I Reincarnated as the Counselor NPC in a Dating Sim, and Now Every Heroine I Treat Becomes Obsessed with Me - Chapter 09: “Capture and Treatment—The Handsome Guy’s Choices, the Counselor’s Silence”

Chapter 09: “Capture and Treatment—The Handsome Guy’s Choices, the Counselor’s Silence”

Three days had passed since Haruto transferred in.

That guy—

To be honest, he was a good person.

Not just as a game character, but as a real human being, Haruto Hanasaki was genuinely kind.

Information from the classroom reached me through Akane at lunchtime on the rooftop.

She probably didn’t think she was “reporting” anything, but her complaints turned into perfect real-time commentary.

“That flashy—ugh, the transfer student—he talked to Hojouin today. Said, ‘President, want some help with your work?’”

(Flag #1 for Midori’s route. The event where he offers to help the student council. —He probably meant it sincerely. In his own way, he just wanted to support Midori since she looked busy. There’s nothing wrong with that.)

“He was chatting up Kagurazaka too. Like, ‘Rin, you’re amazing at sports! That’s awesome!’ Kagurazaka just laughed like normal.”

(He praised Rin’s ability honestly. No lies. It was real admiration. Rin probably didn’t mind hearing it. —It’s just that he still couldn’t see the exhaustion hiding behind that “awesome.” And expecting him to notice after only three days would be unreasonable.)

“He even called out to Kujou. Said, ‘Kujou, you’re seriously cool! You’re like a real prince!’”

(He praised Mio exactly the way everyone else did. The same public image. Nothing technically wrong with it. Nothing wrong at all—But how Mio would receive those words… only I knew. I was the only one who had seen her crying backstage.)

While eating my bento, I listened to Haruto’s actions with mixed feelings.

He was moving purely out of goodwill.

He spoke to each girl, found something to praise, and tried to close the distance. That was undeniably a “good thing.” Not everyone could do that.

The problem was—

There were people his goodwill wouldn’t reach.

Kind words landed on the “surface.” Midori’s perfect smile. Rin’s energy. Mio’s cool, prince-like aura. Haruto saw those things and praised them sincerely.

But the heroines’ wounds lay behind that surface.

Kindness stopped at the front. To reach what lay underneath—something else was needed.

What that “something else” was, even I didn’t fully know.

If I did, the profession called “counselor” would have disappeared long ago.

“…And that transfer student. He kept talking to me too, like he never learns.”

Akane’s voice pulled me back.

“What did he say today?”

“‘Hinomiya, you’re actually kind deep down, right? I can tell.’”

I chewed my lunch and groaned inwardly.

In the game, this was the famous Akane-route scene where affection shot up instantly. Among players, it was called the “god-tier choice.”

—But.

“And what did you say, Akane?”

“‘Huh? That’s creepy. Don’t talk like you know me.’”

The exact same line as in the game.

Up to this point, everything matched perfectly.

“He, like—after I said that, he laughed. Said, ‘Don’t be shy!’”

“…Yeah.”

“—I don’t get it. I was seriously annoyed. So why’s he laughing?”

Akane’s voice dropped.

This wasn’t her usual irritation. It came from somewhere deeper. Something closer to discomfort.

I stopped moving my chopsticks.

Haruto’s “Don’t be shy” came from goodwill.

He believed in the kindness behind Akane’s tough act and tossed back a light reply. In the game’s context, it was the correct choice. As a human response, it wasn’t wrong either.

But for Akane, “That’s creepy” wasn’t a joke.

“Don’t talk like you know me” wasn’t playful. It was real.

The discomfort of someone claiming “I get you” after knowing her for only three days.

It had taken me two full weeks of lining up bentos just to earn the right to hear her complain.

Haruto, on day three, could confidently say, “I can tell.”

It wasn’t about who was right.

It was about which approach fit Akane.

“…I know he’s not a bad guy.”

She muttered it under her breath.

“I know that, but… it just doesn’t click.”

“Yeah. It’s normal not to click with everyone.”

“…………”

She tossed a piece of chicken nanban into her mouth.

Chewed in silence for a while. Then spoke again, quieter.

“You didn’t say ‘I get you’ on day three.”

I thought for a moment, then answered honestly.

“I’m just cautious. I’m afraid of thinking I understand someone when I don’t. So I take my time.”

“…That’s not being cautious. That’s just being careful.”

“Maybe it’s the same thing.”

Akane snorted.

She looked annoyed—but there was a hint of relief mixed in.

(Haruto. Your way isn’t wrong. It’s just that this girl doesn’t want someone to “understand” her instantly. She wants someone to try to understand her. She wants to see the process, not just hear the conclusion. —That’s not something you can show in three days. But that doesn’t make you wrong.)

—

After school. The counseling room.

Before Shizuku arrived—

I had an unexpected visitor.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Perfectly even spacing. Perfectly controlled strength.

There was only one person who knocked like that.

“Come in.”

Midori Hojouin stepped inside.

Just like last time, her uniform was flawless.

Her smile was flawless.

A binder rested neatly in her hands.

“Excuse me, Asagiri-sensei. I’ve come on behalf of the student council to request the submission of the counseling room’s monthly usage report.”

A business matter. Same as before.

But—there was one difference from last time.

Submitting a monthly report wasn’t unusual for student council work.

However, it had only been two weeks since her last visit.

That was far too soon for something “monthly.”

Either Midori hadn’t noticed that—

Or she had created an excuse to come here.

