"S-So…"
The word barely left my lips before dissolving into nothing.
Too quick. Too tangled.
My heart was beating faster than it should.
How did I end up like this?
Ayanokouji stood there with his eyes fixed on me. He wasn't even doing anything, and yet my entire body felt unsteady like I had forgotten how to function properly.
He tilted his head slightly. "It's good to see that you're feeling better," he said, his tone calm and steady. "You can walk properly now, right? Nothing's hurting anymore?"
A simple question.
It should have been so easy to answer.
And yet.
I felt like an idiot.
"Y-yeah."
I forced my voice into something resembling normalcy.
"I m-mean... thanks to your help, I've fully recovered. I appreciate it, Ayanokouji-kun."
There. That sounded fine.
…Didn't it?
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he just looked at me.
A little too long.
A little too intently.
I swallowed, suddenly feeling like I had said the wrong thing. But why? The words were polite. Logical. The kind of response anyone would give.
This is all Karuizawa's fault.
If she hadn't schemed like this, I wouldn't be in this situation! She didn't just leave me alone with him—she did it on purpose! She saw something, smirked to herself, and practically threw me into this mess!
Not only did she leave me here with Ayanokouji, who made me act like some kind of fool, but she did it knowing exactly what she was doing.
I should've seen it coming.
I should have been prepared for something like this.
That's why I went shopping in the first place, wasn't it? To prepare. To build a proper image. But no—of course something like this had to happen before I was ready.
C-Calm down, idiot.
Right.
Panicking wouldn't help.
I took a breath, straightening my posture. My thoughts, scattered just moments ago, finally started falling back into order.
I could handle this.
"By the way," Ayanokouji suddenly spoke, "I was a little surprised to see you at a clothing store earlier. I didn't take you for someone who enjoys shopping."
I froze.
I actually froze.
Did he notice? No, he couldn't have. That pause wasn't noticeable, right? He wasn't that observant.
…No, wait. He was.
Think. Think. Think.
I have had enough of this, use your brain!
I needed a reason—an explanation that made sense. A perfectly reasonable justification that wouldn't raise any suspicions.
Of course. The answer was obvious.
"Shopping is… a strategic endeavor," I huffed, folding my arms in a way I hoped looked confident. "One should always be aware of the latest market trends. If a person neglects to observe the spending habits of others, they risk being at a disadvantage in social dynamics. That's why I was at the store—to analyze consumer behavior."
He didn't look particularly convinced. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, lingered on me just long enough to make me second-guess everything I had just said.
"...I see," he finally muttered.
But instead of letting the topic drop, as I'd hoped, he tilted his head slightly. "So, you're saying you were conducting market research?"
I-Idiot! Complete utter moronic talk! I c-cannot believe the foolery spewing from my mouth! Just stay silent for once!
I stiffened. "That's right."
He looked thoughtful as if considering my words. "...By yourself?"
"Of course." I straightened my posture, trying to look as if that was a completely normal thing to do. "If I relied on someone else's observations, I'd only receive second-hand data. To ensure accuracy, I had to analyze shopping trends personally. That's just common sense. You should know that much at least, Ayanokouji-kun."
"...I see," he repeated, but this time, it sounded even more like he was just playing along.
P-Please, don't say... anything more.
Instead, I pressed forward, as if doubling down would make this entire excuse more believable. "You might not realize it, b-but fashion and social standing are deeply intertwined. If someone dresses inappropriately for their environment, it alters how others perceive them. That's why I was observing which brands and styles were most frequently purchased—so I could understand the general aesthetic expectations of... this isolated school."
"Right," Ayanokouji said, "So if I understand correctly… you were researching clothing trends to strengthen your strategic positioning in the school's social hierarchy?"
"Exactly," I stated, nodding firmly far too many times.
Kill me.
Silence.
More staring.
It lasted long enough that I felt a bead of sweat form at the back of my neck.
Then, finally—
"...And that's why you bought all those bags of clothes?"
I froze.
My heart stopped for a split second.
I could feel the color drain from my face.
Right.
The bags.
The very obvious bags of new clothes Karuizawa had taken from me earlier.
I had been so caught up in my explanation that I had completely forgotten about them.
Ayanokouji didn't press the question. He just stood there, waiting. Watching. As if curious to see how I would handle this contradiction.
My brain scrambled for a solution.
I had no choice—I had to adapt.
"...It's p-part of the experiment," I declared quickly. "To t-truly understand market trends, one must occasionally participate in them firsthand. Purchasing the products myself allows me to analyze the quality, fit, and overall appeal. In doing so, I gain firsthand experience of the shopping process, which provides invaluable insight into consumer behavior."
I folded my arms again as if that sealed the explanation.
More silence.
Ayanokouji's stare remained completely unreadable.
"...I see," he said for the third time.
But this time, I was certain he was messing with me.
Then, seemingly with the same calm, measured tone as always, he spoke.
