Chapter 3: The Silent Explosion and the Fractured Mask

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Translator: Soafp

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Yuki had vanished completely from Mio's sight. Not physically—he was still in the classroom, still at school. But his eyes no longer saw her.

It was as if Mio no longer existed in his world. He passed by her as if she were invisible. His gaze didn’t try to capture her flawless exterior, nor the fragility behind it. His eyes were filled with nothing but empty light.

Mio couldn't bear the change. He was the only one she could show her true self to. Only in front of him could she shed the persona of Mio Hinata and be just herself. And yet now, that one safe place was slipping away.

She tried to repair their relationship. After school, she casually followed him as he was about to leave the classroom. She approached him in the library hallway, pretending it was a coincidence.

“Hey, Sakurai-kun. That classical literature quiz the other day was tough, huh?”

Mio spoke in a deliberately gentle voice, flashing a perfect smile. But Yuki didn't stop. Without breaking stride, he simply passed by her.

“…Not really.”

His emotionless voice barely reached Mio's ears. Her heart froze at those few words. In the past, Yuki would've at least exchanged more words.

He used to pick up on the irony in her tone, the affection hidden beneath it. But now, nothing reached him.

“Sakurai-kun!”

Unable to hold back, Mio reached out to grab his arm. Her fingers brushed the sleeve of his shirt. In that moment, Yuki's body jolted. As if something filthy had touched him, he quickly pulled his arm away.

Yuki slowly turned to face Mio. Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes were as dark and cold as an abyss. There was no affection, no disappointment—nothing. Only pure indifference.

“…Don't touch me.”

His voice trembled. But it wasn't fear. It sounded as if her very existence repulsed him on a visceral level.

Mio's heart creaked in protest. In the past months, the faint light of hope in Yuki's eyes had faded, replaced by disappointment.

But now, even that disappointment was gone, replaced by complete apathy. That, more than anything, was unbearable to Mio.

Yuki turned on his heel without another glance and walked deeper into the library. His retreating back signaled an eternal loss, drifting to a place beyond her reach.

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With Yuki having completely distanced himself from Mio, the classmates concluded, “Sakurai's been completely dumped by Hinata.” The bullying intensified, becoming even more insidious.

Crude graffiti appeared more blatantly on Yuki's desk. Words like “Die,” “Disappear,” and “Germ” were scrawled in red and black marker. During P.E., his gym clothes were found in the trash. Thumbtacks were placed in his shoe locker.

Mio saw it all. She saw Yuki quietly enduring it alone in the corner of the classroom. To her, it looked as if invisible thorns of malice were stabbing into his back.

One day after school, most of the students had already left. Only a few remained preparing for club activities, along with Mio—and Yuki, who was being mocked by Yamada and his group, including Ayaka.

Yamada had taken Yuki's textbook and was waving it overhead like a trophy.

“Hey, Sakurai. This your classical lit textbook? Reading this boring crap'll make you dumber, man.”

Laughing, Yamada tossed the book to Ayaka. She caught it and made a show of recoiling in disgust.

“Ugh, I don't wanna touch Sakurai's stuff. Probably covered in germs or something.”

Their classmates snickered. Yuki said nothing, staring down at the floor. Mio noticed his clenched fists trembling faintly.

“Come on, Sakurai. If you want it, come and get it.”

Yamada tapped Yuki's head with the book, his grin full of arrogance. Mio watched, her heart chilled.

I have to stop this. This has gone too far. She thought. If this continues, Yuki will break—and so will I. She tried to force a sound from her throat, tried to cry out. But it was as if someone had their hands wrapped around her neck—no voice came out.

Then Yuki slowly raised his head.

His eyes had lost all light. Like glass marbles, void of emotion, pitch black like a bottomless abyss. He looked at Yamada and Ayaka not as people, but as objects.

“…What?”

Yamada flinched for a second under Yuki's eerie gaze. But he quickly returned to his mocking expression.

“What the hell's with the creepy look? Gross.”

That was the final trigger.

Yuki lunged forward with shocking speed. Before anyone could comprehend what had happened, his fist crashed into Yamada's face. A dull thud echoed through the silent classroom.

“Guh…!”

Yamada lost his balance and collapsed to the floor. Yuki straddled him and began to punch, again and again.

Thud. Thud. The dull sound repeated endlessly.

“Wha—!?”

“Stop it, Sakurai!”

The students gasped in fear and panic, but no one tried to intervene. Yuki's relentless assault made him seem like a different person. His eyes were blank, filled with nothing but raw rage.

Yamada's face swelled as blood began to seep out. He screamed, his face a mess of tears and snot, pleading for mercy.

“Stop! Please, I'm sorry…!”

But Yuki didn't stop. His fists rained down as if releasing every ounce of resentment he had endured until now.

“Someone, do something!”

Finally, some of the boys moved. Several students rushed to pull Yuki off. But his strength, driven by fury, was inhuman. He felt like a boulder, unmovable.

“Stop it! Sakurai!”

“Let go of me!”

Amid the chaos and shouts, it took multiple students to finally restrain him. Yamada lay unconscious, having wet himself. His face was swollen beyond recognition—a pitiful, grotesque mess.

Yuki, still breathing heavily, glanced around as he was held down. His eyes remained void of emotion, like a lifeless doll.

Then his gaze fixed on Ayaka, who stood frozen in place. When she met Yuki's eyes, her body trembled. The violence she had just witnessed, and those dead, empty eyes—it overwhelmed her. Blood drained from her face. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed in fear, losing control of her bladder.

The classroom filled with a stench.

Mio watched the entire scene in a daze. Burned into her mind were Yuki's emotionless eyes, Yamada's beaten face, and Ayaka's trembling, soiled figure.

In that moment, Mio realized—truly realized—that she had done something irreversible to Yuki.

The perfect mask she had tried so hard to maintain had shattered, and its shards had deeply wounded not just Yuki—but herself as well.

Deep within her heart, the gears that once turned painfully came to a complete halt, and she felt herself sinking into a bottomless abyss of despair.