Chapitre 2: ②

This Is Fine Keep Moving_____________

The girl behind me keeps insisting that I see the nurse, but I'm pretty sure a nurse can't fix this situation. Last I checked, no scientist has successfully explained post-death transmigration. I assure her I'm fine, which is, of course, a blatant lie—and certainly not the last one I'll tell today.

She doesn't look convinced. "Is that so... then are you ready to go?" she asks, her pink eyes scrutinizing me from behind round glasses as she brushes back her equally pink hair.

What's with all the pink?

She's dressed in a black coat over a crisp white blouse, accented by a tiny necktie—standard student attire, I suppose. But since when do schools allow such flamboyant hair colors? Or am I missing something here?

The real question is: why am I in a school at all?

She opens the door labeled 'Reconcile Room' and gestures for me to enter. "Sunbae?"

Sunbae? Is that supposed to be me? Well, going with the flow usually minimizes trouble.

I step inside, pushing aside the avalanche of questions piling up in my mind.

The room greets me with an almost eerie elegance. A massive window dominates the far wall, framed by deep crimson drapes that seem to bleed into the surrounding space. In the center, a long white table stretches between two luxurious ruby chaise lounges, occupying only a fraction of the expansive room. The air conditioner hums softly, enveloping everything in a cool embrace.

To the right of the setup are four girls, each lost in their own world.

Despite my not-so-subtle entrance, only one girl bothers to look up. Her light brown hair cascades just to her shoulders, with delicate bangs resting on a petite forehead. Her emerald eyes widen in surprise before quickly darting away, but not before I catch a glimpse of their startling clarity—like fresh dew on spring grass. Her shoulders tremble ever so slightly.

Beside her sits a girl with an air of authority. Poised and composed, her fingers dance across a keyboard with practiced efficiency. Sharp, discerning eyes remain glued to her laptop screen, giving me the distinct impression that whatever she's working on is far more important than acknowledging my existence.

A short distance away sprawls a petite girl with fiery red hair that spills onto the floor like a dragon's tail. She's sitting with her legs in a casual V-shape, almost exposing more than intended, but her too-long skirt preserves modesty (goddamn). A gaming console is practically glued to her face, her fingers furiously tapping away while earbuds pump music directly into her oblivious ears.

The fourth girl appears... dead. Face down, arms sprawled over the table, silver hair forming a shimmering veil around her. Just as I'm about to seriously question her vitality, her back rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm. Alive, but dead to the world.

Including the pink-obsessed girl behind me, that makes five females in the room. Funny, I think I saw someone like her on Instagram yesterday—or maybe not. She does resemble that Korean influencer I double-tapped on.

Wait, yesterday? Does time even correlate here? Is this the same world, the same timeline?

"Sunbae, these are the girls," the pink-haired girl announces from behind me.

There it is again—Sunbae. Pretty sure that's more of an honorific than a name, at least from what little I remember of Korean televisions.

Instinctively, I flash her a smile and make my way to the opposite couch, taking a seat that feels remarkably like sinking into a giant marshmallow.

Silence hangs in the air as I struggle to process this bizarre situation. From the fragmented memories swirling in my mind, these girls are supposed to be my students.

Or rather, his students—the original owner of this body. He was apparently the third-smartest student at some place called Acadasia. As for me? Before waking up here, I was... a -1? I was... Hmn. Right, never mind that. The more I try to recall my past, the fuzzier it becomes, like trying to grasp smoke.

"Sunbae? Sunbae..." The pink-haired girl—Sohee, if memory serves—tugs gently at my sleeve. "Why are you just sitting there staring into space? Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should see the nurse after all."

I shake off the lingering haze and force a reassuring smile. "No, really, I'm fine."

She doesn't look entirely convinced but chooses not to press further.

Just then, the girl with the laptop speaks up, her fingers never pausing their relentless typing. "So, who's he, Sohee?"

Sohee straightens up, adopting a more formal tone. "First, I'd like all of you to stop what you're doing and listen."

Clack. Clack.

Click. Click.

Nope, no one stops. The laptop continues to click away, and the gamer girl remains immersed in her digital realm. The brown-haired girl, however, clasps her hands tightly on her lap, trembling slightly, while the silver-haired one remains in her comatose state.

Sohee sighs, clearly exasperated.

The brown-haired girl slowly raises a shaky hand, her voice barely above a whisper. "S-Sohee... is he... g-go... t-to... us?"

"What?" Sohee leans in, straining to hear. "You need to speak up, Mei."

Mei's cheeks flush as she stammers, "I-I have the same question as Shizuka."

The typing ceases abruptly as the laptop girl—Shizuka, apparently—smirks. "I wish I could high-five you right now, Mei, but my hands are a bit occupied."

Sohee rubs her temples before gesturing toward me. "This is your new tutor."

The room's atmosphere shifts instantly. The clicking stops, the gamer girl pauses her game, Mei's trembling intensifies, and even the silver-haired girl lifts her head slightly, revealing groggy, half-lidded eyes.

The gamer girl pulls out an earbud, eyeing me skeptically. "Tutor? Him? Are you sure he's not some kind of observer?"

Observer? That's a new one. I glance at Sohee, who gives me a subtle nod, prompting me to play along. "Well, maybe a bit of both?"

"Sunbae!" Sohee hisses under her breath, clearly frustrated by my improvisation.

Clearing her throat, she addresses the room again. "He's your new tutor—pending a recognition session, of course."

Recognition session? That sounds ominous.

Shizuka's eyes finally leave her screen, sizing me up with evident disdain. "Is he even qualified? He's... male."

Well, last I checked... which was about five minutes ago via a rather unorthodox method, I confirmed that detail. "Confirmed and verified."

She chuckles, "That's not the point."

Mei timidly raises her hand again. "B-But Sohee, I thought male teachers weren't allowed to teach us..."

"He's a tutor, not a teacher, Mei," Sohee corrects, her patience wearing thin. "And he'll only be here for a few hours each day. The school has made an exception, considering his impressive credentials. I expect you all to cooperate."

From behind her console, the red-haired girl—who I mentally dub 'Dragon Girl'—snorts derisively. "Cooperate? With him? Please. He looks more like he's here to fuck than teach."

"Carrie!" Sohee's voice sharpens like a whip. "Language. Unless you fancy another meeting with the disciplinary committee this week?"

Carrie rolls her eyes but retracts her legs and tucks away her console, muttering something under her breath as she replaces her earbuds.

Shizuka leans back, crossing her arms. "Don't be surprised if a complaint letter ends up on the principal's desk."

Sohee arches an eyebrow. "And you think, given your plummeting grades and spotty attendance, that the school will take your complaints seriously?"

A smirk plays on Shizuka's lips. "Worth a shot."

Is that a euphemism? Or is she genuinely concerned? Hard to tell.

Sohee lets out a heavy sigh, clearly exhausted from the back-and-forth. Meanwhile, I sit there absorbing the dynamic, realizing that winning over these girls is going to be a monumental task.

Not that I blame them. From their perspective, I'm an intruder—a male one at that—in their all-girls sanctuary. And to make matters more complicated, I'm inhabiting a body with expectations I might not be able to fulfill.