At dawn, Ruri Goko was deep in thought.

This light novel's prose is remarkably concise, a testament to the author's impressive command of language and writing skill. Yet that is not the true highlight; what truly leaves Ruri Gokou in sincere admiration is the author's world-building—more precisely, the characters the author has crafted.

If Yukino Yukinoshita and Yui Yuigahama bear faint traces of those beloved heroines common in the ACG sphere, then the protagonist, Hachiman Hikigaya, diverges strikingly from the main characters Ruri Gokou has encountered in other works. As both the central figure and the narrative perspective, Hachiman Hikigaya’s characterization is entirely different: he possesses no remarkable talents, nor is he particularly popular. His past holds no unspeakable secrets, and his future—at least for now—shows no sign of dazzling brilliance.

He is habitually solitary at school, and even at the outset of the story, he cries out with slogans like, “Youth is a lie!” and “Let the normies explode!” Though soon enough, he is compelled by the forceful intervention of teacher Shizuka Hiratsuka to rewrite his essay under the theme of “Reflecting on My High School Life.”

But perhaps this is what a protagonist who is, in essence, truly a high school student should be. Moreover, the teacher’s actions in the novel are clearly meant to help the protagonist—Hachiman Hikigaya, whose character is described as rotten to the core.

Well… at the very least, the author’s portrayal through their characters seems to convey such an evaluation of Hachiman Hikigaya.

If one were to assign a label to Hachiman Hikigaya, at this point, Ruri Gokou thinks only the word “authentic” fits. Perhaps “authentic” isn’t the most precise term, but for now, it is the best word she can find to describe him.

Compared to protagonists in similar school romance comedies, who often boast obvious strengths and advantages, Hachiman Hikigaya appears utterly unremarkable. From the information revealed so far, his sole claim to skill is being ranked third in his grade for Japanese language, and he seems to fare well in history too.

Of course, regarding the “rotten nature and awkward sensibility” pointed out by Yukino Yukinoshita, Ruri Gokou, having only skimmed the book, has yet to discern these traits.

Essentially, Ruri Gokou finds herself somewhat admiring such an unconventional—perhaps “distinctive” is more accurate—protagonist.

After all, she herself was once someone who stood apart from the crowd…

Not that she suffered from the same “second-year syndrome” as the protagonist, but rather from an even earlier affliction, what others would call “adolescent delusions,” which she has yet to fully outgrow.

Hmm… she is actually quite similar to Yoshiteru Zaimokuza from the book. Staring at the screen, Ruri Gokou’s thoughts began to wander.

If the old Ruri Gokou had heard someone describe her this way, she would have reacted like a bristling cat, full of aggression. Now, having begun to step into society, she is somewhat self-aware about her own situation.

Since entering university, she has gradually restrained these tendencies; after some effort, she rarely exposes those traits she once considered part of her core nature in daily life.

As for why she decided to change… well, people must grow up eventually, mustn’t they?

Though she has never fundamentally attempted to change the essence of being an otaku…

Well… that’s just her own excuse.

To sum it up, it was the bittersweet memories from her third year of junior high to her first year of high school that prompted Ruri Gokou to feel a desire—an impulse—to “escape,” which she eventually acted upon.

She transferred schools, studied diligently, and was admitted to a university in Tokyo. After graduation, she planned to stay in Tokyo for work. It’s not that she doesn’t miss Chiba, nor that she doesn’t care for her parents and sisters.

Yet there’s always some force preventing Ruri Gokou from entertaining thoughts of “returning home.”

Speaking of Chiba… Ruri Gokou feels she glimpsed the word “Chiba” flashing by as she browsed earlier, and quickly used the search system to examine the text. Soon, she confirmed her suspicion.

The first chapter mentions the setting—the Soubu High School—which is a municipal school located in Chiba. Chapter five even features an amusing Q&A about Chiba’s geography.

At the very least, for Ruri Gokou, a native of Chiba, it makes for delightful reading, evoking a long-lost sense of familiarity.

The protagonist Hachiman Hikigaya even calls himself “the child of Chiba,” and the recurring Chiba elements throughout the novel bring a knowing smile to Ruri Gokou’s face.

Another element of the light novel that Ruri Gokou finds intriguing is its summary and analysis of “second-year syndrome,” a phenomenon long observed in society.

Here, for the first time, Ruri Gokou encounters someone who has defined this phenomenon, and she finds the definition quite apt.

The author’s narrative resonates with Ruri Gokou, for she too has passed through that age.

During her own high school years, she often felt confusion and reflection about her earlier behavior, which eventually led her to resolve to change during her first year at university.

“Second-year syndrome is just that—a mental state of high school students, who believe that eccentricity is cool, who fervently praise online sentiments like ‘working means you’ve lost,’ and who frequently voice such opinions.”

“They often boast about enjoying the works of popular authors before they became famous, deeming what everyone else likes as foolish, and they take pride in obscure works. Not only that, but they also think that fellow otaku are idiotic.”

“They frequently act as though they’ve suddenly seen through everything, only to spout twisted theories. In short, they are thoroughly annoying.”

So the book says.

Reading this, Ruri Gokou gave a wry smile.

Accurate, sharp, irrefutable.

If asked for her impressions, that would be her answer.

If so-called “adolescent delusions” are the peculiar words and deeds of teenagers, then “second-year syndrome” is the trait of those who find adolescent behavior repulsive and actively deliver biting criticism.

Yet in truth, “second-year syndrome” is also a symptom of adolescent delusions, only those afflicted appear more mature.

Though, in the eyes of truly mature individuals, this supposed maturity is merely another form of immaturity.

So, what can be called true maturity? Is it financial independence, or perhaps a sense of spiritual fulfillment?

At this thought, Ruri Gokou fell into contemplation. She found herself unable to answer.

Perhaps, she mused, it’s because she herself isn’t truly mature.

This light novel, this protagonist, or perhaps this author—could they provide her with an answer?

Staring at the screen, such thoughts flickered through Ruri Gokou’s mind.