Even she thought the question sounded a little absurd as soon as she asked it, but her powerful intuition and curiosity had compelled her to speak.
Lin Mu paused slightly, the bag in his hand. He turned his head and looked at Ichinose Honami.
The last golden rays of the setting sun happened to skim his stern profile, outlining its perfect contours. The edges of his short white hair seemed to glow.
His face showed little emotion, and his eyes looked even deeper and calmer in the dusk.
He looked into Ichinose Honami's eyes, filled with confusion, anticipation, and a hint of awe.
The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch almost imperceptibly. With a teasing, almost playful air, he asked in return:
"Isn't it?"
He blinked. "What, did you think I was some manga protagonist with superpowers who could see the past and future whenever he wanted?"
He deliberately tossed out the absurd possibility in a lighthearted tone. His gaze remained clear and perceptive, with a suggestive, inscrutable smile.
It was as if he were admitting it, yet denying it at the same time—or perhaps simply teasing her for her naïve imagination.
Ichinose Honami was left speechless by his retort. She opened her mouth, but for a moment she didn't know how to respond. All she could do was stare at him blankly.
The absurd idea in the back of her mind hadn't vanished. If anything, his reaction had made it clearer—and even harder to believe.
Lin Mu didn't wait for her answer or look back again. He simply raised a hand and waved in her direction, a casual farewell.
"Don't overthink it. Go back. If you want another reading next time, remember to bring enough points.
"Whether my stall opens, and when, depends on my mood."
With that, he picked up his light bag and turned toward the main road leading to the dorms and shopping district. His pace was unhurried, yet remarkably light.
His white hair gradually blurred in the deepening dusk, then disappeared around the bend.
Ichinose Honami was left alone where she stood, surrounded by a plaza that was growing quiet and a brilliant sunset on the horizon that was soon to fade.
She lowered her head and looked at her outstretched palm, slightly damp with sweat from her nerves. Then she lifted her gaze toward the direction Lin Mu had disappeared in.
The storm of shock and confusion in her heart gradually settled. She still felt a little empty, but the suffocating sensation of drowning was gone.
She took a soft breath in, then slowly let it out.
A smile slowly formed at the corners of her mouth, no longer forced.
Maybe Lin Mu was right.
There was never just one path.
Rather than fixating on a route that seemed like a shortcut but was actually full of thorns and might not lead anywhere, exhausting herself in the process—
when she lost her way, perhaps she should stop for a moment, take in the scenery around her, and figure out where she really stood and what she was capable of.
But... deep down, she still wanted to try, still wanted to get closer to that goal. She couldn't just extinguish that desire.
Lin Mu's final words about a "benefactor" were like a tiny spark, rekindling a little hope.
"Wait..." she murmured softly, clenching her palm, then slowly relaxing it. "All right. Then... I'll focus on what I can do right now."
By then, Lin Mu had already forgotten the conversation, which had taken a little effort on his part, as if it had vanished into the clouds.
He was walking briskly toward his favorite dessert shop on campus, wondering whether to treat himself to the new mango mousse tonight.
Of course, the most important thing was to buy another classic chocolate lava cake. Or should he splurge and get one of everything?
That was the thing about having plenty of points: life at the beginning and end of the month was completely different.
(Thinking back to the days of Zhou Yu...)
To him, the things he'd said to Ichinose Honami were nothing more than some obvious advice he'd tossed out based on a little "helpfulness" and his impression of her.
It wasn't meddling, and he certainly had no deeper intentions.
Whether Ichinose Honami came to her senses, stubbornly clung to her old ways, or tried a new path while half-convinced was up to her. It was her choice and her life.
He, Linmu Fujimiya, only had to live his own life: plenty of desserts, points to spare, and a carefree, perfect life of doing nothing.
The rest? Who cares?
The April wind, carrying the faint fragrance left behind by the fallen cherry blossoms and the dry warmth of early summer, swept across Advanced Nurturing High School.
But Linmu Fujimiya still kept to his own pace of life.
For most of Class D, the entire month of April was spent dreaming about the "windfall" of 100,000 points they received each month.
For Lin Mu, though, it was simply another "vacation" he could arrange however he pleased.
He appeared in the Class D classroom on very few days—probably less than half the time.
To him, sitting in that noisy classroom with practically no atmosphere for studying, listening to teachers recite from textbooks and watching his classmates do as they pleased, was pure waste of life.
It was far better to curl up in his single dorm room and play the latest games in comfort, or pick a sunny afternoon—
take his fortune-telling gear to the plaza and "see who showed up," earning a few hours' worth of points. His personal total had long since passed seven figures and was still steadily growing. That was a much more practical and pleasant use of his time.
He had previously used his supernatural abilities to read Sae Chabashira's memories and glimpse fragments of her future. That had let him understand the school's cruel, meticulously designed rules.
He had also clearly "seen" that Class D's future for some time to come was destined to be difficult—miserable, even.
Since he already knew that spending time in regular classes this month would get him nothing but useless noise and restlessness—
and no tangible benefit at all, whether in knowledge or points, why force himself to attend?
It was wiser to arrange his time as he pleased and focus his energy on things that actually made him comfortable and benefited him.
And on the few days he did show up in class, which he treated as "observation days" or "boredom days"—
(After taking a long vacation, I felt like going to class for a change.)
the Class D he saw was, without exception, a drowsy, muddled mess.
Whispers and laughter, along with the sounds of students fooling around, never seemed to stop between the desks. The noise wasn't enough to bring down the roof, but it was more than enough to irritate anyone trying to listen to the lesson.
Quite a few students skipped class, too. Their empty seats gaped like mouths, mocking the very idea of discipline.
Even those who stayed in the classroom were mostly inattentive: some lowered their heads and hid beneath their desks, fingers flying across their phone screens as they lost themselves in games or social media.
(Are you secretly playing on your phones right now?)
Others simply folded their arms, tilted their heads, and slept soundly on their desks, ignoring the teacher's occasional glances from the podium. Some even snored softly.
A few boys and girls huddled together, passing notes and sharing snacks as if this weren't a classroom at all, but an afternoon tea party.
Before you continue