[ENG] Yome ni Uwaki Saretara, Daigaku Jidai ni Modotte Kimashita! V1 Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Don't be passive when recruiting for clubs, be active!

I was supposed to be dead, yet I woke up somewhere. Looking around, I realized it was the room I’d lived in from my university days until I started living with my wife. I thought it might be some kind of life-flashing-before-my-eyes moment, but my vision wasn’t shaky at all. It was perfectly clear. Then I noticed the beep-beep-beep of a smartphone alarm going off on the low table. But this sound—it was from a model several generations old. The screen displayed the year I’d entered university. And it was the day before the entrance ceremony. I couldn’t believe it. I bolted to the bathroom and peered into the mirror. There, staring back at me, was my younger self.

“Hah! What the hell… haha! Is this a dream!? Did I come back!? Ha, haha!”

Time travel. The sheer absurdity of the situation made me laugh uncontrollably. After a while, I calmed down, and a thought struck me.

“Could I redo it? My life…”

I started to think this might actually be a chance. My life had peaked the moment I started dating my wife and got married. But to her, I was just one of many guys. She probably only married me because I happened to be the right age at the right time.

“But if I can redo it from university, I don’t have to marry her, do I? I could avoid that misery, couldn’t I?”

I muttered to myself, lying on the kitchen floor and staring at the ceiling. It was my honest, unfiltered truth.

“The department I’m in has her too. But if I play it smart, I might not even have to meet her. The university’s huge, after all. She wouldn’t have any reason to take an interest in some random guy she doesn’t know. That way, I could avoid the misery.”

If I could start over from this point, I could find a much better woman than her and live happily. That hope began to bubble up inside me.

“I’ve got knowledge of the future, professional skills, and everything I need to make a killer university debut.”

My past life—or maybe my “first run”?—whatever you’d call it, I was the ultimate introvert. My first university life was dull as hell. I did well in my studies and landed a job at a top-tier company everyone envied, but I had zero connection to anything remotely youthful or exciting.

“But now I can do it. No—I have to do it! No more! I’m done with unfairness! I! Will! Make! My! University! Debut!!!”

With a shout, I leapt up and bolted out of the room. I’d seize a happy future no matter what it took!

“I’ll find a woman way better than you! And I’ll be happy! Absolutely, undeniably happy!!!”

Roaring, I charged through the streets. My chest, which should’ve been empty after being stabbed, was now brimming with anticipation.

---

For a university debut, the first step is appearance. Anyone would think to hit up a salon, and that’s not wrong. But for a guy, picking the right barber is key. I dashed into a trendy barbershop in Shibuya, got a cut and a shave, then headed straight to “Ura-Harajuku” beyond Takeshita Street in Harajuku. It’s lined with select shops, and that’s where I bought my clothes. The trick is to get everything—top to bottom—from one store. I bought five full sets. It cost a fortune, but this was an investment. Three sets might’ve been enough, but I figured a little buffer wouldn’t hurt. Back home, I spread a notebook out on my desk.

“The key to a youthful university life… it’s clubs…!”

What’s university all about? Some might say research, and that’s admirable and earnest. But most people would probably say “clubs.”

“Clubs are a microcosm of human society—or maybe a mimicry of a military hierarchy. There’s always a caste system.”

Plenty of people suffered under the school caste system in middle and high school. Low-caste introverts like me clung to the faint hope that university would free them from it, studying hard to get there. But the reality’s different. If anything, the caste mentality accelerates in university, becoming even more brutal!

“Here’s where my future knowledge comes in. I know the interpersonal dynamics of every club member.”

In my previous life, I was tasked by a professor every year to negotiate with the clubs. I’d burned their relationships and caste hierarchies into my memory. I hooked my PC up to the internet, pulled up SNS pages for event clubs, tennis clubs, drinking clubs, and intercollegiate party clubs, and jotted down the relationships I remembered into my notebook. Then I dumped all that data into a logical-thinking framework software on my PC to pinpoint the key players.

“Got it. These are the key people. Found you, targets!!”

I downloaded their profile pics from SNS, printed them out, and pasted them into my notebook. And with that, my “University Relationship Correlation Notebook” was complete!

“Now I just need to act at tomorrow’s entrance ceremony! Heh, heh, ahahaha!”

