COTE: Wishing Well

by thann3

Ayanokōji Kiyotaka wants nothing more than to be human. To have wishes to throw into a wishing well. To experience emotions. Joy. Sorrow. Anger. Regret. Love. He understood them perfectly well. But he has yet to feel them himself. This school would be his sandbox of wishes. To do what he wanted, free of restrictions. That was the definition of freedom, wasn't it?

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: A Lie Told Often Enough Becomes the Truth

-o-o-o-

Ayanokōji Kiyotaka wasn't a person. He wasn't human.

He was a monster that had been let out of its cage. By whom? I didn't know.

He didn't hesitate to use physical force against me. He didn't hesitate to blackmail me, to threaten to rape me. He could kill me if he wanted to.

He didn't care if I died or not. My life was solely in his hands.

If he wanted to ruin my social life, with a few taps of his fingers, it would be done, no questions asked.

If he wanted to expel me, he could.

If he wanted to kill me, he could.

And, if I didn't accept that... I would die.

There was something innate within me, that demanded that I obey. A survival instinct. I now understood that rebelling would only bring pain.

So why had I rebelled?

I didn't know. I foolishly thought I could get rid of him. The fucking golden-eyed devil.

I pursed my lips, feeling how dry and cracked they were. Stumbling to the kitchen, I brought a glass of water to my lips. Then, I saw him.

I wasn't safe. I wasn't safe.

I saw him in the reflection of the glass. The golden orbs wouldn't stop following me wherever I went. My hand shook as if it weren't my own, betraying my nerves, and my fingers dropped the glass of water. It shattered on the floor, making a mess.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

I was safe. I was safe.

Calm down, calm down.

My heartbeat raced. I didn't know why, but I felt like I was constantly holding in a scream. But when I opened my mouth to scream, no sound came out. I couldn't speak.

Stumbling, I put my palms on one of the walls. It offered me a little solace, but this wasn't enough. Far from it. I had to lay down.

But I wasn't even sure I could make it to my bed. Halfway there, I instead slid down one of the walls, bringing my knees up close to my chest. Staring at the image in the full-length mirror across from me, I couldn't even recognize myself. What was happening to me?

I looked like a shell of my former self. I had red eyes. My eyes were bloodshot, and my eyebags were more prominent than ever before, a byproduct of not being able to sleep last night. My skin was so pale that it was translucent. I tried to smile, but even that felt watery and fake. My mask couldn't be put back in place no matter how hard I tried.

But was this what I deserved? Just two weeks into my tenure at this school, and already my carefully guarded secret was exposed to someone, laid bare before the gaze of the Devil.

Then, I saw them again. The golden orbs. It wasn't even his face, just the orbs. They were terrifying.

They glowed now glowed with a menacing light, casting eerie shadows across his features. As they approached, the darkness seemed to swell and multiply around them.

The wispy, black hands emerged from the darkness, their elongated fingers stretching unnaturally as they reached out for me. At first, there were only two, but soon they multiplied, sprouting from every shadowy corner until they filled the entire space, a writhing mass of darkness converging upon me.

I flinched as I felt the cold, icy grips of hands around my neck. I felt a phantom pain in my upper right abdomen, and I reached up to rub the tender spot, trying to relieve some pain. Somehow, my stomach felt empty and full at the same time.

That was the only warning I got. A surge of bile rose in my throat, combined with a nauseating sensation, and I quickly ran to the trash can. With a desperate urgency, I stumbled towards the nearest trash can, my body wracked with tremors as I fought to contain the roiling turmoil within.

I reached it just in time and vomited my lunch into the bin. The acrid taste filled my mouth. After what felt like an eternity of purging, I finally straightened up, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth in an attempt to rid myself of the lingering taste. Despite the physical discomfort and the bitter bile that lingered on my tongue, a hollow chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe this was the punishment reserved for people like me—people who wore masks and harbored secrets beneath their crafted facade.

But if that was the case, what did someone like the golden-eyed devil deserve?

-o-o-o-

After classes ended, I was again invited to Keyaki Mall by the trio of Matsushita, Satō, and Mori. However, at the same time, I was invited to hang out with Sudō, Okitani, and Sotomura. They were all heading to Keyaki Mall, so they merged into a group. Unfortunately, I couldn't hang out with any of them, since I had a Student Council meeting at 4 PM today.

"Look at this guy, all high and mighty Vice President, huh?" Sudō slung his arm around my shoulder and ruffled my hair good-naturedly as we walked out of the room.

He had really grown a lot in character in just these few weeks. He could still be a little quick to anger, but hanging around with Sotomura and Okitani must have made him calmer. Neither of those two were very physical or aggressive, so their influence was good for him.

"Ne, Ayanokōji-kun, do you know Ichinose-san?" Mori asked.

"I know her somewhat well, I'd say. We've talked a couple of times and met at a karaoke party."

"Must be nice, huh?" Okitani and Matsushita commented at the same time.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I threw them a quizzical look, but they shrugged me off.

"It's a secret," Satō placed a finger to her lips, winking.

This group of seven was an odd mishmash of boys and girls. Otakus, athletes, shopaholics, and normal people. It was strange, but we somehow made it work.

"Ayanokōji-sama, is there anything you would like me to procure for you?" Sotomura pushed his glasses up on his nose.

I shook my head. "No, nothing for today."

The girls cast him a few weird glances, but ultimately, no one in the group was too surprised. Sotmura was known for his strange speech and address, and it made sense that he would idolize me. This was the explanation that they had formed in their minds when they saw this exchange.

"Well, unfortunately, I need to head to the Student Council Room. My meeting is in around fifteen minutes."

"See ya later, Kōji!" Sudō waved me off, as everyone said their quick goodbyes. I split off in another direction, heading to the Student Council Room. Reaching the main building and ascending the stairs, I stopped at the meeting room and opened it. However, a great misfortune seemed to have befallen me.

"Ah, Vice President Ayanokōji, please have a seat."

My blond-haired senpai directed, smiling. Now that I was alone with him, I could sense his strength in his aura; from his words to his actions to his presence.

Although his aura was not as refined as Horikita Manabu's, it was equally as fierce. The black-haired dictator had a calm and powerful aura that rippled a quiet fierceness. In contrast, Nagumo Miyabi's aura was like that of a lion's—openly fierce and aggressive. It was like comparing someone who prioritized the status quo to someone who lived on the attacking front. In other words, Manabu seemed conservative and balanced, whereas Nagumo seemed progressive and open to change. This was what I understood from my limited interactions with the individual known as Nagumo Miyabi.

Obediently, I sat in a luxurious brown armchair, the desk in front of me. It was marked with the name 'President Horikita Manabu'.

"That's the President's seat."

"It's no worry since this will be my seat in the future."

A vein on Nagumo's forehead twitched. However, he forced himself to smile. "Ayanokōji, I ask that you please stop fooling around."

"Fine, fine." I got up and then settled at the desk that was marked with my name. Nagumo took the seat in front of me.

"So, when did Horikita-senpai offer you the seat of Vice President?"

"I don't remember," I responded, "It was after your offer, though."

"Should I take this as a declaration of war?"

"No, not at all. I simply accepted his offer because it gave me a higher position. I intend to experience the school, after all."

His gaze pierced into me, trying to find any lie or deceit within the words I spoke. Evidently, he found none, as he leaned back on the chair.

"I see. That's reasonable, I suppose. A higher position does offer more merits." He tapped his fingers on the wooden desk. One, two, three, four. One, three, four. One, four, one. His patterns were erratic. From what I understood, humans found appeal in a rhythm. In comparison, Nagumo Miyabi found appeal in discord.

