◆Nomota◆

Prologue

So done. So done. I've had enough. I don't want to see these completely made-up "memories" about me anymore, don't want to be falsely accused of being hurt anymore, don't want to forgive—unless he apologizes first—and don't want to think everything is my fault. After all, both of these stories were just Wonder's nonsense to begin with.

"What exactly did you teach them?"

I finished reading the two stacks of writing paper in my hands, looked up at Wonder, and asked with a frown.

The man in front of me raised his hands in an innocent gesture. "Oh, I just told them about you and let them go wild with it."

"So you told them I'm dead?"

"Sacrificed for the sake of literature and art, little bunny."

Sure, the direction they took from the start was way off because the info was bogus, but at the end of the day, they were still two good pieces of writing. I don't really know much about literature, so I'd better not jump to conclusions about them. My head's a mess right now, but I can't really blame anyone, so I just let out a dry laugh and let it go.

What actually happened, anyway?

---

Chapter One

My story—it's not that magical, but it's also not not magical. Hard to put a label on it.

Back then I was just a pure, ordinary high schooler passing through. It was summer, raining. On my way home from school, there was a guy crouching by the shop entrance. I figured he was just some passerby without an umbrella, so I didn't pay him much mind. But being a helpful teenager, and seeing how uncomfortable he looked squatting there, I went over and told him to come inside and get out of the rain.

At the time, I had no idea I was about to bring home a huge, giant problem.

Wonder—no, back then he still called himself NULL—was a gloomy, explosive landmine of a guy who'd been kicked out of his family for spending money like water and constantly ranting about destroying the world. Homeless, with nowhere to go. Aunt Juli took pity on him and let him stay with us. Since I'm the only male in the Rabbit Club household and have a duty to protect the family, he ended up sharing a room with me. Also because there literally wasn't another room. He even took it upon himself to hang a curtain between our two beds because he felt uncomfortable—which made our already tiny room even more cramped. We slept almost back-to-back. We lived like that for a whole year, until the storage room finally got cleared out and he was reassigned to the converted guest room.

During that rough year, we fought constantly. I'm already the type who doesn't get angry easily, but running into someone this ridiculous—I must've been cursed in a past life. Honestly, I still don't get why we argued. He'd just charge at me, and before we knew it, we were bickering over the pettiest little things. He seemed to love picking fights over nonsense. He also commandeered one of my social media accounts—claiming he couldn't use his own ID, or else his family would track him down and expose him. Now that account's homepage is flooded with purple-red tones, featuring a purple-red four-pointed star and fluid gradient halos. It's now the well-known account of internet blogger NULL. He'd sit in that chair for hours, and I'd constantly try to get him to move because I was worried he'd drop dead from overwork. Our home and shop are connected—if he died, not only would our business tank, but his family would also come after us for liability. He's got a massive fanbase, too—they follow him like a pack of fanatical worshippers, treating him like some kind of deity. I don't really get it, but hey, it's their hobby, so I respect it.

The guy's like a ChatGPT—he knows all sorts of things we don't. But when it comes to actual life skills? Pure theory. He'd never handled anything himself. And his hobbies are expensive as hell—I can kinda see why his family kicked him out.

To eliminate a flawed mindset, you've gotta get the person holding it to participate hands-on in changing their own reality. With our whole family working together, he finally learned how to live independently. A happy ending.

Except—his troll side never changed one bit.

The abandoned character art of the Wonderdeath old version game, Alan, version 0.2

C1 + C2part

（Worldbuilding：Gariya）

C1

Prologue

So painful, so painful. I've had enough. I don't want to remember anymore, don't want to be hurt anymore, don't want to forgive anymore, don't want to think that everything is my fault anymore.

But what else can I do? They're always there, always a problem, always a problem waiting to be solved—like trash in a room. If I just run away and ignore it, it won't disappear on its own.

Things haven't reached an ending yet.

The only thing—the only thing—I can do is face them, and then solve them.

I'm going to make them know that this is far from over.

Everyone will get what they deserve.

---

Chapter One

I woke up because of the preset alarm on my phone.