I let out a triumphant laugh. They say war is all about preparation. If that’s true, victory’s practically guaranteedರ

guaranteed. Tomorrow’s shaping up to be a blast!

---

The entrance ceremony for my university, the National Imperial Capital University, was held at the Budokan. The place was buzzing with new students, club recruiters handing out flyers, and even some media—our school’s got the highest entrance exam scores in Japan, after all. I watched the scene through binoculars from the rooftop of a nearby building. Freshmen in kimonos and hakama, seniors in casual clothes—guys who looked cool but not quite hot enough—were eagerly passing out flyers.

“Oh, look at those event-club posers swarming the cute girls. Too bad they’ll just get snatched up by the hot seniors. Poor things… Oh, there we go!”

I spotted one of my “targets” from yesterday breaking away from the club crowd. He headed off from the Budokan toward a convenience store. Right on cue! I left the rooftop and made my way to the store. Peeking inside, I saw my target piling a basket with as many canned chu-hais as it could hold. College kids sure love their booze. He was probably planning a little “pre-game” drinking session at a nearby park. The moment he stepped outside with his overstuffed bags, I casually bumped into him.

“Whoa!”

“Oops!”

He stumbled, and a bunch of chu-hai cans spilled onto the ground. I quickly scooped them up and handed them back.

“Sorry! I was nervous and ran into you!”

I gave him a crisp bow. He laughed it off warmly.

“Oh, you’re a freshman, huh? No worries, no worries! I overdid it with the chu-hai anyway! We’re even!”

“Thanks! But isn’t that heavy? As an apology, let me carry one!”

Before he could protest, I snatched the bag of chu-hai and snacks from his left hand. He looked impressed.

“You’re a nice guy! I like that! That respect for others—cool stuff! Alright, I’ll take you up on it!”

So we walked together toward where his club was set up.

“That navy three-piece suit’s sharp. Most freshmen rock those boring black recruit suits, right? I’m not a fan of that vibe.”

“My mom got it for me! She said I had to look good for the entrance ceremony! Told me to take selfies with seniors and cute girls in it! Haha!”

Total lie. My mom’s not that stylish, and she doesn’t care about selfies. That was my strategy.

“No way! Haha! That’s an awesome mom!”

“How about it, senpai? One selfie?”

“Hell yeah! Woo!”

“Woo!”

We snapped a pic with our arms around each other, holding the convenience store bags.

“Send me that pic too!”

“Got it!”

I casually swapped accounts with him and sent the photo. Chatting as we walked, we reached his club’s spot.

“Here’s our club! Hey, everyone! Got someone I want you to meet!!”

He called out to his clubmates. This was my plan, and I felt a grin creeping up. This guy was the number-three in the university’s biggest intercollegiate event club. Hardworking, reliable, great at organizing, trusted by the club leader, and loved by the members—an unsung hero. Getting introduced to the group by a guy like him? That was my goal.

“Hey there! I’m Kanahisa Tokiwa, freshman! My name’s written with ‘play’ and ‘long time,’ so feel free to call me Kanata! Looking forward to your guidance!”

The seniors chuckled, but it was friendly.

“‘Guidance’? So formal! Haha! Relax, relax! Kanata helped me out when he saw me struggling with my bags—good guy! Take care of him!”

10 minutes later

The club spread out around the Budokan, some handing out flyers, others just milling about. I could see the freshmen in their formal wear—kimonos and hakama—and the seniors, casual but not quite cool enough, eagerly working the crowd.

“Oh, look at those event-club tryhards swarming the cute girls. They’ll just get scooped up by the real hotshots anyway. Poor saps… Wait, there!”

I spotted one of my “targets” peeling off from the crowd, heading toward a convenience store. Perfect. I ditched the rooftop and followed. Inside, he was loading a basket with chu-hai cans—college kids and their booze. Probably prepping for a park drinking session. When he stepped out with his bulging bags, I “accidentally” bumped into him.

“Whoa!”

“Oops!”

He stumbled, cans clattering to the ground. I scooped them up and handed them over.

“Sorry! I was nervous and crashed into you!”

I bowed sharply. He laughed, easygoing.

“Oh, a freshman? No biggie! I overpacked the chu-hai anyway. We’re square!”

