The purple-haired girl Jiang Jixue seemed like someone with little patience for small talk—meaning she probably didn’t get along too well with classmates.
Unlike Ye Chang’an, Chang’an preferred staying quietly in the background, rarely joining classroom cliques.
Yet with Jiang Jixue’s striking looks, it was nearly impossible for anyone to overlook her.
Except her words sent a chill down Chang’an’s spine. He thought carefully—the term carried no other meaning.
—Spirit summoning.
Whose spirit?
Had someone… left this classroom before?
Chang’an remained so gentle—so gentle he avoided linking the departed with the word “death,” choosing “left” instead.
Combined with the girls’ school uniform placed on the ritual circle, Chang’an formed a quiet guess.
Very likely… a girl, also a student here, had… left this classroom.
Murder… or suicide?
“W-When did it happen?” After handing over the paints, Chang’an stood aside with nothing to do, watching Jiang Jixue kneel and meticulously draw the ritual circle.
Such an intricate task—she drew it purely from memory, no reference image. Truly impressive…
And somehow, Chang’an felt a faint “illusion.” Though it defied logic, he suddenly thought… it wasn’t entirely impossible.
Jiang Jixue… might actually succeed.
This so-called spirit summoning.
“A year ago. She was my cousin. She took her own life here.”
“…”
Only then did Chang’an notice the dusty corner of the blackboard at the back, half-hidden by stacked desks and chairs—where the faint number “2019” lingered…
Had this classroom been sealed off a year ago? Perhaps right after the girl’s choice.
“Sorry…”
“Cut the chatter, young master. Why’d you even come in here?”
The topic had shifted to Ye Chang’an’s embarrassment.
He rubbed the back of his ear, cheeks flushing slightly.
“Class ended. I just came in to hide.”
Jiang Jixue turned her head from the floor with focused intensity. Though looking up at Ye Chang’an, her gaze held a strangely condescending weight.
“You’re not like typical young masters. I thought you’d all be arrogant.”
“Actually, people like that are rare now. The Ye Clan’s third family rule is humility…”
“Mm-hmm.” She cut him off, utterly uninterested.
Jiang Jixue continued as if speaking to herself.
“Your quietness reminds me of the former Ye Clan head. I heard he was also soft-spoken, reclusive… yet deeply kind.”
“Otaku were once vilified and rejected by society—blame a few toxic cases, especially from the Eastern lands… But Ye Chang’an’s existence did rare justice to otaku.”
“…"
“I heard the Ye Clan invested heavily in Akihabara. Every summer, after the summer festival, they hold the Chang’an Festival.”
“My cousin and I worked all last summer. We planned to attend the Chang’an Festival together this year—after I got into Chang’an Noble Girls’ Academy.”
“I’m not like my sister. She was the popular type—warm, kind.”
“I’m darker. A gloomy otaku. In middle school, they called me ‘the girl who crawled out of a grave.’ No boys liked me.”
“If any did, it was only for my body—to toy with me.”
Perhaps due to the dim light, Ye Chang’an had first seen only Jiang Jixue’s ethereal beauty, not her shadow.
She was the kind meant to light a single, faint candle in the dark.
Too much brightness would only make others reject her.
“If you feel disgusted, leave anytime. Class is starting—few girls linger outside. And please… don’t snitch on me.”
“I’m not saying this for you. For spirit summoning, if the spirit is stubborn, you must soften her with words before she appears.”
Her voice was flat and heavy, like dust motes drifting slowly in a sunbeam.
“No… I don’t dislike it. Actually… it feels familiar. I’m an otaku too. Seeing another otaku is like finding kin.”
Chang’an replied, his gaze sorrowful on the pale uniform laid across the ritual circle—a uniform no vibrant, lively girl would ever wear again.
Jiang Jixue finished the final stroke, rose abruptly, and met Ye Chang’an’s eyes.
“If Ye Chang’an hadn’t… vanished from this world for certain, I’d almost suspect you were him.”
“…"
Ye Chang’an swallowed hard. The act was getting harder to keep up.
