Recognition Desire Monster

○○○○ Monster

"Kuhaha! Members of Clo!! Show yourselves!!"

Muchia Leoporte, who had somehow become the boss of a crime syndicate, grinned ferociously as he summoned his underlings.

There was no time to plant operatives in the academy, or rather, no such operatives had existed until moments ago—but such logical rebuttals were meaningless. Once the role of crime syndicate boss had been imposed on him, reality twisted accordingly: his organization and members were naturally prepared in advance.

The real question was why this role had been thrust upon him so suddenly. Before his regression, at this point, he was little more than a cute delinquent stirring up schoolyard brawls.

What had granted him this new role?

But there was no time for slow contemplation. His summoned thugs were already swarming the academy.

"Kyaaack!!"

"S-save me!!"

"What the hell is going on? I just stepped out to the bathroom...!! What happened while I was gone!?"

The academy plunged into chaos even more abruptly than in the previous loop. Students and teachers alike fell into panic, turning the place into a vision of hell.

"The plan's gone off the rails. Elaine, we need to fall back and regroup."

"Yes. Understood."

I had to accept failure without even knowing what went wrong. With a grim expression, I ordered Elaine to retreat, and she nodded darkly in response.

But one person refused to obey.

"We can't do that."

"Rone?"

"We can't abandon the students and teachers. We have to save them."

Unlike Elaine, Rone was an ordinary person unaware of ghost stories, so she naturally rejected my retreat order and insisted on rescuing people.

"Sorry, but we can't. I know it weighs on you, but this isn't the time to fight—it's time to pull back, Rone."

"Why?"

"...Sorry, I can't explain that either. But I can tell you this: I'm not running just to save my own skin. Retreating now is actually the fastest way to resolve this crisis. Trust me."

"...I'm sorry, but I can't leave people behind like this."

I tried to persuade her, but without mentioning ghost stories, there was little I could say—and predictably, Rone didn't budge. If we'd built even a modicum of trust like in the previous timeline through joint activities, I might have swayed her. But in this attempt, our relationship was barely beyond first meeting.

"No choice, then. Good luck. Elaine, let's pull back—just us."

"...Yes. Understood."

Elaine nodded darkly at my words, and Rone turned away silently. In the end, we split into two groups. Leaving Rone to face the ghost story-overlaid Muchia, I dashed toward the sealed room—ready to regress at any moment while we reformulated the plan.

Even on the way to the sealed room, Clo's criminals kept emerging. Literally emerging.

Thugs popping out from trash cans as lids flipped open. Others crashing through the academy ceiling, as if they'd been hiding there all along. From students' lockers. From empty classrooms that had been vacant moments before. From backpacks. Places where no human could possibly hide—and indeed, hadn't hidden until now.

Any space barely big enough for one person sufficed; reality overwrote itself, replacing emptiness with "always-been-hiding" thugs who burst forth indiscriminately.

"Kyahaha!! Human hunt!!"

"Blood!! Slaughter!! Frenzy!!"

These emerging goons, mad as post-apocalyptic raiders, indiscriminately attacked nearby students and staff in fits of insanity. A perfectly ghost story-worthy sight.

And one absent from the previous timeline. If anomalies had been this blatant before, I'd have spotted the ghost story influence even without status anomalies.

It was clearly rampaging. The ghost story's spread accelerated far beyond the prior loop. Muchia's transformation, the resulting academy assault—everything unfolded faster and more maniacally.

Why?

"Keeheehee! I'll paint you blood-red!"

"Get lost!"

I kicked a thug trying to climb through a window, sending him tumbling, as I sprinted toward the sealed room. Damn it—fourth floor.

"Enemy leader defeated!"

Then, as if things couldn't get worse, Rone's triumphant cheer echoed from below. Bad news. Time to revise the plan.

Defeating the head in this ghost story didn't suppress it. Quite the opposite. I didn't know its identity yet, but I grasped the structure. In shonen manga, beating the villain doesn't bring peace. It just summons a stronger one. Same here.

