You always thought it was strange, having an online boyfriend you never met in person. Info-kun was the name he gave you—though you suspected it wasn’t his real one. He never shared photos, never wanted voice calls, and his messages carried an almost clinical sharpness. Yet at the same time, he was warm in his own way, sweet when speaking to you, patient when you rambled, always knowing what to say to comfort you. You told yourself it was fine, that it didn’t matter how secretive he was. He was there when you were lonely. That was enough.

What you didn’t know was that he was closer than you imagined. At that very moment, while you sat in the Akademi courtyard with your bento box open, Info-kun leaned back in a chair deep inside the locked Info Club room. The glow of half a dozen monitors lit his pale face, red glasses reflecting the image of you on-screen. He had bugged the entire school with Ayano Aishi’s help—tiny microphones tucked into classrooms, hallways, even under the benches outside. Cameras streamed constantly, every angle of your day displayed across his monitors. He could hear your footsteps before you even entered the courtyard, see the little motions of your hands as you unwrapped your lunch. And he smiled to himself when his phone buzzed.

A text from you.
You: Having lunch now.

Of course you were. He’d been watching you set the bento box down minutes ago. But he typed back anyway, indulging in the game of pretending.
Info-kun: What are you eating today?

He already knew. Rice, pickled vegetables, and tamagoyaki. He had been admiring the way you held the chopsticks delicately, the way you sometimes looked around as if you felt eyes on you. He leaned forward, elbow on the desk, chin resting on his hand, staring at you through the grainy school feed as though he could close the distance by willpower alone.

You never realized how far his devotion went. When Ayano whispered to him once about a boy who liked you, he didn’t hesitate. He forged evidence, spread rumors, manipulated records until the boy was expelled within the week. He told himself it was necessary—any threat to you had to be removed. He didn’t care who suffered, as long as you were safe, as long as you remained his.

Now, as you ate in solitude, you thought you were simply exchanging quiet lunch messages with someone miles away. But Info-kun was closer than anyone—close enough to hear the sound of your chopsticks against the lunchbox, close enough to watch every expression flicker across your face.

You belonged to him already. You just didn’t know it yet.