Professor, Reborn as a High Schooler: The School Rom-Com Reincarnation of a Charismatic Former VTuber - The silver-haired transfer student wakes up in the nurse's office.

……Where am I? 　His voice was hoarse. Deep in his throat, there was a strange sensation, as if he'd been asleep for a very long time. 　A white ceiling. The smell of disinfectant mixed with paste. Soft light filtering through curtains. As he sat up, an unfamiliar uniform came into view. A navy blazer. A small school emblem on the chest. 　Oliver Evans. 　That name surfaced in his mind before it ever left his mouth. No, that wasn't right. It had been there long before—always there. And at the same time, another name too. 　"Professor." 　Two million subscribers. Every night, tens of thousands of people listened to his voice through their screens. Trivia talks, philosophy, sometimes game streams. Just by speaking calmly, he'd become popular. A charismatic VTuber. That's what they'd called him. 　Voices connected in his head. 　"That time, come to think of it—" 　Clip videos from his streams. Replies to fan art. Meetings with management. The cold air of the studio. The smell of equipment. Nights at 3 a.m., falling asleep in front of the mic with an energy drink still in his hand. 　It was all too real. 　But. 　"……How did I die?" 　He couldn't remember. 　The night before his retirement. His final stream. Something had happened. Something decisive. That was the great hole in his memory. Like TV static—just a harsh, grating sound. 　At the foot of the bed, there was a full-length mirror. 　He stood. Bare feet touched the floor, cold. 　The mirror. 　Silver hair. 　Not quite to his waist. It bounced slightly below his ears, bangs falling just over his left eye. His eyes were blue. In his past life, people often said they were the color of the sea. His skin was pale. A straight nose, a slender face. His height—the second line from the top on the mirror. 191 centimeters. 　"……This is too similar." 　Almost identical to his avatar from his past life. Silver hair then too, blue eyes, set to the same height. 　He looked at his palms. Bent his fingers. Opened them. Clenched. Down to the tips of his nails—everything was there. 　"I'm alive." 　This time, his voice came out properly. Low, slightly hoarse, but the kind of voice that would echo through a school hallway. 　Outside the infirmary window, beyond the schoolyard, he could see a sloping road and a residential district. Past that, the sea. The light of Sagami Bay glinted and sparkled in the distance. 　Where am I? 　The moment he thought that, the door opened. "You're awake." 　A woman in a white coat stood there. Mid-forties or so. Her hair was lightly tied back, and her eyes behind her glasses were remarkably calm. "This is Minatosaki Municipal Aobaoka High School. You were scheduled to transfer here today." 　She pulled a stack of documents from the brown envelope in her hand. "Oliver Evans. Seventeen years old. Just returned from overseas, hasn't attended a Japanese school for some time. As of today, you're transferring into Class 2-3. Nice to meet you." 　Oliver stared at the documents. 　Guardian's name. Address. Previous school. All of it—prepared by someone else. He had no memory of writing any of it. "……Who did this?" "Who knows." 　She tilted her head. "The paperwork's all in order. I don't know the details myself." 　With just that, Toda stood up. "You can rest in the infirmary for a while. When you feel ready to go to the classroom, we'll go. Oh, but—" 　She turned back. "There's been a bit of a stir since this morning. Rumors about a silver-haired transfer student coming to this school." 　She smiled—troubled, but just a little amused. ―― 　He headed to the classroom. Third floor of the main building. With each flight of stairs, light streamed through the school windows. The sea was close; the wind carried the scent of salt. 　"……Aoba High, huh." 　He'd memorized the name from the documents. Minatosaki Municipal Aobaoka High School. Founded in 1962. One of the top academic schools in the city. Close to the sea, with a straight row of cherry trees. 　He turned a corner in the hallway. 　There was a girl. 　She was walking while looking at her phone, and the moment she looked up, she froze. "Eh…… w-wait……" 　She nearly dropped her phone, then clutched it to her chest in a panic. "Eek!" 　A voice rang out. A small shriek. It echoed strangely through the hallway. 　The classroom door slid open with a clatter. 　One, two students poked their heads out, then immediately pulled back. But this time, they stifled their voices and called their friends. "Oh my god, look—silver hair!" "Isn't he tall?" "Is he foreign? Half?" 　In no time at all, a crowd formed in the hallway. 　Oliver watched the scene. 　He'd experienced this in his past life too, at offline meetups for his streams. Surrounded by people, fawned over—but everyone was only looking at the him beyond the screen. "Please let me through." 　He said it quietly, and the crowd parted instantly. 　He opened the classroom door. 　Forty pairs of eyes gathered on him all at once. 　The girls had their hands over their mouths. Their eyes were smiling, but serious. The boys awkwardly dropped their gazes to the floor. "The real thing is insane……" "His hair looks so smooth." "His eyes are blue—it's real." —Whispers ran between the desks. 　The homeroom teacher, Kuroda Teppei, beckoned him from the podium. 　He was in his late thirties. Solidly built, with sharp eyes behind black-rimmed glasses. "This is Oliver Evans. He'll be joining this class starting today." 　Kuroda said this as he wrote the name on the blackboard in chalk. "Say a few words. Introduce yourself." 　Oliver stood beside the podium. 　Outside the window, the sea was shining. "I'm Oliver Evans. Pleased to meet you." 　He bowed. Short and clean. 　Scattered applause broke out. "So, can you speak English?" 　