"I hope you can get up on your own. You're seventeen—one year away from adulthood. You understand what that means, right? Juli and I can't take care of you forever—" "Yeah, yeah, I know."

Lemo walked past the doorway, talking, apparently busy with the morning opening of the restaurant.

I just crawled out of bed and sat there staring at the patterns on the wardrobe directly across from me, just spacing out.

"Today's your first day back at school. I hope two years out hasn't made you forget basic school etiquette. When was the last time you even went out?"

I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and replied, "A week? Two? I forget." Then I tried, without moving my butt, to reach for the messy pile of clothes on the chair—failed, sighed, resigned myself to fate, climbed out and sat on the edge of the bed, getting dressed while responding to Lemo's nagging.

"Did you take your meds yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Remember what the doctor told you once you're at school—no caffeine."

"Mm."

"No drinking."

"I'm a minor."

"That makes it even more forbidden."

"Okay."

The conversation ended there because I closed the bathroom door. For some reason, every bathroom door in this place closes with an extra loud bang.

The person in the mirror looks perfectly normal, but no matter how I look at it, it feels like someone else entirely. I stared at this person for a while, then lowered my head and went back to business.

What followed lacked any sense of ceremony—just quick, efficient execution. Then I walked to the door, toward a road I hadn't set foot on for two years. A feeling of familiarity mixed with unfamiliarity washed over me.

I'd rather forget all of it completely, but my subconscious tells me I haven't forgotten a thing.

Damn it. Why is this town stuck with only one school?

But it doesn't matter. I'm ready.

Before my ass could even warm the seat, some annoying blue-haired wretch sauntered over, cackling, "Well, well, if it isn't our school's famous ghost." Moka always loves drawing attention—two years hasn't changed that about her, which is almost admirable.

"Hope you haven't forgotten me. We used to be best friends who told each other everything." She bent over in front of my desk, looking at me. I rolled my eyes at her. "You show up at my place at all hours of the night, three times a week—honestly, I'd almost forgotten what you look like when you're acting normal."

But knowing her, if anyone else were around, she'd be all teary-eyed, accusing me of hurting her feelings when she's breaking down. But it was just the two of us here this early, which is why I dared to say it. She just blinked and glossed right over it.

Coming to school early used to be a little habit of mine back when I was a good student. But if she showed up this early just to talk to me alone, that's just pure masochism for the sake of self-dramatization.

Really, when you think about it, we're both just acting, aren't we? Funny, isn't it.

Never mind me—I've always been good at jumping to the wrong conclusions.

Then other students started filing into the classroom, and our little mind game was cut short. Moka slipped out the back door and headed to her own class.

Now I had to mentally prepare myself. Since I was a returning student after a leave of absence, technically I was supposed to go up and introduce myself.

My brain kept saying whatever, but my body was already getting nervous. I tapped my fingers rhythmically against the desk.

When I stood at the podium, I didn't recognize a single face in the room. Their faces all looked blurred, like they were covered in mosaic. I'd been on leave since the second year of middle school—now I was a sophomore in high school, and the classmates had all changed. Not knowing anyone was normal, I told myself.

Though honestly, if I did recognize someone, I wouldn't know what to do either.

I'd have to fight the urge to punch them.

For some reason, the things that used to hurt me, after settling in my mind, got compressed and compressed until they turned into something sharp—aggression.

Now I don't care about other people's feelings anymore. I just want to make myself feel better.

Someone seemed to be whispering below, but now—whether it was sympathy or strange looks—I didn't care anymore.

After a brief self-introduction, I went back to my seat and started thinking about why I'd come back. After all, for me, the study efficiency at school and at home was about the same.

But I'd heard those three deadbeats were still doing just fine at school, living it up.

Now that I'm here, I might as well get right in their faces.

---

Chapter Two

Normally, students in the same class have the closest relationships, and the chances of friendship developing between students from different classes aren't great.

Moka's class is an elite group of top students, all directly promoted from middle school. As for me—due to my long-term absences—I was "nicely adjusted" into a regular class. To those bastards, I figure I was successfully exiled.

