Cherry blossoms bloom in April, painting the sky with soft pink petals. A symbol of new beginnings, of fresh starts. For most people, anyway. To me, it's just another Monday. Another school year filled with the same faces, the same conversations, and the same routine.
"I like you! Please go out with me, Yoshida-san!"
A voice rang out, cutting through the morning buzz like a sudden gust of wind. The crowd stilled, all eyes turning toward the source. Beneath the falling cherry blossoms, a boy stood tall, bouquet in hand, his voice unwavering. hair, perfectly pressed uniform, and determined gaze made him look like a prince from a romance movie.
Students gathered around, whispering excitedly. Some girls squealed, a few boys clapped. It was like a scene straight out of a shoujo manga.
And at the center of it all was Mizuki Yoshida.
One of the most admired girls in school. Beautiful, intelligent, athletic, and effortlessly social. The kind of person who belonged to a world far from mine.
She looked at the boy with a polite smile and said, "Sorry, you're not my type."
Silence.
The boy froze, his confident expression cracking. The crowd gasped, whispers spreading like wildfire.
Mizuki didn't hesitate. She wasn't cruel, but she was direct—rejecting him as easily as swatting away a falling petal.
The boy's face turned red—not from love, but from embarrassment. He let out a stiff chuckle, muttered an "I see," and walked away, still clutching the bouquet.
I watched from a distance, unaffected.
This wasn't surprising. Confessions like these were routine for her.
I wonder what it's like—to have someone like you enough to confess in front of a crowd.
But I guess I will never know.
Adjusting the bag on my shoulder, I turned away. The first class of the new school year was about to begin.
---
Seisen Private Academy—a prestigious school known for its elite students, strict rules, and competitive academics.
I had no particular attachment to the place. To me, it was just school. A place to rest, pass time, and then leave.
When I entered the classroom, it was already buzzing with chatter. Students huddled in groups, talking about various things, but one topic stood out the most.
"Man, that was like a scene from a shoujo manga!"
"Did you see the way he held the bouquet? So dramatic!"
"Too bad Yoshida-san rejected him just like the others."
I ignored them and walked to my usual seat—the last seat by the window. It was the best spot in the room, offering a quiet escape when I needed it.
As I sat down, the person in front of me spun around. Kenji Sato—a short, slightly skinny guy with messy hair and glasses. An otaku through and through. If there was an anime, manga, or game, he probably knew everything about it.
"Yo, Haruka!" he greeted with a grin. "Did you hear about the confession this morning?"
I leaned back in my chair, uninterested. "Yeah, I saw it."
Kenji smirked. "And? What do you think?"
I sighed. "It looked… dramatic. I don't get how people can confess their feelings in front of so many people."
"Right?" Kenji chuckled. "Guess that kind of courage isn't for us."
He then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if he were about to share a big secret. "But man, Yoshida-san sure rejects a lot of confessions. She's like a final boss in a dating sim."
I shrugged, resting my chin on my hand.
Kenji continued, "I mean, I also dream about her going out with me, you know? She's literally perfect. What about you, Haruka?"
I glanced at him. "I'm not interested."
Kenji blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yeah."
I didn't care.
The thought of dating, love, or even standing in the spotlight like that—it was pointless to me.
Because in the end, I was just another extra in the background.
The classroom buzzed with excitement, but I barely listened. My gaze drifted toward the window, where the cherry blossoms swayed in the breeze. Another school year. Another cycle of lectures, exams, and rules. Nothing that really mattered to me.
---
The classroom buzzed with conversations, but then—
The classroom door slid open.
Conversations faltered mid-sentence, laughter trailed off..
All eyes turned toward the entrance as Mizuki Yoshida stepped inside.
Her long blonde hair shimmered under the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her presence alone was enough to silence the entire room. She didn't need to speak or do anything special—just being there was enough to capture everyone's attention.
Some of the boys straightened in their seats, stealing glances, but none dared to approach her. It wasn't just her beauty or popularity; it was the cold, unreadable expression she always wore whenever she faced a boy.
Yet, the moment she passed by a group of girls, her shoulders eased slightly. Her lips, usually pressed into a thin line, curved into a small but genuine smile—small gestures that she never offered to the boys.
She wasn't distant from everyone. Just from us.
Like always, she walked with quiet confidence and took her seat at the very front—far from where I sat.
She was in the spotlight.
And from beyond it, I just stared.
I didn't admire her the way others did. I wasn't infatuated with her like the rest of the school. But even I couldn't deny it—she belonged to a different world.
---
Kenji leaned in, grinning. "Come on, Haruka, don't you think Mizuki's amazing?"
I glanced at Mizuki, who was flipping through her textbook, completely uninterested in the stares directed at her. Then, I turned back to the window.
"I have other things to worry about."
Kenji didn't press further. He just shook his head, muttering something about how I was missing out.