"But Horikita, there's a flaw in your reasoning."
W-why did he say it like that?
I felt something in my chest tighten.
"A—A flaw?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady.
He nodded slightly. "You claimed that you were observing market trends to gain strategic insight into the school's social dynamics. However, if that were truly the case, wouldn't it have been more efficient to observe the purchases of a larger sample size over a longer period of time rather than making a single visit?"
My lips started shaking.
"And," he continued, his tone completely neutral, as if he were merely stating facts, "you mentioned that first-hand participation in the shopping process allows for a more accurate analysis. However, by purchasing items yourself, you introduce personal bias into the experiment. Your choices are based on your own preferences, not necessarily those of the general student population. If you truly wanted to analyze trends, wouldn't it have been more effective to survey others on their purchases rather than make impulsive ones yourself?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
His words were like a slow, methodical dismantling of my excuse.
Still, I tried to fight back. "That's—That's why I was watching what others were buying! I made sure to—"
"But you didn't record any data, did you?" he interrupted smoothly. "No notebook, no digital log. Not even a simple memo. If you were truly conducting research, you would have documented your observations instead of relying solely on memory, which is prone to inconsistencies."
Why… why was he doing this to me!?
"As for your claim that fashion is necessary for strategic positioning," he continued, "while it is true that appearance can influence perception, it is not the sole determining factor in social hierarchy. It seems this school's meritocratic system prioritizes ability over image. If one were truly focused on gaining an advantage, wouldn't it make more sense to study behavioral patterns rather than clothing choices?"
I wanted to disappear.
"Furthermore," he added, as if completely unaware of the damage he was inflicting, "if your purchases were purely for research, why did Karuizawa take the shopping bags? Wouldn't you want to keep the items yourself for further study?"
My stomach dropped.
He had completely unraveled my argument.
There was nothing left.
I could feel the heat rising in my face, my earlier confidence crumbling into dust.
I had to say something.
I had to defend myself.
But no matter how hard I tried to think of a response, my brain refused to cooperate.
I was utterly, completely defeated.
Ayanokouji remained silent for a brief moment, giving me just enough time to drown in my own humiliation before speaking again.
"You know," he said casually, as if he hadn't just picked apart my logic piece by piece, "Hirata was going to show me a new event happening in Keyaki Mall today."
I blinked, still recovering from my previous defeat.
"But it looks like that won't be happening anymore," he continued, "Since he left with Karuizawa, I suppose I'll just head back to the dorms."
He let out a small sigh, shaking his head slightly. "I don't go out with Hirata often, so it feels a little pointless to have come all the way here just to turn back."
My shoulders tensed.
Why… why did that make me feel guilty?
It wasn't my fault that Hirata and Karuizawa had ditched him. It wasn't like I had planned for this to happen.
I bit my lip, a strange weight settling in my chest.
He had done so much for me. He had helped me when I needed it the most. He had stayed by my side without expecting anything in return.
And now I was just going to leave him here? Alone?
I exhaled sharply, crossing my arms as I turned my gaze away.
"Well... if you really don't have anyone else to go with…" I muttered, "I suppose I could accompany you."
There was no response.
My fingers curled slightly.
"I mean," I continued, trying to sound more confident, "I am pretty good at these kinds of events. It wouldn't be fair to let you go alone and lose immediately, right?"
A beat passed.
"That would be helpful," he said. "Thanks, Horikita."
As we walked through the mall, I kept my expression neutral, even though I had absolutely no idea where we were going. This section wasn't familiar to me. I wasn't about to admit that, of course. Ayanokouji seemed to know the way, so I simply followed his lead.
The floor beneath us gleamed under the bright lights. It was the kind of pristine shine that came from a recent cleaning—something I didn't fully register until it was too late.
[Look out!]
My foot slipped.
Before I could react, a firm grip caught my upper arm. In a single, fluid motion, I was pulled back into balance.
I blinked, still processing what had just happened.
I had been falling. That was undeniable. And yet, before I could even hit the ground, Ayanokouji had already stabilized me.
I looked up at him, my heart still slightly unsteady for reasons I refused to acknowledge.
"What… just happened?" I asked, not sure why I even needed to ask.
"You almost slipped," he replied, releasing my arm now that I was standing properly again. "The floor here was recently polished, and the lighting makes it hard to see where the surface changes. You stepped at the wrong angle."
I s-see. That makes sense. The explanation was so rational that it made me feel ridiculous for even questioning it.
"…You noticed that?"
He looked at me, "I saw a janitor leaving this area earlier. It was likely they had just finished cleaning, so I assumed the floor might be slippery."
I glanced down at the floor.
Another moment. Another situation where he had saved me.
I exhaled, then—before I could second-guess myself—I reached out, lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt.
Ayanokouji stopped mid-step, his body still as he turned slightly toward me. His gaze lowered to where my fingers clung to his sleeve, then shifted back to my face.
