Chapter 1: The Boy Everyone Misunderstood
"Wake up, Arata."
No response.
The boy in the last row remained motionless, his head resting on the desk as if the entire classroom had ceased to exist.
Morning sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating the chalk dust in the air. Around him, pages turned, pens moved, and the teacher explained formulas no one truly cared about.
But Arata slept through all of it.
From the seat behind him, Yuto leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder.
"Hey. Wake up already."
Arata didn't move.
Yuto frowned and shook him harder.
"Did you die or something?"
A few nearby students laughed quietly.
Still nothing.
At the front of the room, the teacher stopped writing on the board.
Her eyes narrowed.
Slowly, she turned toward the back row.
"Arata."
The room became quieter.
No response.
"Arata. Wake up."
Nothing.
A vein almost appeared on her forehead.
With sharp steps, she walked down the aisle, heels tapping against the floor like a warning bell.
She stopped beside his desk.
The entire class watched.
Then—
Tap.
She struck the desk with her attendance book.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to sleep in my class?"
Arata finally moved.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
Messy black hair fell over half-open eyes that looked more annoyed than embarrassed.
He blinked once.
Then yawned.
"Ma'am... I wasn't sleeping."
The teacher stared.
"Oh? Then what were you doing?"
"Resting."
The class burst into laughter.
The teacher smiled coldly.
"Wonderful. Then go outside and continue resting there."
Arata looked at her for a moment.
"...You get angry too easily."
More laughter.
The teacher pointed at the door.
"Out."
Without arguing, Arata picked up his bag, slung it over one shoulder, and walked out like none of it mattered.
As the door closed behind him, the room buzzed with whispers.
"He got kicked out again."
"He does that every week."
"Why is he even in this school?"
"He's hopeless."
At the back, Yuto sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"That idiot..."
The corridor was silent.
Arata leaned against the wall beside the classroom windows, hands in his pockets.
Students in the courtyard below moved like tiny figures.
Birds flew past the campus buildings.
He looked bored.
"This place is noisy," he muttered.
Inside the classroom, the lesson continued.
The teacher asked a difficult question.
No one answered.
She looked around in disappointment.
Then—
A hand rose gracefully.
"Yes, Ayame."
A girl near the front stood up.
Long dark hair. Calm eyes. Straight posture.
She answered perfectly.
"As expected."
"Of course."
"She's amazing..."
Whispers moved across the room.
"Top grades."
"Good at sports too."
"Beautiful."
"Perfect girl."
Ayame sat down quietly.
Her face remained calm.
But her fingers tightened slightly around her pen.
The bell rang.
Class ended.
Students rushed out, conversations flooding the hallway.
Arata pushed himself off the wall and entered just long enough to collect nothing—because his bag was already with him.
Then he walked toward the school gate.
The academy grounds were massive, lined with trees and polished stone paths.
He glanced once at the main building.
"Too big."
"Arata! Wait!"
He stopped.
Yuto came running after him, out of breath.
"You were leaving again without saying anything?"
"I was walking home."
"You always disappear."
Arata shrugged.
Yuto clicked his tongue.
"We've known each other for two years."
"So?"
"So I still don't know anything about you."
"That sounds like a personal problem."
Yuto stared at him.
"...How are we friends?"
Arata began walking again.
Yuto followed.
"Seriously, where do you live?"
"A house."
"I hate talking to you."
"Then stop."
Yuto groaned.
After a moment, he looked more serious.
"People talk badly about you, you know."
"I know."
"And you don't care?"
"No."
"Why?"
Arata glanced at him.
"Because people usually decide what they think before they know anything."
Yuto fell silent.
For once, he had no joke ready.
Then Arata spoke again.
"You think too much."
"...And you think too little."
"Maybe."
Yuto sighed.
"Whatever. See you tomorrow."
"If I wake up."
"I regret meeting you."
Yuto turned and left.
A faint smile touched Arata's lips.
Just for a second.
Then it vanished.
A black luxury car stopped beside the road.
The rear window rolled down.
"Sir."
"You're late," Arata said.
"My apologies."
He got in.
The car moved smoothly through the city before arriving at a massive gated estate.
Iron gates opened.
A mansion stood beyond them, elegant and quiet.
Perfectly maintained gardens surrounded the property.
Arata stepped out.
"Home."
Inside, a maid bowed politely.
"Welcome back, Young Master."
"I'm hungry."
"I'll prepare lunch immediately."
"And tea."
"Of course."
He walked into the living room and dropped onto the sofa.
No laziness now.
No classroom act.
Just silence.
A few minutes later, footsteps came from upstairs.
Arata looked up.
Ayame descended the staircase in casual home clothes, her hair tied loosely behind her.
She stopped when she saw him.
"You came early."
"You came late."
"I had club responsibilities."
"You looked tired."
Ayame blinked.
Then walked over and sat beside him.
"You noticed?"
"You were making that face."
"What face?"
"The one you make when pretending you're fine."
Ayame looked at him quietly.
Then leaned back into the sofa.
"...Today was annoying."
"The usual perfect girl treatment?"
She exhaled.
"They never stop."
Arata reached out and lightly tapped her forehead.
"Then stop listening."
She frowned.
"That doesn't solve anything."
"It solves my headache."
Ayame almost smiled.
Almost.
The maid returned with tea.
She placed it down and left.
Ayame picked up her cup.
At school—
she was the admired queen no one could approach.
Here—
she simply looked like a tired girl.
Arata glanced at her.
Then away.
After a moment, she spoke softly.
"You got thrown out again, didn't you?"
"Maybe."
"You're impossible."
"And yet you live with me."
Ayame turned toward him.
Their eyes met.
Neither looked away.
Then she said quietly—
"Not by choice."
Arata smirked.
"Liar."
Ayame's cheeks colored slightly.
She looked away first.
Outside, the wind moved through the gardens.
Inside the mansion—
the two people who acted like strangers at school sat side by side in silence.
A silence neither of them disliked.
The lazy boy everyone mocked...
and the perfect girl everyone admired...
were secretly engaged.
End of Chapter 1
[Author's Note:
I understand that Chapter 1 of my story may feel a bit rough or awkward. However, I ask for your patience and trust as the story progresses. I am fully committed to putting my best effort into developing this narrative into something meaningful and engaging.
This story aims to explore themes such as responsibility, facing challenges instead of avoiding them, and understanding true emotions. So, I kindly request that you don't judge the entire story based only on the first chapter.
Thank you for giving it a chance.]