“Thanks! But isn’t that heavy? Let me take one as an apology!”

I grabbed a bag before he could argue. He looked impressed.

“You’re a good dude! I like that! That respect vibe’s cool. Alright, you’re on!”

We walked together toward his club’s spot.

“That navy three-piece is slick. Freshmen usually roll in those dull black recruit suits, right? Not my thing.”

“My mom got it for me! Said I had to look sharp for the ceremony. Told me to snap selfies with seniors and cute girls! Haha!”

Bullshit. My mom’s got no taste, and she doesn’t care about selfies. It’s all part of the plan.

“For real? Haha! Solid mom!”

“How about a selfie, senpai?”

“Hell yeah! Yeaaah!”

“Yeaaah!”

We slung arms around each other, bags in hand, and snapped the shot.

“Send me that too!”

“On it!”

We swapped accounts, and I sent it over. Chatting as we went, we hit his club’s turf.

“This is us! Yo, everyone! Got a guy to introduce!!”

He rallied his crew. My plan was working—I could feel the smirk coming. This guy was number three in the biggest intercollegiate event club. Diligent, dependable, a logistics whiz, trusted by the boss, and a member favorite—the backbone type. Getting a direct intro from him? That’s my ticket.

“Hi! I’m Kanahisa Tokiwa, freshman! My name’s ‘play’ and ‘long time,’ so call me Kanata! Excited for your guidance!”

The seniors snickered, but it was warm.

“‘Guidance’? So stiff! Haha! Chill, man! Kanata helped me with my bags when he saw me struggling—solid dude! Look out for him!”

“Nice guy, huh!” “I didn’t have that kind of chill as a freshman!” “He’s kinda hot too.” “More bro-hot than girl-hot, like Hollywood vibes?” “What’s that, evolved soy sauce face?”

They chattered about me, all positive. I was in.

“Oh, sorry for holding you up! Here’s our flyer—hit up the welcome party! If you’re lost with orientation or classes, ping me! I owe you! Haha!”

Good dude. After some warm vibes, they cut me loose. I’d made the connection. Step one to a sparkling youth? Nailed it.

---

Near the Budokan, I caught some shrill, icy female voices from the sidelines. It wasn’t just me—others noticed too.

“What’s with that outfit? We told you—uphold our high school’s honor! Why’d you show up to the ceremony in casual clothes?”

“Huh? Look at it—it’s totally formal! It’s a university ceremony, I can wear what I want! Are you stupid?”

Three girls in suits were ganging up on one in an odd getup. Bright blonde hair tied up with frilly ribbons, a pink blouse with ruffles galore, a black tie, knee-length black skirt, platform shoes, thigh-highs—textbook “problem girl” style. Blue contacts, heavy makeup. Gorgeous face, but dripping with drama-queen energy. Flashy as hell.

“Don’t mess with us! Our high school’s elite! That look—what if people think we’re some delinquent dump? You’re a liability!”

“Huh? This is nothing! Sixty of us come here every year—one like me isn’t a big deal, right?”

“Change now! Or just leave!”

“No way. Leaving’s a hassle, but so is staying. Can I go?”

Then one of the suit girls raised a hand, voice trembling with rage.

“You’ve been a smug bitch since high school!!”

Bad move. Probably prepping that classic girl-on-girl chest shove. My body moved before I could think.

“Ugh!”

“Huh?”

I stepped in front of the problem girl and took the hit to my gut. Hurt like hell. Not part of the plan, but if I want a dazzling youth, I’ve gotta step up. I couldn’t help it.

The suit girls glared at me, suspicious as hell.

“Hey, you okay?”

The problem girl peered at me, worried. Her blue eyes sparkled—stunning. But I couldn’t stare forever.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More importantly…”

I turned to the suit girls, hardening my face.

“Raising a hand’s too far, don’t you think? Is that cool at your high school?”

“She’s the problem! Our tradition is all girls wear suits! She broke it!”

Typical girl-code nonsense. Like how only upperclassmen can wear navy socks—unwritten rules the girls enforce. Never seen it linger past graduation, though. Must be some old, prestigious school pumping dozens into Imperial Capital every year. I’m not from that world, but I hear they’ve got alumni networks that stick. Makes sense.

“Ridiculous. Still gossiping like housewives post-grad…”

The problem girl muttered behind me. Harsh analogy, but I vibed with it.

