Chapter 18: Feelings Grow Over Time

The next morning, under Vigne’s watchful eye, Gabriel finally dragged herself into the classroom doorway. The sight alone was enough to make the whole class go quiet.

Once, she had radiated warmth and light, the perfect image of an angel—smiling gently at everyone, her presence alone brightening the room. But now, the girl standing there looked like a ghost of that former self. Her golden hair hung in a messy tangle over her shoulders, her uniform wrinkled and slightly off-center, and two faint dark rings shadowed her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

Several students froze mid-conversation. Even the class chatter came to an awkward halt as everyone stared in disbelief.

Where was the friendly, radiant Gabi-chan they all adored? The one who always had encouraging words and a bright laugh?

What on earth happened to her?

A kind girl in the front row hesitantly stepped forward. “Gabi-chan… good morning.”

Gabriel raised a lazy hand. “Yo. Morning.”

“Are you feeling better?” the girl asked carefully.

“Yeah. Sure.” Gabriel’s tone was flat, lifeless. She slouched into her seat with the energy of a dying battery, the halo of light that once followed her completely gone.

She dropped her bag to the floor, laid her head on her folded arms, and wiggled slightly to get comfortable. Her eyes closed almost instantly.

A moment later, soft, steady breathing filled the classroom.

“……”

Kouya, sitting in front of her, felt a vein twitch on his forehead.

She’s sleeping. She’s actually sleeping before class!

The same uptight angel who used to scold him for closing his eyes for even five minutes—now passed out before the teacher even walked in?

The fall from grace was too fast! (╯‵□′）╯︵┻━┻！

…

The first three classes passed quickly, though Kouya spent most of them trying not to turn around and smack his slumbering “role model.”

By the fourth period—P.E.—the girls voted, by overwhelming majority, to kick the three male students out of the changing area. The decision passed faster than any school policy in history.

Once outside, one of the boys—a chubby, round-faced guy—hurried up to Kouya, grinning from ear to ear.

“Boss! Please accept this humble one’s worship!” he said dramatically, clasping his hands like a monk.

“Hmm?” Kouya raised a brow.

He recognized the guy—Sato Itsuto. The name alone made him sigh. Round face, black-framed glasses, smile that screamed “I’m up to something.” He wasn’t ugly, but his whole aura screamed mischief. Like a comedian who’d been kicked off TV for being too indecent. He was notorious for butting into girls’ conversations, making bad jokes, and referencing pervy games nobody asked about. Naturally, his popularity was nonexistent.

Kouya gave a flat stare. “I refuse.”

“I beg you, Boss! Please!” Sato dropped to his knees dramatically, raising his hands to the sky. “Don’t reject your destined ally!”

Destined ally? What the hell? We’ve barely spoken three times!

“Say something that makes sense,” Kouya said, completely expressionless.

Rubbing his hands together, Sato leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “So here’s the thing…”

“I only joined this school because it’s full of girls.”

Kouya already felt a headache coming.

“Even though I look like this, I just want a girlfriend!” Sato said proudly, puffing out his chest.

At that, his face suddenly turned tragic. “I thought, with so many girls and so few guys, all I had to do was cast my net wide. But no one understands my passionate, pure, noble heart!”

Stop flattering yourself, man!

You could sell lies by the pound at this rate.

“This world runs on looks,” Kouya muttered. “Your heart doesn’t matter if your face looks like trouble.”

Sato sniffled dramatically, eyes glistening. “But now none of the girls even talk to me!”

Well, at least he’s aware.

“I don’t even know why they’re scared of me…”

Because you’re a walking red flag, that’s why!

With watery eyes, Sato suddenly threw himself at Kouya’s feet. “Boss! When I heard you were living with Gabriel after just a week, I knew you had to be a master of love!”

Kouya’s eye twitched. ‘I swear I’ll end you.’

“It’s neighbor, not cohabiting! Neighbor!”

Sato blinked, grinning slyly. “Oh, come on. Even if you’re just neighbors, love can bloom over time, right?”

“Love over time?” Kouya repeated, frowning slightly. “That sounds wrong.”

Sato leaned closer, his grin turning wicked. “You know… the longer you spend together, the more… feelings develop.”

Kouya: “……”

I thought you were just a bit pervy. Turns out you’re terminal.

Someone call an exorcist for this guy’s brain.

Sato continued eagerly, “I read online that if you don’t have love at first, it’s fine! Just conquer them enough times, and feelings will come naturally!”

Kouya nearly smacked his forehead. “That’s not romance, that’s a felony!”

Sato just laughed. “Hey, it’s practical! The more you share passion, the closer you get! That’s what true love is!”

“What you’re describing isn’t love—it’s insanity,” Kouya muttered. “Or a restraining order.”

He stared at the boy in disbelief. One minute, Sato was spouting innocent school-life clichés, and the next, he was halfway into 18+ territory.

Men like this should be shot on sight!

As Sato kept grinning and wiggling his eyebrows, Kouya felt a shiver down his spine. This guy was one bad joke away from becoming a headline.

Suddenly, Kouya recalled a horror movie he’d seen online the night before—a Japanese film called ‘The Slit-Mouthed Woman.’

At first, it was normal enough—a chilling ghost story. A pale woman in white with long black hair and a terrifying smile split ear to ear, haunting quiet neighborhoods at night.

One evening, she crawled through the window of a girl’s room, whispering eerie questions that made the girl scream in terror.

A few nights later, she appeared again—in a young man’s home—sending him into paralyzed fear.

Rumors spread through the neighborhood: anyone who encountered her was cursed.

The film’s atmosphere was perfect—haunting, suspenseful, full of eerie quiet and creeping dread. Classic Japanese horror at its best.

But then the tone shifted.

When the slit-mouthed woman reappeared to claim another victim, five male exorcists suddenly ambushed her. And what came next made Kouya want to tear his eyes out.

Instead of purifying her with holy water or sacred chants, they pinned her down, ripped off her clothes, and… turned a horror movie into something utterly obscene.

It had started as a ghost story—and somehow turned into the worst kind of exploitation film.

Kouya felt his temple pulse with rage. “If someone like you ever directed a movie,” he muttered darkly, glaring at Sato, “it would look exactly like that.”

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