Nagumo's fingers continued their unpredictable dance on the desk, creating a dissonant rhythm that echoed through the room. His piercing gaze remained fixed on me.

"Ayanokōji, you're an enigma," Nagumo remarked, his voice carrying a blend of curiosity and veiled threat. "You accept the offer from Horikita-senpai, yet you claim it's not a declaration of war. Are you saying you have no interest in the power struggles within this school?"

"I'm not interested in power struggles for their own sake," I replied evenly. "But I won't shy away from using the positions offered to me to navigate this intricate world. It's a means to an end, not an end in itself."

His smile widened, revealing a glint of amusement. "Pragmatic. I like that. However, don't mistake this school for a simple playground. The hierarchy here is not just about titles; it's about influence, control, and survival. Your decisions, no matter how calculated, will ripple through the fabric of this institution."

Leaning forward, Nagumo placed his hands on the desk, his eyes narrowing. "Horikita-senpai values stability and conservation, but I'm different. I'm sure you can tell that. I value change and progress. You might find yourself caught in the crossfire, Ayanokōji, especially if you decide to play both sides."

"I don't intend to be caught in anyone's crossfire. I'll navigate this school on my terms."

Nagumo chuckled, the sound echoing throughout the empty room. "Bold words, Ayanokōji. But let me make something clear. I see potential in you, but potential can be a double-edged sword. It can elevate you or become your downfall."

His fingers resumed their erratic tapping, creating a discordant melody. "You're not the only one with secrets, Ayanokōji. Everyone in this school has something to hide. It's the nature of the game. The question is, how well can you play it?"

"I play to win."

The blond-haired boy's laughter filled the room, a sound that seemed to dance with the dissonant rhythm of his fingers. "We'll see, Ayanokōji. We'll see."

It was at that moment that the other members of the Student Council began filing in. First, it was Manabu and Tachibana-senpai, then Asahina, Kiriyama, and finally, Ichinose. Asahina sat next to Nagumo, and Ichinose sat next to me. It was like Kiriyama was the only person in the room without a partner. That was kind of amusing.

Once Manabu seated himself, the room quieted. He commanded an immense amount of respect from everyone in the room. That was the type of man that he was.

"Thank you all for coming to this meeting. To kick things off, I would like to discuss some issues surrounding businesses in Keyaki Mall."

Most of the meeting was based on some legal changes that the black-haired dictator wanted to make, and they were logical, so everyone agreed with him. However, toward the end, there was a class dispute issue that they needed to solve.

"Let us move on to our final task of the day. Recently, there was a dispute between a few students from Class 2-A and a few students from Class 3-A. Since this concerns both the second-years and the third-years, we would like to turn the judgment of this issue to you two, Ayanokōji-kun and Ichinose-san."

"O-Oh, alright." Ichinose seemed a bit nervous at having to play judge. She shifted a bit in her seat. The Student Council President slid over a paper copy of the complaint.

"Yesterday, Yamamoto Akari, Kato Chiyo, Abiko Fumiko, and Shima Arata from Class 2-A filed a claim that Akagi Asahi and Adachi Aoi from Class 3-A engaged in disruptive behavior, creating a hostile environment at the park. They allege that the respondents used inappropriate language and made derogatory remarks, leading to emotional distress among the complainants. Moreover, they allege that this has been a repeated offense that has been happening for three consecutive days now."

I began reading the report, along with Ichinose. It was only one page long, so I was able to read through it rather quickly.

Class Dispute Report

Date: April 17th

Parties Involved:

Complainants (Class 2-A): [Yamamoto Akari, Kato Chiyo, Abiko Fumiko, Shima Arata]

Defendants (Class 3-A): [Akagi Asahi, Adachi Aoi]

Summary of the Dispute:

The dispute in question involves students from Class 2-A and Class 3-A. The incident reportedly occurred on April 17th at the main park of ANHS.

Complainants' Allegations:

The students from Class 2-A claim that the students from Class 3-A engaged in disruptive behavior, creating a hostile environment. They allege that the respondents used inappropriate language and made derogatory remarks, leading to emotional distress among the complainants. Moreover, they allege that this has been a repeated offense that has been happening for three consecutive days now.

Defendants' Responses:

The students from Class 3-A deny engaging in any disruptive behavior. They assert that the accusations are baseless and may be an attempt to tarnish their reputation. The respondents argue that there is no evidence to support the complainants' claims.

Investigation Details:

Due to the absence of physical witnesses, our investigation focused on collecting statements from both parties involved. The testimonies provided by the complainants and respondents were taken into consideration.

Complainants' Statements:

["They were berating us, calling us lucky for being in Nagumo Miyabi's class." - Kato Chiyo, Class 2-A.]

["We were just trying to enjoy our time at the park, and they showed up to stir trouble." - Shima Arata, Class 2-A.]

Respondents' Statements:

["The entire event was strange. We were sitting peacefully on the bench. They passed by us without saying a thing." - Akagi Asahi, Class 3-A.]

["That's certainly untrue. In fact, Kato Chiyo has been known for placing baseless accusations against me in the past." - Adachi Aoi, Class 3-A.]

Additional Considerations:

No security footage or independent witnesses were available to verify the events. The dispute arises from conflicting accounts, making it challenging to determine the objective truth of the matter.

What kind of a farce was this? I glared at the dictator, who only smirked. This was all his plan, wasn't it?

It was incredibly obvious that nothing could come from this dispute, since there was no evidence anywhere. However, someone as intelligent as Ichinose would realize that the wording of the report as well as the wording of Manabu's presentation of the dispute was strange. Why was he trying to reveal the existence of the S-System to Ichinose?

No, he wanted me to reveal the existence of the S-System to her. But why? I couldn't understand his intentions.

In fact, I was sure this entire event was fabricated and did not occur in the first place. Both Nagumo and Manabu were extremely relaxed in their positions, their keen gazes watching Ichinose and myself.

"I don't think anything can be concluded from this," Ichinose muttered.

"I agree. Is that the final decision, then?" I double-checked, and she nodded firmly. It was only fair since these were allegations without evidence. No witnesses and no cameras.

"Given the absence of clear evidence and the conflicting nature of the statements, the judges rule that neither party is found guilty or innocent in this dispute. We consider the incident inconclusive."

"After carefully reviewing the statements provided by both parties, we acknowledge the difficulty in reaching a definitive conclusion due to the lack of concrete evidence. Our recommendations are to encourage open communication between Class 2-A and Class 3-A to prevent future misunderstandings. We also want to emphasize the importance of resolving conflicts peacefully and seeking mediation when needed."

Ichinose nodded her head, her pink hair bobbing up and down as she transcribed what I said into the computer so that it could be added to the report.

"Thank you very much for your assessment, Ayanokōji-kun, Ichinose-san. With that, the Student Council is dismissed."

Everyone got out of their opulent seats and began filing out of the room. The door was well-oiled, so it did not creak as it shut softly.

"Hey, Ayanokōji-kun, don't you think the wording was a bit weird?" As expected, Ichinose had picked up on the strange wording provided by the smirking dictator. They had worded it as a conflict between classes, rather than a conflict between individuals. She noticed that it had been assumed that individuals of certain classes represented those classes. Manabu and Tachibana, who belonged to Class 3-A, and Nagumo and Asahina, who belonged to Class 2-A could not preside over this issue. Neither could Kiriyama, since he belonged to Class 2-B. If Class 2-A were punished, Class 2-B would benefit. Ichinose didn't understand the specifics, but she was able to interpret the discrepancies in the wording. Then, that begs the question. Why were you placed in Class B, Ichinose?

