I Reincarnated as the Counselor NPC in a Dating Sim, and Now Every Heroine I Treat Becomes Obsessed with Me - Chapter 21: “The Night Before Exams—The First Crack in Midori’s Armor”

Chapter 21: “The Night Before Exams—The First Crack in Midori’s Armor”

Second week of July.
Three days before the final exams.

The academy had fully entered exam mode.

Students were opening notebooks during breaks.
Every seat in the library’s study area was full.
Some determined souls were even walking through the hallways while memorizing vocabulary cards.

My counseling room also became quieter during exam season.

Shizuku started leaving earlier, writing memos like, “I’ll be studying for exams.”

Akane kept saying, “I’m not gonna study or anything,” but lately she had been attending afternoon classes more often, so our rooftop lunch time had gotten shorter.

After losing her match in the Inter-High preliminaries, Rin came by to report that she was still glad she competed. Since then she had been visiting about once a week. She called it “practice talking about myself.”

But now that club activities were paused for exams, Rin had switched to study mode as well and hadn’t come this week.

Mio, as usual, was irregular.

She came only once last week. Sat quietly for twenty minutes, drank about one and a half cups of tea, and left.

We barely spoke.

Before leaving, she borrowed a book from the shelf—

Dazai Osamu’s No Longer Human.

A heavy choice.

But I respected her pace.

And then there was Midori.

For the past few days—

Midori had been on my mind.

The last time I saw her was ten days ago.

Her fourth visit.

The excuse that time had been “hearing a progress report about the cultural festival preparation committee.”

Her excuses were getting more elaborate with each visit.

But the actual discussion usually ended in five minutes.

During that fourth visit, I gave Midori a small piece of homework.

“Midori-san. For one week, every night before bed—could you give yourself a score for the day? Out of one hundred.”

She looked puzzled.

“A score?”

“Yeah. You can judge it however you like. Use your own personal standard.”

“…I will try.”

Her usual response.

But the goal of the assignment wasn’t the result.

The goal was simply to make Midori think about evaluating herself.

Until now, she had only measured herself by other people’s standards—

Grades.
School rules.
The expectations of the Hojouin family.

Scoring herself using her own criteria would be something completely new for her.

And yet—

Ten days had passed.

And Midori never came back with an answer.

That was unusual.

Midori had always been strict and punctual.

If she had been given a one-week assignment, she would normally return exactly one week later with a report.

So something was wrong.

Maybe something happened.

Or maybe—

The homework itself had become a burden.

I had been concerned.

But as a counselor, I normally avoided calling students in myself.

Especially someone like Midori.

If she felt she was being “summoned,” she might interpret it as being in trouble and raise her defenses.

So I waited.

—

And then today.

Just as lunch break began in the staff room, Tsubaki-sensei approached me.

“Asagiri-sensei, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Yes. Something wrong?”

She lowered her voice.

“It’s about Hojouin-san.”

The moment I heard the name, my attention sharpened.

“This morning during first period she came to the nurse’s office. She said she felt dizzy. Her face was completely pale, and her hands were cold. She rested for a bit and then returned to class.”

“…………”

“Since you arrived at this school, this is the first time Hojouin-san has come to the nurse’s office. That girl has never used it for illness before.”

Midori—

Had gone to the nurse’s office.

The perfect Midori Hojouin had gone there because of dizziness.

“And after that?”

“She attended classes normally from second period onward. She’s currently working in the student council room during lunch.”

“…Thank you, Tsubaki-sensei. I’ll keep an eye on it.”

After she left, I sat beside the copy machine and thought.

Dizziness.
Pale face.
Cold hands.

Final exams approaching.
Student council work.
Cultural festival preparations.
Responsibilities as a member of the Hojouin family.

Midori was trying to do all of it perfectly.

And now—

Her body was starting to scream.

During her previous visit, Midori said she didn’t even realize her hands were trembling.

She was the type who ignored physical warning signs.

Even if she was pushed to the point of dizziness, she probably still didn’t realize what was happening.

—“She rested and returned to class.”

To Midori, that meant the issue was already solved.

Dizziness was simply a “malfunction.”

The nurse’s office “fixed” it.

Then she went back to work.

She never looked at the real problem—

Her exhaustion.

(…Maybe I can’t just wait anymore.)

I weighed two things.

Counselor principle: Wait for the student to come voluntarily.

Current situation: Physical symptoms had already appeared. She might not even realize what’s happening. If ignored, it would only get worse.

Decision—

Intervene.

But in a way that wouldn’t damage her pride.

—

After school, I went to the student council room.

Knock. Three times.

Even spacing—

I copied Midori’s usual knocking style.

It probably meant nothing.

But matching her rhythm might make her less suspicious.

“Come in.”

Midori’s voice.

Perfect as always.

I opened the door.

The student council room was large.

Long desks lined the center, shelves full of documents covered the walls.

At the far end, in the president’s seat—

She sat alone.

The other members were gone.

Probably already home because of exams.

Only Midori remained, papers spread across her desk.

“Asagiri-sensei?”

She looked at me.

Perfect smile.

But—

Just like Tsubaki-sensei said, her face was pale.

Her lips had lost their color.

Faint dark circles sat beneath her eyes.

“Hello. I had something to discuss.”

“Is it a matter concerning the student council?”

“Yes. I wanted to ask about the counseling room participating in the cultural festival.”

A lie.

There was no such plan.

But if I told her I came because I was worried about her health, Midori would immediately respond with: “There is no need for concern.”

And build a perfect wall.

So I used business as an excuse.

