"This is…"
Kure Ragna's gaze locked onto a certain spot.
It was an old wound, just above the abdomen. Though it had fully healed, faint brownish marks surrounded it, indicating it had been there for at least a couple of years.
He examined it carefully. The wound was small, irregularly shaped, and shallow with a short horizontal distance. It didn't resemble a knife wound. Instead, the shape suggested something else—
"…A flathead screwdriver?"
"!!!"
At his words, Karuizawa Kei visibly trembled. Her face paled, fine beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead. She bit her lower lip hard, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt tightly.
Despite the obvious emotional turmoil, she didn't let go—until Kure Ragna spoke again.
"It's okay. You can let go now."
"…"
Unlike the struggle it took to lift her shirt, Kei Karuizawa let it drop instantly.
She didn't look at him. Instead, she awkwardly turned her head away, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye. She was waiting—waiting for his reaction, for his judgment.
Kure Ragna, however, remained silent, still staring at the spot where the wound had been moments ago, as if he could still see it through the fabric.
He could picture the scene in his mind.
A girl, alone. Held down—two people on one side, one on the other, restraining her so she couldn't resist. The fourth person in front, gripping a screwdriver.
The sharp metal tip piercing flesh. Skin splitting first, then muscle. Blood spraying, splattering. The final, sickening rupture of intestines.
A wound like that could've been fatal. It was a miracle she survived.
So that's why…
Kei Karuizawa's reactions, her fear, her reluctance to trust—it all made sense now.
This was PTSD. The reason she found herself a fake boyfriend was simple—she wanted protection, someone strong enough to keep her from being bullied again.
Kure Ragna exhaled slowly.
"I get it now." He leaned back, shrugging. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Really!?"
Her expression shifted instantly. From grief to joy, she practically leapt from her seat.
Kure Ragna, however, remained as calm as ever.
"My situation isn't too different from yours," he said. "My family doesn't approve of me dating anyone outside their approval, so this is a mutually beneficial arrangement."
Kei Karuizawa's excitement settled into curiosity.
"But there's one issue," he continued. "Since my family has always been strict about this, I've never actually been in a relationship before. So I have no idea how to act like a proper boyfriend."
"…I don't know either."
Kure Ragna blinked.
"…What?"
Kei Karuizawa shifted uncomfortably, hesitating before finally admitting, "I've never dated anyone before."
"?"
How?
A girl like her—beautiful, social, and seemingly experienced in these matters—had never had a boyfriend?
Logically, his analysis of her tone and expressions told him she was telling the truth. Emotionally, though, it was hard to believe.
She always seemed so confident when talking about relationships, giving advice like an expert. Yet, she had no experience herself?
But then it hit him.
Of course.
Someone with her past wouldn't trust others easily. And having a boyfriend meant risking exposure—someone finding out about her past wounds, about her trauma. That wasn't something she could afford.
The words he had planned to say faded away.
Makes sense.
"Whatever." He shrugged. "That's not really a problem."
Kure Ragna's expression turned serious. "I might not know much about dating, but I do know how to take care of someone. Since I'm supposed to be your boyfriend, I'll take care of you. Shouldn't be too different."
"…Maybe."
Kei Karuizawa mumbled, still processing. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she raised a finger.
"Oh, one more thing."
"Hm?"
"I know this might sound weird coming from me, but…" She hesitated before continuing, "This arrangement is supposed to last until we graduate, right? But if you ever fall for someone—if you ever meet a girl you really like—you don't have to feel obligated to keep this up. Just tell me. We can 'break up' peacefully, or you can even dump me, whatever works."
Kure Ragna frowned. "That won't—"
"You've never thought about an ideal relationship?" Kei Karuizawa interrupted, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"…What?"
"Come on! Most guys your age dream about this kind of stuff—holding hands with their crush, going to summer festivals, watching fireworks together…"
"Are you seriously lecturing me about romance right now?"
Kei Karuizawa pouted, her face slightly red.
"Well, it's true! Look at Ike and Yamauchi, they're always talking about wanting a girlfriend."
"They're just baboons in mating season."
Kei Karuizawa burst into laughter at that.
Kure Ragna, meanwhile, sighed inwardly.
Honestly, explaining his perspective would be a pain. It wasn't about wanting or not wanting a relationship—he simply had never considered it, and he didn't see any reason to.
It was like asking a family-oriented person if they had ever thought about leaving their loved ones behind to travel aimlessly.
It wasn't about desire. It just wasn't relevant to him.
Kei Karuizawa seemed to sense that further argument would be pointless.
"Alright, fine. It's your life." She stretched, her previous tension completely gone. "Anyway, thanks for today, Kure Ragna."
She stood up, slipping her feet into her slippers and heading toward the door.
"Oh, right! What time do you usually leave in the morning?"
"…Why?"
"Duh, so we can go to school together!"
"…Huh?"
Kei Karuizawa gave him a look.
"That's how it works in TV dramas, right? We go to school together, eat together, walk home together…"
Kure Ragna sighed. "Let me think…"
He mentally adjusted his schedule, considering the time he usually waited for Sakayanagi Arisu.
"Seven twenty."
Kei Karuizawa's expression stiffened. "…Seven twenty?"
She hesitated for a moment, but then quickly nodded.
"Got it. I'll set my alarm. Seven twenty it is."
"Sure."
With that, she opened the door. "Okay, see you tomorrow!"
"Yeah, yeah."
The door shut behind her.
Kure Ragna turned back to his desk, ready to clean up before heading to bed—until his gaze landed on something near the corner of the room.
A small, damp bundle of white fabric.
Kei Karuizawa's socks.
"…Seriously?"
He sighed, grabbing them. Without hesitation, he opened the door to call her back—
But she was already gone. The corridor was empty.
Only the faint sound of the safe passage door swinging shut remained.
"She ran pretty fast."
Shaking his head, Kure Ragna closed the door, staring at the socks in his hand.
"…Guess I'll wash them for her."
---
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