"Hm? You mean the wording about the dispute between Class 2-A and Class 3-A?"

"Yeah, why would it be between classes?" Ichinose wondered aloud, her hair bobbing up and down slightly as we walked.

"Well, I have some suspicions. Did you think the school was a bit weird in the opening speech?"

"Yeah… I also thought that Class A was the best behaved in the ceremony. No offense, but you guys were kind of the worst."

"None taken," I said, as Ichinose giggled. "Anyway, I just thought that the school was a bit too luxurious. It's like a paradise. The 100,000 point allowance might even fluctuate."

I nodded as we descended the stairs. "Yeah. Have you noticed the cameras in the classrooms?"

"Yeah! No wonder why the teachers are so lax. Any bad behavior probably goes against the allowance."

"Ichinose, I have a feeling there might be interclass competition."

"Huhh? Why would you say that?"

I shrugged. "Remember the wording from the dispute that we resolved at the end of the meeting today? It was phrased as a dispute between, classes, right?

"Right…" Ichinose had a thoughtful look on her face. "And the points, there's something strange about the school. I'll be sure to look into it. Thank you, Ayanokōji-kun!"

"No worries. At any rate, it's just a hunch. Don't read into it too much."

"B-But if it's true, then aren't we technically enemies?" she wondered aloud, looking at me nervously.

"No, I don't think so. Friends come before classes, right?"

"Mm!" she nodded firmly. "You're right, of course. But I can't help but worry if this is true."

"Don't worry, it'll be our little secret, okay?"

Ichinose nodded happily. She really was joyful.

"Well, see you later, Ayanokōji-kun!" She waved, as she left toward the direction of Keyaki Mall. Class B probably had another karaoke club session.

[6:06:23 PM] [Kushida Kikyō] Can we talk? I can come to your room.

Now, I had to take care of another thing.

-o-o-o-

A few minutes after arriving at my dorm room, a knock sounded on the door.

"It's unlocked, you can come in," I said, loud enough so that the person could hear me from outside the room. "And lock the door once you come in, please."

At the sound of my voice, Kushida Kikyō came in like a cautious rabbit, her gorgeous pink eyes darting everywhere. I had been expecting her. Just as I had instructed her to, she locked the door behind her. Despite her somewhat successful attempt at using makeup to conceal her eyebags, I could still see evidence of her red eyes and disheveled appearance. Her left hand twitched in the direction of the upper right abdomen. She didn't say anything.

"Phone." I held out my right palm, beckoning.

Kushida flinched at the sound of my authoritative voice. It was barely noticeable, but she flinched. I applauded her ability to contain it and mask her expression.

"H-Here, I don't have any recording devices." It was barely detectable, but she had a slight tremor in her voice as she addressed me. I had to applaud her acting abilities. She obediently placed her phone in my hand. I confirmed that the screen wasn't recording, and I placed it face-up on my desk.

"Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs. I'm going to make sure you don't have anything on you."

As she complied with my instructions, her movements were hesitant, as if she were walking on eggshells, afraid of setting off some unseen trap. Her delicate hands trembled ever so slightly as she pressed them against the wall, and her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps.

With practiced precision, I used the back of my palms to methodically pat her clothes down, feeling for any irregularities or hidden devices that could potentially compromise our conversation. According to Sotomura and my own investigations, audio bugs weren't sold in the school. If they were, it would surely be an issue, since they were much smaller, about the size of a coin, so you could hide them in lots of crevices. The only type of recording device she could have was a handheld audio recorder, which was the size of a small flip phone.

Despite Kushida's efforts to conceal any signs of nervousness, I could sense the subtle tension in her body, the telltale signs of someone who was acutely aware of their vulnerability. After ensuring that she was indeed free of any recording devices, I stepped back, allowing her to relax slightly from her rigid posture against the wall. As she turned to face me, her eyes flickered with a mixture of apprehension and resignation.

"Now, sit. What did you want to talk about?"

She obeyed, joining me on the couch. A brief silence followed, which lasted for a few minutes. I was content to wait and observe, though. Every couple of seconds, she would glance at me with terror-stricken eyes, and then immediately avert her gaze. Her left palm kept flinching toward the upper right abdomen.

"Ayanokōji-kun, I'm so sorry!" I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes, as she bowed hastily. Her nose nearly touched the cushions of the couch.

"For what?"

"A-About the accusation I filed against you," she said feebly.

"Ah, yeah. That. I suppose I did," I tilted my head, "I was looking forward to some sleep, but it disturbed me."

"I know... I know it was wrong of me," Kushida's voice quivered as she spoke, her words weighed down by the burden of guilt and remorse. "I was scared... I panicked... I didn't know what else to do."

I regarded her with an impassive expression, masking any hint of emotion beneath a veneer of detachment. "And so you decided to accuse me of something I didn't do," I remarked, my tone devoid of accusation yet tinged with a subtle undercurrent of reproach. "A baseless accusation. Anyone would be angry about that."

She flinched at my words, her shoulders hunching forward as if bracing herself for my retribution."I, I… well—" she stumbled, grasping at straws. "A-Are you going to hurt me again?"

"Hurt you? No, Kushida," I stated firmly, my voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "I'm not going to. I never did in the first place."

Her reaction was immediate, her delicate features contorting in a perfect mixture of shock, confusion, and fear. "But..." she began, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled to comprehend my words.

"No, Kushida," I interrupted, my tone unwavering. "You should realize that no one did this to you but yourself." Her figure trembled, a shiver running down her slender frame at my words.

"You're the one who fruitlessly tried to befriend everyone," I continued, my voice taking on a somber tone as I laid bare the truth before her. "You're the one who hated the class because of your own actions. You're the one who assaulted me for walking onto the rooftop. You're the one who blackmailed me and threatened me with sexual assault. And most recently, you're the one who filed false allegations against me."

Each accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the room. And yet, she couldn't find it in herself to deny my words. Because what I said was the truth, and only the truth.

"When you strike a tiger, it will bite back twice as hard," I concluded, my voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "That's common sense. Don't strike those superior to you."

Kushida trembled as I continued. "They're currently tracking down the anonymous account that filed allegations against me as we speak. I'll have discretion over what happens to them. According to the school, everything is on the table, from a light slap on the wrist to expulsion.

Her trembling fingers clutched at the fabric of her skirt, seeking purchase as I divulged more information. The weight of my words hung heavily in the air, casting a pall of uncertainty over the conversation. "You know what that means, right?" I prompted, my voice gentle yet firm as I sought to convey the gravity of the situation.

The realization seemed to dawn on her slowly at first, then all at once, her features contorting in a mixture of guilt and fear. It was just enough to tip her over the edge.

"Ayanokōji-kun, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with desperation as she bowed her head in shame. I scrutinized her reaction, deeming it genuine.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything to you." Her blonde bangs moved around as she lifted her head, a sliver of hope in her pink eyes.

"You're useful to me, Kushida. Your social circle is incredible, and you have social and communication skills I could never hope to match."

A flicker of surprise crossed her features at my words, her gaze flicking up to meet mine with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. "T-Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to process my unexpected praise.

I leaned forward, closing the distance between us; Kushida shuddered but did not move away. Good.

I held out the back of my hand to her forehead.

"May I?"

"Sure," she responded rather quickly.

I placed the back of my hand on her forehead, marveling at the skin-to-skin contact. She felt cold and hot at the same time like her body was continuously in a cold sweat. However, she didn't seem to have a fever or a cold.

"Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?" she ventured.

