"I am telling you, Haruka, corporate supply chains are incredibly volatile!"
I yelled at the ceiling, my hands still pinned to the carpet while the canonical heroine utilized my lower torso as a luxury footstool.
"The copying machine analogy is a standard macroeconomic theory! It has absolutely nothing to do with—"
CLACK. CLACK.
"Haruka? We're back from the market!"
A cheerful, terrifyingly adult voice echoed through the floorboards from the downstairs hallway.
The ultimate life-saving obstacle: Parental Intervention!
Haruka froze.
Her amber eyes violently widened, her intense, predatory protagonist aura evaporating in a fraction of a second like a drop of water on a hot skillet.
Knock, knock.
"Haruka? Are you studying in there? I brought some fresh melon bread for your friend,"
Her mom’s voice called out gently from right outside the wooden door.
"K-Kyaaa?!"
Haruka let out a sharp, breathless squeak.
She scrambled off my lap with the physical agility of a startled cat, violently smoothing down the skirt of her ivory sundress as she dove toward her study desk.
"Y-Yes, Mom! We're just... reviewing the regional trade routes! Come in!"
The door slid open, revealing a kind-faced woman.
I scrambled to my feet, frantically adjusting my, black-rimmed glasses and offering a stiff, 90-degree robotic bow.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hinata! Thank you for the hospitality! My academic brain cells have been thoroughly simulated, but I must now execute an immediate tactical retreat to my residential district!"
"Oh? Going home already?" her mom blinked, entirely oblivious to the fact that her daughter had been actively cross-examining my sexuality on the floor two seconds ago.
"Yes! Emergency commoner duties! Landlord compliance!"
I babbled, grabbing my things and my backpack the little midnight-blue star keychain clattering wildly against the zipperband sprinting past them down the stairs.
Haruka followed me to the front door, her face still burning a magnificent shade of crimson, her fingers tightly clutching her phone case where the pink lily charm hung. Get faster updates on novelping.com.
"Mei..." she whispered as I stepped into the hallway, her eyes swirling with a mix of deep embarrassment and lingering territorial fire.
"This... this isn't over. We still have to review the next history chapter on Monday."
"I will prepare a full economic thesis!"
I yelled in pure panic, slamming the front door behind me and sprinting down the street toward the train station like a criminal escaping a high-security prison.
By 6:00 PM, I had successfully locked myself inside the safety of my own low-budget apartment.
I collapsed face-first onto my tatami mat, my heart beating at a rhythm that probably violated several municipal noise ordinances.
"Safe,"
I wheezed into the straw mat.
"The weekend boundary has held. No boy bands, no asphalt trucks, no lap-sitting..."
BZZZZT.
Suddenly, the air in my dark living room violently vibrated.
A massive, transparent blue neon text box materialized right in front of my face, flickering like an old CRT television screen.
[SYSTEM REBOOT INITIATED... WELCOME BACK, USER #6748.]
I blinked, rubbing my eyes behind my lenses.
"Hold on. I thought this big system text that kept appearing inside my head was just me hallucinating from a severe lack of iron and processed carbs... but I guess not?"
The blue text box gave a violent, digital shudder, and a highly sarcastic, text-based voice immediately populated my field of vision.
[SYSTEM]: Ding-dong! Your eyes are not broken, User Mei! Though your survival strategy certainly is. Wow. Damn, Mei, you’ve actually got some massive balls, huh? You managed to completely steal our main heroine right out from under the reverse-harem script. The corporate heirs are currently weeping into their silk pillows. Rawr xD.”
"Did... did the universe's cosmic operating engine just drop a 2012 internet gag on me?"
I deadpanned, staring at the screen.
[SYSTEM]: Calculating local save file data... Let’s take a look at the Yuri Intimacy Levels Table to see if Haruka has finally hit a perfect 100/100 score, shall we? Le Epic Drumroll Please... ”
It sounds like they have an Eighth-Grade Syndrome.
The neon text box glitched wildly, a massive spreadsheet rendering right over my kitchen counter.
(GLITCH DETECTED)
Character Route / Intimacy Points / Current Status / Relationship Dynamic / Next Event Trigger
[Hinata Haruka] 101 / 100
[ERROR: PLOT DETONATED]
Lap-sitting interrogation complete.
The scoreboard is physically broken.
Haruka has unlocked the unlisted.
'Yandere Classmate' trait.
[Glitch Text: I Love Mei Forever]
[Shizuku Fuyumi] 85 / 100
Suspicious Mentor.
Currently analyzing regional network towers.
Intends to enforce the three-minute response rule with physical penalties on Monday.
Monday Morning Attendance Check.
[Kazari Shiori] 80 / 100
Asphalt Fleet Commander.
Currently bored in a corporate board meeting, actively tracking Mei's regional coordinates via private satellite.
Monday Lunchtime Tea Ambush.
[SYSTEM]: “ERROR 404: ROMANCE METRIC NOT FOUND. You didn't just clear the heroine's route, Mei-chan, you broke the scale! It hit 101%! Look at that glitch text next to her name! She’s ready to skip the midterms and go straight to the honeymoon epilogue! You are officially the final boss of this otome game. Problem, male leads? Let's see if you survive Monday morning without getting your save file deleted! xoxo, The System.”
The neon blue box gave one final, comedic dial-up internet sound effect before entirely vanishing into thin air, leaving me standing in the middle of my quiet kitchen.
I slowly looked down at my backpack resting against the wall, where the midnight-blue star keychain was dangling peacefully.
The system isn't a hallucination it's a comedian with a middle schooler's gag sense of humor.
The heroine has officially broken the scoreboard, her database is showing corrupted love text, and tomorrow is Monday morning.
It's going to be utterly obliterated.