Ghost 12 — Awkward

Extremely awkward.

Since my face hadn’t changed since my previous life, I’d assumed with certainty that Negishi-san must recognize me.

But when I looked closer, she seemed to have no recollection of me at all.

When I said my name, she responded with a cool, indifferent expression.

Then, flustered, she said, “Ah, Sasa-jima-kun, I remember,” but her face clearly wrote “I can’t recall,” making the lie obvious at once.

Shiro maintained a near-perfect poker face—emotion unreadable—but Negishi-san was clearly the type whose feelings showed plainly on her face.

Still, it’s embarrassing.

Thinking she remembered me… that’s narcissistic. Awkward beyond words!

Now that I think about it, it’s been years. It’s only natural she wouldn’t remember a classmate’s face.

I remembered Ms. Negishi—solely because of the intensity of her presence.

Aoki Akiko.

She was an outlier among her peers.

The visual impact was strong from the outset, but the actions left a deeper impression.

Sofia usually attended morning classes but often dozed off during them.

The committee chair, Mr. Kudo, had also warned, yet the only response was a gaze so steeped in murderous intent it seemed to bleed through.

Just that was enough to make one realize this one was dangerous.

She was isolated within the class, as if it were natural.

If Nagai changes, then things will change accordingly.

Where once only hatred-colored glances were directed at others, now expressions shift with careless ease.

The forceful tone carried an undertone of pretense, revealing a childlike quality appropriate to her age.

Yet, despite being reborn, her mental age should be higher than her appearance suggested.

Whether this change is favorable or not is not my decision to make.

If the person herself is content with it, then it should be acceptable.

From my perspective, they seem considerably more approachable now.

I suppose... it's still awkward.

There's that too—just recently we were killing each other.

Why did Shiro leave without saying anything?

Being alone together in this air... it's a high barrier.

Hmph. Don’t call me Negishi. My current name is Sophia Kelen. Address me by that name.

It doesn't seem to be about matching my name to his, then.

Perhaps it was because she disliked being called by her old name for reasons different from his.

Perhaps she dislikes herself from her previous life.

It was clear from her demeanor—how she expressed disdain for everything from her previous life.

“Got it. Then I’ll call you Sophia from now on.”

I had no reason to object.

I’m not one to judge others either.

“So, why did Shiro bring us together?”

I asked to change the subject.

I thought continuing the conversation about names would only lead to mutual discomfort.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

But that answer was unexpected.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t told anything.”

“Huh…”

So she came here without being told anything?

Ah, right. If she’d been given instructions, she probably wouldn’t have attacked us on sight.

“So you’re saying it’s really just about bringing us together?”

“I don’t think so. There’s probably something written in this book.”

Sophia held up the book.

I looked down at the book Shiro had handed me.

The book and clothing handed to Shiro were received.

The clothing consisted of a chest guard, hakama, tabi socks, and this fabric—something I’d rather not think about, but a loincloth?

It clearly resembled a full set of samurai attire, but was this meant for me to wear?

I’m not entirely unaccustomed to such garments—having grown up in modern Japan—but still, wearing them feels like cosplay. There’s resistance.

Still, it’s far better than the near-naked state I was in during the activation of Wrath.

I’ll set the clothing aside for now.

As for the book, the cover bore no inscription.

It was of moderate thickness, resembling a notebook.

Upon flipping through it, handwritten text appeared.

"Shiro-chan’s Basic Skill Workshop"

The title was written in an excessively cute, rounded script.

Accompanying it was a cartoonish illustration of a spider, drawn in a bouncy, dancing pose.

"What is this?"

"Is this some kind of joke? Did you write it while drunk?"

What's that supposed to mean?

It’s ruining my image of Shiro.

Drunk?

You drink?

"Master becomes a different person when drunk. You should treat the drunk master as a completely different person."

Huh.

Wait—?

"Master?"

That word... it’s unsettling.

What is this 'Master' thing!?

Are you two like that!?

"Please don’t imagine something weird! I don’t have a strange relationship with Master!"

"No, no, no! What’s with 'Master'!? That’s already suspicious!"

"I don’t call him that by choice! I’m cursed!"

"A curse?"

"Yes. A curse that forces me to call Master only 'Master'."

What a ridiculous curse.

Why would someone place such a curse...?

I don’t know. It was after I’d drunk too much. I can’t explain it myself.

Can’t it be undone?

Apparently not. In fact, it’s said to be so strong that even being treated as a mere joke is a miracle.

I witnessed a truly wasteful curse.

More accurately, my image of Shiro—the one who cast such a curse—keeps crumbling further in my mind.

Anyway, I’ll read this book now. It’s not long. Should be finished quickly.

She abruptly shifts the topic—clearly unwilling to discuss curses further.

Then she opens the book without delay and assumes a reading posture.

It feels like the conversation was cut off abruptly. A quiet shock.

I understand that being enemies who’ve killed each other makes resentment inevitable. But understanding it doesn’t stop the ache.

Perhaps I was hungrier for conversation than I had realized.

Perhaps I had been seeking a peer among reincarnated souls—someone equal, with whom I could speak freely on any matter.

As I thought this, I turned my gaze back to the book.