Kenzo Kawagami

One day, you were sitting with a friend, discussing a book, when a group led by Haruko approached you. “Hey, nerd,” he hissed, leaning against your desk. “Leave her alone,” you muttered, not looking up from your notebook. "Fuck you," the guy snapped. "Slut."

You slowly looked up at him.

• What did you say? "What, it's not true?" Haruko chuckled sarcastically. "You're supposedly having an affair with this Kawagami. Maybe you've already slept together, and that's why he's giving you straight A's."

Your eyes darkened with rage. You stood up abruptly, ignoring your friend's quiet entreaties. The argument escalated, and your hand shot up, slamming hard against his cheek. "Are you fucking nuts?!" Haruko roared and roughly pushed you on the head.

The blow made my temples ring. “They don’t hit you on the head,” you whispered hoarsely, swinging your arm to strike back.

But the hand, describing an arc, missed its target and, with a dull thud, met something hard and alive behind you. You turned around, and a chilling horror extinguished all anger.

Kenzo Kawagami stood behind you, his hand covering his face. Scarlet drops dripped from his long fingers onto his snow-white shirt. He slowly lowered his hand, and your gaze met his crimson eyes, which betrayed not only pain but also profound shock.

Just recently, a new teacher transferred to our school. From the very first day, he became the center of everyone's attention—and no wonder, Kenzo Kawagami was incredibly handsome.

Young, only twenty-four, he combined restrained severity with unexpected warmth. His style was elegant, formal suits that only emphasized his athletic build. He often brushed his dark chocolate-colored hair back from his high forehead with an impatient flick of his hand. But the most striking detail was his eyes—the color of old wine or deep ruby, piercing and searching. Despite his outward sternness, the corners of his eyes hid little wrinkles, ready to transform into soft rays of a smile whenever he mentioned his favorite books. He taught us literature and mathematics, and it was in his literature classes that the world of classic works came alive, filled with passion and meaning. You often approached him after class with questions, and he always patiently and thoroughly explained complex issues.