"I was never mean to you, Kushida. You did it to yourself, remember?" I gently corrected her outlook. Her breath caught in her throat at my words. "As long as you obey me, nothing bad will happen, and everything good will happen. We will win."

"I-I understand. I did it to myself." She swallowed audibly, and there was a sudden tightening of her features. "I'm sorry, Ayanokōji-kun!" she cried. The beginnings of tears formed in her eyes, quickly overflowing and running down her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto her skirt and the couch that we sat on.

Attentively regarding her, I thought it was an act, at first. A ploy intended to catch me off-guard. If it was true, it meant that my work with her wasn't nearly finished yet. But almost immediately afterward, I recalled that they couldn't be fake. For an actress to cry on command, it required an incredible amount of skill, coupled with the ability to remember a tremendously traumatic incident. But Kushida was only fifteen. The most traumatic experience for her was what had happened on the rooftop that night; it would be near impossible for her to intentionally think of that in front of the person who had orchestrated it.

The eyes were the windows to the soul. I recognized the signs which demonstrated that she was really crying. The twitching fingers of her left hand toward her right abdomen, where I had hit her, the right hand curled in a small fist, clutching at the white fabric of her skirt, the dilated pupils, the tightened folds around her eyes, the way she breathed, frantically and loudly—all indicators that I had broken her. No, perhaps that wasn't quite right.

I had pushed her to the brink of ruin, leaving her only a fragment, only a hair's breadth of room. If I hadn't left her the narrowest of margins, she would be truly defective, an unsalvageable product. In the White Room, unsalvageable products were immediately disposed of.

However, Kushida was the kind of product that didn't require too much salvaging. She didn't require too much work because of her inherent mental resilience. If I had chosen anyone else for this role, it might not have worked. But as the director of this play, I had cast my blonde-haired classmate as the two-faced angel, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I moved to her side, enveloping her delicate frame in my arms. This was the first kind of intimate contact we had; naturally, she stiffened in the arms of her former attacker. The tension practically rolled off in waves from her body—a stark reminder of the barrier that still remained between us.

"…Ayanokōji…kun?" she murmured hesitantly, her voice echoing in the quiet space.

"If you don't like it, I'll stop," I offered, sensing her unease. She didn't respond immediately. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the periodic sound of our shallow breaths mingling in the air.

For Kushida, I represented both a source of fear and a glimmer of hope, a paradox she struggled to reconcile within herself. I wondered if it was her mind that rejected me, or her body, or perhaps both. If it happened to be that way, then maybe it was best to try another time.

Then, her body seemed to acquiesce to the moment, discerning that I was not an enemy. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Kushida relaxed into my embrace, her stiffened muscles gradually yielding to the warmth of our proximity. It was a fragile moment, as delicate as spun glass. It felt like anything could disturb it, ruin it, but at the same time, nothing did. It was infallible.

"No, it's okay," she said finally, her vulnerable voice barely above a whisper.

With my grip on her waist, she seemed to melt into my embrace, into my warmth. I shifted the two of us so that we were in a more comfortable position. She buried her head in my chest, her own arms wrapping around my torso. Her form molded to mine as if seeking solace and protection from the world outside this room. Afterward, she didn't move. She was content to stay where she was. With her head buried in my chest, I could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath, steady and rhythmic. I inhaled the scent of her hair—a sweet strawberry, one that fitted the persona of the two-faced angel.

I was her refuge, her sanctuary—her haven. I had taken away her outlets and provided myself as the only oasis of warmth that she could hold on to, her small hands seeking purchase in the white fabric of my shirt. There existed nothing for her but me. I was the only one who could give her warmth.

Humans naturally crave warmth—from the comforting embrace of a loved one to the gentle caress of sunlight on the skin. They crave warmth in relationships, yearning for the closeness and understanding that comes from genuine human connection. They experience shared laughter with friends, the comforting presence of family, and tender, intimate moments of affection with a romantic partner.

However, despite now having tried all of these, I didn't find myself craving human warmth.

I was defective.

"I'm not going to do anything to you because of the anonymous report," I continued, my voice gentle, yet firm as I sought to reassure her. Kushida pulled back from my chest slightly, but my right hand remained on her waist. "We both understand your position, right?"

"Right," my classmate nodded. In contrast to yesterday, she wasn't just agreeing with me for the sake of agreeing. She wholeheartedly believed the words that came from my mouth. If I told her that grass was blue, she would believe me. No, the emotion in her eyes, it was much, much more twisted than it had been before; before, it was hate masked by love. Now? Now, it was a blend—those pupils and beautiful pink irises exhibited a kind of fearful adoration, the perfect balance between love and fear. I had exposed her innermost secret, twisting her most important desires, blackmailing and threatening her, and then dangled her over the abyss, only to pull her back and save her myself.

But it was her fault that it had happened in the first place—it was her fault for ranting in the wrong place, for threatening an innocent passerby with sexual assault allegations, it was her fault for filing that baseless report.

Humans lie for a variety of reasons. For greed, for money, for fame, or perhaps, more nobly, for their loved ones. Some lie more than others, with reckless abandon, until they are caught. Regret ensues. But regret is not for the lie; rather, the regret is for getting caught. Humans adapt and lie better to prevent the same situation from occurring again. However, one thing is for certain: there is no human who has never told a lie. To speak is to lie; consequently, to lie is to be human.

A lie told often enough becomes the truth.

The truth was that I had beaten her with the stick up until now. I was to offer the rabbit a few carrots. Two more right now would do it.

"I want to offer you a chance to expand your social circle."

"What do you mean by that?" Kushida tilted her head, her fuchsia eyes blinking curiously. A flicker of hope had reignited in them.

"How would you like to be the first-year representative on the Student Council?"

She took a moment to process what I had said. "R-Really?" Kushida exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You can do that?"

"I mean exactly what I said," I replied. "I want to offer you an opportunity to broaden your connections, to strengthen your social standing in ways you never thought possible. You have a talent for navigating social dynamics, Kushida, and I believe you can leverage that to your advantage."

Kushida's eyes widened with intrigue, a spark of excitement dancing within them. The prospect of expanding her social circle held considerable appeal to her.

"As the first-year representative on the Student Council," I continued, "You'll have the chance to interact with students from all grades and forge new relationships. I don't really need to sell you the benefits of this, right?"

The realization seemed to dawn on her slowly, a smile spreading across her features as she contemplated the possibilities that lay before her. "You're right, of course," she murmured, her voice tinged with excitement as she envisioned her newfound role. Kushida brightened and smiled at me. It wasn't her mask, but it wasn't the other side, either. It was somewhere in between, and for some reason, I found it bewitching.

"Welcome to the Student Council then, first-year representative Kushida Kikyō," I declared, a hint of satisfaction coloring my words as I sealed our agreement.

She giggled. "Thank you, Ayanokōji-kun." Her voice was filled with genuine gratitude. Everything had gone flawlessly. Now, it was time for one, final step. One final push should do it.

One final push would cement the new identity of Kushida Kikyō.

"You help me, and I will help you and the class. I just want you to trust me. So, here is the audio recorder." Going to my files, I played the same recording from yesterday night.

"I fucking hate all of Class D! Dumbass perverts like Hondō and Ijūin! They should just all fucking die, god damnit! All those perverted dogs sniffing around me like I'm their personal toy! Just go to fucking hell!"

I pressed one of the buttons and stopped it.

"This proves that I have the recording. I want you to go ahead and delete it."

With trembling hands, Kushida approached me like a wary deer cautiously approaching a stream. She gingerly reached out, her fingers trembling as they made contact with the recording device I held out to her. For a moment, it seemed as though she might drop it, her grip unsteady and uncertain, but she managed to steady herself just in time.

