My sister Arisu Sakayanagi is a yandere

In the end, I was accepted into Class A.

It might be surprising to some that someone like me, someone with a dark history—one that involves nearly killing a person by throwing them into a pond during a religious activity—would actually be allowed in.

But you know what?

A crime that remains buried deep within, sealed away from prying eyes, is never truly a crime.

A corrupt politician who shines brightly in public is not a corruptor in the eyes of society. A drug lord who has never been caught is not a drug lord. A criminal smart enough to erase every trace of their wrongdoing is not a criminal.

We are all actors in our own stories, hiding behind the masks of decent men and women, pretending to be just another respectable member of society.

As long as our sins remain undiscovered, as long as judgment never comes knocking at our doors, we are the stars of everyone's story.

We shine, we thrive, and we bask in the illusion of innocence.

Society doesn't punish wrongdoing; it punishes getting caught. The true elite, whether in crime or politics, move unseen, untouched, unchallenged.

I have never once regretted my actions—not a single ounce of it. Especially not when it comes to those fools who thought they could overstep their boundaries with me and get away with it unscathed.

They drowned. They suffered. They were left traumatized and on the brink of death. Did I feel guilty about it?

No. I didn't. Not even for a second. If anything, I felt pleasure.

Watching them struggle, watching their faces twist in fear, their agony only brightened my day. The more they suffered, the better I felt.

It might sound sociopathic. It might sound excessive, holding onto such resentment and dealing with them so harshly, even after all these years.

But whose fault is that? Certainly not mine. That's on them. If they had just minded their own damn business, if they hadn't decided to make me their target, do you think I would've gone out of my way to ruin them?

No, I wouldn't have. I have no interest in meddling in other people's lives. I don't give a damn about what they do, as long as it doesn't affect me or the people within my circle.

That's the only rule I live by.

But the world isn't that simple, is it? Expecting people to have basic intelligence and self-preservation is asking for too much.

Even when you don't provoke them, even when you keep to yourself, they will still come after you—without reason, without justification, just because they feel like it.

That's exactly why I hate this world with a passion.

Whether it was in my past life or this one, I've always encountered idiots like that. All I ever wanted was to be left alone in peace, but no—peace is never an option.

These people won't stop until you beat them down so hard that no one else dares to bother you again.

You have to make an example out of them.

The only answer to violence is greater violence.

Violence is only "evil" when it is used incompetently.

Someone tries to bully you? Drown them. Make them experience what it truly means to be on the verge of death.

Someone talks shit about you? Spread something even worse about them. Humiliate them until they wish they never opened their mouth in the first place.

If you don't make an example of those who challenge you, you invite more challengers.

Yes, there's a risk. You'll be isolated. You'll be feared. You'll be treated like some dangerous freak by the fools who prefer to stay on the sidelines.

But do I care?

No. Not in the slightest.

I only care about one thing—sending a message.

Mess with me, and I will make them suffer. I will make them regret it in ways they never imagined. Pain for pain. Humiliation for humiliation.

That's who I am.

Sakayanagi Genji.

Thus, with that thought in mind, I stepped into Class A with the confident stride of someone who had already conquered the world.

A few girls occasionally glanced in my direction—well, what else could you expect?

Being handsome had its perks, after all.

I chuckled to myself, unfazed by their stares—hell, I welcomed them. Let them look. Let them admire. Let them wonder.

This place was going to be my new stage, a fresh story waiting to unfold, and a new hunting ground for me to leave my mark.

Now then, let the game begin.

"Brother... do you want me to go on stage, or do you want to go up there yourself?" Arisu asked, snapping me out of my musings.

"You can go. I will watch your career with great interest, my dear sister." I smirked and reached out, pinching her cheek.

She pouted, clearly annoyed. "Don't treat me like a child."

"I don't. I never treated you like a child. We've always played the adult game, haven't we?" I teased, my voice laced with amusement.

"Fufufu... Of course you would, my perverted brother." Arisu chuckled, her voice dripping with mischief. "Just sit back, enjoy yourself, and relish your peace. I'll make sure no one dares to bother you if you don't want to be disturbed."

She knew me too well.

She understood exactly what I desired most in this wretched world—an existence untouched by insignificant pests who foolishly thought they could cross me.

That was precisely why she gave me this guarantee.

We were bound not just by blood, but by an unbreakable bond forged through everything we had endured together.

The bitter and the sweet, the pain and the triumph—before we even realized it, we had emerged stronger than anyone else.

I leaned back in my seat and watched as she confidently walked onto the stage, clapping her hands together like a shepherd gathering his flock.

The entire class, both boys and girls, found themselves drawn to her.

It wasn't just her looks—though she was undeniably cute.

No, it was the raw charisma that radiated from her as she stood before them.

I let my body sink into my chair, watching as she shone under the spotlight.

As expected, she started with a simple introduction, but the way she carried herself made it anything but ordinary.

She spoke with absolute authority, stating her name—Sakayanagi.

That single name was enough to command attention.

It wasn't just a family name; it was a symbol of hierarchy, of dominance, of power.

In this school, it was the name of a predator—the apex at the very top of the food chain.

Of course, being at the top meant challengers would always appear.

One such challenger wasted no time stepping forward—a bald bastard from our class, his stance firm, his presence undeniable.

He wasn't a pushover either. His introduction carried weight, his ambitions clear and unwavering.

This clash of wills would have undoubtedly escalated into something far more interesting, but before either side could take it further, the classroom door swung open, and the teacher walked in.

He cleared his throat loudly, demanding attention.

And just like that, the tension in the room shifted. The focus turned to him, even mine.

A shame, really.

I was looking forward to seeing my sister's sadistic side at work—watching her crush her foes beneath her heel like the insignificant insects they were.

But life moves on, doesn't it?

At least for now.