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Another day at Toyonosaki Academy. The morning sun filtered through the high windows, illuminating the floating chalk dust in lazy, swirling motes.
Leo Vance spent the first two periods in his usual state of productive idleness—which meant he was asleep, his arms crossed on the desk, utilizing a breathing technique from his cultivation practice to recover mental energy. To the teachers, he was just another arrogant transfer student. In reality, he was optimizing his uptime.
Meanwhile, Aki Tomoya was fighting a war.
He returned to the classroom during the break, looking like he'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. His tie was skewed, his hair was a disaster, and he was sweating. He slumped into the chair next to Leo, groaning.
"I got the room," Tomoya gasped, wiping his forehead. "I had to beg, plead, and practically kneel before the faculty advisor. But there's a catch."
Leo opened one eye, his blue iris sharp and alert instantly. "There's always a catch. Let me guess. Bureaucracy?"
"We need to be an official club," Tomoya said, sounding defeated. "And to register a club, we need a minimum of five members. Right now? We have me, you, Utaha-senpai, and Eriri. That's four. We're short one person."
He put his head in his hands. "If we don't get a fifth member by the end of the week, they pull the plug on the room."
"Is that it?" Leo sat up, stretching his shoulders with a satisfying crack. "Just a headcount issue?"
"Just?" Tomoya looked at him incredulously. "Leo-kun, finding a fifth member who is willing to put their name on a 'Game Creation Club' run by the school's notorious otaku is impossible! Everyone has their own clubs already. If we lose the room, we have to find a workspace off-campus."
Tomoya began to chew his thumbnail, his anxiety spiraling. "Rent in this area... even for a small apartment... it's at least 300,000 yen a month. That's a huge expense. We should be saving every yen for production costs."
Leo looked at him with a mix of pity and amusement. 300,000 yen. To Tomoya, that was a mountain. To Leo, it was a dinner bill.
"Actually, renting an off-campus office isn't a bad idea," Leo said, his tone casual, bordering on dismissive. "Privacy, 24/7 access, better internet. This ten million yen is just the seed round, Tomoya. There's no need to penny-pinch on infrastructure. If we need space, we buy space."
Tomoya opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. The gap between them was immense. Tomoya was thinking about how to save bus fare; Leo was thinking about corporate logistics.
"But..." Tomoya stammered, his pride stinging. "A club room is free. And it keeps us close to the talent—Eriri and Utaha are already here."
"Fair point," Leo conceded. He leaned back, his gaze drifting across the classroom.
His eyes landed on a specific desk near the window.
Sitting there, surrounded by the chatter of other students but entirely isolated within her own bubble of silence, was Kato Megumi. She was reading a paperback book, her expression blank, her presence so low that people walked past her desk without even glancing at her.
She seemed to sense his gaze. Slowly, she looked up. Her eyes met Leo's. There was no surprise, no blush, just a calm, flat acknowledgment. I see you seeing me.
Leo turned back to Tomoya, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"If it's just a warm body we need to fill the quota, I have a way. We just need to bring in one more person, right?"
Tomoya looked surprised. "You? But you've branded yourself as a bigger otaku than me. Who do you know?"
"Don't worry about the who or the how," Leo said, standing up. "You focus on the 'what.' How's that script coming along? Have you fleshed out the concept beyond 'windy hill' and 'white hat'?"
Tomoya flinched. Leo had hit the raw nerve.
"I... I'm working on it," Tomoya mumbled, looking away guiltily. "It's harder than I thought to put it into words."
"Creating usually is," Leo said, patting him on the shoulder. "You handle the dreams. I'll handle the logistics."
Lunch Break.
The classroom emptied out as students rushed to the cafeteria or gathered their desks into social clusters. The noise level rose—laughter, gossip, the rustling of plastic wrappers.
Except for one desk.
Kato Megumi sat alone. She had opened her bento box—a neat, balanced arrangement of rice, tamagoyaki, and vegetables—and was eating with slow, methodical precision. In Japan, eating alone was often seen as social suicide, prompting students to hide in bathroom stalls to eat their 'toilet lunches.' But Megumi didn't need to hide. She was effectively invisible. She ate in the open, unbothered and unnoticed.
Until a shadow fell over her desk.
"Hey, Megumi," Leo said, pulling a chair around to sit opposite her.
She didn't jump. She finished chewing a piece of broccoli, swallowed, and dabbed her mouth with a napkin before looking up.
"Leo-kun," she said, her voice flat and soft, lacking the inflection of surprise. "Is there something you need?"
Leo placed his own lunch—a high-end convenience store sandwich—on the desk. "Yeah. I need a favor."
The classroom buzzed around them, but in this small radius, it felt quiet. Leo observed her closely. She was pretty, undeniably so, but in a way that didn't demand attention. She was the perfect camouflage.
"Let me make this clear first," Megumi said, picking up another piece of egg with her chopsticks. "I don't know much about... whatever it is you do. So I might not be able to help."
She knew her place in the social hierarchy. She wasn't the smart one, the loud one, or the talented one. She was the background character. She assumed Leo wanted to copy notes or ask about a class schedule.
"It's nothing complicated," Leo said, leaning in slightly. "I just need you to be a ghost."
Megumi blinked. "A ghost?"
"Me and a few others—Tomoya, Eriri Sawamura, Kasumigaoka Utaha—we're forming a club. A Game Development Circle. But the school rules say we need five members to get a room. We have four."
He smiled, a genuine, inviting expression. "I need a name on the roster. You don't have to do anything if you don't want to. Just lend us your existence so we can satisfy the bureaucracy."
Megumi looked at him, her chopsticks hovering over her rice. "A Game Development Circle..." she repeated slowly. "With those famous people?"
"And me," Leo added. "We're actually going to make a game, Megumi. A real commercial product. It's not just a hobby group. I think... you could learn some interesting things here. Or at least, it'll be more entertaining than reading that book by yourself every day."
Megumi paused. She looked at her bento, then at Leo.
Usually, people looked through her. Leo looked at her. And now, he was asking for her help. He needed her. It was a novel sensation—being a necessary piece of a puzzle.
"It doesn't have to be anything important," Megumi said quietly, lowering her defenses just a fraction. "I'm afraid I'll mess things up if I have to do actual work."
"You won't mess it up," Leo promised. "Just be there. Be the anchor."
Megumi thought about it. Her grades were top-tier; she had plenty of free time. Her life was calm, stable, and incredibly boring. Maybe a little chaos wouldn't be so bad.
"Okay," she nodded, taking a small bite of rice. "If being a ghost is all you need... I can do that."
Leo grinned. "Welcome to the club, Megumi. You just saved us."
Internal Monologue: Target acquired. The Main Heroine is officially on the board. Now, let's see how Tomoya reacts when he realizes his 'perfect girl' has been sitting behind him the whole time.