How did it even come to this?
What on earth was I doing?
Even though I asked myself those questions every single day, the answers never came. No, that wasn't right—I knew deep down that everything was my own fault. But looking back, I truly couldn't understand what I had been thinking at the time or why I had been so utterly insane. I couldn't comprehend it.
The only thing I could say for certain was that the me of that time had been the lowest, most wretched human being imaginable.
That was... all there was to it.
……………
………
…
"Haa..."
Right now, I lived in a provincial city far away from the town I once called home—so distant that reaching it required a series of flights and train transfers. It was a place where I had no friends, no relatives, and no acquaintances. I was completely alone.
As for why I had been forced to move to a place where I had no ties or connections...
It was, of course, because I was reaping exactly what I had sown.
"I haven't the slightest clue why you're heaving such miserable sighs, but it's irritating. Could you please stop?"
"S-Sorry."
"Honestly... this entire situation is your own doing, is it not? I haven't heard the full details, but considering how incensed Eri-oneesama was, I don't even need to imagine how appalling your behavior must have been."
"Ugh..."
The person showering me with those merciless, biting words was Kaori Shinjo.
She was my current classmate and, in a sense, the person taking care of me the most. As a distant relative of the daughter of the Nishikawa Group President—that global conglomerate—she reigned at the very top of our classroom's social hierarchy. Beyond that, she was a genuine Young Lady of local renown who was said to hold influence over the entire school.
The reason Shinjo-san spoke so pointedly to me was that she acted as my "monitor."
The shock of our first meeting after I moved here was so intense that I could still remember it with terrifying clarity.
"Let me be clear," she had said. "I can never forgive you for causing so much trouble for my beloved Eri-oneesama. I only accepted this task because it was a personal request from her, so do not make the mistake of acting familiar with me. I hate you. Or rather, you are my enemy."
When she had suddenly dropped that on me, I had been stunned...
But even then, knowing it was my own fault, I could only nod in silence.
"By the way, term-end exams are approaching. You are studying, I presume? Your academic performance can hardly be called adequate, even as a compliment. I believe working to improve your standing is a necessary part of your reflection, is it not?"
"I-I know. I'm studying. I'm taking it seriously..."
I didn't ask how Shinjo-san knew my grades.
In truth, I was studying as hard as I could, both at home and at school. I was desperate to reform my past lifestyle. But more than "showing reflection" as she put it, I was doing it for my mother. She was the one who hadn't abandoned me, the one who had taken responsibility for everything I had done. I wanted to repay her someday, no matter what it took.
That was why I had to study, raise my grades, get into a decent company, and earn money. It was a vision of the future that sounded mundane enough to make people laugh, but to me, it was everything.
Because...
Every bit of this was my own doing.
"Very well. I am required to report everything—your grades, your behavior at school, all of it—to Onee-sama on a regular basis. Do not even think about trying anything strange. Never forget that you are merely reaping the seeds you sowed yourself."
"I... I know."
"Good. Now, I have matters to attend to. Good day."
"Goodbye, Shinjo-san."
Shinjo-san didn't even acknowledge my farewell. She simply walked out of the classroom, half-ignoring me. As she moved through the hall, people called out to her from every direction, and a crowd formed around her in an instant. It was a testament to how popular she was—the complete polar opposite of me.
"Haa... Kaorin is as dignified as ever, isn't she?"
"Hey, she'll seriously kill you if she hears that, so stop with the nickname."
"But really, why does she keep talking to that transfer student?"
"Who knows? They don't look like friends. She always looks annoyed, so the transfer girl is probably just an eyesore to her."
"Ah, I get that. She's such a Jimi-ko it's actually exhausting just looking at her."
As Shinjo-san left, the usual routine began. My classmates started whispering, not even bothering to hide their backbiting.
The word "Jimi-ko" stung particularly hard, digging into my old traumas... but the me of now was the same as the me of old. My hair was back to its natural black, and I didn't wear a trace of makeup or a single accessory. I was a genuine mass of "plain," so it was only natural for them to think that.
"I guess I'll go home..."
I muttered the words to myself, knowing full well there was no one to respond. To the people around me, I was just a classmate—nothing more, nothing less.
I had returned to my old self.
Which meant my human relationships had returned to that state as well.
………………
"Haa..."
I returned to an empty house. Still heaving sighs of deep melancholy, I changed into my loungewear and collapsed onto the bed.
Lately, I spent almost all my time like this when I wasn't studying. A short while ago, I would have been on RAIN constantly, chatting with everyone or checking trends online and in magazines to make sure I had something to talk about the next day. Now, there was no point.
There wasn't a single person in class who would be friends with an outcast like me. Between my reputation and Shinjo-san's presence, everyone avoided me. No one spoke to me. Being invited out was a literal impossibility.
My current smartphone was a restricted Kids' Smartphone. My contact list had only two entries: my mother and Shinjo-san. After that incident, my old phone had been disposed of, and I had been pathetically handed this new one. All my social media accounts had been deleted without a trace, leaving me with no way to contact my old acquaintances. Even my PC was gone.
In other words, I had nothing left to do but study.
I had thought about getting a part-time job to help with the household finances, but the school prohibited it. My mother had also told me that if I had time for that, I should be studying.
I suspected she thought that if I were given too much freedom, I'd just do something stupid again. I suppose that was why I had been given the Kids' Smartphone in the first place.