“Who the hell are you!? Why’re you defending her!? Who do you think you are!? Some knight wannabe!? Lame as fuck!”

“You’re the lame ones. Freaking out over clothes? Look around—girls are dolled up everywhere! Your recruit suits are the ones sticking out!”

Okay, the problem girl’s outfit was way more out there, but I kept that quiet.

“No way! Why’re you defending that creep!? Unreal—she was a total loner delinquent at school! You’re gross!”

“Got it. You’re still stuck in high school caste mode! Cool, cool, I see it!”

Bully-worthy = creepy. Helping creepy = creepy. To them, I’m bottom-tier. Dumbasses. That logic only flies in the caged freedom of middle and high school—classrooms as both prison and shield. University’s harsher. Time to school them. I slid an arm around the problem girl’s waist and pulled her close.

“Eek! What the—sudden much!?”

I whispered in her ear.

“Wanna shut them up? Trust me. Got it?”

“…Heh… confident, huh? Fine. Show me, hehe.”

“When I signal…”

I gave her the play. She smirked and nodded.

“What’re you whispering about!? That’s why you’re creepy!”

“I’m not creepy, and neither is she. Oh, I get it—you’re jealous of her, aren’t you?”

“No fucking way! Don’t screw with us!!”

The suit girls flushed red, pissed. Bullseye. This problem girl’s looks could’ve topped the caste, but her weirdness tanked her. They targeted her out of envy. Her beauty triggers their insecurity, so they attack to bury it. The suits? Just a bid to dim her shine. But that’s the weapon. I traced a finger down her back.

“Nn! Ticklish…”

She squirmed but jumped into my cue.

“Ugh! Sniff! Waaah—sobbbbb!!”

She plastered a crying face and clung to my chest, tears streaming. I didn’t say go that far, but whatever—better for me. Even crying, she’s gorgeous.

“You’re trash! Ganging up and trashing her like that!”

I bellowed for the crowd, stroking her head gently.

“Huh? She’s crying—so what? We’re girls too. Girl tears don’t work on girls. Hilarious!”

That’s their blind spot. Girl tears are a weapon. Proof?

“What’s up? A fight?” “She’s crying!” “Is that her boyfriend? Hot move shielding her!” “She’s being bullied? Poor thing!” “Making a girl cry? Kinda messed up…” “Flexing on a couple? Cringe much?”

Whispers rippled through the crowd. People gathered, eyeing us with sympathy, the suit girls with scorn or hostility. The suit girls froze, rattled by the shift.

“You thought this was high school 2.0. At your school, she’d be a punching bag forever. You tough girls could bark, and the guys would heel. But this is university. Step inside, and it’s strangers everywhere, all obsessed with moral clout. Pull petty, childish flexes here, and the community boots you fast!”

The suit girls paled. They’re smart enough to get in here—they caught on quick. This isn’t a place for brute attitude. You need finesse, allies, and public sway, or you’re the villain and out. Harsh world.

“Get lost. Now. That’s a warning. Let this crowd ID your faces, and you’re screwed. Banned from welcome parties, blacklisted by clubs. Scram before they clock you. If you’ve got any brains, go!”

“Eek…”

They bolted. Probably skipping the ceremony to sulk at home. Smart move. Staying’s a dead end now. They can still reset. I hauled the problem girl away from the scene.

---

We parked under some trees, catching our breath.

“You’re something else. Shocked me—and I don’t shock easy. Thanks, that was a blast! Hehe.”

She grinned, genuinely grateful. Felt good. But my brain was blaring alarms.

“Glad you liked it. I’m out, then.”

I dipped a bow and turned to split. She grabbed my sleeve.

“Hey! Why’re you bailing? Aren’t you supposed to milk the hero card—snag my number, force a date, drag me to a love hotel? A beauty like me’s a once-in-a-lifetime shot!”

If she were normal, I’d lock in a date. But she’s a freak. I’m here for a shiny youth and a happy marriage. She was way too into that back there—reeks of drama. Looks-wise, she’s on par with my wife, but her vibe’s a wild card. Nope. Pass.

“Stop calling yourself a ‘beauty’—we’re college kids, not teens. You’re an adult, not a ‘girl.’”

