It was none other than his seatmate.
The man who loved to joke around was named Magnus, a friend who, for some reason, always seemed to be smiling no matter what.
“Yeah. So I’m already exhausted. I just want to go back to the dorm and lie down.”
“But did you do all that by yourself?”
“Hm?”
“I heard Professor Harold asked Chester to help too. You did it together, right?”
“Ah…”
Ruite scratched his cheek.
There was no real issue with telling the truth—that they had done it together. They were classmates, after all. No one would find it suspicious that they helped with a task assigned by a professor.
But perhaps because of what he had confidently told Chester earlier—
“Chester handled most of it before leaving, so I just finished the rest.”
The lie slipped out before he even realized it.
It surprised even him once he heard himself say it.
Still, maybe it worked out better this way. Chester would probably hate it if Ruite went around mentioning that they had been together.
As he turned his head, their eyes met.
Their seats weren’t far apart, so Chester must have heard the conversation.
Ruite nodded to himself a couple of times, as if to say he had handled it well—
completely unaware of Chester’s deepening frown.
“By the way, Ruite, you didn’t organize your desk at all.”
Magnus glanced at one side of Ruite’s desk, tilting his head at the pile of books and papers.
“Organize?”
“It’s the start of a new term. What do you think our professor is going to do?”
“Ah. Right.”
Now that he thought about it, he had completely forgotten about that event.
No wonder everyone else’s desks were so clean.
With obvious reluctance, Ruite began tidying his things.
“Thanks for everything, my seatmate.”
Magnus pretended to wipe away tears and extended his hand dramatically.
Ruite grabbed it firmly in return.
“W-What are you doing?”
Perhaps because Ruite didn’t let go, Magnus—who had started it as a joke—now looked flustered.
“Can’t we keep being seatmates? I think you’re the best one I’ve had.”
“What are you talking about? You said I was so loud it made your ears bleed.”
“People only realize what they had after they lose it.”
“Did you eat something weird this morning?”
Ignoring Magnus’s disgusted look, Ruite kept holding his hand with a gloomy expression.
The situation only ended when Harold entered the classroom.
“Everyone looks more spirited now that the new term has begun. You all seem bright as well.”
When Magnus asked if he truly meant that, the classroom burst into laughter.
Professor Harold had a gentle personality, and unlike stricter professors, he maintained a friendly relationship with students, even tolerating their jokes.
“Now, before we begin announcements—Rona, make sure you clear away all those flowers on the wall before class ends today.”
So it didn’t even last a day.
Ruite glanced over to see Rona’s shoulders drooping.
“And before we start the lesson, shall we do what we always do?”
With a look full of anticipation, Harold placed a red wooden box on the desk.
It gave off a mysterious aura, but in reality, it was nothing more than a box with a hole large enough to fit a hand.
Everyone in the class knew what was inside.
Wooden sticks with numbers.
Each number corresponded to a desk.
In other words, Harold was about to assign new seating.
Since they had been in the same class since their second year, the professors occasionally reshuffled seats.
Harold, in particular, did it quite often—at the start of a term or even randomly without warning.
That was why everyone had already cleaned their desks.
The reason Ruite had grabbed Magnus earlier was simple—he didn’t care for troublesome events like this and had no strong desire about seating arrangements.
Magnus might be noisy, but things weren’t bad as they were.
Besides, if seats were assigned randomly, there was always a chance he’d end up next to Chester.
And Chester would absolutely hate that.
“Come up one by one and draw.”
Starting from the front row, students began stepping forward and reaching into the box.
Ruite watched absentmindedly.
Then, thinking maybe he should at least try something, he clasped his hands together and began to pray.
I don’t mind being paired with Magnus again.
Just… please let me avoid Chester.
He probably wants that even more than I do, so could you grant that?
I’ve avoided it so far—please let it stay that way.
“Ruite, what are you praying so hard for?”
Magnus whispered with a grin.
“Is there someone you want as your seatmate? Don’t tell me—you’re aiming for Chester too? I get it.”
“My feelings?”
Was he talking about wanting to avoid sitting next to Chester?
“Chester’s good at studying. Top of every subject, always gets perfect grades on assignments. I heard he even shares his work if his seatmate asks. I wish I’d get paired with him. That’s my first wish of the new term.”
Ah, so that was what he meant.
Chester was popular, after all. Even knowing how cold he was, people still admired him for it.
But for Ruite, becoming Chester’s seatmate had no benefits whatsoever.
Especially before the engagement was annulled—there was no reason to risk upsetting him.
“It’d be nice if your wish came true.”
Ruite nodded and clasped his hands again.
Meanwhile, seated a short distance away, Chester maintained a straight posture, waiting for his turn.
With time still remaining, he glanced around—and his eyes landed on Ruite.
He was sitting there with his eyes tightly shut, hands clasped.
Chester’s gaze lingered—until his turn came.
He stood up and drew a number.
While the rest of the class silently wished to sit next to him, Ruite alone was thinking something entirely different.
“Ruite, you’re next.”
“Ah, right.”
Finally, his turn came.
Ruite walked up to the box, passing Harold, who looked thoroughly entertained by the situation.
There were twenty students in the class.
Excluding Chester himself, that meant a 1 in 19 chance.
Was that hard to avoid—or not?
Just then, his eyes met Chester’s.
Don’t worry, Chester. I’ll try not to draw the seat next to you.
With a determined expression, Ruite picked a wooden stick that somehow felt right.
Once everyone had drawn, Harold told them to move to their assigned seats.
The classroom quickly grew noisy as students began gathering their belongings.
Ruite noticed Chester heading toward the back row in the center.
“Looks like Chester got number 12.”
Voices spread among the students.
“Then who’s number 11?”
Only then did Ruite look at the number in his hand.
“….”
Excited voices filled the room as students celebrated sitting next to friends.
Meanwhile, Ruite stood alone in the middle of it all.
He brought the stick closer to his eyes, checked the number, then slowly walked over to Harold.
“Hm? What is it, Ruite?”
“Just to confirm… once seats are assigned…”
“They can’t be changed. No swapping either.”
Harold smiled knowingly, as if he had heard this question many times before.
“Let’s see… your number is…”
He leaned in slightly to check.
“Hmm. Eleven. That’s next to Chester.”
At those words, the classroom fell silent.
Students who had secretly hoped for that seat stared at Ruite.
Beside him, Magnus joked that maybe his prayer had worked.
Ruite nearly protested that it was the exact opposite.
Instead, he ran a hand through his pale silver hair and gathered his things—before heading toward the seat next to Chester.