Vol 1 CHAPTER 3: If She Got Stolen, I’ll Steal Her Back【Volume 1: Preparation Arc】

How much time has passed, anyway?

Looking back, it’s been three days since my girlfriend dumped me. The discovery of her cheating happened at the start of Golden Week, on day one of a four-day holiday. Tomorrow, I’d have to go back to school and face her—and I’d need to give her some kind of “answer.” But I still had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do.

Three days and nights of writhing in bed won’t solve anything.

What am I supposed to do?

I find myself asking the question aloud to no one in particular. Begging someone—anyone—for an answer.

And the first thing that comes to mind? Web novels online. Stories about protagonists getting cheated on are all over that stuff. But those are fiction. I never thought it would actually happen to me.

“Maybe if I do something ‘satisfying’ too, I’ll feel better?”

The words slip out.

Most protagonists in those novels go for revenge.

They destroy their cheating girlfriend.

They ruin the other guy who stole her.

They systematically obliterate their lives and make them suffer in hell.

And the world apparently thinks that’s beautiful.

If I did what those fictional protagonists do—if I crushed them both—maybe I could escape this scorching hellfire of pain.

But something about it doesn’t sit right.

“Even if those two became miserable… I don’t think it would make me happy.”

In the end, all I can think about is myself. Even if someone else fell into despair, there’s nothing joyful about that. Nothing at all.

In novels, the protagonist always gets a new girlfriend right away. Starts fresh. But life doesn’t work that way. Getting my “revenge” won’t make me happy.

I want to escape this pain.

I want to get back my lost male pride.

And if possible… I want to enjoy being alive again.

Is there any idea—any brilliant idea—that could give me all of that?

“Hey Johnny… what do you think?”

I direct the question at my most beloved companion.

His answer is always simple and clear.

Satisfy me, he says. That’s all that matters.

“…”

I do as Johnny demands.

Right now, the most important thing is taking care of the immediate, base desire.

I focus my mind, sit cross-legged on the bed, and start my “self-generated electricity.”

For those wondering what “self-generated electricity” means—everyone’s done this experiment in middle school science class, right? You wrap copper wire around a coil, put a bar magnet inside, push it in and out…

Yeah. That.

After I’m done, I lay there in a state of clarity and start something like meditation.

Why does humanity suffer while alive?

It’s too grand a question. There’s no answer.

So instead, I think about what I should do next. What I fundamentally want. I pursue that.

And then I discover an emotion lurking in the depths of my heart.

“…I’m pissed.”

Yeah. I’m furious.

Furious that a girl I liked looked down on me. Furious that she saw me as an inferior male. There’s a twisted, aching resentment. Dark, filthy sludge churning in my chest.

I stare directly at that sludge in my heart.

I drop the pretense. I ignore what society expects. I close my eyes to every chain binding me. And I ask myself—what remains? What does my true ideal image look like? I’m not afraid to imagine it.

And there it is—my girlfriend, begging for my forgiveness, clinging to my feet. Tears streaming down her face, her eyes melting, completely devoted to me, whispering words of love.

Deep down, I want her to apologize from the bottom of her heart.

I want her to declare that there is no man greater than me in this world, and that from now on, she will never look at anyone but me.

How pathetic.

I understand how stupid this fantasy is. But no matter how many times I tell myself that, I can’t stop imagining it. And the more I repeat it, the more it starts to feel like some noble wish that simply must come true.

Lost in that sweet daydream for a while, I finally reach a decision about what I’m going to do.

It’s probably a vulgar desire.

But there’s no helping it.

Because that’s the natural order—that’s what it means to be male.

“That’s it. I’ll steal her back!”

No matter what it takes, I’ll make it happen.

And just thinking about it…

Johnny stood at attention.

Vol 1 CHAPTER 4: First, I Talk to My Girlfriend ①【Volume 1: Preparation Arc】

The next day.

When Golden Week ended, I went back to school.

I got through the morning classes without incident, but at lunch, I headed to the classroom next door. Her classroom.

“I need to talk to you after school. You have time?”

“…Okay.”

She looks startled that I suddenly appeared, but she agrees.

I head back to my classroom and spend the entire afternoon running simulations in my head. Preparing for the confrontation ahead. Making sure I’m ready for anything.

After school, I head to the rooftop of the school building where I’d told her to meet me.

It’s unusual these days, but our school keeps part of the rooftop open. Not the whole thing, obviously, but there’s plenty of space to have a private conversation without being overheard.

I open the rooftop door, and there she is, standing under the open blue sky.

“Did I keep you waiting?”

“No.”

Short answer. A hard expression.

There’s no way we’re going to have a cheerful chat. But that’s fine. I wasn’t prepared for idle conversation anyway, so I get straight to the point.

“I wanted to talk about what happened the other day.”

“…!”

The moment I speak, her whole body visibly tenses.

Her lips press into a tight line. Her eyes look straight at me. But there’s a flicker of fear in them.

Saho Kotobuki.

My ex-girlfriend. The girl I fell for at first sight and confessed to. The girl who broke up with me four days ago.

She has long reddish hair tied back, and sharp, spirited eyes. She’s the type with a strong personality—the kind of girl who seems to have conviction in everything she does. That’s the impression I had of her.

Which is exactly why I never thought she’d cheat.

She takes a deep breath, then bows her head in one quick motion.

“I’m sorry.”

I ignore her apology and ask:

“When did you start dating Ichijo-senpai?”

“…”

“Tell me.”

When I ask slowly and deliberately, she answers without lifting her head.

“That day… The day you saw us together. He confessed to me.”

“I see.”

So this girl got confessed to and went straight to a hotel with the guy. Not exactly a paragon of virtue.

I almost say it out loud, but I hold back. I can’t let my frustration out here—not if I want to achieve my objective. I need to stay disciplined.