“The report, right. Got it. I’ll gather the data, so could you wait a moment?”

“Yes, I’ll wait.”

She sat down.

Her back was perfectly straight. She didn’t use the backrest. Just like last time.

While pretending to organize documents at my desk, I casually began a conversation.

“Midori-san, have you been busy lately?”

“No, it’s been the usual workload.”

“With a transfer student arriving, didn’t that add more paperwork?”

“You’re referring to Haruto Hanasaki-kun. There were documents related to his transfer process, but the amount was not significant.”

“And he seems to be fitting into the class?”

“Yes. He is bright and sociable, and appears to be building good relationships with his classmates.”

A textbook answer.

Not a trace of emotion.

I stepped a little further.

“And you, Midori-san? Have you spoken with Hanasaki-kun?”

“Yes. He offered to assist with student council duties. I thanked him for his kindness, but due to the nature of our work, I declined politely.”

(Declined?)

In the game, Midori accepted Haruto’s offer.

That was the condition for raising Flag #1 in her route.

But the real Midori—

She turned him down.

Haruto’s offer itself was kind. He simply wanted to help the busy student council president. A completely reasonable motive.

But to Midori, an offer of “help” could also carry another meaning—“You’re not enough on your own.”

For someone who had staked everything on being perfect, that might have been impossible to accept.

“When you turned him down, what did Hanasaki-kun say?”

“He said, ‘I see, that’s too bad! But if anything comes up, let me know, okay?’ He’s a very refreshing person.”

Midori’s smile remained flawless.

Her tone when she said “a very refreshing person” was calm—but there was no warmth in it. She acknowledged him, yes. But her heart hadn’t moved.

(Haruto’s kindness didn’t reach Midori. But that wasn’t his fault. Midori’s armor was simply too thick. Faced with that kind of armor, there’s only so much a first-time acquaintance can do.)

“—The report’s ready.”

I handed her the paper with the summarized usage data. She accepted it and slipped it neatly into her binder.

“Thank you very much. Then—”

As she began to stand, I called out.

“Midori-san.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the question I asked you before?”

Her perfect smile—wavered for just a split second.

She remembered. Without a doubt.

“…You’re referring to your question about my smile. Yes, I remember.”

“You don’t have to answer it. I’d just be glad if you thought about it from time to time.”

She looked at me for a few seconds.

Behind that flawless smile, something shifted.

As if a feeling without a name had caught somewhere inside her.

“…I will take that into consideration.”

She gave a polite bow and left the counseling room.

(“I will take that into consideration,” huh. Neither yes nor no. She couldn’t prepare a perfect answer. That question doesn’t exist in Midori’s “correct answer database.” —Questions she can’t process are the ones that crack the mask.)

Five minutes after Midori left—

As if switching places with her, Shizuku arrived.

Her usual seat.

Her usual book.

Her usual silence—

Except today, before the silence settled in, Shizuku slid a memo toward me.

『I saw the student council president leave just now』

“Yeah. She came to hand over some documents.”

She wrote another memo.

『How many times has the student council president come here?』

Last time, she had asked whether I went to the rooftop with someone.

Now she was asking how many times Midori had visited.

Who comes to my counseling room—and how often.

Shizuku was trying to keep track.

“Today was her second time. She came for student council business.”

She stared at my face.

Three. Five seconds.

Then she wrote again.

『Are you busy, Sensei?』

“…I’m not busy. I have time for you, Shizuku-chan.”

I said it to reassure her.

She gave a small nod and opened her book.

Today, the pace at which she turned the pages was calm.

It seemed my words had settled her.

—Good. For today, at least.

But.

The fact that Shizuku had started worrying about my “time” was something I needed to note.

It was an early sign of dependency.

Trying to measure how much of this person’s time includes me.

It was still mild.

Still within a range I could manage.

Still—for now.

—

On my way home—

As I walked across the school grounds at sunset, I spotted Haruto sitting alone on a bench in the courtyard.

That was rare.

The guy who was usually surrounded by people—alone.

He wasn’t looking at his phone.

He was staring up at the sky, wearing a slightly troubled expression.

I stopped for a moment.

I recognized that look. In my previous life, I had seen it on rookie counselors the first time they hit a wall.

That uneasy face that said, “I don’t know if my way is actually working.”

Maybe Haruto had started to notice that the heroines’ reactions weren’t matching his expectations.

His kindness wasn’t landing.

He smiled, reached out—and the distance didn’t close the way he thought it would.

Akane called him “creepy.”

Midori declined his help.

Shizuku answered him with silence.

And yet, he kept trying.

That alone proved he really was a good guy.

Not because he was the game’s protagonist.

Not because he was some piece on the board controlled by a player behind a screen.

Haruto Hanasaki, as a person, was genuinely trying to connect with others out of goodwill.

It was just that—

The way he showed that goodwill still couldn’t reach the wounds these girls carried.

(…It’s also because I reached out first, from behind the scenes. Before you even arrived, I had already stepped into these girls’ inner worlds. And I’m just a mob character. A single line of text. —Honestly, I do feel a little guilty.)

Watching Haruto’s profile as he stared up at the sky, I muttered quietly.

“Do your best, game protagonist.”

A voice that wouldn’t reach him.

Too far away to ever be heard.

But there was no hostility in it.

We were thinking about the same girls—

Just using different methods.

It was my clumsy way of cheering on another guy.

I turned and started walking back toward the dorm.