Youth is a lie.
Moreover, it is an evil.
Those who sing the praises of youth are always deceiving themselves and others.
They actively exploit all the resources of their environment.
Even when they suffer failure, they reframe it as a positive aspect of youth and carve a beautiful, fictional page into their memories.
…omitted for brevity, but the sentiment continues…
With all due respect, they are nothing more than a collection of sophisticated egoists.
Therefore, their actions are all deception.
And deception, fraud, lies, and secrets should all be condemned.
These people are the incarnations of evil.
Conversely, those who never sing the praises of youth are the true champions of justice.
This is my conclusion.
Now, normies.
Go explode.
“Hey, Hikigaya. Because your Japanese language grades have always been quite good, I’ve been turning a blind eye to you dozing off in my class. After all, I can understand that you might have some… difficulties.”
“Thank you for your magnanimity, Teacher Hiratsuka!”
“So this is how you thank a teacher for her consideration?”
Lately, the scrutiny has been tight, and corporal punishment isn’t allowed.
Shizuka Hiratsuka suppressed the urge to deliver a strike of the Shattering Water Rock Flow Secret Technique—a Normal Punch—to the bastard student standing before her.
Instead, she simply slammed the report paper onto Hachiman Hikigaya’s head.
The word “teacher” feels very erotic.
Compared to a normal term like “female instructor,” the Japanese term onna kyoushi naturally carries a certain…
vibe.
“Is my literary style insufficient? Indeed, I should weigh my words more carefully. Perhaps some more mysterious and pretentious prose would make it seem—”
“Is that the problem I’m pointing out? Do you even hear yourself right now?”
Shizuka Hiratsuka glared at Hachiman with fierce eyes.
Despite being a beauty—undeniably so—her gaze was sharp enough to cut glass.
Wait.
This woman actually dares to threaten the world’s strongest vampire, the Fourth Progenitor?
Hachiman Hikigaya raised an eyebrow.
He felt, on principle, that he shouldn’t take this.
“Sorry. That was just a joke…”
“Sigh. Tell me—why on earth did you write this criminal manifesto? I seem to recall the essay topic I assigned was ‘Reflections on High School Life.'”
“It’s not a criminal manifesto. Besides, aren’t all high school students like this lately? In terms of describing factual reality, my essay should be quite accurate.”
“Normally, ‘reflecting on high school life’ means reflecting on your own life.”
“Then next time you assign an essay, Teacher, you should add the specific phrase ‘your own high school life.'”
“You brat. What are you… quibbling about?”
“Brat, huh…” Hachiman tilted his head thoughtfully.
“If we consider Teacher Hiratsuka’s age, I am indeed a b—”
A flash of cold light arrived first.
Then the fist struck like a dragon.
A gust of wind—mixed with a sonic boom—swept past Hachiman’s ear, slightly ruffling his somewhat long hair.
It must be because my hair grows faster after becoming a vampire…
Bullshit.
Although this punch probably wouldn’t cause any major damage to the Fourth Progenitor, it would definitely hurt like hell.
Looking at it this way, maybe being the strongest vampire is actually a negative constitution.
Legal assessments of injury are always superficial.
Even after taking a very painful punch, you could call the police, and they’d find no damage at all!
“I am very sorry. I will rewrite it immediately.”
Hachiman Hikigaya backed down very quickly.
He was good at Japanese.
Compared to the iron-fist education of the homeroom teacher, writing an essay was a breeze.
“I’m not angry because of that. Nor am I angry.”
Teacher Hiratsuka wasn’t lying.
When many women say this sentence, it can basically be treated as nonsense.
But Teacher Hiratsuka indeed didn’t seem furious—at least, not about topics other than her age.
Shizuka Hiratsuka skillfully pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket, casually tapped the filter twice on the table, and began to puff away like a middle-aged salaryman who had given up on life decades ago.
“Hikigaya. You don’t have any friends, do you…”
An unfamiliar classroom.
