CH 265

“I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

Ryuzaki did not even make eye contact with me.

He stared at the pouring rain and muttered something like.

“Nakayama…I hate you.”

“Oh, I know.”

I know this without being told.

I’ve been interrupting Ryuzaki’s romantic comedy for a long time.

“If it weren’t for you … I often think that way these days.”

If not for me, what would have happened to Ryuzaki’s romantic comedy?

There is a possibility that the relationship between Shiho and this guy would have been different from what it is now.

I shudder to think of that.

But that is a feeling from Shiho’s point of view.

From Ryuzaki’s point of view, he would have been happier without me.

“You know what I mean, don’t you? I loved Shiho. … I mean, I lost my first love. That love rival is you. That’s why I hate Nakayama.”

Very politely, Ryuzaki tells me why he doesn’t like me.

Of course, I know this without being told, but he seems to have something to say, so I decide to hear him out first.

“Well, … I’m just a sore loser, and I realize it’s jealousy. I’m a loser. So don’t talk to me too … much or I’ll make myself miserable.”

The smile of self-mockery was on Ryuzaki’s face as he said this.

“This is … quite despicable again.”

I was still dumbfounded when I saw Ryuzaki like this.

At the same time, I felt again that I “hate” this guy.

Because he is just like me.

(He’s just like ‘me’. It’s really irritating to watch.)

Yes. Ryoma Ryuzaki is just like Kotaro Nakayama.

I’ve been aware of it for a while, but … I and Ryuzaki are actually not that different.

(It may come as no surprise, since we are the protagonists of “Failed to become” and “Becoming”.)

Ryoma Ryuzaki now appears to have no authority as a protagonist.

His arrogance and omnipotence as a harem protagonist have completely disappeared, and instead, his sneering side has come to the fore.

This is precisely what we can call the “end of the line” for the protagonist.

On the other hand, I was originally in a position like the protagonist, but I was not qualified to be the protagonist, so I became a mob character.

Both of us have different backgrounds, but the result is the same.

In the end, neither of us is the protagonist anymore.

That’s why we are similar.

That’s why I’m disgusted.

(Because of our similarities, … I guess I really don’t like Ryuzaki, for me, with my strong feelings of self-loathing.)

I don’t like myself much.

In other words, even Ryuzaki, who resembles me, can’t possibly like me.

“I don’t like you either.”

I tell him frankly.

We properly confided in each other that we both felt the same way.

Well, I think he knew even without saying it.

Nevertheless, the reason I dared to put it into words was to say the following words.

“Also…I’m jealous of you too.”

Just as you envy me.

I envy you, too.

In other words, I and Ryuzaki are the same in that respect.

But I and Ryuzaki are not the same.

There is a definite difference between us.

That is – the “position” we are given.

I am a mob.

Ryuzaki is the protagonist.

Because of that difference, I can sympathize with Ryuzaki’s pain.

But you, on the other hand, cannot feel my pain.

I, whose world revolves around others, and you, whose world revolves around you.

We need to bridge that critical gap.

Therefore, I must speak.

I need to tell you about my failures so that you can understand my pain.

“There are heroines that … I couldn’t make happy.”

And so I spun a story about the sad fate of a mob character.

It is a story of a failure, a failure of a person who mistakenly thought he was the protagonist, stretched himself beyond his stature to make people happy, and failed without producing any results.