"...What do we do, Teacher?"

"The plan's a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠total bust. No more watching and adapting. We reset."

"But it's only been a few hours since we regressed..."

"I know. But we can't drag this out half-assed."

I grimaced like I'd bitten a bug. No one wanted a pointless regression less than me. But from the Clo phase onward, the academy was already a Mad Max hellscape overrun by lawless maniacs. I didn't want to imagine the next phase.

Damn.

Then, a blinding light erupted from the hallway window, searing like it could blind us permanently.

"Kyaaak!"

"My eyes—too bright!!"

The sudden flash threw students and criminals alike into momentary chaos, freezing everyone. But instinct screamed not to stop. This light signaled Clo's next phase.

The terrorist group Hand—next after Clo in the prior loop—was skipping ahead, naturally.

"Don't stop running! Keep going!"

"Y-yes!!"

In the blinding light, I gripped Elaine's hand and ran by instinct alone down the corridor. By the time my vision cleared, we'd reached the sealed room.

Just before entering, I instinctively glanced at the flash's origin.

"...What is that?"

"Ha, haha."

Ridiculous. I could only laugh. Staring at the countless flying objects encircling the academy outside, I let out a hollow chuckle.

Alien invaders from an advanced extraterrestrial civilization.

Delinquent circle first, then crime syndicate, then international terrorists. Finally, alien invasion?

"Haha. What is this, some middle schooler's fantasy..."

Something clicked in my mind. What was it? On the tip of my tongue...

Then the flying saucer targeted us. Snapping to, I thrust out my hand and triggered regression.

Fwoosh!

...

Beep-beep-beep. Click.

Ha. Ridiculous. UFOs now? What kind of ghost story is this?

That UFO was surely the phase after crushing the Hand terrorists. In that sense, I'd gleaned one new piece of info at the very end.

But it brought no joy. If anything, the ghost story's identity felt more elusive, plunging me deeper into confusion.

Maybe Elaine knew something. She had more ghost story knowledge than I, who knew zilch about Hifnia's tales.

She hadn't noticed until now, but something as uniquely outlandish as UFOs might jog her memory.

Thinking that, I prepped quickly and headed to the academy. But...

"No, I have no idea either. What were those giant silver saucers in the sky?"

Contrary to my hopes, Elaine was clueless too.

"If anything, do you have any guesses, Mr. Allen?"

"You think?"

We'd hit a wall. Elaine and I sighed, staring blankly at the floor with equally stymied expressions.

"Gotta repeat this crap again."

"Troubling. Regressions aren't infinite..."

"Tell me about it. At least with the infinite loop and Mr. Brandon, each try outlined the ghost story more. This one's not just uncrackable— we haven't even pinned the source."

....

Wait. Something off?

Mid-lament with Elaine, a nagging dissonance in my words halted me.

...Maybe. Maybe I'd buttoned the first hole wrong from the start.

If so, every premise I'd built crumbled. And I'd uncover this ghost story's truth.

The puzzle pieces were all there, after all.

I sank into thought. My mind settled, like with Mr. Brandon. The distant answer was already in my grasp.

"Mr. Allen? Why the sudden serious face..."

"Shh. Thinking."

"Again?"

Silencing Elaine's chatter, I closed my eyes and reasoned.

Yeah. Maybe all the info was there already. I'd just failed to see it.

Why? Wrong first button.

Let's grade my "choices" from two loops like wrong-answer notes.

First wrong note: Targeting Muchia was wrong from the start. This ghost story's structure forbids suppressing academy invaders. Why? Beating one just triggers the next wave bigger and badder. Delinquent to criminal, criminal to terrorist, terrorist to aliens. That's the rule.

From that view, securing Muchia before or after the assault made little difference.

My mistake: assuming force worked like the infinite loop or Brandon—physical solutions. Luck had favored me with solvable ones before; force might be a suboptimal fix.

