Chapter 13: The Female Teacher

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Nightfall descends, and the city lights blaze brightly. The streets of Shibuya are known as the busiest in the world. Statistics estimate that around three thousand people pass through every minute, meaning if you stand there for ten minutes, you might brush past thirty thousand individuals. Among these countless faces, there could be one destined to accompany you for a lifetime.

However, Kitahara was not here to seek romance... The Life Turnaround System is a passive skill that triggers with certain individuals. It can also become active, as just now.

Standing for a while at the Shibuya intersection, within minutes, Kitahara received several system alerts, including but not limited to:

- [A disgraced politician removed from office due to embezzlement requires financial aid—Reward: Mastery in Finance]
- [A widow who inherited a vast fortune after her husband’s death but is eyed by many relatives needs someone to become her husband—Reward: Charm +3]
- [A mother with cancer whose children are still minors promises to care for them—Reward: Basic Medical Skills]

All beings suffer. Some cannot escape their consequences; others are fated, unstoppable. Kitahara wished to help, but lacked the capacity—there were simply too many people, with five or six tasks popping up every minute... Even if he warned them of a great disaster twenty years hence, they would likely dismiss him as insane or a scammer.

So he set aside his desire to assist and, after observing the crowd, chose a manageable task: a young lady who had lost her necklace. Kitahara found it, informed the police, and waited for her there.

The reward was simple: a pure gold bracelet valued at two hundred thousand yen. He could sell it at a jewelry store or on the black market for a slightly higher price. But Kitahara was not greedy; two hundred thousand was enough.

Of course, that was not important. What mattered was he had earned the reward he sought.

[Ding—]
[At thirty-five, you meet your former homeroom teacher. She looks haggard. After a brief conversation, you learn that exactly twenty years ago today, she endured a heartbreaking experience... Since then, her life and love have been shattered.]
[You decide to help her...]
[Mission: Teach a scoundrel a lesson]
[Reward: Mastery in Japanese Literature]

Japanese Literature, one of the three main subjects, has always been a major source of points. Kitahara was competent but not outstanding. If he could obtain this reward, he could dedicate more time to other subjects.

Kitahara snapped back to reality. The urgent matter was to find that teacher first.

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He looked up; rain fell softly over the street, streetlights reflecting the raindrops, casting a kaleidoscope of colors upon the pavement... The ceaseless tide of people flowed up to the horizon.

Where was that former homeroom teacher now?

...

At the Shimizu Bar.

Soft jazz music drifted quietly inside, dim light falling over the faces of men and women, mysterious and intimate. Amid the melody, couples smiled and clinked glasses gently, the atmosphere calm and not loud.

This was a mellow bar, perfect for women to enjoy a light drink, full of ambiance. Sayuri Sato would come here after work for a few drinks, then take the train home once slightly tipsy.

The clear liquid poured into the glass quietly shimmered under the light. The sake here was of good quality, smooth in taste. Sayuri enjoyed listening to jazz with it. The only flaw was its potency—too much and one could quickly pass out.

But a little less, and it was fine.

Time.

Sayuri glanced at her phone; it was 9:45 PM. She planned to stay ten more minutes before heading home... Two, no, three drinks would be just right. Given her tolerance, it should be manageable.

The second cup.

Her stomach warmed; a heat seemed to envelop her entire body, her mind drifting hazily. She decided to rest and gaze out the window at the street scene.

This was Shibuya, the world's largest intersection. Its night view was undoubtedly the most beautiful—a blaze of lights and gentle rain creating a dreamlike scene.

Handsome men and beautiful women crossed the street, arm in arm, utterly intimate... Those scoundrels, how enviable.

Sayuri longed for love, but her circumstances did not allow it.

Suddenly, she noticed a young man standing quietly at the corner, waiting for something.

She was naturally drawn to his face, which seemed to possess a unique charm. It reminded her of many things from junior high—a handsome boy who once smiled and handed her an origami crane... But she was chubby and poor then, and could only hide her feelings in her heart until graduation day when she saw him dating a girl dressed like a princess.

Such painful memories.

Sayuri shook her glass and saw the young man turn around. She instinctively frowned.

That outfit...

A student from Hokudake High School?

Isn't he from our school?

Out this late and hanging around here—what was he doing?

Half-sober, Sayuri narrowed her eyes to observe him. He was indeed young, a high schooler, and she was already irritated.

She was a teacher, a homeroom teacher no less.

Seeing this scene grated on her nerves.

“You little brat...”

Sayuri muttered but said no more.

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At this age, the boy had probably just finished watching a movie or playing video games—there was an arcade nearby. He was likely done playing with friends and about to head home.

“The light’s green, hurry up and leave...”

Shibuya was no good place.

Sayuri knew well how much darkness hid beneath the glitz and glamour. Whenever she saw someone dressed as a student appearing here, it annoyed her.

These arrogant brats thought dressing well would attract women’s attention... But they didn’t even realize they were being used.

“Excuse me...”

A waiter approached, softly calling her.

Sayuri snapped back to reality and noticed her fierce expression was so intimidating the handsome man at the next table had long fled.

“Sorry!”

“I’ll be more careful.”

Sayuri tempered her mood. This was a nice bar; she didn’t want to end up on its blacklist.

Returning to her thoughts, the young man seemed about to leave. Sayuri’s expression softened and she swirled her glass.

Until a woman approached him.

“What’s going on...”

Sayuri complained under her breath.

The woman was well-maintained, in her thirties or forties, exquisitely elegant, carrying a Gucci bag, wearing designer earrings. Though wrinkles showed her age, one could still see the grace of her youth.

The boy stopped and spoke with her.

Then she pulled out a thick stack of bills.

“You scoundrel, that’s illegal!” Sayuri slammed the table, unable to stay silent any longer. She rushed out of the bar, grabbed the boy’s arm: “You little brat, come here!”

“Huh?”

Kitahara turned, looking at the furious woman reeking of alcohol with some confusion.

This woman... why was she cursing at him for no reason?

“What I just said...” the elegant woman smiled.

“Get lost! He’s mine, fuck you!”

Sayuri flipped her middle finger at her and dragged Kitahara away.

“Wait...”

“Come here!”

Kitahara wanted to resist but, catching a system notification flashing, he hesitated and quietly went along with her pull.