Chapter 243 — Scarier Than Horror Story

After a short soak in the onsen, Kei stepped out of the changing room, now dressed in a light cotton robe provided by the inn.

The fabric was soft against his skin, still warm from the bath.

He walked toward a vending machine glowing faintly in the sea breeze.

The night air was crisp, brushing against his damp hair and bare neck.

The moment he stepped out of the steam, the chill hit him like a cold whisper from the waves.

“...Cold,” he muttered under his breath.

With a metallic clack, a can dropped from the machine.

Kei picked it up and wrapped both hands around it, the warmth soaking into his palms.

“This probably won’t help much, huh…” he sighed softly.

The label read MAXX Coffee.

Hikigaya used to drink this all the time, practically worshipping the stuff.

But Kei had never understood the obsession.

When he’d once asked about it, he got an entire monologue in return.

“Listen carefully, Aoki,” Hikigaya had said, holding up the can like it was some sacred relic.

“This—this right here—is mankind’s greatest treasure. Forget your fancy cafés or overpriced brews. All coffee pales before the glory of MAXX Coffee.”

Hearing Hikigaya nonsense make Yukinoshita sighed, closing her book with a sharp thud.

“Honestly, Hikigaya-kun,” she said, her voice cool and precise.

“That isn’t coffee. It’s liquid sugar masquerading as one. If your palate thinks otherwise, perhaps you should start reviewing candy instead of beverages.”

“Tch what do you know—don’t underestimate MAXX Coffee. It’s not about taste, it’s about spirit! It’s youth now days talk about spirt.”

“Then I sincerely hope your ‘spirit’ includes a dentist, and not the same spirit that coming out from your eyes.” she replied dryly before turning away and back to her book.

At the end he never did get an answer about how it actually tasted.

Now, holding the can himself, he popped the tab open with a soft psst. A wave of sweetness hit his tongue the moment he took a sip.

“…Yeah,” he muttered, half-laughing. “She’s definitely right. This is just sugar and water in disguise.”

Still, the warmth felt nice against the cold breeze, and he took another sip anyway.

He leaned against the vending machine, eyes lifting toward the horizon where the dark ocean met the faint shimmer of stars.

The salty air and faint hum of the sea blended into something peaceful.

“…But it’s not really that bad,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment.

He then went inside and sat down in the lounge, waiting for the girls to come out so they could head to dinner together.

Taking out his phone—something he hadn’t done in a while—he began browsing the internet, only to find it flooded with rumors about Kessoku Band going international.

Most of the comments were supportive, cheering them on for their next big step. Some, however, were tagging him nonstop, asking him to confirm the news. And, of course, a few others couldn’t help but bring up his past controversies.

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[A Fake Artist Who Stole Other People’s Work!]

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Some of those allegations still lingered around him—probably the work of rival record companies trying to tarnish his name.

Kikouka had already told him that things like this couldn’t be fixed overnight.

He had already secured the copyrights under the EMI Records deal, but people who loved to dig up others’ mistakes would always be around.

All Kei could really do was keep moving forward—keep producing music to silence those voices.

“Well, easier said than done,” Kei thought, glancing at the system panel. It hadn’t given him any missions lately.

Technically, he could just buy more songs from it, but he wanted to save that as a last resort for now.

When he opened his messages, he immediately noticed a flood of unread notifications.

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[Hiratsuka-sensei] +99 new messages

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Kei froze, staring at the sheer number of unread texts. A shiver ran down his spine.

‘I really don’t like where this is going…’ he thought.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he tapped the chat. Instantly, a wall of messages filled the screen.

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[Hiratsuka-sensei]: Aoki! Judging by the time here in Tokyo, you’ve probably already arrived in Okinawa. How’s the weather over there?

[Hiratsuka-sensei]: You didn’t forget to bring a jacket, did you? It’s still early in the year—the cold down there bites harder than you think.
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[Hiratsuka-sensei]: And don’t worry about school. I already told Hikigaya to take notes for you. You should be grateful your teacher is this kind.

[Hiratsuka-sensei]: Don’t tell me you’re still busy? If you have any free time, reply to me. I have something to tell you as your homeroom teacher.
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[Hiratsuka-sensei]: Never mind, I just checked Kita’s Line account—she uploaded a photo with you in it! You’re clearly free! Don’t you dare ignore me, Aoki Kei!
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[Hiratsuka-sensei]: …Hello???

[Hiratsuka-sensei]: …Are you dead???
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[Hiratsuka-sensei]: If you’re reading this and still ignoring me, you’d better hope you’re dead.
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Kei froze, staring at the screen as a chill crawled up his spine.

‘This is terrifying! Way too terrifying!’ he thought, his thumb trembling.

In his previous life, when he watched Oregairu, he used to laugh at Hikigaya for getting bombarded with messages like this.

He laughed freely back then—“Haha, what a poor guy,” he’d said.

Now? Now he understood.

Experiencing it firsthand was like being caught in the crosshairs of a cursed spirit.

He could practically feel the temperature drop as he read her last message, as if the words themselves carried a vengeful aura.

“No wonder she’s still single…” he muttered under his breath.

With a deep breath, Kei began typing carefully—every word chosen like he was defusing a bomb.

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[Aoki Kei]: I’m doing well, Sensei. Thank you for asking.

I’m sorry I just saw your messages—I’ve been quite busy these past few days and only now found some free time.

Thank you for your understanding.
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He re-read it twice. Then a third time.

Polite tone? Check.

Reasonable excuse? Check.

Grateful attitude? Check.

Kei nodded to himself, a small, proud smile creeping onto his face.

'Heh… with this even she is upset, she can’t get mad at me.'

With full confidence, he pressed send and leaned back.

And just as he was about to pocket his phone—

“🎶🎶🎶”

The ringtone on his phone blared.

Slowly, he looked at the caller ID.

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[Hiratsuka-sensei.]

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