The morning sun warmed the courtyard of Fate High School as students streamed through the gates.
Under the cherry blossom tree—an annoyingly picturesque spot in where confessions happened all the time—Zen stood exactly where he always did: quiet, emotionless, and unintentionally attracting attention.
With his pale blue hair and matching eyes, he looked like someone who walked straight out of a manhwa panel. That alone was enough to make a small group of girls hover a few meters away, whispering.
One of them, Celine, stepped forward gripping a love letter so tightly it was starting to curl.
She took a shaky breath.
"Z-Zen… I—I love you! Please… be my boyfriend."
Zen blinked slowly.
He wasn't cold—just brutally straightforward.
"How can you love me?" he asked calmly. "You don't know me. We've barely spoken."
Celine's face turned bright red. "I… I've admired you for a year. I always see you here, and I thought—since I'm graduating—I should try…"
Zen nodded once. Then said the worst possible thing.
"So… you stalked me?"
Celine's entire soul left her body.
"I—I—WHAT?!" Her voice cracked. She spun around and fled, crying so loudly passing students turned to look.
Zen let out a quiet sigh. "That was… uncomfortable."
From the bushes, a head popped out.
Kyle.
Of course.
His green hair was messy as usual, and his expression screamed I saw everything and I came with judgement.
"Bro," Kyle said, stepping out. "You can't just tell someone they're a stalker to their face."
Zen stared at him. "You hid in the bushes again."
"That's not important right now."
Kyle walked over, a hand on his hip like a disappointed auntie.
"You have the emotional sensitivity of a brick wall."
"I just told her the truth."
"Yes, and the truth punched her straight into her dignity." Kyle sighed. "Zen, listen carefully. You. Need. Social. Skills."
Zen didn't argue—because he knew Kyle was right. He wasn't bad with people; he just didn't care enough to pretend.
He also disliked physical contact from anyone other than Kyle. They grew up together. If Kyle vanished today, Zen would probably stand silently in a corner until adulthood.
That wouldn't do.
Kyle slung an arm around Zen's shoulders—one of the few people Zen tolerated.
"Look," Kyle said, "you're not unlikable. You're just… unapproachable."
Zen considered this. "So what should I do?"
"Step one: smile."
Zen attempted one.
Kyle immediately stepped back. "…Not like you're about to murder someone."
Zen let his face relax again.
"Step two," Kyle continued, "share something about yourself. Something normal. Light. Human."
Zen frowned. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Tell her you like reading. Or animals. Or games. Don't list everything like a job resume."
Zen nodded.
Kyle pointed toward the direction Celine ran. "Go after her. Show her the normal side of you."
Zen shook his head. "But I don't like her."
"It's not about dating her," Kyle said. "It's about practice. Think of it like… emotional cardio."
Zen didn't like the sound of that, but he respected Kyle's logic—most of the time.
So he followed Celine, who hadn't actually gone far. She was wiping her tears behind a vending machine.
"Celine," Zen said.
She flinched.
Zen remembered: smile.
He tried again—smaller, less terrifying.
It almost worked.
Then he remembered step two: share something about yourself.
Unfortunately, he chose the wrong things.
"I like horror movies," he began. "And true crime books. And taxidermy. I have a pet snake named Medusa."
Celine stared at him, her face slowly draining of color.
Zen continued, unaware, "Medusa sleeps beside me sometimes. Not in my bed. On the shelf. She watches people a lot."
Silence.
Then—
"I—uh—need to go."
And she speed-walked away like she was being chased.
Zen exhaled. "…I think that went well."
Kyle appeared behind him like a jump scare.
"What do you mean "well?!" No, you did not. Zen, buddy, listen. There's… there's sharing yourself, and then there's telling someone you keep dead animals."
"They're preserved, not dead. You make it sound like I intentionally killed them."
"ZEN."
Kyle put both hands on Zen's cheeks, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
"Next time, talk about your NORMAL hobbies."
"What normal hobbies?"
Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. "Reading, gaming, walking your snake—okay not that last one. Anyone would be creep out!"
Zen paused. "So… she was creeped out."
"YES," Kyle said, then softened. "But that's fine. You tried. That matters."
Zen didn't show many emotions, but Kyle could read him easily—Zen was bothered.
It wasn't the rejection.
It was the fact that he tried to be open for once… and it creeped out someone.
Kyle clapped him on the back. "She wasn't your type anyway. Come on. Let's go home. You can show me that zombie game you keep talking about."
Zen's expression shifted—barely—but enough.
"It's called Zombie Night in the Jungle," he said. "You start off with a broken shovel and an empty backpack—"
And as Zen started explaining in quiet detail, Kyle nodded along, already preparing himself for the incoming two-hour playthrough.