There is something wrong with Hikigaya’s classroom of the Elite, as expected

Chapter 2: Failure is a Constant in Life

April—once again, it’s the season of cherry blossoms. A dead-fish-eyed boy, dressed in a burgundy school uniform jacket and carrying a dark blue shoulder bag, boarded the Sobu Line early in the morning, heading to Tokyo. From there, he transferred to a short-line bus bound for Advanced Nurturing High School.

This school was located on a large artificial island far from Tokyo’s city center, accessible only by two cross-sea bridges—there were no other ways onto the island. As Hikigaya sat on the bus, staring out at the scenery retreating through the window, his mind wandered aimlessly.

Suddenly, a loud, piercing noise erupted outside, followed by a violent jolt that shook the entire bus. Hikigaya quickly grabbed onto the seat’s handrail, barely managing to steady himself as the bus came to a slow stop.

“No… no way…”

His face stiffened as an ominous thought crossed his mind.

“Sorry about this, kid. It looks like the front right tire has some issues…” The elderly bus driver, his hair streaked with white, turned around and gave Hikigaya—his only passenger—a helpless smile.

Hikigaya could only force a smile that looked even worse than crying.

Not only were they stranded in the middle of a cross-sea bridge, caught in a situation where there was nothing but open water on either side, but just how unlucky did he have to be to experience a bus tire blowout?

Was this a manga? Or a light novel?

How could the probability of this happening be so high? And why was his luck never this good when it came to winning the lottery at the end of the year?

And to top it all off… today was the first day of school!

Two terrible memories suddenly flooded his mind.

He had been holding onto a glimmer of hope—that on this new beginning, he could reset his disastrous past social life.

But whether it was his previous high school in his original world or his middle school in this one, he had always encountered some kind of accident at the start of the school year. By the time he recovered and returned to school, he had already been pushed to the margins, unable to integrate into the complex web of friendships. In the end, he became an outcast.

Was he about to experience another repeat of history?

On the bright side… at least this time, he hadn’t been hit by a car. Maybe that counted as a small stroke of luck—yeah, right!

According to the nearly-retired driver, it would take at least thirty minutes for a backup vehicle to arrive. Factoring in the remaining commute time, Hikigaya suddenly realized something terrifying—he was going to be late!

And since he was the only student on this bus, that meant… he had already set off later than the other students.

There was a high chance that he would be the only student who was late on the first day of school.

Without paying any more attention to the driver’s apologies and reassurances, Hikigaya grabbed his backpack, got off the bus, and started running down the pedestrian lane of the bridge—initiating a classic J-drama sprint!

This kind of scene was supposed to be reserved for the final episode of a prime-time TV drama, reserved only for the protagonist!

Or so the dead-fish-eyed boy consoled himself.

As a lone wolf, Hikigaya never imagined that he would be going to school in such a “dramatic” fashion.

But soon, his attention was drawn to the island’s facilities.

Since Advanced Nurturing High School had a strict three-year no-exit policy and banned communication with the outside world, the artificial island had been designed with various living and entertainment facilities.

A cinema, clothing stores, cafés, restaurants—there was even a multifunctional shopping mall. It was essentially a small commercial district, all dedicated to serving the school.

A massive area spanning over 600,000 square meters!

‘In a place like Tokyo, where land is ridiculously expensive, it’s hard to imagine a national high school occupying such a vast area. Even elite private academies wouldn’t be able to pull this off.’

Hikigaya couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement.

Just then, a sleek black luxury car sped past him. Within seconds, it had disappeared from sight.

‘That black car…’

Instinctively, Hikigaya stopped in his tracks.

Although he had only seen it for a few seconds, something about that black car felt oddly familiar.

.

.

.

“Damn it, that black car made me waste so much time!”

Drenched in sweat, Hikigaya finally arrived at the school. Ignoring the warning against running indoors, he rushed toward his assigned classroom, following the entrance guide.

Though he was baffled by the sheer number of surveillance cameras inside the school, he had no time to dwell on it.

Each grade at Advanced Nurturing High School was divided into four classes—A, B, C, and D—with 40 students per class, totaling 160 students per grade. Despite the enormous campus and its extravagantly luxurious resources, the student population was surprisingly low. What a waste!

First-year Class D. Hikigaya finally arrived at his classroom.

After catching his breath, he pushed open the door—

—and immediately froze.

The thing he feared most had happened.

As soon as he stepped inside, 39 pairs of eyes locked onto him. On top of that, a cold, piercing gaze came from a woman who exuded the unmistakable aura of a “homeroom teacher.”

So, he really was late.

And… he really wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear!

Hikigaya felt utterly miserable inside, though his face remained as expressionless as ever—cold and indifferent.

There’s a saying: first impressions in a new environment are crucial. They heavily influence future relationships and determine one’s status within a group.

Hikigaya used to scoff at this idea—until he experienced it firsthand.

Anyone who has attended a school opening ceremony knows the feeling—whenever a new student enters the classroom, they are scrutinized like a product on display, judged by all, and mentally assigned a label based on first impressions.

For introverts or those with social anxiety, this kind of experience was nothing short of a public execution.

And being late on the first day of school? That was like stacking every possible debuff!

“I…”

Hikigaya opened his mouth, intending to explain. But he stopped himself.

The fact remained—he was late.

Sure, an explanation might justify his mistake, but it could also be seen as a cowardly attempt to escape responsibility.

And let’s be real—who would believe a ridiculous excuse like “the bus had a flat tire, so I had to sprint for kilometers to get here”?

He knew all too well that most people delighted in the misfortunes of others. If he said it out loud, his past would surely be turned into a joke, passed around as a fun anecdote for people to enjoy and use as convenient small talk.

While Hikigaya hesitated, the woman standing at the podium—dressed in a black business suit, her long hair tied into a neat ponytail—spoke up.

“Come in.”

Hikigaya bowed slightly, muttered a quiet “sorry,” and walked into the classroom as if nothing had happened.

For a lone wolf accustomed to years of emotional trauma, being publicly humiliated for no reason was nothing new.

Lone Wolf’s Rule #4:

If you don’t feel embarrassed, the embarrassment belongs to others!

Thus, to outsiders, this new student—who showed up late on the first day with a completely expressionless face and dead-fish eyes filled with regret—seemed rebellious and difficult to approach.

In reality, his heart was ice-cold.

As always, failure was a constant in his life, and regrets were simply a normal part of youth.