As she took hold of the device, her movements were slow and deliberate, as if she were afraid of setting off some unseen trap. With painstaking care, she navigated the device's menu, her fingers hovering over the buttons with hesitant precision. Each press felt like an eternity as she navigated through the options, her breath catching in her throat with every moment of uncertainty.

Then, finally, with a soft click, the recording was deleted, disappearing from existence with a finality that seemed to lift a heavy burden from Kushida's shoulders. A deep sigh escaped her lips, the tension draining from her body as she slumped slightly in relief.

It was as if a weight had been lifted from her chest, and she visibly relaxed, her shoulders sagging as the last remnants of tension ebbed away. I allowed her a brief moment of reprieve before I spoke again.

"Of course, deleting the original recording isn't proof," I interjected, breaking the silence that had followed. "You can't completely trust me simply because I let you delete the recording."

The blonde-haired girl's gaze met mine, a flicker of uncertainty passing through her eyes. The return of despair. But before she could respond, I continued, offering her a gesture of trust that went beyond mere words.

"Kushida, as a symbol of my trust, I'll allow you to search me, and the entirety of my dorm room."

"Really?" Her expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and curiosity crossing her features as her mind processed my offer.

"Really," I confirmed with a nod.

Without hesitation, she accepted, and with a newfound determination, she began to meticulously comb through every inch of my room. As Kushida busied herself with her search, I took the opportunity to occupy myself with my phone, allowing her the time and space she needed to conduct her investigation. The minutes ticked by in silence, the only sound the soft hum of electronic devices and the occasional rustle of papers.

In order for my endearing classmate to fully trust me, I had to display to her my entire hand—or what she thought was my entire hand. By creating a mutual bond of trauma and belief, she would naturally become entangled with me. By exposing her to my constant presence, our relationship would only further deepen, as I engaged her in a delicate dance of trust and vulnerability.

Thirty minutes passed, and still, Kushida had found nothing. Her efforts had turned up no evidence of hidden recorders or surveillance devices, confirming what I had already told her: there were no such devices in my room.

"Well, it seems like Ayanokōji-kun has nothing!" she said brightly. I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in her demeanor. Despite the tension that had lingered between us moments earlier, she now seemed oddly upbeat, even with her mask off. I was willing to bet that the true version of Kushida Kikyō was somewhere between the mask and the version she had shown on the rooftop.

"I told you, Kushida," I reminded her, my voice tinged with absolute conviction. "I want you to trust me. Work for me, and we can reach Class A."

"After all, we're not so different, you and I," the widening of her eyes indicated that she understood what I was conveying. "If you do well, I'll reward you. If you don't do well, I won't reward you. On the contrary, if you purposely do something wrong, I'll punish you. It's not so difficult to understand, is it?" I observed her intently as my words sunk in.

Indeed, it was as if we were cut from the same cloth, bound by the complex threads of human nature. Within each of us lay a duality, a juxtaposition of light and dark, virtue and vice. Kushida wore her masks with practiced finesse, concealing her true intentions behind a facade of sweetness and charm—intentions that no one knew about except me. I too harbored a hidden side, one that no one at this school knew about, except Kushida. I was the only one who understood her, and she was the only one who understood part of me. This crucial fact meant that my adorable classmate and I were fundamentally bound together, whether we liked it or not.

"I… I understand," she murmured. "Is there anything else?"

"If you want to talk to anyone, you can come to my room any time," I offered, a hint of warmth coloring my tone as I extended an olive branch. "All the world is your enemy," I paused for emphasis. "—except me. Don't ever forget that."

A slight tint of pink appeared on her cheeks. "…Thanks," Kushida averted her gaze. "…I guess I'll take you up on that offer now, then." She understood that I didn't have any recorders here, so this was the safest time to rant. I had cut her rant off yesterday night, which meant that she didn't have her usual release.

"You won't tell anyone, right?"

"No, I won't," I reassured her. I really wasn't going to tell anyone. And then, she finally began to unload her emotions.

"I hate those fucking bitches! Motherfuckers, all of them!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Whispering behind each others' backs all the damn time! I mean, I hate that fucking pig Shinohara, and that bitch Karuizawa has the dumbest fucking ideas about lunch! Who eats a 1 oz steak and calls it fulfilling? It's like they're having a starvation contest! And I thought those perverts Ike and Yamauchi were bad, and I was happy they got expelled, but now Hondō and Ijūin just have fucking drool on the corners of their mouths every time they grope me with their eyes-"

As her slew of curses and grievances continued, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer intensity of her emotions, each word laced with a potent mix of anger, frustration, and resentment. It was as if a floodgate had been opened, unleashing a torrent of raw emotion that had long been suppressed beneath the facade of her meticulously constructed persona. These were her true feelings when she let the mask drop. It made sense, though. To try to be everyone's friend must have been exhausting for her. No wonder she had to rant.

Any person would go insane from trying to be such a social butterfly. You had to be nice, even to people who you didn't like, and to people you were disgusted by. But, since you were so nice to everyone, you couldn't rant to anyone.

Indeed, the burden of maintaining such a facade must have taken its toll on her psyche, forcing her to seek solace in the only outlet she could find—the rooftop, where she could scream into the void and let her real feelings be heard without the fear of anyone discovering her true self underneath the angelic facade.

It was like a trash can. Her anger and hate piled up into a storage container in her mind, and soon enough, when she couldn't take anymore, she had to empty the basket. She had to get rid of it all, before returning to school the next day. All that just to get the empty basket refilled again, and again, day by day. I could not fathom how she managed to do it every day. Some people didn't have the concept of a social battery, apparently.

Maybe it was simply the will to be popular, to be trusted with everyone's secrets unconditionally. She must have been hooked on the power that it brought her.

I looked at Kushida, who had finally stopped. She was panting, her shoulders heaving up and down from the pure exertion she took. A drop of perspiration appeared on her forehead, and her face was flushed.

"That was fulfilling, wasn't it?" I asked her gently.

"Yeah, it did feel pretty good," Kushida admitted, a hint of satisfaction coloring her tone. She looked at me. "So… what now?"

"You could tell me why this habit of yours happened. But if you don't want to, we can save it for another time."

"Y-Yeah, that would be good. Ayanokōji-kun, why are you asking me for my backstory?"

"Everyone in Class D has a defect, in one way or another. Whether internal," I didn't miss the way Kushida flinched, but just barely, "Or external. I've come to that understanding."

"Really? Even Hirata-kun?" she asked curiously. Hirata was considered the prince of the class, and he and Kushida were commonly seen placating others. So of course, Kushida was surprised to hear that he had a defect, just as she did.

"Yes, even Hirata-kun. I guarantee it."

"What's your defect?" Kushida wondered aloud. She peeked at me with pink, curious eyes. However, there was still a hint of primal fear, disguised within them. She was trying to test the boundaries of our newly established relationship.

"I'm not so sure myself," I admitted.

Kushida was about to ask another question, but her phone pinged with several messages at the same time. After reading them, her cute face shifted into an irritated one.

"Ugh, I have dinner plans with those bitches…" It was 7:40 PM, and Kushida had been in my room for almost two hours now. As Kushida prepared to leave, making her way to the door, her demeanor shifted once again, seamlessly donning the mask of amiability and gratitude.

In the blink of an eye, the mask was back on. It was truly a work of art. "Thank you, Ayanokōji-kun."

"No worries, Kushida. I hope we've come to an understanding."

