Formation of a Temporary Study Group
Tae-il felt a vague sense of unease.
Everything seemed to have resolved smoothly and amicably.
Especially today—it had been one of the best days of his life, no question.
In the not-too-distant future, he'd recruit Sakuya as a bandmate, and they'd shared a somewhat comfortable conversation. Tae-il thought this marked major progress in his social life, which had been stalled for so long.
What others might see as a small step was, to him, a challenge on the path to his dreams.
He'd even unintentionally created a connection with Iris.
He still couldn't read her intentions, though.
It wasn't part of any plan.
Still, he'd broken the ice and successfully imprinted himself on her mind.
Tae-il was greatly satisfied and didn't push his luck further.
He'd resolved to form a band less than a week ago.
Seeing results already filled him with joy he couldn't hide.
The biggest worry—his relationship with Ayane—had been mended first by her forgiveness. The two laughed and chatted as usual, sharing a relaxed dinner at the Katsuragi home.
Up to this point, everything felt truly fine.
A smooth, seamless flow.
The unease began when Ayane brought out tamagoyaki egg rolls without him even asking.
Normally, her homemade tamagoyaki followed the pattern where he'd subtly express a craving, and she'd pretend to relent before making them.
"Shin-kun, how's Ayane's tamagoyaki? It's my specialty, you know?"
For some reason, Ayane had suddenly whipped them up herself.
Feeling that oddity but unable to resist his favorite dish, Tae-il took a bite—and was blown away.
"It's delicious. Seriously. Way better than my mom's."
"Hehe, nailed it!"
It wasn't empty flattery; they were genuinely amazing.
These weren't the Japanese-style tamagoyaki that highlighted the egg's natural flavor.
They were Korean-style egg rolls, with the crisp textures of carrots and green onions intact.
Somehow, she'd nailed the perfect salty seasoning that hit Tae-il's taste buds dead-on.
From his past life to now.
Over thirty years of palate trained by his birth mom—and Ayane had captured it precisely.
She'd conquered the most important front in winning a man: his stomach.
Thus, in the heroine race that hadn't even begun, Ayane reclaimed the high ground.
But if there's joy in the world, there's bound to be sorrow too.
Katsuragi Hotaru, the head of the household and Ayane's father, glared at Tae-il from across the table, his vibe the polar opposite of the cheerful mood.
"Hm. As a sushi shop owner, I'm not thrilled my daughter learned Korean-style tamagoyaki…."
"Dad?"
"I'm forgiving it because it's you, Taichi."
"Ah, ahaha…."
"So, our daughter? Won't you give your dad one too?"
Hotaru pleaded with a goofy grin, and Ayane beamed, picking up the largest—or rather, the most misshapen—one.
"Here! Specially, Dad gets the biggest one!"
"Kuhuhuk! That's my girl!"
Tae-il's face showed shock at the truth he'd just witnessed.
Whoa, was that for real?
Ayane's move was blatantly dumping leftovers.
Undeterred, Hotaru fell hook, line, and sinker for his daughter's charm, popping the lumpy roll into his mouth without a second thought.
As if his earlier murderous glare had been a lie, tears suddenly streamed down his face.
"You're improving every day, Ayane. Just like your mom Yuuna—your cooking skills are top-notch!"
"Can't leave Dad out! You're our family's chef, after all?"
"Kuhuhuk!"
Not content with one round of tears, he now covered his mouth and sobbed openly.
Good grief.
To Tae-il, it looked like a perfectly scripted play.
Glancing at Yuuna, who observed from the sidelines with amusement, their eyes met. She chuckled softly, pressing a finger to her lips.
Shh.
The message was clear.
Tae-il quietly watched the Katsuragi father-daughter duo's comedy skit.
Hotaru was still melting over Ayane crediting her parents for her skills, blubbering away. His soft heart didn't match his burly build.
Whatever, as long as the food's good.
Whether Hotaru's reaction was fake or real didn't matter to Tae-il. He just hurriedly shoveled more rolls with his chopsticks, lest Hotaru "sacrifice" for his daughter and snatch them.
The dinner was peaceful, despite the unease.
Though Hotaru occasionally over-immersed in his role, splashing sparks toward Tae-il.
"Daaang it! To think I'd have to send such a daughter off to some guy someday. I won't accept it! Honey, I'm against this marriage! Forget jobs or marriage—just live with Dad forever, Ayane!"
"You too, really. What kind of dramatics at a nice family dinner?"
"Dramatics?! This is a father's love for his—!"
"Sleep alone tonight?"
