My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong As Expected

Page 498

Luckily, he hid immediately. Luckily, he left right away. Luckily, he didn't turn back right away.

Because if I cry, he won't be able to leave here.

So, thankfully, the tears stopped.

I won't become a pitiful girl. Because then he'll come to save me again. He's my hero.

If my friend encounters difficulties or troubles, he will definitely help. Because he is my hero.

From the very beginning, he has been my hero.

He has already saved me.

My "someday" has come to an end.

So it doesn't matter if he's not a hero, I just want him to stay by my side.

I know he's not a hero, so I hope he won't hold me back anymore.

I couldn't bring myself to say "Don't go."

I couldn't bring myself to ask, "Why should I help her?"

I don't want to say the words, "Don't be gentle with me anymore."

I understand her thoughts and feelings. However, I cannot choose to give up, compromise, or refuse like she did.

It's such a simple thing, but I can't do a single one of them.

I didn't push all the responsibility onto her.

Just as she depended on him, I depended on her.

The one who's been forcing them to cooperate is me.

So, even though this is all right, I still can't stop crying.

I really wish I hadn't cried back then.

Illustrations for Volume 12

Volume Thirteen Interlude

The Taiwanese version is from the Kingdom of Light

Image source: Light Novel Kingdom Entry Team

Entered by: Naztar (LKID: wdr550)

countless times.

I looked back countless times.

As distance increases and time passes.

We've reached a point where there's no turning back.

Only then did I finally turn back to think about what was right.

Even knowing that doing this is wrong, I still want to convince myself that there is only one answer.

countless times.

I looked back countless times.

At dawn, when the white light began to shine.

On an afternoon when dew was dripping.

At dusk, when the snow was falling lightly.

In the hazy moonlight of midnight.

The place and opportunity to provide an answer always exist here, and each time I try to find the most appropriate solution.

However, I have never tried to provide the correct answer.

I'm afraid, probably, definitely.

This is best.

I chose the ambiguous, gray option, which is neither quite right nor far off.

It's a delicate balance, not hurting anyone, and its correctness and authenticity are uncertain.

It's not that I can't say what I want to say, but that I don't even understand what I want to say.

Do I, in this state, have the right to say anything?

So, at least.

Hopefully, this time we'll be on the right track.

I don't want to tolerate failures or mistakes.

Because we can no longer afford to make mistakes.

Volume 13, Chapter 1: With a sigh, Hiratsuka Shizuka reminisces about the past.

Countless times, countless times I've looked back.

However, I will not stop.

He let his heart pound, ignored his disordered breathing, and didn't wipe away the sweat that was streaming down his face.

If I don't do this, I always feel like I'll use some trivial matter as an excuse to stop. Only when my gaze turns back because I can't let go of what's going on will it make me look even worse.

The single tear I saw before leaving lingers in my mind.

Traces of this morning's rain remained on the road, resembling tear tracks on a cheek. Running feet, trying to avoid puddles, moved with unnatural, clumsy steps, almost turning back with every step.

But even if I go back, what can I do? What should I say?

No, I know the right answer is in my heart. It's just that I can't choose that option, I can't do that.

Even if that's the standard answer in the eyes of the world, I don't think it's my answer—our answer.

The sun slowly set, and the sunset gradually turned deep red.

The shadows of houses, apartments, housing complexes, and shopping malls along the road stretched long. Sooner or later, they would merge with the setting sun lingering in the west. I kept running, lest I be swallowed up.

His mind kept spinning, a stark contrast to his feet running forward.

I pondered the meaning of that tear, thinking so deeply that I racked my brains for several reasons, but in the end, I couldn't find an answer and simply left it in my mind.

I've always done it this way.

The road stretches straight to the sea.

The wind blowing in my face was cold, seeping in through the gaps in my coat and scarf. The cold air stung my burning cheeks, making me feel them gradually stiffening.

The air was still chilly, yet sweat beaded on my forehead. Even after removing the scarf from my neck, a certain part of my body still felt tightly bound.

I exhaled the emotions that were stuck in my chest, along with my disordered breathing.

Despite being panting heavily and extremely anxious, her speed began to slow down after running past two bus stops, as if she still had something on her mind.

While waiting at a red light, I rested my hands on my knees and took a deep breath.

Despite having escaped for so long, they were caught up the moment they stopped.