"Horikita?"
My heart stuttered in my chest.
Why did it feel like he could see through me?
I swallowed. "Can we… just wait a moment?"
A brief pause. His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.
Then, he gave a slight nod. "Alright."
We stepped aside, moving to a quieter spot away from the flow of people.
The silence stretched between us. I had started this, but now that we were here, the words felt impossibly difficult to say.
Still… I had already made up my mind.
I took a slow breath.
"I just…" My fingers tightened slightly in the fabric before I forced myself to let go. "I wanted to thank you. For everything."
Another pause. His eyes studied me.
…This was a mistake, wasn't it?
I should've just kept walking. Should've just buried the feeling and moved on.
And yet—
Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward, hesitating for only a fraction of a second before lightly wrapping my arms around him.
A hug.
It was a little awkward.
And yet, as I stood there, pressing my forehead lightly against his chest, I couldn't bring myself to move away.
His body remained still beneath my touch as if he hadn't exactly expected this.
Then—
"I see," he murmured, "You're thanking me, but this is more than that, isn't it?"
A breath hitched in my throat.
What…?
Before I could react, I felt it—the faintest shift, his arm moving just slightly, his hand resting lightly against my back.
Not pulling me in. Not pushing me away.
Just there.
A silent acknowledgment.
"You're trembling a little," he observed quietly. "Does being this close to me make you nervous?"
"T-That's not…!"
He responded lightly, "I see."
His fingers curled slightly against my back before he spoke again, "I know you better than you think. After all, you told me your secret, didn't you?"
I stilled.
That was true.
I had let him see the side of me no one else had. The fear and vulnerabilities I had spent so long trying to bury.
"So," he continued, "there's no reason for you to feel uncomfortable being close to me."
Before I could even process that statement, I felt it—
A barely-there touch against my face.
Soft. Gentle.
His fingertips, traced lightly along my cheek.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my gaze snapping upward to meet his.
His expression was unreadable, yet there was something about the way his eyes held mine—something that made my heartbeat stutter.
"You've really changed," he murmured. "I hope you realize that. You're not the person you once tried to be."
The corners of my lips curved, a warmth blooming in my chest.
For a moment, I let it settle deeper but then remembered something.
A quiet thought surfaced. A hesitation.
"…Sometimes," I admitted, my voice softer than I intended, "I feel strange. Like I'm not completely in control."
He didn't respond right away, deciding to let me finish.
I exhaled, lowering my gaze slightly. "Yesterday, I was… really angry when I was alone at night. And today, I said something harsh to Karuizawa-san, even though I didn't mean to." I shook my head slightly. "It's frustrating. I don't understand why I acted that way."
The words left my lips before I could second-guess them.
Another thing I normally wouldn't do.
Then, just as I started to regret speaking, his voice cut through the moment.
"You're thinking too much about it," he said smoothly as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "People act on emotions all the time. It doesn't mean they've lost control."
I hesitated. "But—"
"You were alone last night, weren't you?" he continued, tone even. "No one to talk to. No one to listen."
I stopped.
"And today, you said something you didn't mean. But if you hadn't, would Karuizawa have even noticed? Would anyone have cared?" His gaze lingered on me, "If you weren't holding everything in all the time, would you even feel this way?"
"I..."
"People don't change in an instant," he said, voice quieter now. "It's natural for things to feel different. For emotions to slip through the cracks."
A pause.
"But," he continued, "so long as you're with me, it's okay. Right?"
The words settled over me in a way that felt almost too natural.
Before I could even process it, my body relaxed slightly, the weight in my chest lightening just enough for me to breathe properly again.
"…Yeah," I murmured. "I guess so."
He gave a small nod, "Then don't think too much about it."
A faint, almost imperceptible hesitation settled in my chest. Even as his words reassured me, even as the warmth of his presence lingered, I found myself reluctant to move.
I didn't want to pull away just yet.
[I hate to interrupt such a touching moment, like... really, but… it seems an interesting individual is nearby.]
I stiffened, blinking as the voice cut through my thoughts.
[I suggest you take a look down the hallway. Someone's nearby.]
"What…?" I murmured aloud, pulling back slightly.
Ayanokouji tilted his head, his gaze subtly analyzing my reaction. "What is it?"
Instead of answering, I turned my head—just slightly—toward the pointed direction by System.
And that's when I saw him.
A lone figure, walking with an easy, unbothered stride. His back was to us, but the familiar way he moved—deliberate, predatory—sent a chill crawling up my spine.
One of the most dangerous people in the game.
I felt a flicker of panic, instinct tightening in my chest. He wasn't walking toward us directly, but his presence alone was enough to make me uneasy.
"Horikita?" Ayanokouji's voice was calm, but I could feel his attention sharpening.
I swallowed hard, unable to take my eyes off Ryuen as he continued down the hall.
What was he doing here?
Ryuen Kakeru.