Not very conspicuous.
No information marked on the doorplate.
To be honest, Hachiman didn’t quite understand why he had been brought here.
If one were to follow conventional teacher logic, shouldn’t the next step be to send the problematic student to a club with many people, then let them mingle and make friends?
The starting point was certainly good.
But the actual results could be worlds apart.
This kind of forced socialization—relying on external intervention—would only result in pity at best, or bullying at worst.
While Hikigaya was lost in his cynical reverie, Shizuka Hiratsuka had already pushed open the classroom door and walked in on her own.
Desks and chairs were piled haphazardly in the corner.
As far as Hachiman could tell, the only difference between this room and any other classroom was…
nothing.
So why bring him to what was essentially a storage room?
Hikigaya found it incomprehensible.
But then again, incomprehensible was just another Tuesday.
“Teacher Hiratsuka. I believe I asked you to knock before entering.”
That was a young girl holding a book in the setting sun.
Beautiful.
Like a frozen yet exceptionally warm painting.
She caused time to stop completely for Hikigaya—not metaphorically, but as if the universe itself had hit the pause button out of sheer aesthetic obligation.
Then Hikigaya began to feel afraid.
Under the illumination of dusk, the girl’s veins were so clear, so moving.
Beneath her long black hair, on her snow-white neck, those delicate blue lines were infinitely magnified in Hikigaya’s pupils.
His breath froze.
As if compelled by an intense thirst, he swallowed slightly—then hurriedly closed his eyes.
Immediately after, Hikigaya covered his nose.
Fresh blood spilled out from between his fingers.
A taste of iron suddenly permeated his mouth.
A nosebleed.
Using this nosebleed as a makeshift emergency brake, Hikigaya temporarily suppressed his impulse to drink blood.
The Familiar Beast within his body stopped its agitation, seemingly disgusted that its host was such a powerful sexual incompetent.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, he thought bitterly.
But it was already too late.
Shizuka Hiratsuka, with her back to Hikigaya, hadn’t seen a thing.
But Yukinoshita—who was facing Hikigaya directly—saw it clearly with her excellent spiritual vision.
Those dead-fish eyes of his, which normally looked like they were about to rot out of sheer boredom, had suddenly dilated and transformed into eerie, crimson blood-red pupils.
Without a doubt.
This man was a vampire.
The extremely dangerous kind.
“How scary, Yuzuru.”
“Kaguya, danger. There is a super pervert here.”
“Is that the point?”
“Huh? Isn’t that the point to focus on?”
Hikigaya, whose gaze had been completely captivated by the reading girl, only then noticed that sitting beside her were a pair of exceptionally beautiful girls.
Same hair color.
Same face.
Same height.
Completely different figures.
Hikigaya knew all three of these people.
Unilaterally, of course.
Second-year Yukino Yukinoshita—the super beautiful girl who steadily secured the top spot in the grade every time.
He had never met her personally, but he had heard of her name and appearance.
In this school, Yukinoshita was famous to that extent.
The other two must be the transfer students who had just enrolled recently.
Because they were twins and both very beautiful, they had been a frequent topic of conversation among students lately.
Super celebrities.
All of them.
Why had Teacher Hiratsuka brought him here?
No matter how he thought about it, a transparent, background-character extra like him would be completely out of place among this group of big names.
He might as well have been a potted plant trying to join a fashion show.
“Because even if I knocked, you wouldn’t respond. So I just didn’t knock.”
Making unreasonable, hooligan-like remarks, Teacher Hiratsuka walked in on her own—leaving Hikigaya behind, frozen at the threshold, unable to take a step forward.
Yukino Yukinoshita gently closed her book and sighed.
The sound was elegant, refined, and carried the weight of someone who had long since grown tired of the world’s nonsense.
“Knocking aside… why does Teacher Hiratsuka always bring dangerous people to me? This is the Service Club, not a shelter for problem children.”