How to Be Loved by a Tsundere
As soon as I opened the classroom door, all eyes snapped to me at once. Oh. This is way more intense than I expected. I'm not the type to tense up in crowds, but getting stared at so blatantly like this? A little embarrassing.
"···That's her."
"The latecomer."
"The one who broke the door?"
Rumors spread faster than magic, huh? I kept a straight face like nothing happened and headed to my seat. By the window. Nice. Protagonist spot.
The moment I sat down, a familiar voice came from beside me.
"···Why'd it have to be next to me."
It was Seria.
"Fate, right?"
"···No, it's not."
But she doesn't switch seats. That's key. That's Seria's charm.
While I was busy annoying Seria like that, the door opened again, and a man walked in. Long coat, expressionless face, tired eyes. Gotta be the homeroom teacher.
"Quiet."
One word, and the classroom fell silent instantly. Whoa. Scary guy.
"I'm Leon Hart, homeroom teacher for Class A."
Cool name. Looks strong, too.
"This isn't the losers' class. Nor is it the geniuses' class."
Wait. Then what is it? Isn't Class A supposed to be for top students?
"It's the problem child candidate collection."
The classroom went dead quiet. Uh... does that include me?
The class started buzzing after the homeroom teacher's words. Can't blame them. Everyone thought Class A was for elite students, and now he's straight-up calling us problem child candidates.
"Hey, teacher! You calling us problem kids right now?!"
Oh boy. This guy's losing it, yelling at the teacher like fire. He looks pretty thuggish—fits the bill.
"I didn't say problem kids. I said problem child candidates."
But the teacher glares back with a scary face of his own. The kid shrinks under the pressure, sneaking back to his seat.
"Hah... Fine. Looks like you all misunderstood something. The class for excellent students is a Class. Not A Class."
···That's just wordplay, right?
"Hah, unbelievable."
Seria next to me looked utterly dumbfounded. Her face was so funny, I poked her cheek with my finger.
"Eek!"
She yelped sharply—totally caught off guard—and jumped to her feet. Wow, all eyes on Seria now. She looks super embarrassed.
"You there. Got a problem?"
It accidentally looked like she was protesting to Leon. Her ear tips were bright red—total predicament. Guess I should help.
That's what friends are for, right?
"Teacher~ Seria says she's hungry. When do we eat?"
I shot up and yelled to cover for her. Huh? Wait... Seria's face turned rose-red.
"U-uu... Arin, you...!"
Seria clamped my mouth shut quick. Then she shoved me back down and plopped into her seat. Not just her ears—her whole face was flushed.
"Lunch is soon, so hold out, Cadet Blanche."
At least he answered. Thanks. Leon cleared his throat a couple times, maybe to lighten the mood, then launched into a solemn speech.
Honestly, it was boring as hell. The kind of academy mindset stuff or life lessons you'd expect from the principal—blah blah blah. Most kids looked half-asleep, including me. But Seria and a few others were actually paying attention. Impressive. How do they even focus on that?
Finally, after what felt like forever, he cleared his throat again.
"We're wrapping up, so introduce yourselves in order."
Ah. Here comes the social ordeal.
Kids stood one by one.
"I'm Lia Elder. I awakened healing magic by chance as a kid and got lucky enough to enroll."
The class murmured. Most were questioning why a next-gen saint candidate was in the problem child class.
"Iris Kellon."
Now they buzzed about why the top in strategy and combat theory was here.
"Luna Valkheim! This class seems fun—I like it!"
Swordsmanship heir. Seria muttered that last bit. Do they know each other?
"···Kael Lumina."
Wait... Isn't that the valedictorian who gave the entrance oath? And he's the holy sword inheritor? What the hell is this class? All these OP specs in one "problem child candidate" spot? There must be some hidden secret. How'd they even end up as candidates?
As those questions swirled, it was suddenly my turn. I bolted up at the sudden call—spaced out.
Introductions set first impressions, so no mistakes. Gotta nail this seriously. I cleared my throat and opened my mouth.
"Arin Carte! Hobby is living hard, special skill... still searching!"
Silence.
The homeroom teacher asked, "···Goal?"
Hmm. Thought for a sec.
"Eating meat at lunch."
A few kids laughed. Seria covered her face next to me. Thought I did okay, but apparently not. Oh well. Next time.
As I went to sit—
Whoops. Thud!
I tripped and fell. Classroom went quiet.
···Ah. Bad image locked in on day one. I got up casually.
"Cadet Arin Carte—floor check complete."
A few burst out laughing. Total clown moment. Seria muttered softly,
"···Such an idiot."
But my shin that hit the chair edge? Hurts pretty good. Uniform's a bit torn inside. Weirdly, barely any blood. Nice uniform, I guess.
