Intermission
“Life is just killing time until you die.”
When I first heard those words, I felt encouraged.
Because I’d always been bored.
My home was always empty.
On weekdays, I ate store-bought boxed lunches.
On weekends, money was just left on the table for me to buy food. That had been my life for over ten years—ever since I was old enough to understand.
A home without parents was just normal for me.
Middle school was fine because there was lunch, but if there hadn’t been, the money on the table would’ve just increased a little.
Of course, I was grateful just to not go hungry.
If I didn’t force myself to feel grateful, I wouldn’t be able to keep living.
I had no way to escape this life—this existence that was guaranteed to me.
And I didn’t even have the hunger to try.
Yet, the part of my brain that craved fulfillment remained.
So, this thought always circled in my head:
—Every day is so boring.
Even in middle school, that feeling didn’t change.
Just switching to a uniform made everyone’s individuality fade even more, and my interest in them dwindled.
Some people left their shirt buttons undone to rebel against the rules, but to me, that just looked pathetic.
I was self-aware.
I knew I was a troublesome person.
I should’ve just ignored others, but even people I wasn’t close to could stir my emotions.
And part of the reason was them coming at me first.
“Hey, you’re dating Satō, right? You two done it yet?”
“What’s she like?”
Most of the guys who confessed to me had the wrong idea.
They thought that because they were popular, because things went well for them, because they had lots of friends—their confession was some kind of privilege for me.
That even if I rejected them, it wouldn’t cause me any trouble.
How ridiculous.
The truth was, the more popular they were, the more annoying they became.
Even if I turned them down, if I wasn’t harsh enough, they wouldn’t give up.
Because they believed in their own charm—”Maybe if I wait, she’ll change her mind,” or “Since she’s aware of me now, maybe I have a shot.” Some would even confess repeatedly.
In other words, it was nothing but a losing battle.
So, when someone popular confessed to me, I made sure to reject them clearly—so clearly they’d never try again.
Because if I just “clearly” rejected them, they might still hold onto hope. I had to make sure they’d never approach me again.
That way, even if we never dated, even if it was just a sudden confession, they wouldn’t keep clinging to their feelings.
Of course, they’d resent me for it. Sometimes, they’d even spread bad rumors.
But I had to drive them away anyway—because they were popular.
On the other hand, loners were completely different.
If their confession failed, they might get laughed at.
I might even be the one spreading rumors about them.
Yet, despite that fear, they still mustered the courage to confess.
That was cool. That made me waver. That drew me in.
For people like that, I at least made sure not to hurt them.
Even if their confession failed, I never let them suffer for it.
“Hey, I heard that loner Sasayama confessed to you? Man, you’ve fallen low.”
Misguided hatred, tasteless labels—none of that bothered me.
Because it just confirmed that I wasn’t wrong about them. If anything, I welcomed it.
Occasionally, the so-called “loners” would approach me too.
But by the time I realized it was an approach, they’d either already vanished or came off as pushy and self-centered.
And if they joined a group just to confess to me, it’d mess up the social dynamics—which was annoying.
Even if I’d joined a group just to kill time, I didn’t want it turning into a hassle.
In short, there was no one who was just right.
Yet, despite all that—one day, something suddenly caught my interest.
On my desk at cram school, someone had written a reply.
I’d just scribbled my frustration with life—[So tired.]
And beneath it, someone had written back: [I get it.]
“……Huh.”
Probably a guy’s handwriting.
Not some tryhard font, just slightly messy—like he’d let his pencil move on its own.
……Weirdo.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT gadgetizedpanda.net
But even so, out of curiosity, I wrote back.
And before long, it evolved into a full-on written conversation.
These days, it’s rare to communicate without social media.
Not knowing their face or name, yet still holding their interest—that made my heart skip.
Because in that cold classroom desk, there was a warmth I’d never felt in middle school—the warmth of human connection.
Luckily, since I went to a cram school outside my school district, for the first time, I felt like I’d made a real friend.
“You’re Yoshiki, right?”
When we finally met, I couldn’t tell if he was sharp or just… not.
But he was amazing at handball. Even to someone like me, who knew nothing about it, his movements were on another level.
Normally, I wouldn’t even remember how someone moved their body—not even a few seconds later. Within ten seconds, I’d forget who was where, my gaze drifting to the sky.
But with him, every motion held my attention.
Watching his match, I thought—I want to get closer to him.
We started syncing our cram school study times, then walking home together.
At first, I was wary.
I thought he’d confess any second.
If he confessed just as we were getting close, I’d be beyond disappointed.
The stage for romance should come after getting to know someone as a person.
Most guys who approach with romance in mind from the start have some gross ulterior motive.
Maybe he was just lonely.
But I wasn’t that desperate to rely on relationships fueled by lust.
“I don’t really care about people.”
“……I see.”
His words gave me a clue.
Is this guy…
Not targeting me, but just lonely?
Maybe he does care about people.
Maybe he’s just in an environment where he can’t care. A front to shield himself from reality.
But—I get it.
“You’re just like me.”
“Huh? So Hanazono’s like that too?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Just like you, I pretend not to care about people.
If I really didn’t care, I wouldn’t have kept up this written conversation.
You’re forcing yourself.
His image overlapped with my past.
That’s why—
When I opened my eyes, the usual ceiling stared down at me.
“……Weird dream.”
Two months into high school.
The guy who caught my interest had, through sheer momentum, become my boyfriend.
Yeah—momentum.
Nothing in my daily life had changed.
But there was a sliver of hope.
The person who’d pull me out of this mundane life was someone just as bored with it as I was.
I thought high school would be another cycle of avoiding guys, but this was a miscalculation.
Yoshiki Ryōta.
Someone who liked me.
Someone I could possibly like.
If I let him slip away, I probably wouldn’t fall in love for a long time.
I won’t ask him to “pull me out of my boring life.”
If I just wait, I’ll never change.
So I’ll try too.
So I won’t despair at life.
So I can live happily from now on.
For myself—I’ll try.
Even if the girls around you are the kind I can’t stand.
Also check out my friend Localizermeerkat for more LN translations!
BUY THE SOURCE MATERIAL TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR !!!
Kindly click on the green button above and contribute to filling the green bar if you’re interested in having another LN from the request page translated. Also, every donation is being used to purchase the source material and to fund more English translations.
Please consider joining my Ko-Fi membership. By becoming a member, you’ll also gain access to 2-10 additional chapters of all of the novels from this site translated into English. Last but not least your support will also assist me in upholding the translation quality and speed. For more information, please follow the link.
Donation for faster release is always welcome
Additionally, I am now accepting translation requests.