"Sorry…."
Yuuna deftly reined in Hotaru's outburst.
"Anyway, that's a relief, Ayane. Looks like you're graduated from tamagoyaki."
"Right? Ayane should practice other dishes now, yeah?"
"Anything you want to learn?"
"Kimchi jjigae!"
"Egg rolls and kimchi stew—classic combo."
Tae-il nodded, and Hotaru ground his teeth.
"Kuhuk! I could teach you udon, soba, miso soup, sukiyaki, ramen—anything…!"
Of course, no one paid him any mind.
The family head's dignity was inversely proportional to his burdens.
"Kimchi jjigae's unfamiliar even for Mom—sure you want that?"
"If I have to, I'll learn from Hana auntie!"
"Oh? Smart idea. But Hana's busy—think it'd be okay…?"
Yuuna pretended to ponder, eyeing Tae-il.
Mother and daughter alike, their smiling pressure was no joke.
"She's home all weekend."
"Really, Taichi?"
"Vacation from Wednesday through next week."
Just in case, he'd check himself, Tae-il backpedaled slyly.
"Hehe. Perfect, Ayane?"
"Yeah! Gonna ask Hana auntie all sorts of stuff!"
The harmonious mother-daughter chat.
"Kuhum! This tamagoyaki is art…!"
The family head, short-circuiting over one egg roll from his daughter, sobbing repeatedly.
In this familiar dinner scene, Ayane kept a gentle smile throughout.
As if grilling him about Iris and Sakuya yesterday, ignoring his messages until dismissal, had all been a lie.
Guilt, maybe?
For some reason, her demeanor burdened Tae-il.
Even though they were delicious, looking at Ayane made the egg rolls taste like nothing.
Tae-il rarely woke up with a clear head in the morning.
His flipped sleep schedule made even vampires seem normal; sunlight felt grating.
Getting up early for school was a constant battle with drowsiness.
Sometimes he'd pull all-nighters on caffeine.
To him, inspiration equaled time—once gone, irrecoverable. It slipped away if he blinked, never to return.
That's the gap in talent.
Tae-il poured everything into composing, desperately chasing even flashes of insight. Lately, lyrics study piled on, making time perpetually short.
Dol mask or arrow—either would do.
He yearned to stop time itself.
"Infinite time to catch up on sleep, writhing in creation's agony…."
If transmigration across space-time was possible, why not time stop?
Somewhere, occult powers to stun the world existed—Tae-il believed it.
But his foe remained sleep.
"Ugh…."
Mornings left him a mess.
Truth be told, without Ayane, he'd sleep till noon.
His daily life had regressed from his past life.
Without her, it'd crumble fast.
Flick.
Waking, modern habit kicked in: phone first.
9:40 AM.
School had started long ago.
"Uwaaaah! Late!"
No wonder his head felt clear.
Realizing, Tae-il scrambled—quick wash, half-dried hair, bread in mouth, bolting out.
Even running, he fixed his gakuran sleeves properly.
"Nomuhazu ne Aya-ne! (That's too much, Ayane!)"
The morning after Ayane's independence declaration, she'd gone alone without waking or waiting—unlike usual.
He hadn't expected such coldness overnight; Tae-il felt wronged.
Checking messenger mid-run:
"What the heck!"
At this point, Tae-il suspected her "forgiveness" was just to mess with him.
Was yesterday's tamagoyaki like Jojo's empty lunchbox ploy?
Running, he hesitated at corners.
That romcom staple—"Jigoku jigoku!"—with bread and crashing into a girl? Exactly his situation.
Thankfully, no bread-munching girl dashed to school.
Outdated cliché; even they’d be embarrassed.
But I'll pull it off.
He never dreamed he'd reenact a manga girl's trope. No girl-crash at corners, though.
He reached school without incident.
Feeling oddly disappointed, he sneaked along the deserted wall, avoiding stares. Even a blatant skipper like him lacked nerve for the front gate.
"There should be a climbable spot around here…."
Tae-il scanned the graffiti-covered wall.
He found a weathered crack in the bricks—tiny footholds for fingers and toes.
First, toss bag over.
"Okay. Foot here… hup!"
Past-life bouldering skills let him scale it nimbly.
Rusty from disuse, a few slips, but five minutes of grunting and he summited.
Like childhood, he vaulted over, landing.
"Huh?"
And met a new connection.
"Good work, everyone. Dismissed—back to class."
"Thanks for your hard work!"
"Yeah. See you this afternoon."
At the morals committee advisor's order, the trio removed armbands and stretched.
