In short, this is a story you ought to know by heart. (Please continue reading.)

After-school hours in the student council room.

Yamada, as always, sat with unwavering focus before his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard, inputting a dizzying string of complex numbers.

Because of his astonishing memory, Tsukimitsu Jinguuji only had to glance at those numbers to have them involuntarily imprinted in his mind—a small torment. For that reason, he maintained a certain distance from this junior, hoping the boy wouldn’t mistakenly think it was due to dislike.

Tsukimitsu Jinguuji truly wished for that in his heart.

He made his way to the student council president's desk and quietly waited for today’s instructions.

However, after stamping a document, Hoshinomori Hoshino set it aside, gently rested her hands on the desk, stood up, and offered Tsukimitsu a graceful, serene smile.

“Let’s go, Jinguuji.”

The boy looked at her in confusion.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see if you come with me.”

And so, Tsukimitsu followed Hoshinomori Hoshino as they left the student council room, walked through the old school building, crossed the courtyard, and arrived at the club building.

“Ah… President, good afternoon.”

“Hello.”

Whenever they passed a few third-year seniors, the girls would always greet Hoshinomori Hoshino first, then steal curious glances at the striking boy walking behind her.

Their expressions couldn’t be described as openly unfriendly; rather, there was a subtle curiosity, and a hint of shy embarrassment as if the boy’s good looks nearly bewitched them.

After the seniors walked past, Tsukimitsu faintly overheard bits of their conversation: “Who cares if he’s a player when he looks like that?” “The president’s quick on the draw, as expected.”

Honestly, Tsukimitsu felt little pride in this. His looks were a gift from his parents—no effort of his own. Besides, even the most beautiful face will grow old one day.

If all it took were good looks to summon girls at will, well, not only Tsukimitsu—anyone could do it.

Yes, even you.

Though he’d been at Shinou High for some time, this was Tsukimitsu’s first visit to the club building. Astronomy, Literature, Light Music, Mystery, Divination, Game Development, Sasato Club, MyGO Research—Shinou High’s club activities, famed for their variety, were indeed dazzling.

One thing was clear: this was not a world for a loner like him to visit alone.

“All right, we’re here,” Hoshinomori Hoshino announced.

The location was the first classroom on the left at the top of the stairs on the third floor of the club building. Tsukimitsu looked up and saw a slightly yellowed nameplate above the door.

“The Drama Club?”

“That’s right.”

With a gentle smile, Hoshinomori Hoshino knocked on the clubroom door and slowly pushed it open.

“Hello, everyone—I’m here.”

“Oh! It’s Hoshinomori-senpai!”

“President!”

“Hello, senpai.”

“Good afternoon, Hoshinomori-senpai.”

The moment Hoshinomori Hoshino and Tsukimitsu appeared at the entrance, a wave of delighted voices filled the drama club room. All this enthusiasm was, of course, directed at Hoshinomori Hoshino, and had nothing to do with the boy at her side.

“Hoshinomori-senpai, you’re finally here! We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Thank you so much for coming today!”

“We’re honored! You grace our humble club!”

“Ahh, that’s too much—you flatter me. I’m just a former member, here to see how earnestly you’re all working.”

“Yes! Thank you! Please guide us today!”

Even Hoshinomori Hoshino hadn’t expected such a warm welcome from her first-year juniors and looked somewhat flustered by their enthusiasm. Tsukimitsu, meanwhile, quietly retreated a step.

For a solitary outsider like him, such a passionate club felt even less approachable than the sports clubs—he wanted nothing more than to escape.

But in the end, with Hoshinomori Hoshino tugging him along, Tsukimitsu entered the drama club room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the boy couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just stepped into trouble.

Hopefully, it was just his imagination.

The drama club room was much like any ordinary classroom: desks were stacked against the wall, and a row of chairs lined the back. By the windows, two clothing racks held costumes for performances, with boxes of props stacked nearby.

The center of the room was left open, with a T-shaped line of tape on the floor.

Tsukimitsu stood quietly to the side, observing the scene, and gradually understood why Hoshinomori Hoshino was here today.

Although she had previously declined the club’s invitation to perform, as a former member she must still feel affection for this group. No doubt, when these first-year members asked for her guidance, she wanted to help.

But what does that have to do with me?

Deciding to become invisible, Tsukimitsu headed straight for the back row, sat down, crossed his arms, and stifled a yawn.

Hoshinomori Hoshino glanced at him with mild exasperation but didn’t lecture him. With almost all the members being first-years, any scolding would be reserved for a more private setting—like the student council room.

She had no interest in embarrassing a boy in front of everyone.

So she simply accepted the script for the upcoming cultural festival performance from Kudou, one of the juniors, and began flipping through it.

“Hmm… The premise is a bit cliché, but the story isn’t bad. Is it original?”

“No, it’s adapted from a light novel.”

“A light novel?”

“Yes, it’s pretty popular—a bestseller. Didn’t you know, senpai?”

“Hm… I’m not really familiar with that sort of illustrated novel,” Hoshinomori Hoshino replied with a polite but slightly awkward smile.

Sitting in the back row, Tsukimitsu couldn’t help but find it amusing. After all, this was a girl who could read “Forbidden Colors” in the student council room—hardly the type to read light novels sold on the strength of their cover art.

To be honest, although Tsukimitsu read light novels himself, he knew their illustrations mattered far more than the text. He didn’t expect much from the script.

Couldn’t they just perform something like “Romeo and Juliet” or “Hamlet”? Those classic plays would be a safer bet.

As he mused, his attention fell on a script left on the chair beside him.

“Excuse me, may I take a look at this?” Tsukimitsu asked, pointing at the script.

“Of course, senpai.”

After flipping a few pages, Tsukimitsu realized he knew the story.

It was, in short, about a one-eyed boy who could see other people’s lifespans, embarking on an adventure with a girl destined to die in three years.

His interest piqued, he continued reading in silence.