They're a tight little clique, but also a bunch of refined individualists—xenophobic yet prone to infighting, looking down on the regular classes while being both wary and trusting of their own. Always scheming, always backstabbing. A motley crew of rabble.

A group that could fall apart with the slightest provocation. I enjoy looking down on them—I've earned that right.

And Moka—I don't know how to judge her. She did nothing. She's a coward. She never took a stand. She never stopped those people from tormenting me, as if she wanted me to be treated that way. She smiled. She enjoyed it. She knew everything, yet she still clung to me, still expected me to solve her problems, used me like a trash can for her psychological baggage, ranted about her father's harshness, and disappeared when I needed help. But because she technically did nothing, I have no grounds to criticize her. She just watched. No one's obligated to help anyone else. And with her family situation, she's a mess herself.

But that's not a reason for her to let everything happen.

We used to be incredibly close. But we both know—she ruined everything. She's said so herself.

We lost our connection long ago, like two crumbling buildings. If we dug any deeper, we'd only blame each other. So we stay silent. Either way, she hurt me, so I can't forgive her. But I can't hate her either, because we used to be important to each other.

Let's stop on the topic of Moka for now. If I keep going, I'll just spiral into endless thoughts.

I'm guessing they probably don't know I'm back in school yet.

Even better.

The beautiful day ended, and I walked home feeling light and carefree. I couldn't believe how smoothly my plan had gone. Just thinking about what they'd see tomorrow made me want to laugh. My expression right now must look pretty sinister—but whatever.

I adjusted my face before I got to the door, but Lemo still looked surprised when she opened it. I guess I seemed a lot brighter—like before.

Lemo told me Moka had come by. Maybe it's that so-called woman's intuition. But maybe she also realized how ridiculous it would be to use that intuition to guess what I'd been up to, so she left before I got back.

I nodded along nicely on the surface, then calmly walked back to my room, threw myself onto the bed, covered my mouth with the blanket, and burst into silent, wild laughter. Just thinking about the looks on those idiots' faces had me completely losing it. They tormented me. They violated my rights. They deserve to pay. They should know that eventually, they'll reap what they sow.

It was a very peaceful night.

And a very peaceful morning. Moka stood at the door to my classroom, looking at me as if she wanted to say something, then hesitated and left. Sure enough, around second period, a noticeable little commotion erupted from the elite class, and a pink-haired girl rushed out of the classroom, pale as a ghost.

I heard that not long ago, one of her colleagues had gotten into a huge fight with her over her badmouthing him to outsiders. I'd specially mimicked her dear colleague's tricks—hope she likes the gift.

This was my first taste of doing something like this.

The feeling of controlling everything is intoxicating—completely addictive. They're always scheming against each other, tearing each other apart, dragging all sorts of people into it. It's like a battle royale.

Watching others tear into each other made my blood boil. Then, inevitably, I couldn't help but join the game. They seemed shocked. The way they sucked up to me was utterly ridiculous.

The yellow-haired one—the weakest of the group—was pathetically easy to mess with. I planted a little something in his belongings, and he was already trembling with fear. When he opened his lunchbox and found it full of caterpillars, he panicked. His panic made him bungle things, and the other two's tolerance for him hit rock bottom—until conflict finally erupted. The pink-haired woman accused him of being perpetually jumpy, neurotic, indecisive, and sloppy.

And just like that, the other two abandoned him. After all, the last thing you need in this kind of business is a risky partner. But now he knew too much—so the next step for them was to shut him up using their usual methods.

For this abandoned loser, all his years of going against his conscience to climb step by step to where he was—all wasted. His status plummeted. He couldn't accept it.

What followed was an easy harvest.

When the discarded one hit the ground, the others were visibly flustered, deflecting blame. The white-haired man accused the pink-haired woman of being arrogant and unreasonable. She accused him of being a fake elitist who looked down on everyone.

This was their most vulnerable moment. When the pink-haired woman was lured by my little note to the abandoned bathroom and found me there instead, she still kept spewing filth. Next thing I knew, her head was covered in blood from my blows.

A bit messy, but more or less the outcome I wanted. I hid the body. It started raining outside—not a bad touch.