“Huh? I’m still a virgin, though?”

“What kinda mishear is that!? I didn’t say or ask that! You think I’d geek out over it!? Rude much!?”

“So you’re not into me? No ulterior motives? Comics and light novels say guys help for the payoff.”

“Your sources suck! Don’t study guys from that crap! I just reacted on instinct.”

“Hmm. So I don’t do it for you. Guess you’re into uggos. Sorry I can’t feed your kink… pity, hehe.”

“I’m not into uggos! You’re just a weirdo!”

Self-absorbed to the core. Maybe she did deserve the heat. Did I back the wrong horse?

“Hey, uggo-lover. The ceremony’s about to start—let’s go together.”

“Nah, I’m good on my own.”

“What? You helped me out but won’t see it through? If you leave me here alone, a bunch of creeps will swarm me like, ‘Oh, you were crying earlier, poor thing! I’ll listen!’ Next thing you know, I’m in a love hotel… I just got into university, and now some guy’s getting into me!”

“Hah! Your imagination’s wild. And that dirty talk’s next-level!”

“If you’re a hero, you should look after the damsel to the end! Come on! Escort me to the ceremony! Oh, and when the bigwigs start droning on, keep me entertained—I hate boredom!”

“…What if I say no?”

“I’ll bawl my eyes out and shred you with the blade of justice.”

“Girls are so unfair! Fine, fine—I’ll go with you.”

“Great! Nice to meet you. I’m Himewa Ayashiro. Call me Ayashiro-san if you want some polite distance, or Hime-chan if you’re sucking up for a shot.”

Did her “me” sound drawn out, or was that my imagination? Whatever, I won’t be using her first name. This is a one-day thing anyway.

“No shot there. I’ll stick with Ayashiro. I’m Kanahisa Tokiwa. Call me whatever.”

“Got it. Uggo-loving impotent Kana-chan.”

“Hey, cut it out! I’m not impotent! And drop the Kana-chan!”

Impotent’s a hard no. In my first run, my wife’s cheating left me that way—it was brutal. The agony of needing pills is indescribable. Thank god this second-round youth fixed it.

“Let’s go, Tokiwa. Can’t be late! Hehe.”

Ignoring my protests, Ayashiro strutted off with a smug grin.

“What a handful,” I muttered, falling in step beside her as we headed to the ceremony.

---

Why are entrance ceremonies so damn boring? The president’s dull speech, the old geezers’ ramblings, the guest’s snooze-fest.

“This is so lame. Surviving the exam war just to end up here? Depressing.”

“Right? This is a national uni—taxes probably pay for this venue. I want a refund.”

Ayashiro, sitting next to me, looked just as bored. We’d been chatting nonsense to pass the time. She’s quick-witted and sarcastic—pretty fun to talk to. But it didn’t last.

“Next, the freshman representative, Soraka Hatagiri, will give the welcome speech.”

A guy took the stage. Good face, solid build, but his smug, confident vibe felt borderline arrogant.

“Who’s that jerk? So full of himself. He’s this year’s top scorer? I lost to that? Should’ve studied harder.”

Ayashiro glared at Hatagiri with clear distaste. She’s got a confident streak too—probably a bad match.

“Spending this day in this place is a great honor in my life. Gathered here are young people brimming with potential to lead Japan, and the world, into the future. This fortune…”

Pretty words, empty fluff. A parade of platitudes. Humble-bragging disguised as modesty. The speech was hollow, but the crowd ate it up. Hatagiri had some kind of charisma.

“Well, well. He’s got the smooth talk for a future politician. But it’s missing passion—reeks of shallow vanity.”

“…You’ve got a sharp eye for people.”

“Hm? Really? My read’s on point? Wait, you know him?”

“…I’ve seen him around. He wouldn’t know me, though.”

“Oh? Huh.”

Ayashiro gave me a skeptical look but didn’t pry. Surprisingly considerate. Maybe the problem-girl vibe is just skin-deep. With my wife as my only female experience, I suck at judging women. Shame.

Once the ceremony ended, we stepped outside, and the welcome-party hype kicked up again. We strolled through the buzzing crowd.

“What clubs you joining?”

“Tennis, events, some high-achiever stuff, and art as a hobby.”

“Greedy much? But not bad. Better than saying you want a hookup club.”

