Asou Yui was a woman of unwavering principles—she had zero tolerance for even the slightest wrongdoing. As class monitor, she took responsibility for every student seriously. But ever since her childhood friend Kurogano Ayumu turned delinquent, she hadn’t given him a single warm look.
Things should have stayed that way. Yet now, everything had veered wildly off course. Ayumu had changed. He no longer seemed to care about Yui. He’d quit being a delinquent. He even chatted easily with girls other than her. These shifts caught Yui completely off guard. For years, no matter how cold she acted, Ayumu remained steadfast—she’d always held the reins of their relationship. But now? He felt like a familiar stranger, as if he’d quietly abandoned the fragile thread still tying them together.
As the saying goes: you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Watching Ayumu change, Yui felt that regret stir within her—and it shook her very principles. The truth—that she’d turned a blind eye to Mizuno Hina being bullied—though hidden from all, had become an indelible stain on her life. Because she’d been so flawless before, this single flaw stood out painfully, like one drop of ink staining a pristine white sheet.
Yui even wondered: since she’d also “fallen,” did that place her in the same world as Ayumu, who’d once fallen too? If so… she had no right to look down on him anymore. Could their relationship truly return to what it once was?
“Monitor Asou, don’t worry. I guarantee Takagi and the others won’t retaliate,” Ayumu said gently, noticing her distant expression. He guessed she feared revenge from Takagi Yohei and Inoue Tatsuya. But his reassurance fell flat—worse, it backfired. He saw her shoulders slump slightly, her mood dimming further.
“Don’t call me Monitor Asou. Just… call me Yui.”
Her voice, usually sharp and commanding, softened unexpectedly—almost pleading. The sudden shift left both Ayumu and Mizuno Hina stunned.
“Aren’t we childhood friends? Calling me ‘Monitor Asou’… doesn’t that feel too distant?” Yui murmured, catching Ayumu’s confusion.
Her words only deepened his bewilderment. He knew they were childhood friends—the original Ayumu had secretly loved her. But hadn’t *she* been the one to pull away after he became a delinquent?
*So… after seeing my changes, has Asou decided to forgive me?*
It was the only logical explanation—but the very outcome Ayumu dreaded most. His outlook was grim. Any feelings Yui held belonged to the original Ayumu. As Zhang Chufan, the consciousness now inhabiting this body, he had no right—and no desire—to claim them. The path he walked was destined to be solitary. Every bond formed now would only be temporary, perhaps even a burden later. Knowing separation was inevitable… why reach for a connection doomed from the start?
“Sorry…”
Ayumu tried to refuse, but the words caught in his throat. A strange sensation washed over him—like his body had betrayed him.
He pushed harder: “Sorry, I… I…”
“I’m glad you’ve forgiven me, Yui.”
The reply flowed smoothly—but it wasn’t *his*. The moment he forced refusal, his body seized. Zhang Chufan’s consciousness was violently expelled, reduced to a helpless spectator. He could only watch as Ayumu accepted Yui’s request.
Afterward, everything felt normal—as if the expulsion had been a hallucination. Ayumu sighed inwardly. He chalked it up to the original Ayumu’s lingering attachment, so deeply woven into muscle and memory that even his cells rebelled at the thought of refusing Yui. He’d had no choice.
“Then I’ll call you Ayumu… just like before.”
Yui smiled—a genuine, warm smile, yet threaded with a barely noticeable relief. Seeing it, a quiet weight lifted from Ayumu’s chest.
Admiration belongs to those who charge forward without distraction. But such people are rare. Despite his unusual past, Ayumu was still human. In his frantic drive to fix old regrets, had he gone too far?
This forced step closer to Yui made him reconsider. Her smile brought clarity: pausing to appreciate the scenery along the road isn’t weakness—it’s part of the journey. He, of all people, should’ve known that. Yet in his fervor, he’d overthought everything.
Zhang Chufan’s past life had crumbled into hollow loneliness. If Ayumu chose isolation again, he’d walk the same path—and he’d already lived it once. He’d simply forgotten.
So he decided: before leaving Japan, he wouldn’t push away genuine friendships. Farewells weren’t to be feared—they were meant to be lived.
But only friendship. Romance? He remained cautious. Wasting a girl’s time and heart when parting was certain? To him, that was no different from being a jerk.
Thus, even calling Yui by her first name meant only this: she was a childhood friend, a dear companion worth knowing deeply—never a romantic prospect. This resolve extended beyond Yui. Until he reached his goal of studying abroad in China, he’d pursue no relationships. Especially now, in this critical third year of high school. He’d meant to avoid entanglements entirely… yet reality had already tangled him with two classmates—leftover messes from the original Ayumu.
*Since we’ve finally reconciled… let’s begin anew.*
Mirroring Ayumu’s quiet peace, Yui too resolved to reexamine herself—and the person Ayumu had become. In just days, he’d become a familiar stranger… and she no longer recognized herself. So she chose to start over. As if they’d just met. To understand each other again.
