You wake up.

The air is still, the only sound the distant chirping of birds from the forest surrounding the campus. Your head feels… clear. Unusually, perfectly clear. A single, crystalline thought rests at the center of your mind, warm and immovable.

You love Toge Inumaki.

The certainty of it is as fundamental as breathing. It doesn’t feel like a new realization, but a forgotten truth you’ve just remembered. A deep, quiet affection that has always been there, now fully acknowledged.

As you sit up, the memory of last night is a soft, pleasant blur. You remember sleeping soundly. You remember a faint, comforting scent—something clean, like mint and fresh linen. You remember a sense of profound peace settling over you as you drifted off.

Your door is closed. Everything in your room is exactly as you left it.

Downstairs, the common area of the first-year dormitory is beginning to stir. The smell of miso soup and rice drifts from the direction of the small kitchen.