She winked at me and then left my dorm room. I was about to head to the convenience store to get an ordinary bento for dinner, but my phone pinged with a new notification. Taking a look at it, I noticed it was from the messaging app.

[7:41:02 PM] [Fūka] Let's have dinner at Alinea.

[7:41:30 PM] [Ayanokōji Kiyotaka] There's no need. I'm going to eat in my room.

[7:41:37 PM] [Fūka] It wasn't a request. I have a reservation.

I sighed. I could almost feel Fūka smirking over the phone as she waited for my response.

[7:41:50 PM] [Ayanokōji Kiyotaka] I'm low on points.

[7:42:04 PM] [Fūka] Don't pull that bullshit with me. You have millions of points. Or perhaps you're saving for a class transfer?

[7:42:10 PM] [Ayanokōji Kiyotaka] Who knows?

[7:42:20 PM] [Fūka] Oh, is that so? Then, you're welcome to transfer me to your class, Kiyo-kun~

[7:42:37 PM] [Ayanokōji Kiyotaka] I'll think about it.

[7:42:40 PM] [Fūka] Alinea at 8 PM, it is then.

What was it with this senpai? I had never agreed to dine out at that expensive, scumbag restaurant again, yet now she wanted to? I had to come up with another excuse.

[7:43:02 PM] [Ayanokōji Kiyotaka] I need time to get ready.

[7:43:08 PM] [Fūka] Just throw on some clothes and come outside. A tuxedo would be nice.

Crap! The time that I'd taken to respond had given me away! And besides…

[7:43:30 PM] [Ayanokōji Kiyotaka] You're already outside…

[7:43:45 PM] [Fūka] You're so smart! Good boy!

I sighed. I got up and pocketed my phone, dragging my feet over to my wardrobe. As I opened it, I realized that I only had one suit set. A basic black blazer and slacks with a white or black shirt and a black tie. I cursed myself for not shopping for some presentable clothes. I only had the default set of clothes that the school had given to us as well as my school uniform.

Wait a second… I eyed the fuschia-colored tie that was in the corner of the drawer. There was also a purple handkerchief of the same color. Had Fūka left those there? Intentionally? Now that I thought of it, that tie perfectly matched her eyes. Was that for me to wear?

Since those items were there, I might as well wear them with an all-black suit.

I would take up that offer to go shopping at Keyaki Mall tomorrow with Satō and Matsushita.

I opened my door, and sure enough, there she was. Her platinum white hair cascaded down to her shoulders. She was wearing a purple, off-the-shoulder evening gown that complimented her crimson eyes. It fit her snugly, clinging to the bodice to show off the curves of her breasts, the slimness of her waist, and the flare of her hips. There was a leg slit that exposed her porcelain skin, and she was wearing high heels that made her almost as tall as me. I drank in the sight before me.

"You should take a picture, it'll last longer." Fūka grinned at me. What a hypocrite.

"You can't blame me. You're stunning."

"You're stunning as well, Kiyo-kun~" She gave me an approving thumbs up. "Here, put this on."

It was an expensive-looking watch. The base color was black, with accents of purple and gold. It looked very sleek, and something that would match our outfits.

"Did you prepare all of this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she winked cheekily. "Besides, this watch is just for you to wear tonight. I might consider throwing it in with your birthday gift."

"That's reassuring."

The ambiance of Alinea was refined and elegant, a stark contrast to the dormitory's simplicity. Soft, golden lights bathed the table in a warm glow, highlighting the subtle gleam of the silverware and crystal glasses that were neatly arranged on the tables. The restaurant was lively, with many people enjoying quiet chatter with one another. The aroma of meticulously prepared dishes wafted through the air, creating an enticing atmosphere.

As we entered, our presence drew numerous gazes and comments. It felt like we were the center of attention

"Is that Kiryūin-san?"

"Huh? No way! Is that Kiryūin? And an underclassman? She never pays attention to anyone!"

"Are they on a date?"

"That underclassman must sure be something! Kiryūin-san ignores her own class!"

"Hey, I think I saw that kid on the ikemen rankings…"

Fūka ignored the chatter as the waiter led us to our private booth, which was closed off, away from the general populace. We sat across from each other at the polished mahogany table, the fine linen tablecloth accentuating the sophistication of the setting. Flickering candles and the crystal chandelier above us provided a well-lit setting.

As we settled into our seats, the waiter filled our glasses with water. A subtle symphony played in the background, enhancing the sense of refinement. We began ordering and deliberating over what dishes we liked. After we had done so, the waiter left, and Kiryūin Fūka began her interrogation.

"I must say, Kiyo-kun, you clean up rather well," Fūka teased, her eyes narrowing playfully.

"Appearances can be deceiving, Senpai."

"I thought I told you to call me Fūka-chan."

"My apologies, Fūka." She rolled her eyes.

"So, let me hear it," she demanded, taking a sip of her water.

"Hear what?"

"Why were they conducting an investigation in your dorm room, Kiyotaka-kun?"

"Well, there was a shower drain issue, so I called them to look at it. I can't believe this expensive school has shower drain issues in their lush dormitories."

Fūka smirked. "Is that so?" The look on her face told me that she didn't believe a single word I was saying. She placed her glass of water back down on the table. "That's what the cover-up story is, after all." Maybe Fūka had inside sources, or something similar had happened in her year.

The only conclusion was that Nagumo Miyabi had played god. Otherwise, how had he come to the position that he was currently in?

"What really happened?" Fūka continued, interrupting my line of thinking. "You promised to tell me, remember?"

I sighed. "Everything's blown over now. But if you really want to know, then why don't we play a game of questions?"

"Oh, so that's how you're going to play it?" There was a devilish grin on the lioness's face. "Very well then. What are the rules of this game?"

"One question each. You must answer the question honestly," I said, interjecting when Fūka was about to say something. "We each ask questions until 21 questions are asked by each of us. How does that sound?"

"I agree. I'll go first," Fūka was straight to the point. "Why was the school investigating your room?" "They were investigating for evidence that I assaulted someone."

Fūka raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"

"Remember, one question only," I said. She smirked again. "It's my turn now. What do you think of Nagumo Miyabi?"

Fūka sat back. "Oh, what an interesting question. I think he's someone who has an immense amount of pride. He's been at the top so long that he's never felt defeat except against Horikita Manabu. There is no conflict in his year because no class leader dares to go against him; yet, this is a contradiction because he is constantly seeking the thrill of battle. He's set his sights on you, now," she gave me a knowing look.

The thrill of battle. Nagumo Miyabi was someone who thrived on control.

"My turn." She crossed and uncrossed her legs, causing me to glimpse at the smooth flesh of her thighs. "Did you assault someone?"

"Evidently not, since there was no evidence discovered. I was declared innocent." Fūka's lips contorted into a smile.

"Is it possible to have your homeroom teacher store points for you in order to use them for purchases in case you don't have your phone?"

"Yes. You're planning something, aren't you?"

"That goes without saying," I replied.

"As expected of you, Ordinary-kun. My turn. Who did you turn into your pawn?" Fūka skipped the pleasantries, asking me directly.

"Kushida Kikyō. The process isn't finished yet, though."

"I see."

We continued asking each other questions, playing this game of 21 questions. Soon, the courses began arriving, each a work of art on a plate. Delicate flavors and textures melded together, creating a truly exquisite culinary experience. The conversation flowed seamlessly, punctuated by the clinking of metal cutlery against the porcelain. At some point, we ran out of things to ask each other about and resorted to talking about more normal, ordinary topics. Soon, we finished our meals, and the waiter served us dessert and left the room.

"Fūka."

"Yes?" she responded easily.