“No way I’d touch those. Too sleazy. I want thrills, sparkle—y’know? What about you, Ayashiro?”

“Me? Fashion research, girly hobby stuff. Maybe a serious one like social issues. Tennis sounds fun, but I’d probably just get night-doubles invites, so maybe not.”

“You dive straight into dirty jokes! Stop it, it’s embarrassing! Tennis clubs range from dating pools to chill hobbies—just take your time picking.”

“True. Plenty of time. But… am I crazy, or are people staring at us?”

Now that she mentioned it, yeah—lots of eyes on us. Whispering, but not hostile or mocking. More like… curiosity?

“Probably your drama-queen getup. Cute, but not exactly time-and-place appropriate.”

“Thanks for the compliment. But I don’t think it’s me. Their looks have this… admiration vibe. People stare at me with jealousy or like I’m a zoo panda.”

“Panda and jealousy mix? But yeah, they’re eyeing me. Why?”

“Maybe… oh, yep.”

Ayashiro pulled up something on her phone and showed me. An SNS post with the selfie I took with that senior.

Imperial Capital University News

Freshman Spotlight #1

Kanahisa Tokiwa-kun!

A cozy selfie with a senior!

This Hollywood-faced freshman casually, coolly helped out a senior like it was nothing! Future Mr. Imperial Capital contender!?

Hollywood face? What the hell…?

“You’re famous already. Impressive.”

“Didn’t expect a mini-buzz. Kinda embarrassing. Heh.”

I’d planned to flex that selfie on classmates—“Check it, I’m already tight with seniors!”—but not like this. Guess that senior really took a shine to me.

“Hey, hey. Can I ask something?”

“What?”

“Put your arm around my waist again.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it.”

Ayashiro leaned in before I could answer. Reluctantly, I complied. She whipped out a selfie stick, snapped us, and showed me the pic.

“Look! Cute, right? Can I use this? When some poser tries hitting on me, I’ll flash this—perfect shield! Hehe.”

She looked thrilled. No point in raining on her parade.

“Glad it works.”

“Right? Hehe. If I say, ‘I’m this guy’s side piece,’ they’ll turn green and squirm. Fun!”

“Stop! You’ll tank my rep! Just say friend—please!”

“Hmm, should I? Hmm?”

Ayashiro teased me mercilessly, but it was kinda cute for her age. This playful banter was a first—warm, nice. But it didn’t last.

“Excuse me, can I interrupt?”

A sweet, resonant voice hit me from behind, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned. A stunning woman in a dazzling cherry-blossom kimono stood there. My heart started pounding—badly.

“Who’re you? We’re talking here,” Ayashiro snapped, pouting.

“Sorry,” the woman said, flustered by Ayashiro’s tone. “I just wanted to talk to him.”

Her eyes met mine. Gorgeous—ashy brown hair, matching eyes, an ethereal, fragile beauty. Still too perfect.

“What? A pickup? Your buzz is wild—snagging a stunner like her? Society’s unhinged.”

“N-No, not a pickup! Ahem! Um, Kanahisa Tokiwa-kun, right? We’re doing a freshman-only dinner to mingle. What do you say? No welcome parties today, just a casual vibe to build connections across departments…”

Behind her, a clique of hot freshmen stood—newly acquainted, judging by their spacing, but proud. Someone just rounded up this elite beauty squad for envy points. Being invited? Kinda flattering.

If only Soraka Hatagiri weren’t in it…!

I clenched my jaw to keep from freaking out. I knew I might do something nuts otherwise. The woman kept going.

“No good? I get it—sudden invites are weird. But Soraka, who’s organizing, is great at making people feel welcome!”

Yep. She called Hatagiri by his first name. At this point, they’re childhood friends—neighbors, parents tight, raised like siblings. Same schools, same years, an irreplaceable bond. Left alone, they’d start dating after Golden Week. The perfect couple everyone envies. For now, just friends.

“I get that, but who are you? If you’re inviting us, shouldn’t you introduce yourself properly?”

“Oh! My bad! You’re right! My name is…”

You don’t have to say it. I already know. I don’t want to hear it. It’ll drag up memories I can’t forget—things I’ve tried not to think about. Like how she’s also at this university.

“Ririsa Igarashi.”

