"Our group has an extra seat!"
"He should join the literature club for lunch!"
It sounded less like friendly lunchtime invitations and more like an auction, with me as the unwilling item up for bidding. Girls stood up, moved closer, voices overlapping in a cacophony that made my head spin.
This was insane.
This was unprecedented.
This was—
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement at the doorway.
Kaito stood there, one hand resting casually against the doorframe.
He wasn't smiling anymore.
He wasn't approaching or greeting anyone.
He was just watching, his expression perfectly neutral, almost blank.
But his posture was relaxed in that deliberate way people adopt when they're actually very tense but don't want anyone to know it. And his eyes, those sharp, analytical eyes that had assessed me in the courtyard, were fixed directly on me.
Calculating.
Evaluating.
Understanding exactly what was happening here.
He knew.
He could see it already, clear as day.
I wasn't just some random background character who'd wandered onto the stage by accident. I wasn't a side character who'd fade into obscurity after a few token appearances.
I was a variable, an unknown factor that had suddenly appeared in an equation that was supposed to be perfectly balanced.
A threat to the ecosystem he'd spent who-knows-how-long cultivating.
The classroom noise continued swirling around me, but I couldn't look away from Kaito's gaze. There was something almost predatory in it, beneath the calm exterior. The look of a protagonist who'd just realized his story had been hijacked.
He finally stepped forward, moving into the classroom with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how much social capital he possessed here.
"Everyone," he said, his voice level and calm, not loud, not angry, just carrying enough natural authority to cut through the chaos. "He's new. You're overwhelming him."
The effect was immediate and almost magical.
Girls stepped back reluctantly, conversations dying mid-sentence. Yumi straightened in her seat, her expression smoothing into neutrality. Mina clicked her tongue in obvious annoyance but didn't protest.
The room settled into something resembling order, though I could still feel the tension crackling beneath the surface.
Kaito turned to me directly, and that polite smile returned to his face, the one that absolutely did not reach his eyes.
"You should eat with me today," he said.
It wasn't phrased as a request or even a suggestion.
It was a statement. A claim. A declaration to everyone in this classroom and probably beyond:
*This newcomer is under my supervision now.*
The subtext was clear even to me: Stay in your lane. Follow my lead. Don't disrupt the established order.
I swallowed hard, very aware that every girl in the classroom was now looking at me, waiting to see how I'd respond to the protagonist's implicit challenge.
Refusing would be social suicide on my first day.
Accepting meant acknowledging his authority over me.
Neither option was particularly appealing.
But survival instinct won out.
"That... sounds good," I said, keeping my voice neutral.
Kaito's smile widened slightly, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Great. Follow me, then."
He turned and walked toward the door without waiting to see if I'd comply, completely confident that I would.
And I did, because what choice did I have?
As I gathered my bag and stood up, I felt dozens of eyes burning holes in my back. Some curious, wondering what would happen between the two male students. Some jealous, clearly wishing they were in my position. Some already plotting, calculating how this new dynamic might affect their own chances.
I exhaled quietly as I followed Kaito into the hallway, leaving behind a classroom that felt more like a battlefield than a place of learning.
First day.
First lunch period.
And I had already managed to:
- Trigger obvious interest from multiple heroines
- Draw the focused attention of the entire class
- Create tension between two main love interests
- And start what could only be described as a cold war with the protagonist himself
Not bad for a few hours' work.
Not good either.
Just... spiritually exhausting in a way I didn't have words for.
As we walked toward the cafeteria in loaded silence, Kaito maintaining a half-step lead like a tour guide who'd rather be anywhere else, I felt the weight of this situation settling over me like a heavy blanket.
Somewhere deep inside, beneath the layers of confusion and mounting anxiety, a voice whispered what I already knew but had been trying not to acknowledge.
I am so incredibly doomed.
This wasn't going to get better.
This was only the beginning.
And lunch with the protagonist, the person who had the most reason to see me as a threat, was probably going to make everything exponentially worse.
But I kept walking anyway, because turning back now would be even more catastrophic.
One foot in front of the other.
That's all I could do.
That's all anyone could do when they accidentally became the second male lead in a story that was only supposed to have one.