First correct answer.

Second wrong note: What's the original ghost story? Elaine knows no terrorist assaulting the academy, nor aliens. Why? Too distinctive to miss—especially for her, less ignorant than me.

Answer: No such ghost story exists.

Think further. The infinite loop on enrollment day—was that from folklore? No. A single person's intense resentment, twisted by the unknown "anomaly" into a hyper-personal ghost story. Fundamentally unlike Brandon's.

Correct answer: Ghost stories split into two from the start. One: folklore-born, life-sustained among masses, complete ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as ghost stories. Two: born from specific wishes, warped by anomaly into ghost stories.

I should've recognized this post-loop, but Brandon's clouded my judgment with half-baked experience.

No original? No wonder hunting it led nowhere. Wrong first button.

Third wrong note: Is the essence "assaulting the academy"? I fixated on attacks, but maybe prejudice again?

If wish-born, someone desired this chaos? Possible, but consider another angle.

Shift perspective. Academy attacked. Defeat attacker. Next attacks. Defeat again...

Reverse it. Yes—reversing flips the meaning 180 degrees.

This ghost story isn't assaulting the academy. It's defeating the assaulters. Or precisely: saving the academy from assault.

Rescuing from terrorists, criminals, delinquents. Common fantasy, right? Every student daydreams saving school from invaders.

That childish, embarrassing delusion: this ghost story's core.

Final correct answer.

...Recalling the last two loops, one person fit this wish perfectly.

Conclusion...

Finishing my wrong-answer notes, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I quietly opened my eyes.

"I stumbled too much from the start. Led to pointless mistakes."

"Meaning you've figured out the ghost story!? What is it?"

"Ha. You wouldn't know even if I told you."

"What? Fact is, I don't brag, but collecting ghost stories is my secret hobby."

Elaine pouted, taking it as belittlement.

"Calm down. Not dismissing you. Purely, it's a type you couldn't know. I'll share my deductions."

I explained my guessed identity to her.

"...Shocking that it might lack an original, but yeah—it fits your theory perfectly."

She was stunned but grasped it quickly.

"Great, we've ID'd it. But the key's the solution, right? How do we handle it?"

"Of course. I was mulling a similar plan anyway."

"As expected, solving it is still... Huh?"

"We have a way. The cleanest fix for me."

No—truthfully, it was already solved.

Key was unmasking it. Solution followed easily.

I told her my plan. Strangely, Elaine reacted poorly, looking deeply offended.

...

"...And that concludes the first lecture on Fundamentals of Gift Understanding."

The third "first lecture" ended. Weird phrasing, but reality.

How many more Day 2 loops...?

"Haa..."

I sighed, tidying up while glancing at Elaine. She tidied too, pointedly sulky, avoiding my eyes.

Guess I can't count on her help.

...Not that it mattered; what came next I could handle solo.

I waited for students to file out, then approached her, still lingering.

"Rone. Mind a quick chat?"

"Ah, Mr. Allen? Wh-what is it?"

To Rone Yustria.

Thinking back, she was always central to every academy assault—like Muchia. As it raged, she stepped up, always victorious. As if assaults existed to spotlight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her.

And they did—staged for her.

She claimed justice drove her, mere packaging. No student that admirable appears so readily.

True motive: seize chances to flaunt her physical enhancement gift unbound.

In class, hunting Sca—subtle obsession with specialness. Should've probed deeper.

That was her resentment.

Not Student A lost in the crowd, but special. Universal desire for recognition, respect.

New academy excitement, plus fear of paling among Hifnia's elite. Anyone would crave a stage tailored for them amid global geniuses.

Hero complex. Recognition craving.

Ghost story name: Recognition Desire Monster.

Thus, targeting puppets like Muchia was futile. The swept-up pawn didn't matter; Rone Yustria did.

"Got a moment?"

"...What is it?"

Approaching her, I eyed the translucent window hovering before me.