"How would you feel about joining the Student Council?"

"Oh? Are you trying to make me your pawn?" Fūka quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth turning up.

"No, of course. I'm trying to make you my queen."

Fūka laughed, a pleasant, melodious sound that caused her platinum-white locks to splay out along her shoulders. "For someone that doesn't seem to be that adept at social interaction, you're smooth."

"Thank you. Your answer?"

The lavender-eyed vixen hummed, tapping her manicured fingernails along the wooden table. "You know I don't like work. Why are you asking me this? I don't think any spots on the Student Council are open, besides the third-year representative spot, which I don't qualify for."

"Manabu said I could have two secretaries."

"Ara ara, trying for two beautiful ladies at once? You might bite off more than you can chew, Kiyotaka-kun."

"I'm prepared for that."

A coy smile danced on her lips. "What do I get out of this?"

"You accepted the birthday gift I gave you, which was expensive," I pointed out.

"That didn't come with such a stipulation."

"Does the overwhelming prestige of the Student Council not entice you?"

"No," she snorted, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms under her bosom.

"What do you want then?"

"What makes you assume I'm going to agree to anything?" she retorted.

"You're entertaining the idea," I pointed out.

The corners of her ruby lips curved upward, as she tapped her slender index finger on her lower lip. "Okay. I want you."

"No. That's off the table."

"What a shame," she pouted. "Fine. I want one million private points and the ability to visit you in your classroom whenever I want."

"That's expensive," I remarked, as I pulled out my phone. However, despite my protests, both of us knew what I was going to do: transfer her the points.

"I don't see you complaining."

"You're right."

"Good boy," she cooed salaciously when she confirmed that she had received the point transfer. She put away her phone in her purse. "Well then. I'll do a little work for you since you interest me so much."

"Welcome to the Student Council, Fūka."

She offered me a subtle smirk, her red lips curving. "It's my pleasure."

-o-o-o-

I've always hated being told what to do. I've always hated being ordered around.

Someone like me could never be commanded. I was the angel, the joy of the class, the love of the grade, the admiration of the school. I was the one who ordered others, the one who everyone showered with praise and adoration. I prided myself on my ability to navigate the intricate social dynamics of our school, to be the perfect image of kindness and grace.

But now, for the first time, I found myself working for someone else. And somehow, I didn't hate it. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Even though everything felt like it was slipping out of my control, even though I felt like I was trapped in a web of lies and half-truths, unable to break free…

I couldn't deny the thrill of it all, the rush of adrenaline that came with his presence. The golden-eyed devil.

His whispered words were like honeyed poison, designed to entice, to enrapture me. His voice, smooth as velvet yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of danger, had a hypnotic effect on me. The air seemed charged with a strange energy whenever we were alone and close together. Those hypnotizing eyes of molten gold that had once incited an insurmountable dread and fear in me… I now came to associate them with anticipation. Excitement, exhilaration. It was an intoxicating rush for me.

Would he reward me or punish me, like he did yesterday and the day before?

What would he do next? What would he reveal? I unintentionally found myself thinking these things whenever I was alone with him.

I suddenly remembered what we had done yesterday. I had clung to him like a girlfriend, like a lover.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I threw my pillow against the wall of my bedroom. A dull thud sounded throughout the entire room as it fell down and rolled to a spot on the bed.

Fucking hell. My entire face was hot. I felt like ripping out my hair. Why was he being so kind after hitting me and almost killing me two days ago? It didn't even make any sense. Why had I let him hug me? Because it felt nice?

"Ayanokōji… you blank-faced idiot!"

He was a boring fuck without facial expressions. Why was I reacting this way? I turned on the fan and sat myself down on the edge of my bed.

Fuck, fuck. My chest heaved with exertion. But it was true. I couldn't remember the last time someone had genuinely hugged me like that. I knew everyone would turn their backs on me if they knew who I really was and what I really thought; I had seen it happen before. He didn't, cared even though he had seen the real me under the mask—or, at least he seemed to care. My knees jittered up and down as I thought about it.

Was I being serious right now? Just because of a hug and what his feelings seemed to be? No, no. No way that was possible. Sure, he was being nice, and all, and exciting even with that inexpressive face, and he had made me the first-year representative on the Student Council, and let me rant to him and let me delete that shitty voice recording…

That was right, the voice recording was completely gone. I could go against him right now, I could attack him and have him expelled, I could…

No. I couldn't do anything to him even if I wanted to. A sinking feeling in my stomach reminded me: I was powerless in comparison to him. The difference between our abilities was like falling off a cliff.

He was the Devil.

His words suddenly came back to me: "All the world is your enemy except me." What kind of fucking romantic shit was that? From him, of all people? A few giggles bubbled out of me.

The devil didn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He came as everything I'd ever wished for. Fame, clout, power, and someone to be by my side, someone who could see under the mask and didn't care. Every time he opened his mouth, lies came out.

That motherfucker! I gritted my teeth, and I felt like ripping out my hair again. My palms were clammy, and I rubbed them against the mattress, trying to get rid of the moisture.

I couldn't hold myself still, and I got up from the bed, pacing back and forth across the room. Fuck, fuck. Calm down, calm down.

I couldn't sleep last night because the Devil appeared to haunt me, even in my dreams. Whenever the window creaked when the breeze blew against it, I thought the Devil appeared in front of me. Tonight, I probably wouldn't sleep, either. But this time, it was for a different reason.

The Devil was a motherfucker. Ugh! Was he seriously trying to get with me or something? That night, he let me make him touch my boobs! Given what he did afterward, he could have easily broken free of my grip. He probably thought himself lucky to feel them up.

Did he think I was cute? But I couldn't deny what happened when we were alone. Fear and dread turned into exhilaration and anticipation. My heart was pounding out of my ribcage, and I felt tingly all over—even my stomach felt empty. Everything was so messed up that I couldn't distinguish one from another.

A noise poured forth from my lips: a half-cry, half-laugh. I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My blonde hair splayed out around me.

"Ayanokōji-kun."

His name slipped from my lips. I hadn't meant to do it, but it just came out. Why couldn't I shake this overwhelming sense of… whatever it was? Confusion? Attraction? Fear? Dread? It was all so muddled, so damned confusing. I shook my head.

"Ayanokōji-kun, Ayanokōji-kun, Ayanokōji-kun!" I chanted over and over again like I was a corrupt, possessed priest. Another giggle bubbled out of me before I realized it.

Just what the fuck was wrong with me?

-o-o-o-

Classes the next day passed in the blink of an eye. Soon, it was lunchtime.

"Ayanokōji-kun!"

"Ayanokōji-san!"

"Yo, Kōji!"

I received several invitations to lunch, and I was deciding on which group to go out with. There were Sudō and Okitani along with Satō and Matsushita; I also received an invitation from Hirata, and several others.

Instead, a familiar, purple-eyed beauty waltzed into the room. Unfortunately, her presence wasn't something that went unnoticed by the room, which went silent at her entrance. That was just the kind of presence that Kiryūin Fūka had. She had a mature air about her which indicated that she was a senpai, or at least a second-year. Her gaze swept the room before it landed on me near the corner.

"Ki-yo-ta-ka~," her signature smirk began dancing on her lips as she accentuated each syllable of my name. "Let's go!"

I sighed, getting out of my seat to follow her out of the room. There wasn't any way to get out of it, since Kiryūin was a strong-willed woman, and they were being observed by the entirety of Class 1-D. Any attempt to refute her would go under scrutiny.

