Love, romance—those things are nothing but high-calorie hallucinations.

The biggest bug in human relationships, an error of the brain.

I—Mawaru Kageya—achieved that enlightenment half a year ago, during the winter of my first year of high school.

I had a girlfriend I'd been with since middle school.

We went to different high schools, and even as we both got busier, there was a time when I genuinely believed lines like "Even apart, we'll always be together"—words that now seem so saccharine I could freeze to death from the cringe.

That day, feeling a little giddy before winter break, I went all the way to the area near her high school to surprise her.

A slightly stylish café in front of the station. A glass-walled terrace seat.

There she was.

The guy sitting across from her was probably a college student, or maybe an older high schooler. Brown hair, with the look of a total player.

She had her arm twined around his, aiming a meltingly sweet smile at him like she'd never once shown me. When he patted her head, she narrowed her eyes happily, then kissed him on the cheek.

I couldn't even muster the energy to cause a dramatic scene.

I just took out my phone on the spot, tapped her contact, tried to send a message—and realized I was already blocked.

In that instant, something inside me went out with a soft "snuff."

Not anger, not sadness.

Nothing but an immense, overwhelming emptiness came rushing in.

‘...Ah, I see. So that's how it is.’

Not everything you see in this world is the truth. And most of the truths you do see are utter crap.

My heart returned completely to "nothingness."

And so, spring of my second year arrived with my mental state in the absolute gutter.

Naturally, a gloomy aura hung around me, and my new classmates avoided me like I was a delicate glass figurine. I spent my days in the special seat at the very back by the window, single-mindedly classifying cloud shapes in my head and letting the lukewarm May breeze wash over me.

I was fully prepared to live out the rest of high school in obscurity, like a "heartbroken ghost who'd attained enlightenment."

"Man, you've still got those perfectly dead-fish eyes today! Hilarious!"

The guy who stomped into my personal space—shoes on, cleats muddy and all—was Ryuki Otomo.

With a blessed physique standing 180 centimeters tall and a lively face that screamed "soccer club," he came up to my desk every single lunch break just because he happened to sit next to me in second year, always talking in that relentlessly bright voice.

I brushed him off casually at first, but one day, worn down by his sheer persistence, I ended up letting it slip.

That I'd been cheated on in the winter of my first year. That I'd been blocked. And that I now couldn't care less about life.

A backstory far too heavy. Normally, you'd either get sympathy or an awkward retreat.

Ryuki's reaction was different.

"Bahaha! What the hell. Your ex has absolutely no eye for men, does she! Gyahahaha!"

He clutched his stomach and burst into roaring laughter.

"...No, see, that's the part where you're supposed to sympathize."

"Your face wasn't asking for sympathy, man. Well, shitty stuff like that happens if you live long enough! Want me to set up a group date for you or something?"

"No thanks. Carbs and sleep are the only things I can love anymore."

That laughter, utterly devoid of delicacy, was strangely pleasant.

Ryuki's honest, bottomless cheer neutralized my sense of emptiness, just a little.

From then on, we just kind of felt comfortable around each other and started hanging out often.

And my state of emptiness had even numbed my wariness toward my own "greatest secret."

"...It's hot. I'm thirsty."

"Wanna hit the school store? I'm craving some soda too."

"Nah, it's fine. I've got some."

One day after school, right in front of Ryuki, I smoothly slipped my hand into my shadow stretching across the ground.

From deep within it, I pulled out two ice-cold cans of cola and tossed one to Ryuki.

"Oh, thanks—wait, huh? What? Did you just pull that out of the ground?"

"Yeah. My superpower. I can put things in my shadow. Living things are a no-go, though."

"...You're serious? That's not a magic trick?"

"If you don't believe me, that's fine. Ahh, cold and delicious."

Ryuki's eyes went wide with shock. I briefly thought, Oh, is this the part where I get sold to a lab? but I was so hollow I accepted even that with a Well, if it comes with three meals and a nap, sure.

But after a few seconds of silence, Ryuki cracked open the can with a pshh and chugged the cola.

"...Pwah! That's legit cold. That's creepy as hell, but handy!"

"Thank you for your honest opinion."

"So? Can you put my cleats in there?"

"They stink, so absolutely not."

"Stingy!"

And so, my uncanny ability, Shadow Storage—which could potentially shake the world—was registered in Ryuki's mind as simply a "kinda convenient fourth-dimensional pocket."

Not like anyone would believe it if I told them, and I personally have zero intention of saving the world with this power or founding an evil organization.

As long as I can take out what I like, when I like—that's more than enough.

My heart is hollow, but my stomach gets hungry.

I thought these peaceful, lazy days would go on forever.

—Until that day, when I met her on the rooftop.