She said it with a gentle smile. That smile—I once had it all to myself, if only for a short while. Because this woman was my “wife” in my first life.

“Hmm, nice to meet you. I’m Himewa Ayashiro.”

“Himena? Can I call you Hime-chan?”

“No way. Call me Himena-sama.”

“Wow, this girl acts so high and mighty! She’s cute like a doll but way too full of herself!!”

My wife laughed brightly, getting swept up in Ayashiro’s pace as always. I didn’t know her well back then. I only watched her from afar. We didn’t start dating until after university, so she feels like a stranger now.

“What’s going on, Ririsa? Struggling? Need a hand?”

“Oh, Soraka! Haha, I’m getting totally thrown off. University really is something—full of weirdos! Hehe.”

My wife stuck out her tongue and giggled playfully. I didn’t know that face. I only knew the grown-up version of her. But the guy who did know her was standing right here.

“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m—”

“No need for intros. You were just blabbering all high and mighty from the stage, right?”

Ayashiro shot Soraka a skeptical look, and he faltered under her gaze.

“Blabbering…? Haha… You’re a quirky one, huh? Haha…”

“Exactly! That’s why I’m totally lost here!”

“I get why even Ririsa, who gets along with everyone, is stumped. So, what do you say, you two? Join us for a little party.”

Soraka flashed a charming smile that drew admiring looks from nearby girls. Nice. Really, really enviable. That smile—this bastard used it to steal and ruin what was precious to me!

“We’ve already booked a place. It’s nice—good food, too. You’ll have fun, I’m sure! You’ll come, right?”

And just like that, I reunited with the man I hated most and the woman I’d loved most.

---

What a dumb twist. I’d been so caught up in my university debut that I’d pushed my wife and her lover out of my mind. I hadn’t thought about what I’d do if I ran into them.

“So, what departments are you guys in?”

The bastard, Soraka, asked with a smile.

“I’m in the Law Faculty, Legal Training Program,” Ayashiro replied.

I was shocked. She’s in the top humanities program. But with her sharp wit and sarcasm, it suits her.

“Wow, impressive. You’ll be among the elite here. Don’t you think connections matter? Building them now could be a huge asset later.”

“True. Can’t argue with that.”

“Exactly. I’m in the Medical Faculty, but I think the future needs more than just specialties—it’s about crossing departmental lines. That’s what this party’s for.”

Soraka slipped in a casual flex. This guy aced his way into the ultra-competitive Imperial Capital Medical Faculty—the pinnacle of exam elites. At this university, students constantly rank each other by entrance scores and departments. It’s annoying as hell. But it’s no wonder my wife cheated. Between my job and a doctor, most women would pick the doctor.

“Oh, a future doctor? Fancy. Speaking of, Tokiwa, what’s your department?”

I hadn’t mentioned it. I didn’t want to—not in front of this guy. No matter what, I couldn’t top the Medical Faculty in the pecking order. Saying it in front of Ayashiro or my wife felt humiliating. I sighed.

“Engineering Faculty, Architecture Department.”

To top it off, I’m a ronin—failed art school the first time, gave up on my artistic dreams, and switched to architecture. I didn’t want to admit it. Compared to someone who breezed straight into medicine, I’m pathetic.

“What? No way! That’s crazy—I’m in Architecture too!”

My wife’s excited voice hit me as I sulked. Another brutal mistake. I barely interacted with her in my first run, so I forgot—she’s in my department.

“Huh, same as Ririsa, huh? Haha. My childhood friend’s a bit of a klutz, so look out for her, okay? Haha.”

“Childhood friend? First time hearing that IRL. So, are you two dating?”

Ayashiro asked, intrigued. …I don’t wanna hear this… I wanted to plug my ears.

“N-No, it’s not like that! But I do think Soraka’s irreplaceable. Hehe.”

My wife laughed brightly.

“Yeah, we believe we’re bound by a strong connection. Haha,” Soraka added with a breezy smile.

They gazed at each other warmly. Irreplaceable. A strong bond. A connection that outranks marriage. Isn’t that just… unfair? I never had a chance from the start.

“Oh, I see. So, like, a safety net? A convenient guy? I want a childhood friend now—jealous!”

The air froze. Soraka’s lips tightened. My wife’s awkward laugh stalled.

