"What fair maiden is this that honors my kingdom with her beauteous presence?"

Naoki had secured a position next to Tamaki and, true to form, swooned under the consuming charm directed at her. She had offered me the seat beside her, the side that Tamaki wasn't going to be sitting on, but I opted to do my homework instead. I had found a small table out of the way in a corner that afforded both a good view of the room and of the outside world for when I grew weary of the nonsense inside.

Like now.

With a disgusted sigh, I propped my elbows on the table and leaned my forehead against my hands. I didn't want to do my homework. I didn't want to be here at Ouran. I didn't want to be here in this room. But as Naoki was in control of my time, this torment wasn't nearly over yet.

I had had no idea that there were so many hosts. I had figured that Tamaki single-handedly juggled the mass of giggling girls and only required a hired hand when things became too much for him to handle alone. I was wrong on both accounts. There were several hosts altogether, but Tamaki probably could have managed just fine without them anyway.

I knew Hikaru and Kaoru. I had some classes with them. In those classes, however, I had not been exposed to the nasty bit of drama that they were performing right now, and I had never in my wildest dreams guessed that so many girls would encourage that. I had heard of Mitskuni—or Honey as they called him here—but my account had been based on his karate feats. I had been expecting someone…well, taller for one, but also a bit more mature. And Mori? What as he doing here? A sensible guy like him participating in such a club?

And that Kyouya.

He smiled prettily enough as he coaxed the girls through the door, but it was obvious that he thought himself above everyone else. He was not dressed up in medieval garb like the rest of the boys, and he was not even socializing at all, deliberately ignoring the young girls who were gazing wistfully at him, typing away on his laptop. He was on the other side of the room, so I didn't have to notice his arrogance unless I wanted to, but I did have to deal with the girls' sighs whenever there was a slight pause in the clicking of fingers on keys. Being involved with a club like that made me lose respect for him as it was, but such blatant pride and disregard for his duty made him even lower in my estimation.

"Oh, Tamaki!" half a dozen girls—my cousin included—squealed. The blond bowed low to the girls, causing the visor of his helmet to slam down. There were peals of laughter as Tamaki strutted away, leaving the girls to their drinks.

"Ah, Kyouya," I shifted my chair a little to watch the infamous host. Tamaki slumped down on the couch next to his friend, who didn't look up.

"Sick of it already?" Kyouya asked.

"Exhausted, spent, weary, yes; but never sick of it," Tamaki exhaled gallantly. He blew a kiss in the direction of the couch he had just left, resulting in a mad scramble to catch the invisible kiss. Kyouya shook his head.

"But why aren't you entertaining?" Tamaki asked, only just realizing.

"I had to excuse my designators. There are some finance matters that I need to sort out."

"Maybe if you spent less time sorting out and more time entertaining, there would be nothing to sort out at all."

Kyouya gave a dry smile. "I prefer sorting out in any case."

"Kyouya," Tamaki whined.

Kyouya did not respond.

"Tamaki!" the girls had finished their refreshment and now desired a different sort of distraction. Tamaki quickly sprang to his feet despite the heavy armor and struck a pose.

"I am coming, fair maidens," he said, waving a handkerchief in their direction. He swept his arm around and pointed at Kyouya, his finger barely an inch away from his face.

"Kyouya, you will entertain,"

"There are no girls to entertain," Kyouya replied, shifting slightly to escape Tamaki's finger but not looking up.

Tamaki's jaw dropped. "The room is full of girls waiting to be flattered. Pick one." He scanned the room. I averted my eyes just in time.

"There, Kyouya, I've found an assignment for you."

Me? I sincerely hoped not, hoped that Tamaki's eye had landed on someone else. I wanted to look, but I didn't dare look straight-out. I didn't want them to know I had been listening.

There was silence for a moment, and then "No."

"What, Kyouya? Why not? Are you a host, or aren't you?"

"No."

"She looks nice enough—"

Now I had to know. My vanity had been appealed to. Under pretense of finding Naoki, I swung my head around, passing my eyes over the two of them. I almost gave myself away when I saw them looking. Instead, I swallowed my embarrassment, found Naoki talking with Honey, and made a show of settling back into my chair and staring out the window.

There was silence. For awhile I thought that they had finished their conversation or else lowered their voices, but soon I head Kyouya again.

"Tamaki, you can't tell one girl from another. Go back to your designators before they get upset. You're wasting your time."

I could only assume that the squeaks of metal armor and excited girls meant that Tamaki had returned to his admirers. I still wasn't brave enough to look.

I shouldn't have been upset. I had expected nothing from this society, and had made no effort to ingratiate myself in it. Still, I suppose there was that part of everyone that didn't like to be excused as common…

"She looks nice enough—"

"Tamaki, you can't tell one girl from another."

Huh.

"Can we go back tomorrow Amaya?" It was after dinner. Naoki was perched on my bed, watching me do my homework. What little work on it that I had managed to do at the host club was proved by Naoki's inspection to be wrong. For all her childishness, she was actually much better than I was in math. I had asked her for her help, but she took it as an invitation to recount everything Tamaki had said to her for the fifth time that day. The stress of math and the silliness of Naoki had combined to make me one very frustrated person. I was probably upset about being snubbed too, but I wouldn't admit it to anyone, myself especially.

"You are welcome to go back whenever you want."

"Will you go with me?"

I scrubbed furiously at my paper with my stubborn eraser, but the problem was still there, albeit torn and smudged.

"No."