Yuichi took another look around. All around him, the labels were changing to things like “Lolicon,” “Siscon,” “Train Geek,” “Bookworm”...

He began to feel a stinging pain behind his eyes. It felt like the pain associated with eye strain, but it faded after a while.

“What’s wrong?” Shota asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Yuichi’s sudden activity.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

But this might be a problem after all, he realized. When he saw a label change, he couldn’t help but stop and think about it. That could really have an impact on how he lived his life.

“Um, we were talking about my sister, right? About that... She’s got middle school syndrome. A really bad case.”

“Middle school syndrome? She’s sick?”

“No, not sick. Um, how to put it... It’s like being really obsessive about stuff.” Explaining would be more trouble than it was worth, so he just picked the closest easy example.

“Hey, have you got a picture of your sister?”

“What kind of guy would carry around a picture of his big sist—” But before he could even finish that thought, he remembered he had some photo booth stickers in his bag that they’d taken together. He’d said he didn’t want them, but she’d pushed them on him.

“Oh, so you have got one? Let’s have a look!”

“Fine...” He didn’t want to come off like an uncooperative jerk, after all. He reached for his bag, placed it on the desk and started rummaging through it.

“Hey, what’s that?” Shota pointed at the bag. He’d taken interest in a hunk of metal poking out of it.

“This? This is the Captains of Crush Gripper No. 4. It’s for improving your grip strength.”

“Huh? That’s weird. Can I see?”

Yuichi pulled the gripper from his bag and handed it to Shota.

The Captains of Crush Gripper was an advanced gripper made by IronMind Enterprises, Inc., designed to improve your grip strength. They ranged from No. 1 to No. 4. To close No. 4, you needed a grip strength of about 160 kg. There was no way an average high school student could close it.

Shota strained hard, trying to close it. Yuichi watched him out of the corner of his eye as he searched for the photo booth stickers.

“What, class chaos on the very first day? What part of ‘wait quietly in your seats’ didn’t you understand? Well, whatever. Just take your seats already. I’m Hanako Nodayama, and I’m your homeroom teacher.”

Yuichi’s search for the photo stickers was interrupted by a feminine, incredibly unmotivated voice. He stopped to look up at the teacher’s lectern.

At some point, a woman bearing the label “Homeroom Teacher” had arrived in the room. She didn’t look comfortable in the suit she was wearing... to put it mildly. Her hair was a total mess, with a half-assed brown dye job. She didn’t seem to care about her appearance at all.

“Let me say one thing to start off: Do not mess with me. Now hand out these print-outs. Um, you there. Split ’em up and pass ’em back. Everything you need to know for high school life is on there. You hear me? It’s all on there. So you won’t need me to explain anything or answer any questions. Got it?” Hanako forced the print-outs on the first student she saw.

Their homeroom teacher’s attitude seemed to be having an immediately demoralizing effect on the class. The papers were passed out according to Hanako’s instructions.

“Huh? I don’t think there are enough,” Shota said as he turned back to face Yuichi. It seemed Shota had gotten the last for their row.

Yuichi looked around to see if any rows had gotten extra. It looked like Yuichi was the only one who hadn’t gotten one.

“Excuse me, but I didn’t get a print-out,” Yuichi called out, holding up his hand.

A few students turned to look at Yuichi.

He suddenly felt a stinging pain behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut as the world turned white around him.

“Hey, what’s with you? You got middle school syndrome or something? One of those ‘Hnngh! Be still, my right eye!’ types? Because high school seems a little late to start that stuff.” Hanako’s words were mixed with mocking laughter.

“...Ah, sorry. It was just a sudden headache. I’m fi—” Yuichi began to sit up, then froze, his jaw going slack.

“Zombie.”

“Witch.”

“Anthromorph.”

“Dating Sim Childhood Friend.”

“Vampire.”

A whole crowd of people with bizarre labels were looking at him. Everyone’s labels were different. Before then, they had all just been “Classmate.”

What’s going on? But he didn’t have more than a second to to think about it. Someone’s eyes were fixed on him. He turned to look, and felt a new chill run though him.

“Serial Killer.”

Their eyes met.

A terrifyingly beautiful girl had affixed Yuichi with a cold, sharp gaze. Above her short-cropped hair floated the label “Serial Killer.”