Then I went home, grabbed my tools, and under the pretext of going for a walk, went to move that stupid woman's corpse.

That was the plan.

But that wretch was at home too.

"Kicked out by your dad again?"

Strangely, though, she just stared at me with a grave expression. Her gaze gave me the creeps.

"Coming back this late—who did you go see?"

"A friend."

"Besides me, what other friends do you have?"

"Oh, so a friend other than you."

"You're acting really off."

"None of your business."

I turned and walked toward my room.

"Alan."

I stopped, but didn't answer.

"Akira."

Still silent.

"Akira Usakawa!"

I turned around. "What? If you've got nothing, get lost."

"You—" she choked. "You psychopath!"

"You too."

She slammed the door on her way out.

The rest went smoothly—except that I always smelled like rust and damp mildew. The feel of cold flesh was absolutely disgusting. More than once while burying her, I retched at her lifeless face.

Now for the man. Everything was coming to an end. I planned to give it a magnificent finale—for them and for me. A few slashes to his throat, then a glorious seppuku. What a perfect ending. I put the knife in my schoolbag. How I longed for it. Time was moving too slowly, too slowly. Soon, very soon...

Oh.

That wretch.

I forgot about her.

That's why I failed.

I really shouldn't have forgotten that sometimes that wretch was home too. She saw it. She saw the knife.

Before they put me in the police car, I thought:

And then the carnival ended. Only wreckage remained.

Sometimes I think back to who I used to be.

It seems I've been contaminated.

C2

Prologue

So painful, so painful. I've had enough. I don't want to remember anymore, don't want to be hurt anymore, don't want to forgive anymore, don't want to think that everything is my fault anymore.

But what else can I do? They're always there, always a problem, always a problem waiting to be solved—like trash in a room. If I just run away and ignore it, it won't disappear on its own.

Things haven't reached an ending yet.

The only thing—the only thing—I can do is face them, and then solve them.

But what can I really change? I'm too weak. I can't change a thing. The pain won't stop. The only thing I can do is change myself.

If this pain stops being pain to me, won't my days get better?

---

Chapter One

Lemo dragged me out of bed bright and early this morning!

So sleepy! So sleepy! I'm still a little resistant, but Lemo says that we rabbits of the Cotton Candy Forest never sleep in—we're famous throughout the entire Candy Kingdom for having the most delicious sweet drink-making skills, and only the most diligent little bunny can take on the great responsibility of making the world's number one sweet drink.

And I am Alan, the one who will lead the Sweet Drink family to glory in the future! Me—uh, I totally don't sleep in, okay? I'm getting up right now!

Let me tell you a secret about my proudest ability: I have magic that can conjure the most beautiful clothes in the world. Everyone knows that, so I won't leave you out!

Alan Cottoncandy has now groomed his fur, filled his belly with Sweet Syrup Berries, and now—marching toward Magic Academy—

Every time I take the train to Magic Academy, since everyone's a fluffy creature, it gets super hot because we're all puffing up, and the air is thick with that special fluffy-creature scent... Every fluffy creature smells a little different, but it's all fluffy smells. Of course, the fluffy creatures themselves aren't too thrilled about it—everyone's all squishy and fluffy, and I'm just sliding around in this sea of fluff... After all, way too many creatures go to Magic Academy. Everyone wants to learn wonderful magic to help others! Everyone's such good fluffies!

Now we're arriving at Magic Academy. Hehe—of course, I get special treatment because of my unique status. I'm pretty popular—Alan exclusive! But these are secrets, so to keep them from Juli, Yuni, and Lemo, I can't show you these!

---

Chapter Two

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Chapter Three

Hehe, Magic Academy classes are done!

When I get home, I'll tell you all about my lessons. As always, I was given a special welcome today. But before I go home, let me tell you a secret—today is my birthday! In the past, out of a sense of responsibility to my family, I'd hold back my curiosity and scoff at the strange things I noticed... But later, I realized—I'm the only one who notices this. I'm going to give myself this big discovery as a birthday gift!

Why are the balloons flying upside down?

The balloons zoomed quickly from above my head down toward my feet.

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