"Kuh! Neck hurts."
"Hurts? Want a massage?"
"No thanks!"
"I can make it painless. My boyfriend said it was great."
"Unlike your boyfriend, I'm a delicate high school girl!"
"Is that so?"
Hayate seemed unconvinced.
Sakurako often showed agility belying her small frame.
Last year, she'd been picked for knocking out delinquents harassing students—despite her size.
"Anyway, why so quiet again? It's creepy…."
Sakurako eyed the subdued Ayane, like yesterday.
Not mad like before, but….
Worried about her love life, she considered comforting her—
Ayane declared suddenly.
"Sakurako-senpai, Ayane's learning push-pull! Gonna steal Shin-kun's soul with Ayane's mysterious charm!"
Worries vanished.
Sakurako picked her ear boredly.
"Weird. Ears acting up? President, okay if I take sick leave for ENT?"
"No, Sakurako—you heard right. No need for hospital."
Hayate blocked her subtle escape.
Sakurako didn't yield.
"Your ears seem off too, senpai. Wanna go together? My relative's clinic nearby—they'll do it free if I ask."
Hayate smiled sweetly, tempted.
"Maybe?"
"You guys are mean!"
Ayane wedged between, hugging their arms.
Sakurako poked her puffed cheeks.
"Your weird talk started it, dummy."
"Is Ayane learning push-pull that strange, senpai!?"
"Yep."
Ayane turned to Hayate.
She smiled ambiguously.
"Kinda?"
"So mean!"
Not full denial—half-comfort, double hurt.
"What do you all think of Ayane!?"
"Cute face and body, but can't land a guy?"
"Adorable kouhai?"
"Exactly!"
Ayane realized their view.
Like looking at a love failure.
"Fine—President, I'll concede you're dating!"
"Kuhm!"
"Saw your Stagram yesterday—looked so happy! Ayane was jealous!"
"K-Kuhm!"
Hayate blushed, fake-coughing.
Yuuma High's morals president had been dating her college tutor since middle school. Guardians of morals breaking them—timeless tradition.
Her childhood-friend-turned-lover story made Ayane seek advice often.
Not much practical help, but insightful.
Ayane figured it just didn't work on Shin Tae-il. Any normal guy would've fallen a thousand times.
Unlike reliable Hayate, one advisor screamed untrustworthy.
Hiiragi Sakurako.
Ayane glared; her face twisted menacingly.
"Oh? That's how you look at senpai? Eyes down."
"President! Sakurako-senpai's unqualified to advise Ayane!"
"Haha. Her mouth's rough, but she picks times and places…."
"Wanna die?"
Ayane clung to Hayate, pointing.
"Anyway, Sakurako-senpai's a no-go! Total expert cosplay!"
"I said—I could, but don't!"
Sakurako declared boldly; Hayate covered her mouth, turning away.
Ayane-obsessed Sakurako missed it.
"That excuse is stale! Got new material?"
"Not an excuse! You don't know my popularity. I was top at St. Reika Girls' Academy—Hiiragi Sakurako!"
"Girls' school!"
Elite mission school for proper ladies.
Hayate nodded.
"Miss it. First-year Sakurako was the perfect lady."
Problem: she pummeled thugs lady-like.
Last year's Yuuma celeb wasn't ace athletes or idols, but academic class warrior Sakurako.
Her appeal? Reliable beyond her size.
"Then bring a boyfriend next time!"
Ayane challenged.
Prove your purity.
Odd phrasing, but Sakurako bit.
"You're done for. I'll date one just to show you. Wait."
"Ready! A lolicon who'd date you? Terrifying!"
"You’re dead!!"
"Kyaaah! No violence! Morals committee using force?! Don't shirk duty, senpai!"
"Disrespecting senpai's the same!"
"Haha. So lively."
Hayate watched fondly as the two spun around her in chase.
Until last year, duty-bound, now these cute kouhai made school fun.
Morals committee basics: role model, diligent student life.
I.e., good grades.
Free classes full of arts/sports nuts rarely qualified, so academics dominated.
All top students, but vertical hierarchy, stiff vibe—one per year.
Friends? Business only—strangers post-grad.
But I'll stay in touch with these two….
Hayate, discovering lively joy, thought joint finals prep—different years be damned—sounded fun.
"Kyaa! Class bell soon, senpai! First period's off-campus for me!"
"Don't wanna be late? Stay still!"
"Kyaa!"
"Haha. Enough, both."
Worried they'd actually tardy, Hayate reined in the still-circling duo.