And so, I spent the vast majority of my time in solitude. I was alone at school, alone at home, and alone when I went out. Whenever I had a spare moment, I found myself spiraling into the same thoughts. Even if I just went in circles without finding an answer, I couldn't stop.
The me of back then had been insane.
I had been broken.
I could see that so clearly now. I couldn't believe my own actions—how I could have thought those things, how I could have done something so cruel.
I spent every day in a cycle of self-loathing, wishing I could just kill the person I used to be.
I had been intoxicated by the way people fawned over me. I had deluded myself into thinking I had the perfect boyfriend. I had experienced a lifestyle of luxury that no high school student had any business having, feeling like the protagonist of a Cinderella story. I had let everyone's praise go to my head until I became arrogant, conceited, and utterly bloated with pride.
I had been so desperate not to lose that dream-like world—so afraid of losing my status—that I had abandoned all common sense. Even when I felt a flicker of hesitation, that man would whisper that it would be fine, and I had fallen for the illusion.
And worst of all, I had directed that malice toward...
"He's my childhood friend, so he'll forgive me."
"If I just explain it, he'll understand."
There was no way that was true, yet I had truly believed it. I had convinced myself of it. I had compared that man to my childhood friend for no reason. When my childhood friend tried to warn me or scold me for my own good, I had grown resentful. Why do I have to listen to this guy? I had actually thought that anyone who got in my way was an enemy.
Even though he was the one who had always watched over me, the one who had cared about me more than anyone else.
My arrogance had only continued to grow.
I kept taking that man's words as gospel, riding high on my own vanity...
Until that day, when I lost everything.
Afterward, my mother had slapped me across the face over and over, sobbing. The guilt I felt seeing her like that was indescribable; it was a physical shock to my system. My friends had branded me a wretched criminal who had tried to sell them out. Every single one of them blocked me. I was plunged back into total isolation.
It was only when I saw my mother looking so lonely while packing up our house that I finally woke up from the dream.
But what awaited me was a reality that was even more of a nightmare.
The pathetic, ridiculous fact was that I had been used as an accomplice, and to that man, I had been nothing more than a plaything. I had given my heart to a person like that, sacrificed everything important to me, and done irreversible things just because he told me to. I was a miserable, hollow clown who had been ecstatic because everyone envied our "perfect" relationship.
While I was drowning in self-loathing and depression, the world moved on without me. My school transfer was finalized, and our familiar home was sold to pay the settlement money. I was left completely out of the loop until the very end.
And then...
My mother and I lost everything. Under the direction of the Nishikawa Group President's representative, we were told to move to this city, which brought me to where I was now.
This was what it meant to get what I deserved.
Karmic retribution.
The consequences of my own actions.
But... my mother.
The fact that I had dragged her into my own mess...
"Haha..."
A hollow laugh of self-mockery escaped my lips at the sheer scale of my downfall.
Back then, there had been all sorts of rumors that my childhood friend was a criminal. Now, all of that was being reflected back onto me. It was almost poetic. Unlike him, however, I wasn't being framed. I wasn't facing a false accusation. I had actually been involved in those crimes.
No matter what anyone said, I was a criminal. Even if I hadn't been charged, I was still the same wretched, wicked woman.
I didn't even have the right to speak my kind childhood friend's name anymore. No, I didn't even have the right to call him a childhood friend at all. I didn't even deserve to remember him.
What right did I have to even think of him now?
But the memory of his sorrowful face on that final day was still burned into my heart...
No matter how much I regretted it, no matter how much self-loathing I endured, nothing would change. The only thing left for me to do was attempt some form of atonement.
I would study for my mother's sake. I would get into a good company. I would earn as much as I could. For that, I didn't need friends. I didn't need a social life. I was fine being alone.
And maybe someday...
Even if I could never be forgiven... actually, it was better if someone like me was never forgiven.
But even so... at least...
"I'm sorry... Kazu-chan."
A single tear rolled down my face, followed by another. They soaked into the pillow. The childhood friend who used to answer me with a kind smile was gone. He was never coming back. There was no reason for him to ever return to me.
Because I had done that to him.
And because... he had such a wonderful person by his side now.
"The letter..."
My eyes drifted to the white envelope on my desk. I kept it there in plain sight as a reminder—a way to ensure I never forgot my sins.
The message inside was simple and direct, devoid of any decoration.
"Even if your misdeeds are never to be forgiven, Kazunari-san still wishes, somewhere in his heart, for you to get back on your feet. If you feel any remorse toward him, if you have any desire to apologize, then change your heart and return to the person you used to be. From my perspective, you are nothing but a blight. However, if Kazunari-san wishes for your rehabilitation, I will support and push for it with everything I have. But if you should disappoint Kazunari-san yet again, be prepared to face a genuine hell from which you will never recover. I show no mercy to his enemies. I grant them no pity. Do not ever forget that."
The sender was her—Kazunari's fiancée.
The woman who had sent that wretched man flying with a single punch. The woman who had flaunted her intimacy with Kazunari while telling me how much she envied me. She was so extraordinarily beautiful that even as another woman, I was captivated. She made the idols and models on TV look like nothing.
There was no way a childhood friend who was loved so fiercely by such a peerless beauty would ever spare a thought for someone as loathsome as me. He would never smile at me again. It was impossible.
"But..."
Even so, I clung to the words in that letter.
I held onto the hope that he was wishing for my recovery. I would live my life in deep atonement, looking toward the day when I might at least be able to say, "I'm sorry."
Because that... that was the only tiny sliver of hope I had left.