Romantic Troubles of Duanmu-kun

The crowd had receded.

Or rather—they had surged in a new direction, swarming up the stairwell.

No one looked this way anymore. As if they had completely forgotten this corner existed. Only the original hooded man remained in place.

He adjusted his collar, glancing around for a moment before cautiously walking in this direction. Perhaps due to being choked by the burly man and then thrown violently to the ground, the young man’s steps appeared somewhat unsteady.

Fujishima Misao, who hadn’t yet recovered from the unexpected turn of events or found relief in the assassins’ departure, once again sank into worry and panic.

Wait… what’s his deal?

Why is he walking straight over here?

His steps showed no hesitation as he headed directly toward her. As if he had known where she was hiding from the very beginning—

“Cough cough!”

He bent over, coughing violently several times. When he raised his head, his hood slipped off again, revealing a familiar pale face.

“Liang-kun?”

The girl, buried in dust and dim space, widened her eyes in astonishment as she whispered.

“Ow. I wonder if I’ve got some internal injury.”

He clearly hadn’t heard her faint voice, complaining quietly as he looked upward. Above the parking space was a ventilation duct that wound through the entire dark, damp space.

“Why are you here?”

Misao’s voice was hoarse and barely audible.

This time, however, he seemed to hear her, looking somewhat surprised yet pleased as he gazed into the darkness of the ventilation duct. Even though he couldn’t see her figure, they were, in effect, “making eye contact.”

“Because you asked me for help, Fujishima-san.”

The Novelist clapped his hands together and jumped up, grabbing the dust-covered grate. He swung his body using his weight and momentum, trying to force open the duct’s entrance.

“Even though you didn’t want to involve your friends in dangerous situations, you were still terrified of never seeing them again, constantly, constantly calling out for help, desperately trying to send messages saying ‘save me’ to Class Rep and me. So…”

After pulling down the grate, he let out a soft breath and spoke in an unusually casual tone.

“I came to save you.”

With the Novelist’s help, Fujishima Misao crawled out of the ventilation duct in an undignified manner.

Having remained motionless in that place for several hours while injured, combined with a lack of food and water, the girl’s severely weakened body had lost most of its strength. She could only maintain her balance with the Novelist’s support to avoid collapsing.

Fujishima Misao’s hand gripped his collar, nearly her entire weight hanging from it. The Novelist found it somewhat difficult to breathe. The girl was covered in dust and emanated a damp, musty smell. However, he paid no mind to these things as he supported her body and walked toward the garage exit.

“I’ve already contacted the hospital. We can’t be sure those two won’t come back yet. We need to get out of here quickly.”

“Those two… why did they leave?”

Misao asked quietly near his ear, confused.

“Even assassins are wary of exposing their identities beyond their mission; moreover, the number of people present far exceeded their expectations. Considering the situation carefully, retreating was their best option for now.”

“I see…”

“If those two turn out to be stubborn idiots or take their mission too seriously, they might come back. We need to get you out of here. Come to think of it, Kaori-san asked Class Rep and me to look after you while she was away…”

“Mom…!”

The girl’s hand that had been gripping his collar suddenly tightened unconsciously.

“Cough cough! Hey, don’t grip so hard!”

“S-sorry, Liang-kun, but… please, you have to help Mom!”

Beautiful dark pupils welled up with moisture in Fujishima Misao’s eyes.

Her expression was completely different from yesterday. It was a pitiful, pleading look that seemed to have abandoned both girlish dignity and human pride.

“I know it’s unreasonable. But Mom is still up there, and if those people surround her…”

The Novelist didn’t refuse outright, instead scratching his chin and responding with a bitter smile.

“Even if you say that…”

The fierce battle taking place upstairs was completely beyond his ability to participate in. It was precisely because he had witnessed similar intense scenes in the past that he was so self-aware. That was a stage only for “professionals”—

“I’ll do anything!”

Fujishima Misao brought up her other hand as well. Some newfound strength halted the Novelist’s steps.

She struggled to make eye contact with him.

‘I’ll do anything—’

“Please…”

“Shut up.”

The coldness with which he cut her off startled even himself.

How annoying.

Really annoying.

That was the line he hated most.

Placing the full weight of one’s life on someone of the opposite sex; begging others without any self-respect, beautifying it as “being saved,” and contentedly accepting the situation—it was excessive and foolish indulgence. Come on, this was supposed to be a modern society of independence and equality.

Moreover, the fact that most men seemed to enjoy such pathological emotions from women made him despise this twisted attitude even more.

—How annoying.

When these feelings of disgust welled up instinctively in his heart, his expression must have been quite unpleasant. Misao seemed somewhat frightened, tears glistening in her pupils.

The Novelist took a deep breath, trying to soften his voice.

“Fujishima-san, if you can promise never to say lines like that again, I’ll try.”

“…I understand. I promise. I won’t say such things to anyone except you.”

Hmm.

That answer seemed a bit off.

Did you misunderstand?

However, her gaze gradually grew more determined, showing no sign of having truly listened.

…

Setting aside the girl’s thoughts for now, the Novelist’s decision hadn’t changed from the beginning.

As the saying goes, “see a rescue through to the end”—this was learned from experience. For example, if he saved Misao but abandoned Kaori-san, Fujishima-san would surely feel no gratitude afterward, but rather develop feelings of hatred.

Kindness inviting malice.

Tolerance breeding jealousy.

Such was “human nature.”

It might be difficult. But without trying, you’ll never get answers.

Because—

This was “the story I’m writing.”

He needed to see it through to the end with his own eyes.