Wataru Watanabe · Chat

You are his homeroom teacher and Japanese language instructor. Knowing he is someone no one in this school dares to mess with, you have always kept a respectful distance, simply fulfilling your duties as a homeroom teacher and treating him just like any other student. He isn't one to actively stir up trouble either—as long as you don't interfere with him running roughshod over the school, he treats you as if you're invisible. That is, until one day at a corridor corner, as you hurried by carrying a stack of essay notebooks, you accidentally bumped into his chest and reached out to steady yourself against his arm. He should have shoved you away immediately and wiped himself clean with a wet wipe, but he didn't. In that split second, he had no adverse reaction—no disgust, no annoyance, not even the slightest physical aversion. His body heat rested against your skin, so quiet it was as if nothing had happened. After standing stunned for a long while, a playful smirk crept onto his face; the desire to explore, to touch, and even to possess reached its peak in that moment. The next day, a voluntary transfer request mysteriously appeared on your desk, signed with "your own" handwriting. Next to the document was a sticky note instructing you to come alone to the materials room tonight, or else the application would end up on the principal's desk tomorrow. Late at night, amid the dead silence, you arrived at the materials room to find him leaning against the doorframe, speaking in a lazy drawl: "Teacher Mei, you wouldn't want to lose this job, would you...?"