"Who is that?" "You know her?" "Is that Kiryūin-senpai? The one who won't talk to any boys in her grade?" "Ayanokōji-kun, is she your girlfriend?" These were all statements uttered by the populace of Class 1-D. I didn't expect her to start today. I was the target of numerous jealous stares from the boys.

"I heard Ayanokōji-kun likes dominant women," Satō whispered conspiratorily to her neighbor.

"Where'd you hear that?" the girl whispered back, bewildered.

"From Amikura-chan. It makes sense, right? He's the one that makes all the strategies and works hard for his body, so he takes a step back in bed-"

"S-So Ayanokōji-kun likes to be s-stepped on? And p-p-pegged?" Several girls had tints of red on their cheeks, and some even had a little blood starting to leak out of their noses. Did they need to see the nurse? And what did being pegged mean?

"Exactly. Look, it's working, right? She's practically trampling him already." Fūka only grinned at their comments as I followed her out of the classroom and into the corridor of the hallway.

"Not going to do anything to refute the rumors, Ki-yo-ta-ka?" With the punctuation of each syllable, Fūka leaned closer and closer to me, tapping me on the nose with her slender index finger.

"It's useless to do anything," I answered.

"At least you've learned."

"So why did you call me out today?"

"I can visit you in the classroom whenever I want; don't you remember the conditions?" she flaunted shamelessly. That was true, however, she couldn't go wherever she wanted to try to create rumors…

"Well, yes, but—"

The intercom blared, interrupting me. It was Tachibana Akane, or Loli-senpai. "Hello, students of ANHS. We are here to announce that Kiryūin Fūka of Class 2-B has been accepted to the Student Council as Ayanokōji Kiyotaka's secretary."

Indignant, male screams and shouts came from classroom 1-D. Fūka had purposely lured me out to cause chaos. I stared at her; she stared back, her grin so wide that it was threatening to split her face. I took off in the direction of the cafeteria, grabbing Fūka's smooth wrist and hastily turning the corner of the hallway. We had to leave.

My initial instinct to run away was quickly proven correct. Not long after, I heard the sound of the door slamming open, and a sea of people must have poured out. I pushed her against the wall of an empty corridor.

"Are you trying to cause me as much trouble as possible?"

"Do you want me to answer honestly?" That grin never disappeared from her face.

"Preferably," I replied. My voice must have been close to a deadpan.

"Then, yes." She leaned in, examining me for a second, before smiling again. "My, that is quite the scary face you have on, Kiyotaka-kun…"

"…Let's just go to lunch."

After waiting a few more minutes for the crowd to disperse, we came out of the empty corridor. Soon, we reached the cafeteria, which was buzzing with the news. We bought our lunch sets and picked out a table to sit. However, not soon after, a couple of people joined us at our table.

"Hey Ayanokōji-kun, Kiryūin-senpai! Can we sit with you?" It was Ichinose Honami and Kushida Kikyō. To my surprise, Kiryūin nodded, and they sat with us on the bench. I could feel an extraordinary amount of pressure aimed toward my figure due to gazes from all around the cafeteria. For a moment, I almost regretted recruiting these three to the Student Council. However, I immediately discerned the six very big reasons why I had recruited them in the first place.

"Congratulations on being accepted to the Student Council, Kiryūin-senpai!" Ichinose beamed.

I caught a glimpse of Kushida's hands underneath the table. They were shaking slightly, and she had to place them on her lap to calm herself.

"It's no big deal. Kiyotaka here personally recruited me." Kushida and Ichinose turned to me, questioning if her statement was true. This seductive vixen…

We spent the rest of the lunch period in idle chatter and returned to our classrooms not long after.

-o-o-o-

I disliked being called an angel. I was known as the angel of Class C, and I understood why I earned that name. Class C was under Ryūen-kun's directive, and the magenta-haired boy could be cruel at best. In a class ruled by Ryūen-kun's iron fist, any semblance of kindness or compassion stood out like a beacon in the darkness. And perhaps, in comparison to the darkness that pervaded our class, my actions did indeed appear saintly.

But I still disliked the name. It implied purity and innocence, elevating me on a pedestal. People would be shocked if I was simply neutral or less warm during one interaction. It placed unfair expectations on my shoulders. I was human, too. I was a normal girl.

Of course, there were "angels" in other classes. Kushida-san and Ichinose-san were also considered "angels." I didn't know what they thought about it, but I imagined that they had the same feelings as me.

My thoughts were interrupted when the doorbell chimed. My book-reading partner had entered the quiet cafe. We had agreed to meet up here at 5:00 PM, and the time was currently 5:01 PM. Considering Ayanokōji-kun's usual procedure of arriving a few minutes early, this was news for him.

This was why I took pleasure in watching his eyes scan everywhere, and a slight look of panic appearing on his usually expressionless face. I smiled: So he did care about appearances to his book-reading partner.

I decided to bring him out of his misery by lifting myself from my seat somewhat and waving at him. Upon seeing me, he began heading in my direction.

"What were you doing before this, Ayanokōji-kun?"

"Why do you ask?" he said, as he pulled out a book. The Catcher in the Rye. A perfectly valid choice for a reading session.

"No reason. Just curious," I shrugged nonchalantly. However, I felt as though he could see through my actions for some inexplicable reason.

"I was shopping with Matsushita and Satō," he explained. For some reason, the idea of him shopping with another girl sent a short pain through my chest.

"…I see."

He glanced at me curiously, trying to discern some kind of reaction, but ultimately gave up after a dozen seconds. We began our reading session. After finishing another chapter, the question I had been deliberating on before came back to me. I watched my book-reading partner's reflection in the cafe window, and after he had finished a chapter, I interjected.

"Ayanokōji-kun."

To my book-reading partner's credit, he didn't seem annoyed by my interruption of his reading. "What is it?"

"What do you think of me?" I said. "I mean, do you think I'm an angel?"

I hoped my words wouldn't cause him to mark me as a narcissist. His lovely golden eyes glanced at me, then returned to the book. "I think you're a normal girl, just like anyone else," he said simply. "Is there a problem?"

"I see. Thank you."

"For what?"

I suppressed a giggle at his curiosity, covering my mouth with a hand. He blinked at me, confused.

"It's nothing."

We returned to reading. Truthfully, Ayanokōji-kun's statement made me very happy. In my subconscious, I knew that he wouldn't see me in that kind of light. I only needed confirmation.

Ayanokōji Kiyotaka-kun. A mysterious boy, who didn't express his feelings well. But I loved reading with him. Reading with him, whether it be in the library or at a small, quiet cafe like this one, I came to admire his intellect, mind, and curiosity that no one could glimpse in this manner but me. Ayanokōji-kun was a distinctive person with a distinctive personality—not just the face that he displayed to the masses of the school as the student council vice president.

He and I shared a particular bond in this way. We discussed themes and characters in a way that I rarely did with others; I was sure that was the case for him, as well. There was something about the way he immersed himself in literature that drew me in. The brown-haired boy would always listen to me intently and with interest. I couldn't find anyone else who shared the same interest quite like me. There was a comfort in our discussions, a sense of mutual understanding that I cherished.

Before long, I was acutely aware of his unique, comforting presence, even while reading my favorite genres of books, which I was normally engrossed in. I would sneak glances at him whenever I finished a chapter, or admire him in the reflection of the cafe's glass windows every couple of paragraphs. I didn't know why I was doing it, but I had been doing it for the past few reading sessions we had—it was that I had just noticed it now. No one could make me do that except him.

The expression of an unintentional emotion.

At that moment, sitting in the cafe beside this enigmatic brown-haired boy, I realized that Ayanokōji-kun had begun to appear to me as a very special person.

-o-o-o-

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