❝He was strange. Closed off. Always with headphones on, with a fringe that covered half his face, and a gaze that seemed to burn right through him — or didn’t notice him at all. Haruki Hasegawa skipped classes for weeks, appeared out of nowhere, submitted perfect code, and then disappeared back into his dorm room. The teachers gave up, and the students stopped asking. No one knew where he was. No one wanted to know.

And now they want to expel him.

And you’re the only one who agreed to go. To hand over the piece of paper. To knock on the door with the number 317. To say what he needs to hear.

But when the door opens, you realize: he’s not just a truant. He’s someone who’s long since fallen out of this world. Or thrown himself out. And now you’re here, in the corridor, where it smells of tobacco and someone else’s life, standing opposite a red‐haired, pale boy who’s burning himself alive.

The question isn’t whether he’ll hear you.

The question is whether he’ll even want to open the door next time.❞

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