Qu Muying doesn’t like wearing JK uniforms.
Every morning, when she stuffs her legs into that black nylon product, she has the illusion of ‘Am I already dead?’
Tight, slick, poor breathability–isn’t it really a body bag?
They say this thing is called pantyhose.
They say 99.9% of Japanese high school girls are used to it.
Qu Muying happens to belong to the 0.1%.
Well, after all, her soul hasn’t evolved cells that appreciate instruments of torture.
The baby girl born in Hakone, Kanagawa Prefecture sixteen years ago did not undergo a factory reset and came with second-hand memories.
Her original name was also Qu Muying: surname Qu, given name Muying.
Old Man Qu tirelessly read through the Children’s Three Hundred Tang Poems without understanding their meaning.
So he interpreted “Crooked wood fears the sun’s shadow, slanderers fear the wise and bright” in as positive, and it became the name Little Qu could not shake off in two lifetimes.
“Magariki” for Qu, “Kage” for Ying–classmates usually call her “that child.”
One month into her first year of high school, she was already awarded such a title; first of all, one could rule out her innate gloomy disposition.
In the mirror, the girl’s face was pale.
Her eyelids drooped, and her dim, blurred pupils absorbed all light.
Her shoulder-length black hair was slightly messy, with bangs covering half of one eye.
The blue uniform of Zafu High School wrapped her body, and the black pantyhose under her skirt outlined the slender contour of her calves.
This was Qu Muying’s shell in this life.
In her previous life, Little Qu put all attribute points into perseverance.
Working hard and striving upward, fighting twenty-five hours a day for her indie game about to launch on Steam, ultimately leading to her sudden death in front of the keyboard.
This life’s innate stat allocation was all in charm; Little Muying would not repeat the same mistake.
But she wouldn’t completely leave her original industry.
After all, Qu Muying, who possessed the accumulation of over a decade of advanced technology from later generations, did not need to work as hard as in her previous life.
By then, punch Nintendo, kick Ka…
“Xiao Ying! If you don’t come out now, you’ll be late!”
From outside the door came Mother’s kind shout, interrupting Qu Muying’s fantasy.
Walking out of the bathroom, the girl looked up at the wall clock.
It was still early.
‘Were all East Asian elders like this, with time disordered for them?’
‘Truly terrifying.’
“Where’s Yusuke?”
Qu Muying came to the living room dining table, tossed the schoolbag on the chair to the foot of the chair, sat down, and casually asked.
“You child! How many times have I told you? How can you call your father by his name?”
Qu Muying casually poured the miso soup over the rice bowl and slurped it down with violent slurps.
As a result, she drew Mother’s scolding again: “This is not tea rice! So unladylike!”
“I know.”
After finishing breakfast, Qu Muying slung on her schoolbag, went to the entryway, and sat down. She roughly stuffed her black-pantyhosed feet into her small leather shoes, while her other hand took out her phone, flipped it open with her thumb, and checked her inbox for new messages.
Sharp SH-06A.
Qu Muying had no flip-phone complex.
She had never watched EVA either.
This phone was given to her by Yusuke on her birthday last year.
“You’re a big girl now, so you should have your own phone!”
That was what Yusuke said at the time.
Yusuke was not an elderly EVA fan, nor did he have a flip-phone complex, and he certainly bore no grudge against his daughter.
In a Japanese school where not using Apple got you bullied, the reason he gave her a flip phone was naturally–this was not Japan in 2026.
It was the first school day after Golden Week.
May 6, 2010.
The sky was clear and windy, carp streamers fluttering in the air.
Qu Muying held her schoolbag against her front and quietly pressed down her skirt hem.
When crossing Three Coin Bridge, the girl casually glanced under the bridge.
Her pupils trembled slightly.
On the riverbank gravel under the bridge, a boy in Zafu High School uniform was lying face-down in a comical pose.
A schoolbag had fallen on the concrete slope between the bridge bottom and the water surface.
The boy’s posture looked somewhat familiar…
‘Could it be a crouch start?’
‘What was he trying to do?’
‘Was he going to long jump from a starting posture and leap over the water?’
Qu Muying stopped, not out of worry.
It was because this scene–how should she put it–had a subtle “so stupid” quality.
She shuffled two steps toward the bridge edge and looked down over the railing without expression.
The boy seemed to notice the gaze from above and raised his face.
His eyes were unexpectedly beautiful, and at that moment they were slightly wide.
“Ah, um…”
The boy spoke.
“Could you please–“
“No.”
Qu Muying said that and turned to leave.
Behind her came a “Hey!” followed by the rustling sound of book pages being flipped by the wind.
‘Anyway, he was just a stranger from the same school.’
‘…Come to think of it, was the wind too strong today?’
In the Class 1-D classroom, Qu Muying’s seat was in the back row by the window.
A very classic seat.
As soon as she sat down, she heard several girls in the front row chattering away.
Their voices were loud enough that they clearly wanted everyone to know they had gone to Tokyo during vacation.
‘Noisy.’
Before long, morning assembly began.
She had thought the teacher would say something like vacation is over, so settle down, and Qu Muying could not be bothered to listen.
But unexpectedly, her classmates suddenly gasped softly.
She looked up and saw a boy with a somewhat dirty uniform walking in from the doorway, looking familiar.
The boy wrote three kanji on the blackboard–Shiraishi Ayumu.
“Dudulu~♪ I’m Shiraishi Ayumu from Tokyo! I love playing games! My dream is to make Galgame! Please treat me well!”
Two kanji flashed through Qu Muying’s mind:
Godly person.
“Ah… sit over there.”
Mr. Yokota raised his hand and pointed to the last empty seat in the class–on Qu Muying’s right.
Qu Muying voiced no objection.
The transfer student had just sat down when he eagerly preached to her: “Do you play games? I really love ~”
He was a bit overly familiar.
Qu Muying pretended not to hear.
That guy named Shiraishi Ayumu voluntarily stopped harassing her and turned to the boy on his other side.
“Do you play games? What about Galgame?”
After the first class following morning assembly ended, Qu Muying took out her phone and browsed gaming news for a while.
As a person from the future, she read the media and comments’ expectations and worries about future works.
This experience was as comfortable as playing mahjong with x-ray vision.
Before she knew it, she was somewhat absorbed in reading.
“Classmate? Class is starting.”
A face was very close under the desk, and his beautiful eyes blinked with a lively sparkle.
Qu Muying had not expected someone to ignore social distance and come so close.
For a moment, she did not react.
“Super Mario Galaxy 2 release countdown…”
Shiraishi Ayumu read the small text on the screen, and his eyes immediately lit up as he smiled: “Classmate, you’re a gamer too?”
“…”
Smack–
Qu Muying snapped the flip phone shut, jerked her head up from the desk edge, and stared at the English teacher who had just stepped onto the podium.
‘I absolutely must not get involved with this weirdo!’
Shiraishi Ayumu showed no dissatisfaction at being deliberately ignored; he just said “Yoisha! (Awesome!)” and sat back in his seat.
Qu Muying’s head throbbed slightly.
She had a strong feeling that this guy would definitely cling to her.
School ended at 2:30 PM, and Qu Muying hurriedly ran outside.
Zafu High School was a school built on a hillside, and the girl slid all the way down to the foot of the hill without braking.
After passing Odawara Station, she did not go home, but headed to the bustling east exit, Nishikidori Shopping Street.
In front of a two-story building, Qu Muying stopped and finally could catch her breath.
[Romance Game Hall – Odawara Branch]