Chapter 58: The Frail Yukiko Okata

Tasks like these offered little punishment for Haruhi Harano even if he failed, and besides, he was genuinely looking forward to being a guest at Kazumi Uehara’s home. Even tutoring Mizuko Uehara was something he anticipated with some excitement.

He had met Mizuko Uehara before—she had perfectly inherited Kazumi’s excellent genes, her development far outpaced her peers, and her lively, adorable personality was irresistible. Aside from her academic struggles, she was flawless in every other regard, a budding beauty in every sense.

Tutoring such a vibrant young girl was something Haruhi truly enjoyed, especially since Kazumi Uehara would occasionally accompany him during the sessions. The thought alone was exhilarating.

The night breeze brushed against him as Haruhi walked along neon-lit streets. On both sides of the avenue, small groups of middle-aged, balding men wandered. Each wore cheap suits and staggered drunkenly, supporting one another as they ambled through the dazzling nightlife.

They were impeccably dressed, not a tie out of place.

But one mustn’t underestimate these tipsy uncles. Many among them may have once penned passionate tales of youth and ambition in their student days. No matter how glorious their past, how enamored their juniors once were, now they were nothing more than middle-aged, balding workers, slogging through endless labor.

Occasionally, they’d boast to new interns, share drinks after work, but only under the haze of alcohol could they speak of their once lofty dreams and ideals. Of course, come morning, everything would be forgotten, and they’d continue dedicating themselves to their careers, becoming a cold, mechanical cog in Tokyo’s relentless machine.

Haruhi walked among them, sighing at the passing crowd.

Without the system, his post-graduation life might end up just like theirs—perhaps a bit better, but for an ordinary person, the ceiling was always there no matter how hard one tried.

He took out his phone and glanced at the time. In just the short span he hadn’t checked, several people had messaged him.

Aside from Miro Shimizu’s urgent stickers and reminders to hurry home, Yuriko Ogata had also sent him a message:

“Haruhi, what time will you get to school tomorrow morning?”

She’d attached a [cute] sticker.

Smiling, Haruhi typed a reply.

“Sorry, Yuriko, I just finished my shift and saw your message.”

He wasn’t lying—he had just now seen it. Not waiting for her to respond, Haruhi continued typing:

“Usually, I arrive around 7:40, but I don’t feel like getting up early tomorrow, so maybe 7:50. Of course, if I suddenly feel like waking up early, I might get there by 7:30.”

Thinking of adorable Yuriko Ogata, Haruhi couldn’t help but tease her a little, giving her a deliberately vague answer.

“So, Yuriko, is there something you wanted to ask me?”

Yuriko replied quickly, as if she’d been holding her phone the entire time, but was clearly confused by Haruhi’s answer. She sent only a [dizzy] cute sticker.

Inside a high-end villa, all the rooms save a few bedrooms were dark.

In a girlish bedroom, a small girl in a pink nightdress lay sprawled on a soft bed, kicking her feet playfully.

Under the gentle light, her exposed calves were pale and smooth, gleaming like jade. The girl was petite overall, with a small nose and big eyes, though the corners drooped slightly, giving her a timid, aggrieved look.

This delicate, vulnerable girl stared blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought.

The room was adorned with miniature sofas, a TV, a desk, and all things girly—adorable cartoon characters everywhere, and a pile of teddy bears filling one corner of the sofa.

“Bzz bzz.”

Suddenly, the phone on the bedside vibrated twice. Yuriko Ogata quickly sat up, kneeling on the bed to grab it.

Her previously lifeless eyes began to sparkle, clear and bright.

Even though the reply was politely brief, the moment she saw the message, Yuriko smiled sweetly, as if tasting honey. She placed the phone to her tiny chest, then fell back onto the soft bed, enveloped in delight.

Picking up her phone again, her delicate fingers tapped away at the screen. Lying on her stomach, her pale little legs danced happily in the air.

But soon, her happiness faded.

After typing her reply, Yuriko anxiously reviewed her words to ensure nothing was amiss. Before she could send it, another message arrived.

Seeing Haruhi’s response, she obediently deleted her draft, reorganized her thoughts, and after typing just a couple of words, another question came in from Haruhi.

The flustered Yuriko grew anxious—her typing could never keep pace with his questions. She could only send a dizzy sticker, QAQ!

When Haruhi responded with a simple “hahaha,” Yuriko finally relaxed, then resumed typing slowly, carefully organizing her words, revising them before finally sending her message.

It was as if she were writing a national exam essay—she was meticulous.

By the time Haruhi received her message, he was already seated on the train, leaning against the window, letting the night breeze cool him. He was calm, clear-headed.

He was still chatting with Miro Shimizu, the little delinquent girl who was furiously urging him to hurry home. Who knows what mischief she had caused.

Even now, Haruhi held a trace of anticipation, hoping for some big surprise.

“Haruhi, have you been working all this time? Tomorrow morning, um, I’ll wait behind the school building to give you breakfast…”

She hesitantly added, “Is that okay?”

So small, so humble, so helpless.

“Why not leave it in the classroom?” Haruhi found her request amusing and couldn’t resist teasing Yuriko.

As expected, Yuriko was thrown off by this question, struggling to reply, her mind spinning wildly, unsure how to respond.

In her anxiety, her eyes grew red and misty.