| I always, always wanted everyone to like me. I wanted to be loved. |
| I’d been a nobody since elementary school.
People hardly noticed if I was absent because of a cold. |
| I was no good at sports, no good at studying, and not particularly interesting.
Nothing about me stood out. |
| But one day, ultra yo-yos became popular in my class. |
| I saw a classmate just like me—someone dull and boring—become popular by showing off an incredible yo-yo move, and I started practicing hard. |
| I practiced for days, from morning to midnight, and finally pulled off a fancy move. But by the time I showed it off to the class, ultra yo-yos had gone out of style. |
| Now, the one and only time I managed to stand out was because of a TV cameo. |
| A family member introduced me to an extra role in a drama, and I was on screen for just a moment. |
| My classmate saw that and praised me—“Nanao, you were on TV; that’s amazing”—and all my other classmates gathered around me. |
| That was the one moment in my life when I stood out.
I thought, “This must be it.” |
| I begged my parents to let me join a children’s acting academy. I went to audition after audition—for dramas and for plays—but the only roles that came to me were extra roles. |
| No matter how hard I tried, I remained a dull passerby.
I became acutely aware that I truly had no charm. |
| Around that time, I appeared as an extra in a drama starring Sumeragi Tenma. |
| I saw Tenma, who was the same age as me, and despaired.
Because I could never be someone on “that side”: someone naturally blessed with charisma. |
| Even if I dyed my hair, changed my clothes, and worked hard, I could never cross over to that side. |
| |
| That’s what I thought, but I still couldn’t give up—and barely managed to join GOD-za as an extra ensemble cast member. |
| The extra role who would stand at the end of the stage, watching as Tasuku-san and Haruto-kun performed boldly at the center. |
| Someone who could never be the center of attention. Just another nobody—it was no different from elementary school. |
| No matter how hard I try, this might be my limit.
That’s what I thought when the head, Reni-san, called me over. |
| “You will join MANKAI company as a new troupe member.”
“...Eh? Do you mean as a spy?”
“You’re quick to understand. I’m going to have you ruin their show.” |
| Of course, I didn’t want to do that to any troupe’s performance.
I didn’t want to soil the stage, which I had come to truly love. |
| “If you fulfill your role, I’ll add you to the main cast of our next performance.” |
| Those were the words of the devil. |
| I could stand at the center of the stage. I could say more than two or three lines. I could perform for longer. |
| Those desires seemed to push me forward as I nodded in agreement to Reni-san’s words. |
| |
| Upon joining MANKAI Company, I was surprised to see Sumeragi Tenma, who you could call the embodiment of my inferiority complex. |
| I was also secretly jealous of Ban-chan, who was skilfull at everything, and felt a relieving sense of superiority because of Juza-san, who was even clumsier than I was. |
| But at the same time, when I saw Juza-san’s straightforward feelings towards acting—more powerful than anyone else’s—I felt like I would be crushed with guilt. |
| Even if our feelings about wanting to act were the same, there was a world of difference between me—who played cowardly tricks to get my role—and Juza-san. |
| The more we practiced, the more I came to love my Autumn Troupe teammates and our acting, as well as the members of the Spring and Summer troupes. |
| At the same time, it hurt as I followed Reni-san’s orders: sending those threatening letters, and messing with the costumes and props.
The stronger the Autumn Troupe’s bonds got, the more distant I felt from everyone. |
| I can’t join them. I’m not allowed to.
I ruined the stage, and have no right to stand here any longer. |
| —I committed a crime that I could never, ever make up for. |