Met her on her own ground—formal conversation.

“The counseling room participating in the festival… there is no precedent.”

“That’s why I’m asking. When something has no precedent, it requires the student council president’s approval, right?”

“…I see. What kind of plan do you have in mind?”

“Something simple. Maybe a stress-check booth. Or small psychology quizzes. Something that helps students casually learn about the counseling room.”

Half true.

I had thought about ideas like that before.

I was simply bringing it up earlier than planned.

Midori pulled out a binder and began taking notes.

Perfect response.

“Understood. Please fill out the proposal form I will send and—”

Her pen stopped.

The tip froze above the paper.

Midori herself noticed two seconds later.

“…My apologies.”

She adjusted her grip.

But—

Her fingers were trembling.

The same trembling I pointed out during her last visit.

Back then she said she didn’t even know her hands could shake.

Now—

She could feel it.

A crack appeared in Midori’s smile.

A tiny crack.

Almost invisible.

But this time—

Midori herself felt it.

“Asagiri-sensei.”

“Yes.”

“…My hand.”

She looked down at her right hand.

Still gripping the pen.

“It’s shaking.”

“Yes. It is.”

“…Is this fatigue?”

Midori was asking me.

Confirming her own body’s condition with someone else.

That—

Was a huge change.

Last time she said, “I didn’t know.”

Now she asked, “Is this fatigue?”

Meaning she had recognized something was wrong.

“Probably. Midori-san, have you been sleeping properly lately?”

She opened her mouth—

Then closed it.

She tried to prepare the perfect answer.

But couldn’t.

“…About four hours.”

“Every night?”

“…For the past ten days.”

Ten days.

Exactly the time since I gave her that homework.

“The assignment. Scoring yourself. Did you do it?”

Midori’s smile disappeared.

This was the third time her smile had vanished.

The first time lasted 0.3 seconds.

The second time when she said “I don’t know.”

This time—

It didn’t come back.

“…I did.”

“What score?”

Long silence.

“…Every night, I gave myself one hundred.”

“…………”

“I couldn’t give any other score.”

For the first time—

Midori’s voice trembled.

“I completed student council work. I studied for exams. I advanced the festival preparations. Everything exactly as planned. Perfectly. So it should be one hundred. It would be strange if it wasn’t.”

“Midori-san.”

“But every time I wrote one hundred… my hand shook. Even though it should be perfect. I don’t understand why. Something is wrong with my body. My body must be breaking.”

Something shimmered in her eyes.

Not tears.

Something just before tears.

Condensed emotion.

“Your body isn’t breaking, Midori-san.”

I spoke gently.

“Your body is working correctly. When you’re tired, it trembles. When you don’t sleep, you get dizzy. The problem isn’t your body.”

“Then what—”

“It’s the standard that only allows one hundred.”

Midori looked at me.

No smile.

Not the student council president.

Not the Hojouin family daughter.

Just a seventeen-year-old girl.

“You can’t accept yourself unless you score one hundred. So even when your body reaches its limit, you can’t stop. Because stopping would mean you’re no longer perfect.”

Silence.

Her lips trembled.

“…Then what should I do?”

“First—go home and sleep today.”

She blinked.

“Sleep?”

“Yes. Right now. Student council work can wait until tomorrow. Studying can wait until tomorrow. Today, just go home and sleep.”

“But—”

“Midori-san. Try giving yourself seventy points today.”

Her eyes shook.

“Go home with seventy. Leave the remaining thirty points for tomorrow’s Midori. You don’t need one hundred every single day. It’s okay to have seventy-point days.”

She stared at me for a long time.

Many emotions swirled in her eyes.

For the first time—

She allowed them to appear.

After nearly a minute of silence—

Midori placed the pen down.

Closed the documents.

Picked up her bag.

“…Seventy points.”

She whispered.

“Today, I will go home with seventy.”

“Yes. That’s enough.”

She stood up.

Her posture—

Wasn’t perfectly straight this time.

Her back curved slightly.

She was tired.

She had always been tired.

At the door, Midori stopped and looked back.

No smile.

Instead—

An expression without a name.

Anxiety. Relief. Confusion.

“Asagiri-sensei.”

“Yes.”

“…If I score seventy, will there be punishment?”

That question hurt my chest.

She had grown up believing anything below one hundred meant punishment.

“There’s no punishment. Seventy is a perfectly good score.”

For just a moment—

Her eyes became moist.

Not tears.

Not yet.

The day Midori cries will come later.

But—

They glistened.

“…Thank you.”

She bowed slightly and left.

Her footsteps were slower than usual.

Not the usual precise rhythm.

And that was fine.

Today was a seventy-point day.

—

Alone in the student council room, I looked out the window.

I could see Midori walking toward the school gate.

She looked smaller than usual.

(Midori Hojouin… today, for the first time, she acknowledged the crack in her armor.)

Something might begin to spill out from that crack.

I didn’t know what yet.

But it was okay if something spilled.

When something leaks from a perfect container—

That isn’t a malfunction.

It’s simply human.

I opened my notebook.

『Midori Hojouin. Contact outside counseling room (student council room). Physical symptoms recognized (trembling hands, lack of sleep). Self-reported ‘I can only give myself 100 points.’ Suggested ‘go home with 70 points,’ accepted. Long conversation without her usual smile. Emotional condensation observed (before tears). Midori’s recovery is entering the next phase. Learning that ‘it’s okay not to be perfect.’ Slowly. From here on, slowly is fine.』

I set down the pen.

Outside the window, the summer sun lit the schoolyard in bright white.

Summer vacation was approaching.