Chapter 1: The Boy Who Wore Light
"A perfect world is the most fragile kind."
The morning sun filtered through the paper-thin curtains of a modest but serene bedroom, casting long golden streaks across the floor. In that quiet sanctuary, Kaito Shiranami sat at the edge of his bed, half-dressed in his uniform, quietly staring at his open window.
The breeze that wafted in was neither too cold nor too warm. It carried the faint scent of the river, mixed with sakura petals that had long since begun their descent toward the ground—another sign that spring was nearing its end.
Everything felt perfect.
Too perfect.
He ran a hand through his charcoal-black hair, still messy from sleep, and reached for the thin silver-framed glasses he only wore while reading. A book lay on his desk, spine broken in multiple places, covered in pencil notes and small paper tabs—The Ethics of Freedom and Control. He had read it three times already.
Kaito was not like the others.
Brilliance wasn't something he chased—it came to him as naturally as breathing. From a young age, he had been called a "gifted child," though he always felt more like a vessel than a person. Teachers admired him. Peers respected him. Adults smiled and whispered his name like it meant something more than a boy's identity.
And yet, the most precious parts of his life weren't the medals or scores—but the quiet mornings with his father over tea, his mother humming while tending to her plants, and the sound of her laughter…
And then there was Airi Tachibana.
He checked the time.
7:13 AM.
She would be waiting at the footbridge.
—
Outside, the town slowly came to life.
Kaito walked through the residential streets of Minazuki District, schoolbag on his shoulder, headphones in place but music turned off. He liked the illusion of sound, without the distraction of it. It gave people the excuse not to talk to him, and gave him time to think.
As he neared the footbridge, a figure came into view.
There she was—Airi, already waiting, brushing dust from her navy-blue blazer. Her long black hair swayed gently as she turned, and her face lit up the moment she saw him.
She smiled in a way that always felt… honest.
"You're late," she teased, hands behind her back.
"I'm seven minutes early," he replied.
"Still late—for me."
Kaito chuckled softly. "Then I'm sorry."
They fell into step beside each other, the way they had for nearly a year now. Not officially dating—at least, not publicly. But privately, in the spaces between glances and shared books and long conversations under the stairs… they were something more.
"How's your mother?" she asked, a little too carefully.
"She's good. My dad's traveling again though. Election season."
Airi winced slightly. Her own father was a well-known politician—strict, ruthless, and obsessed with maintaining a certain image. "I hate this part of the year," she muttered.
"Me too."
There was a pause.
Airi glanced at him. "Did you get my message last night?"
Kaito hesitated. "The one that just said 'I'm scared'? Or the follow-up that said 'Forget it'?"
She smiled weakly. "Both."
He didn't press her. Not yet.
---
As they reached Minazuki High, the looming white-and-gray school building came into view like a monolith of conformity. Uniforms marched. Students filtered in. Everything was orderly.
Too orderly.
At the gates, a sleek black car was parked—the kind that didn't belong to any student's family. A man in a black suit stood beside it, pretending to scroll through his phone but clearly watching them.
Kaito caught the glance.
Airi didn't. Or pretended not to.
"Who is he?" Kaito asked softly.
"My father's aide," she replied after a beat. "Ignore him."
Kaito's eyes narrowed slightly. But he let it go. For now.
They entered the school building together, but as they stepped through the glass doors, the air seemed to shift. Eyes turned to them—some curious, others judgmental. Airi quickly stepped a few feet away from him.
Their public distance. Their unspoken rule.
He was brilliant.
She was untouchable.
They were not supposed to be… close.
As they reached the shoe lockers, Kaito's phone buzzed. A text. Unknown number.
> "We need to talk. It's about Airi. Urgent. Roof. Lunch break."
He looked up—no one around seemed out of place. But the message tightened something in his chest.
---
The morning classes passed in a blur—literature, advanced mathematics, comparative history. Kaito answered questions like a machine. He didn't take notes. He didn't need to. He already knew the answers.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Why was someone warning him about Airi?
He glanced toward her during class. She was reading, eyes glazed, chewing the cap of her pen. Distracted. Distant.
At lunch break, he didn't hesitate. He climbed the back stairwell to the rooftop—off-limits to most students, but rules rarely stopped Kaito.
When he pushed open the door, the wind greeted him.
So did a figure.
A boy in second-year uniform. Glasses, pale face, slightly hunched. He turned as Kaito approached.
"You don't know me," the boy said. "But I know you."
"Clearly," Kaito replied.
The boy looked around nervously. "They're planning something. Her father. The school board. The city office. You need to stay away from her."
Kaito stared at him. "Why would you care?"
"Because I used to be you," the boy whispered. "And she used to be… someone else."
Then he turned and ran, leaving Kaito alone on the rooftop, the wind howling like a warning.
---
That night, Kaito couldn't sleep.
He lay awake staring at his ceiling, remembering the boy's words.
Remembering the man in the car.
Remembering Airi's forced smile.
The cracks in the perfect world were becoming visible.
Something was coming.
And Kaito, brilliant though he was, could already feel it:
His life was no longer his own.
And neither was his innocence.
---