The meaning of tears and the value of words are all questioning me and blaming me.

I'm sure I've made a mistake again.

I stared straight ahead, where there was an old pedestrian traffic light that was probably forgotten to be replaced.

Like the dark red of unhealthy blood, it suddenly disappears.

Time to keep running.

I forced out a breath that was neither a sigh nor an exclamation, but rather a sound that resembled a sob, and stood up and took a step forward.

The light signaling to pedestrians that they can proceed is a dull green.

╳ ╳ ╳

Loud shouts from club activities, the clanging of metal baseball bats, the low-pitched euphonium, the sharp braking of bicycles, and the tin roofs vibrating in the wind.

The surroundings were filled with the sounds of students leaving school.

However, the closest sound was my own panting. I forced it back down and quietly exhaled soft breaths.

Stepping into the school building, the sounds outside instantly diminished, as if entering another world. The cold air swayed silently, and the sounds of the school, which should have been breathing, seemed to be sucked in the moment they touched that thin membrane.

I don't know when it started, but the fluorescent lights in the corridors are only turned on alternately on both sides, so the closer it gets to night, the darker the campus becomes. Under the dim light, with each step I take, my mood grows heavier. Or rather, I begin to calm down.

In my cooled mind, gentle words spoken in a sorrowful voice surfaced.

After receiving that phone call, I rushed here, and during that time, my thoughts were still racing.

Things said aloud, and things not said aloud.

Something that should have a definite form remains vague. The thing that can't be asked is perfectly clear, needing no confirmation at all.

That's why it's impossible to judge the value of what I say. Even so, Professor Hiratsuka deliberately forced me to explain clearly, probably because it was the last time.

I felt the inevitable farewell drawing ever closer, and I looked up at the twilight sky outside the window.

The corridor leading to the faculty offices was deserted and completely silent.

I had already regulated my breathing, and could only hear my footsteps and heartbeat. Both started at the same rhythm, but as I got closer to the door, one began to slow down, while the other suddenly sped up.

I took off my coat and crumpled it up with the scarf I was holding in my arms. Standing in front of the door, my hand, which I had extended to knock, instantly recoiled.

It seems I'm afraid. I realize this and let out a sigh tinged with self-mockery.

But I can't just stand here forever.

that person.

Hiratsuka-sensei will leave me one day.

I didn't notice anything at all, so in the end, I couldn't let her see anything.

However, I mustn't let her see me in such a disheveled state. That's the only thing I'm very clear about.

Finally, I took a deep breath and stopped hesitating. I reached out again, knocked on the door, and immediately grasped the doorknob.

Several teachers were walking briskly in the staff office, probably because they were busy at the end of the year. My gaze naturally fell on a certain spot.

Every time I enter the faculty office, that's the first place I look at.

Hiratsuka-sensei was sitting there.

The beautiful figure was facing away from the door, working at the desk, perhaps organizing documents.

A straight back, long black hair that sways occasionally, and slender shoulders that occasionally turn to avoid muscle stiffness.

Perhaps it's because I don't see her often, but I never tire of watching her work so intently. Plus, I felt awkward disturbing her and didn't dare speak. No, that statement contains some lies. Or rather, it's mostly a lie.

I remained silent simply because I couldn't bear to let this period of time—a period that has never changed to this day—end.

Only now do I realize that losing someone means that the scenery I see, even the most obvious sights, will gradually disappear.

Therefore, in order to observe for a longer period of time, I did not make any footsteps and approached slowly and stealthily. At the same time, I also thought about how I usually start conversations.

However, before I could speak, the other person spoke first.

"Excuse me, could you wait a moment?"

She didn't need to confirm; she knew it was me. Without turning her head, Professor Hiratsuka pointed directly to the back of the office. That was the meeting room; we always talked there.

Hiratsuka-sensei's calm tone was not much different from usual. The distance between teachers and students, and the difference between adults and children, truly exists here.

Therefore, my response was only one word.

"it is good."

"Um."

She answered while still looking at her hands, ending the meaningless conversation quite concisely.

There's not much else to say. I walked toward the area separated by a partition, where there was still a slight smell of smoke.

I gently placed the coat and scarf I was carrying aside and, as usual, sat on the leather sofa. I was sitting right in the center, and the springs, which had been in use for many years, creaked.