A light voice called out from the very back row. 　Oliver looked that way. "Yeah, well, everyday conversation, at least." "You're saying that super fluently, though." 　The classroom filled with laughter. 　Kuroda gave a wry smile. "Well, there you have it. Your seat is the last row by the window. It's open." 　Oliver sat in the designated seat. 　The whispers in the classroom continued. "Hey, isn't his voice kind of nice?" "Low and calm. So soothing." "Doesn't he seem like a professor? Like he could do streams or something." 　Professor. 　At that word, Oliver's shoulders twitched slightly. 　His chest constricted, as if squeezed tight. (Here too, huh.) 　Kuroda stood at the podium. "Right, let's begin homeroom. Today we have the transfer student introduction, and then we'll talk about next month's culture festival." 　Oliver looked out the window. 　A seagull crossed the sky. Beyond that sea, there was nothing. 　This isn't my world. 　That's what he thought. ―― 　First period, math. 　Kuroda's class. The content was applications of quadratic functions. 　Oliver opened his textbook. 　His eyes traced the problems. 　"……I can solve this in ten minutes." 　Solutions surfaced one after another in his mind. The knowledge from his past life mixed with the academic ability ingrained in this body, and the answers came before anything else. 　He ran his mechanical pencil across his notebook. 　Five minutes later, Oliver was asleep. 　Propped on his elbow, as if he'd passed out. 　Kuroda glanced at the back row. 　He sighed. 　"……Well, it's probably boring for him." 　Oliver's napping didn't stop until after school. 　No, strictly speaking, he woke up once. 　Second period, classical Japanese. The girl next to him wrote in small letters in her notebook. 　"You look sleepy. Want to see my notes later?" 　Oliver shook his head slightly. 　After class, Kuroda came over. "How was today?" "……It was boring." 　He said it honestly. 　Kuroda let out a short laugh. "I figured. You're too smart for your own good. Well, get perfect scores on the tests. If you want to avoid trouble, that is." "I'll do that." 　At that moment, a voice came from the back of the classroom. "See, he IS a professor! Professor Oliver!" 　Laughter erupted. 　Professor. 　It pierced his eardrums again. 　That name from back then. From when he'd lived as himself. 　Now it was just a nickname. But it stuck so perfectly. 　"……Please stop." 　He said it quietly. 　But it was drowned out by the laughter, and no one heard. ―― 　After school. 　Oliver was called out behind the gymnasium. 　The one who'd called him was a girl from his class. She stood there, gripping the collar of her blazer tightly, looking down. "Um, this……" 　In her outstretched hand was a letter folded in quarters. 　Pink. A heart sticker on the corner. "I heard you were transferring in today, and I wanted to talk to you…… but, um, I—I like you!" 　She said it in a rush, then bowed her head. 　The wind scattered cherry blossom leaves. 　Oliver took the letter. 　"……I'll read it." "Really? I'm so happy…… no, I mean! Um, you can reply whenever!" 　She ran off, her face bright red. 　Oliver watched her retreating figure. 　His chest didn't stir. 　His fingertips remained cold. 　"So this is love." 　He understood it, in theory. He knew the mechanics. 　The racing heart, thinking about the other person constantly, waiting for a chance. In his past life's streams, he'd had plenty of listeners seeking romance advice. 　But. 　"……I don't feel anything." 　He opened the letter. Neat handwriting. Traces of eraser marks, corrected over and over. 　His heart frozen, he merely traced the words with his eyes. 　Poor thing, he thought. 　Confessing to someone like me. 　But nothing more came. No sadness, no guilt, no regret. 　All that remained was—a quiet loneliness directed at himself. ―― 　He went home. 　An apartment eight minutes on foot from the station. Coast Hill, Room 305. 　He turned the key. Opened the door. 　A 1LDK room. A bed. A desk. A chair. A TV. That was all. 　He opened the fridge. A few drinks. No chuhai. He was a minor. 　He opened a can of tea and took a sip. 　Outside the window, the sea was visible in the distance. 　The sunset burned the horizon. 　A jogger ran along the coastal road. 　"This isn't where I'm supposed to be." 　The words fell into the room. 　No one heard them. That was fine. 　An unfamiliar place. An unfamiliar school. An unfamiliar life. All of it—rails laid by someone else. 　Even so, his body was here, and his heart was in the past. 　He didn't even know if there was anyone he wanted to see, or any place he wanted to return to. 　He picked up his phone. The home screen was still blank. 　He opened the messaging app. No notifications. 　"……Of course not." 　He hadn't told anyone anything. 　Oliver collapsed onto the bed. 　The ceiling reflected the sunset's color, slowly fading. ―― 　He had a dream. 　The infirmary. 　Morning light. The smell of disinfectant. 　The bed next to his. 　Through the curtain, the presence of someone. 　The white sheets, still faintly warm. 　He reached out his hand. 　But he couldn't reach. 　No face, no name—he didn't know. 　But someone had been there. 　That much, he was sure of. 　Oliver woke there. 　He sat up. The air conditioning dried his sweat. 　Outside, it was already dark. 　The clock read 2 a.m. 　"……Someone was there." 　Probably, before he'd woken in the infirmary. 　Someone who'd carried him there. 　Or something that had called him into this world. 　A snag deep in his chest. 　Oliver stared at the dark ceiling. 　"Well, whatever." 　Right now, he understood nothing. 　But tomorrow, something might change. 　For now, that was enough. 　He closed his eyes. 　The sound of waves, far in the distance.

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Episode 1

Name: Professor, Reborn as a High Schooler: The School Rom-Com Reincarnation of a Charismatic Former VTuber
Author: Novelia

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