As I went to sit again, the chair slid over. I turned—Seria, not looking at me.
"···Put your legs in right. Don't trip again."
"···Worried about me?"
"···Shut up."
Her ears are a bit red? Nah, imagination.
Social ordeal over. Thought that was it. But Leon spoke in his dry voice.
"Practical basics evaluation starts tomorrow. Prepare yourselves."
Ooh. Academy vibes.
"Here, theory's secondary to practice. No matter what ability got you in, if you can't prove it in combat, you're useless. So... don't disappoint us."
Class tension spiked a bit. I crossed my arms and nodded. Nice. Finally. Real academy event. Can't be boring.
·····.
·········.
············.
I had no idea then.
That this class would be the day I first heard "weird."
The bell rang, and the classroom mood loosened instantly. Tension vanished like a lie. Humans are equal before food.
I jumped up.
"Food!"
Naturally glanced beside me. Seria stared back, pouty.
"···Why stare."
"Let's go together."
"Why."
"First class meal together is team-building event."
"···No such thing."
But she's grabbing her bag. Success.
The cafeteria was huge. Festival vibes? Everyone else grinned in line too. I buzzed, scanning the menu.
And. Meat. There's meat.
"Seria."
"···What."
"Think I'll hit my goal today."
"···What're you talking about."
"Said it during intros."
"···You were serious?"
Of course. Life's about sincerity. Piled meat high. Seria next to me grabbed salad, looking grossed out. Pfft, just veggies? You'll get weak. She knows nothing.
Sat down with those thoughts. Seria sighed and plopped down. She looked thoughtful, but meat first. Think later.
Mmm. Delicious. Best academy ever.
"You."
Seria paused her chopsticks.
"Why'd you do that earlier."
"What?"
"···Poking my cheek in class."
Oh, that.
"You looked tense. Figured it'd help a friend."
"···Who's a friend."
"You, Seria."
Brief silence. She looked away.
"···Don't decide that on your own."
No rebuttal, though. Love it. Keep that stance till I die.
After eating, students crowded the bulletin board. Dorm assignments posted. Event smell.
Grinning, I checked. There was my name.
【Arin Carte — Building 3 Room 402】
And right next to it. Peeked at Seria's name, full of hope—
···Different building. Bummer.
"Aw, not the same room..."
"···Obviously. No way we'd beat those odds."
Says that, but her expression's a bit off. Or not? Imagination? Hmm, who knows. Anyway, different buildings, so this is goodbye at the dorm entrance.
Too bad. Same room would've been fun. Oh well.
I waved. "See you tomorrow."
As I turned—
"···Hey."
Seria called.
"Yeah?"
She hesitated.
"···Don't get lost again."
Ooh. That's worry, right?
"You'll come get me?"
"···Not even if I die."
Words say one thing, face says another, Seria...
"···But if you're late... text me. Here's my number..."
Oooh! Seria's contact! Lucky break. I went to give mine, but she bolted as soon as she finished.
Her ears were red from afar. Next time, pat her head as thanks.
Whistling—great day—I reached my room. 402. My lair. Heart pounding. Opened the door, hugging expectations.
Creak—
"···You're late."
Cold voice. Chillingly cold!
In the icy room vibe. Blue bob-cut girl by the window, reading.
Predatory eyes, barely any expression—terrifying!
"You're that problem kid from earlier."
Gasp. Mood and genre shifted suddenly? Still, gotta do what I gotta.
"Arin Carte! Wow, were you sitting by the window with a book, posing like that the whole time waiting for me? If so, success! You scared me so bad at first sight. Like a ghost from a horror flick I saw as a kid. Oh, speaking of horror—once I went to a haunted house and mistook a staffer in makeup for a real ghost and punched 'em hard. And get this—that—."
"···Too loud."
My footsteps slowed in the dorm hallway.
···Why.
Normally, I wouldn't care.
Arin Carte. Name I met today. Person I met today.
Yet she keeps popping up.
"···Idiot."
I muttered softly, but it wasn't denial.
It's always been like this since childhood. The moment people learned the Blanche name, their attitudes were identical.
Respect. Caution. Distance.
Courteous, but never close. They knew the line.
I thought that was fine. Less hassle.
···But.
"Fate, right?"
From the start, she'd talked to me casually. No regard for status, skill, vibe. Nothing.
Even called me—
a friend.
"···On her own."
I muttered, but my feet stopped.
Just now, at the dorm entrance. The moment I unnecessarily called her back.
"Don't get lost."
Why'd I say that?
I asked the air, not knowing.
And very quietly.
"···Probably."
The whisper slipped out.
"···Because it's the first time."
Someone treating me not as "Blanche."
Just as Seria.