A Boring Story About A Boy Who Can Manipulate Reality By Doing Chores

The silence between Ren and Chisaki on the secluded bench at the back of the school building was thick, charged with unspoken words. Chisaki's face was still a furious red, her heart hammering against her ribs. She couldn't believe she had blurted out the truth.

Ren, however, seemed completely unfazed. He leaned back, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. "So, 'from the start,' huh?" he prompted, his voice calm, almost teasing. "Care to elaborate, Chisaki-san?"

Chisaki flinched. She wanted to deny it, to make up an excuse, but his gaze was too direct, too knowing. "I… I was just… curious," she stammered, her eyes darting away. "You were talking to Itsuki-san, and I just… happened to be here."

"Happened to be here from the start of lunch?" Ren's eyebrow arched slightly. He wasn't pressing aggressively, but his quiet persistence was more unnerving than any accusation.

Chisaki sighed, defeat washing over her. There was no point in lying. Her shoulders slumped. "Fine," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "I was watching. I… I don't know why. I just… couldn't help it." She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "And what about you, Ren-kun? Why were you with Itsuki-san? Are you trying to… charming her too?" The last words came out with a surprising bite, a hint of jealousy she immediately regretted.

Ren's smirk softened into a genuine, if still enigmatic, smile. "Itsuki-san was having trouble with some exam questions. I was just helping her. And yes," he added, his voice dropping slightly, "I do find her charming. Just as I find you charming, Chisaki-san."

Chisaki's blush deepened. "Don't say things like that!" she snapped, but her voice lacked its usual conviction. "And what about… what you said the other day? About being your 'second lover'?" The words were out before she could stop them, her internal conflict finally spilling into the open. "Do you… do you really think that's okay? To just… ask someone to be a 'second'?" Her voice trembled, a raw vulnerability in her tone. "There are so many other guys in the world, Ren-kun. Why… Why me? Why do I feel like this?" Ren leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense, captivating. "Because, Chisaki-san," he began, his voice a low, compelling murmur, "I believe I can make you happier than anyone else. And yes, I want you. Not just as a friend, not just as a classmate. I want you by my side, in my life. And if that means you're my 'second,' then that's the truth of it. I don't lie about what I want." He paused, letting his words sink in. "You're right, there are many guys in the world. But will any of them make you feel what you feel when you're around me? Will any of them make you feel truly protected, truly seen?"

Chisaki stared at him, her mind a chaotic swirl. His words, his unwavering confidence, his sheer charm – it was all overwhelming. Every fiber of her being screamed that this was wrong, that she should run, but her heart, pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, yearned to believe him. The memory of him shielding her from the illusory shadow, of his quiet kindness, warred with her ingrained principles. She wanted to be angry, to reject him outright, but the anger felt weak, overshadowed by a desperate longing.

Just then, the distant chime of the school bell, signaling the end of lunch, cut through the tense atmosphere. It was a jarring return to reality. Chisaki jumped, breaking eye contact. "I… I have to go," she whispered, grabbing her bag.

Ren nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. He hadn't pushed her to an immediate answer, allowing his words and his charm to do their work. "We'll talk again, Chisaki-san," he said, his voice soft, yet firm.

Chisaki didn't reply. She simply turned and practically fled, leaving Ren alone on the bench, a faint smile on his lips. The conversation hadn't ended in a clear resolution, but he had planted the seed, and he knew, with a certainty that bordered on arrogance, that it would grow.

Later that evening, back in the quiet sanctuary of his room at Yuragi Inn, Ren finally remembered Nonko's gift. He had set it aside last time, intrigued by her insistence that he open it alone. He picked up the flat, rectangular package. It was wrapped simply, in plain brown paper, tied with a thin string.

He carefully untied the string and peeled back the paper. Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue, was a small, leather-bound notebook. It looked old, its cover worn smooth with age, and a faint, sweet scent of dried flowers clung to it. Ren opened it.

The first few pages were blank, but then, he saw it. It wasn't a diary, or a sketchbook, but a collection of meticulously pressed flowers, each one accompanied by a tiny, elegant script detailing its species and the date it was collected. As he flipped through the pages, he realized something. Many of the flowers were common, but some were rare, found only in specific, secluded areas. And the dates… they stretched back years, long before he had arrived at Yuragi Inn, even before his first life ended.

Then, he reached a page that made him pause. A single, vibrant red camellia was pressed there, its delicate petals perfectly preserved. Beneath it, in Nonko's elegant handwriting, was a date: the day he had first helped her in the park, years ago, in his rewritten history. And below the date, a single, poignant sentence:

My first love. My only love.

Ren's breath hitched. This wasn't just a gift; it was a chronicle of Nonko's unwavering devotion, a tangible manifestation of the 'Ticket of Relationship's' profound effect. She had been collecting these, remembering every significant moment, every subtle shift in their intertwined past. The notebook was a testament to a love that had blossomed in secret, a love that had endured through years of separation, waiting patiently for his return.

He closed the notebook gently, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. Nonko's gift was far more intimate, far more revealing, than he could have ever imagined. It was a silent, beautiful confession, a promise of eternal love etched in pressed petals and faded ink.