Haruki Takeda never thought the silence after success could be louder than the chaos of being bullied.
It had been nearly two months since he won the lottery, and already his days were unrecognizable. No longer tiptoeing past his tormentors or counting coins for cafeteria meals, he now had his own apartment in a quiet part of the city, sunlight through large windows, clean counters, a space that smelled like freedom.
But freedom came with echoes.
Echoes of words he never said.
Haruki stood at the mirror, towel slung over his shoulder, hair damp from his morning shower. The apartment was still too quiet. No footsteps in the hallway, no laughter from other dormmates, no banging on his door like Kazuki used to do, "for fun."
He should've felt relief.
He only felt... adrift.
With a sigh, he pulled on a hoodie and jeans. He had errands to run. Life didn't stop just because your bank account had a few extra zeros.
As he stepped outside, the early autumn air nipped at his cheeks. The street was modest, filled with local bakeries, flower shops, and a quiet bookstore on the corner. He chose this area for that reason, unassuming, safe, ordinary.
He craved ordinary more than anything.
At the café near the station, Haruki waited for his order, just a hot chocolate. Coffee still made his stomach twist. As he sat with his drink, notebook open in front of him, he didn't notice someone approach until a shadow fell across his table.
"Hey. You're Haruki, right?"
Haruki looked up.
A girl with a confident posture and chestnut brown hair in a side ponytail stood across from him. Her eyes were sharp, curious. She wasn't familiar, but she had that look, the look people gave him lately. The look of someone who knew.
"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Haruki asked, cautious.
The girl smiled and shook her head. "Not yet. I'm Rina Asahina. I'm in the economics program at Shuto U. My friend in journalism told me about you. Said you're the guy who won the lottery and vanished."
Haruki's stomach tightened. "I didn't vanish. I just… left school for a bit."
She nodded, then without asking, sat across from him.
He blinked. "Um…"
"I'm not here to dig. I'm just curious. Everyone at school's buzzing with theories. Some say you got whisked away by yakuza. Others think you're blowing money in Tokyo clubs."
Haruki blinked. "Seriously?"
"People love stories," she said with a shrug. "Especially ones that distract them from midterms."
He wasn't sure how to respond. There was something disarming about her honesty, though. She didn't speak with awe or scorn, just curiosity.
"You don't seem interested in me for the money," he said.
"I'm interested in what you do with it," she replied. "You disappeared from school. That tells me you're not reckless. Or at least not stupid."
Haruki raised an eyebrow. "Thanks?"
She grinned. "I mean that as a compliment. Most people in your position would've bought a sports car and livestreamed their shopping spree."
He gave a small laugh, his first of the day. "That sounds exhausting."
"It is," Rina agreed. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. But I think what you're doing matters. How someone like you, normal, grounded, handles sudden wealth? That's worth watching. Not for gossip. For insight."
He stared at her for a long moment. "You talk like a reporter."
"I wanted to be one once. Now I want to run a nonprofit someday. Maybe tackle education reform. Who knows." She stood up, brushing her coat. "I'm saying this because I think people need stories like yours. If you ever feel like sharing yours, really sharing it, I hope you'll consider me."
She handed him a business card. Not a formal one, just her name, number, and a link to a modest blog.
Before he could reply, she left.
Later that afternoon, Haruki returned home with groceries. As he unpacked rice, tofu, and some vegetables, he found his thoughts circling Rina like a hawk on a thermal.
She was unlike most people he'd met since the win. She didn't try to flatter him. She didn't seem to pity him. Her interest felt… rooted in something bigger.
Maybe that was what he needed.
He thought of Miyu. He hadn't seen her in a few weeks, not since the day he transferred a million yen into her account and she nearly burst into tears.
They'd agreed to give each other space.
She'd said, "I didn't give you that money to earn a reward. I just didn't want the world to break someone like you."
He didn't know how to tell her the world already had.
That night, Haruki couldn't sleep.
He found himself scrolling through old texts. Aya had messaged again. She was back in town soon and wanted to catch up. He'd replied, but not enthusiastically.
There was still shame there. Shame she had seen him before the win, when he was at his lowest. When his face was bruised, and his voice barely worked from staying silent.
His thumb hovered over the call button.
He didn't press it.
Instead, he opened his banking app.
¥9,332,418.
The number stared back at him.
A fortune. A burden.
And still, it felt like the loneliest thing he'd ever seen.
The next morning, his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
He hesitated, then picked up.
"Haruki? It's Kazuki."
Silence.
The sound of that name brought bile to his throat.
"I know you probably don't want to talk to me. But… please. Just five minutes. I'm outside your building."
Haruki's breath hitched.
He went to the window.
Sure enough, Kazuki, his former tormentor, was standing at the curb, hands in pockets, looking... thinner. Worn.
He should hang up.
He should tell him to rot.
Instead, he heard himself say, "Stay there."
He came down five minutes later, hoodie up.
Kazuki didn't smirk. Didn't laugh. He looked at Haruki like he was afraid of him.
That was new.
"You've got guts showing up," Haruki said flatly.
"I know."
"I should call the cops."
"You could. And I wouldn't blame you."
Haruki narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you here?"
Kazuki swallowed. "Because… I realized something. Back then, I bullied you because I was a coward. I hated myself, and you were easy to hurt. But now you're the one who made something of himself, and I'm still just… nothing."
"Is this an apology?" Haruki asked bitterly.
"It's… not enough to be one. But it's a start."
Haruki didn't reply. His fists were clenched in his sleeves.
Kazuki looked down. "I'm not here to ask for money. Or anything. I just wanted to tell you… I'm sorry. You didn't deserve what I did to you."
Then he walked away.
Haruki stood frozen.
That night, he cried.
Not for Kazuki.
For himself.
For all the times he wished someone had just said sorry.
The next day, he called Rina.