A boy hesitated near Mizuki's desk, gathering his courage. "Um, Yoshida-san, do you—"
Before he could finish, Mizuki's gaze flickered toward him. Her expression remained perfectly neutral, as if she were looking at an object rather than a person. Without a word, she returned to her book. The boy cleared his throat awkwardly and backed away.
Click.
Again, the classroom door slid open.
A middle-aged woman in formal attire stepped inside, her sharp gaze scanning the room.
"Everyone, take your seats," the homeroom teacher announced.
The lingering whispers died down as students scrambled to sit. Mizuki Yoshida, still the center of attention, remained unaffected as she neatly placed her books on her desk.
With that, the first day of school officially began.
---
The final bell rang, marking the end of the first day.
As soon as class was dismissed, students swarmed around Mizuki Yoshida's desk.
"Yoshida-san, wanna go to karaoke?"
"Yeah! It'll be fun!"
A mix of boys and girls eagerly invited her, their voices filled with excitement.
But Mizuki, as always, remained composed. Without hesitation, she gave her usual response.
"Sorry, I have work at home."
With that, she stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked out, leaving behind a group of disappointed classmates.
Meanwhile, I quietly packed my things.
"Haruka, wanna come buy a new manga?" Kenji turned to me, eyes hopeful.
I shook my head. "I can't go with you today. I have a part-time job."
Kenji frowned. "You know that's against school rules, right?"
I sighed. "I know."
Most people didn't know that the school could make exceptions under special conditions—one of them being scholarship status. At an academy as prestigious as Seisen, earning a scholarship was difficult enough, but maintaining high scores while working was even rarer.
He leaned in with curiosity. "So, where this time?"
I zipped up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. "Housekeeping."
Kenji blinked. "Housekeeping? Like, cleaning people's houses?"
"Yeah."
"Huh… Well, I guess that suits you."
I didn't reply, already heading for the door.
Stepping outside, I took a deep breath. The sun had started to dip, casting warm hues over the school grounds.
Another long day ahead.
Pulling out my phone, I checked the address of my next job.
A high-class neighborhood.
Not unusual. Wealthy families often hired part-time workers for chores.
I made my way toward the train station, unaware that this job was about to change everything.
---
After leaving train, I stopped by the housekeeping agency to change into my work uniform—a plain white shirt and black slacks.
I pulled my long black hair into a ponytail, a habit I developed to keep it out of the way while cleaning. Without my school uniform and glasses, my appearance changed significantly.
Packing the necessary cleaning supplies into my bag, I sighed.
Housekeeping.
Most people saw it as a simple job—wiping surfaces, vacuuming floors, and taking out the trash. But in reality, it was more than just cleaning.
It was about stepping into someone else's life, even if only for a few hours. Seeing the way they lived, the things they left behind, the messes they made. Every home had its own story. Some were pristine and cold, others cluttered and chaotic.
But none of that mattered to me. My job wasn't to ask questions. It was to clean.
Once everything was ready, I checked the address again and made my way to the client's house.
After a short train ride and a brief walk through a quiet residential area, I arrived.
The house in front of me was large but not overly extravagant. A modern two-story home with a neat front yard and a high fence. It was the kind of house that belonged to a well-off family, but not one that flaunted its wealth.
I walked up to the entrance and pressed the doorbell.
A soft chime echoed inside.
Footsteps approached.
The door creaked open, revealing a familiar figure.
Long blonde hair, sharp golden eyes, and an air of quiet confidence.
My breath caught in my throat. No way.
Mizuki Yoshida stood in front of me.
For a moment, we both stood there in silence.
She was dressed casually—her school uniform replaced with a loose sweater and shorts. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and without the usual crowd of admirers around her, she seemed more approachable.
Still, I could tell she didn't recognize me.
Her sharp golden eyes scanned me from head to toe. Then, tilting her head slightly, she asked, "Who?"
I quickly straightened. "I'm from the housekeeping service."
Her expression didn't change but I can see flick of suprise in that poker face, after a brief pause, she nodded. "Oh, right. I did call for one. You can come in, but—"
Then, she frowned slightly, looking me over again. "You're quite young…" Her gaze shifted toward my flat chest. "...and small."
Her gaze lingered on my tied-back hair, my slender face, and my lack of glasses.
I realized it immediately.
She didn't recognize me.
Not only that, but—
Did she just mistake me for a girl?
It wasn't the first time. My features were softer than most guys, and with my hair in a ponytail, the mistake wasn't unusual.
Still, hearing it from Mizuki Yoshida of all people was… unexpected.
I considered correcting her.
But in the end, I simply stepped inside, keeping my thoughts to myself.
I was just here to do my job. Nothing more.
Yet, as the door shut behind me, I couldn't shake the strange feeling that this moment—this simple misunderstanding—was going to change everything.
Because for the first time, Mizuki Yoshida didn't see me as just another student in the background.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the beginning of something neither of us could predict.