“No, wait, hold on! Why would you say it like that!? Soraka’s not some convenient guy!”

My wife pouted, protesting desperately. Ayashiro didn’t flinch.

“Really? But you’re not physical, right? A guy and a girl hanging out without that? Impossible. Totally impossible. Even with sex, people drift apart—how can you hold each other without it? I’m skeptical.”

“That’s not true! Friendship can exist between men and women!”

“Maybe. Sure. But that just means he doesn’t have enough charm to surpass friendship for you—or enough pull to make you lose control. True bonds come from reckless love, don’t they? That’s what I think. It’s the raw, selfish drive to want someone—like romance or lust. Your ‘good relationship’ isn’t about craving each other desperately. Opposite-sex friendship? It’s just a consolation for people not worth craving. That’s all it is—a convenience. Tell me I’m wrong. If you craved each other fiercely, it’d be inconvenient.”

Ayashiro dropped some deep, half-convincing wisdom. My wife pressed a hand to her forehead, lost in thought.

“Ugh… huh? But we’ve always been together, getting along…”

“If my nonsense shakes you that much, that’s all it’s worth.”

Ayashiro spat it out coldly. We’ve only known each other a bit, but she seemed pissed they’d interrupted our banter. It warmed my chest.

“Stop insulting her any further,” Soraka said, stepping in front of my wife.

“Ayashiro-san, I was going to invite you too, but no. I’ve decided to protect Ririsa. I don’t want someone mean like you around.”

“Oh? I didn’t ask. You invite me, then ditch me. Busy guy.”

Ayashiro turned away, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Tokiwa-kun, this might be meddling, but you should steer clear of her. People who hurt others for no reason are trash. Not worth your time.”

You’re saying that? After stealing my wife? After I lost everything and even my life?

“Tokiwa-kun, ditch her and join us. I want to talk to someone from my precious childhood friend’s department—it’ll benefit you too.”

“What, those guys back there?”

I glanced at the clique behind him—stunning guys and girls, the creme de la creme of extroverts. Soraka’s the king, I guess. My wife the queen?

“Yep. I scouted standout talents from each department. They all agreed with my vision—helping each other grow. Special people.”

So the “habits die hard” saying fits. When his affair came out, he berated me nonstop like this—saying I wasn’t good enough, he was special, I was “beneath” him.

“Nothing you’re saying clicks with me. Not a damn thing. Ayashiro’s not trash. She’s weird but fascinating—worth every second.”

“Oh? Defending me?”

I shot Ayashiro a smile. That alone seemed to get my point across. She nodded back with a gentle grin.

“Plus, I’m a former introvert going for a university glow-up. I hate flashy, shallow types like them. I don’t want any extroverts in my sight but me.”

In my first life, before my wife, my world was gray. I had looks and brains but a rotten personality—couldn’t fit in. I envied the shiny people so much I wanted them all to crash and burn. Then I met her, married her, and learned the world could be beautiful. I stopped resenting others’ happiness.

“And honestly, those guys have nothing but their faces, right?”

I was certain. Soraka picked them for looks alone, probably sidelining anyone too smart to be his “ally.”

“…That’s not true. They’ve got shining talents. It just so happens the talented ones were good-looking.”

“Then bring one over and prove it.”

Soraka’s face went pale and stiff. He glared at me quietly. Those pretty faces? Just pawns to make their king shine. Talent’s a threat—it could topple him.

“Doubting them? You’re awful! I thought you were a good guy who’d jump to help people—disappointing! I won’t invite you. You don’t fit with us.”

He snapped—meaning I hit the mark. They’re all flash, no substance. Joining them? I’d rather die. It’d be like tossing my youth in the gutter.

“Hey, Soraka,” my wife spoke up as we locked eyes.

“What’s up, Ririsa?”

“Is Tokiwa-kun right? You said we’re mingling with talented freshmen, didn’t you?”

She looked down, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Yeah. Have I ever lied to you?”

“…No, you haven’t. Yeah, you don’t lie… But…”

She lifted her gaze to me. Those ashy brown eyes—so beautiful, so kind.

“Ririsa? Something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing. Let’s go. You two, stop fighting. Soraka, let’s head back to the group—it’s time, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go. Hanging with these two is a waste.”