I'm still writing. I did mention I wanted to quit before, but I was emotional at that time.

Well, enjoy the read.

The warm afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Special Building as Igawa Haruka stepped outside. Lunch with the Service Club had been uneventful—Yukinoshita Yukino's poised remarks, Yuigahama Yui's bubbly energy, and the occasional awkward silence had filled the time. Her cousin, Hikigaya Hachiman, had been conspicuously absent, having chosen to eat elsewhere. Not that it surprised her—he had always done things his way.

Adjusting her school bag on her shoulder, Haruka let her thoughts drift. Her next goal was clear: to fully embrace the persona of a "Villainess" while fostering a genuine connection with her family. A delicate balance, but one that gave her a strange sense of comfort.

As she neared the school grounds, a familiar voice pulled her from her reverie. Haruka paused, tilting her head slightly as lively cheers and shouts reached her ears. The boys' soccer team was practicing, their voices carrying across the field. Curious, she followed the noise, her footsteps deliberate yet unhurried.

At midfield, a group of girls had gathered near the bench, their excited chatter mingling with the players' calls. Haruka's sharp gaze scanned the scene, quickly landing on a familiar figure. Sitting on the bench, basking in an almost reverent air of admiration, was Isshiki Iroha. The sunlight caught in her bobbed flaxen hair as she directed a pair of boys with effortless, saccharine authority.

"I said there!" Iroha's voice rang out, commanding the boys to fetch equipment and gather stray soccer balls. Her tone was casual, yet there was no mistaking the expectation beneath it. Haruka watched, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips.

"What a cunning little actress," she murmured, entertained by Iroha's performance.

But the novelty quickly wore off. Finding the scene mundane, she turned to leave, her mind already shifting back to more important matters.

Just as she stepped away, a sharp shout from the field caught her attention.

"Look out!"

The warning was urgent. Instinctively, Haruka glanced over her shoulder—just in time to see a soccer ball hurtling toward her.

The world seemed to slow for a fraction of a second. There was no time to think—only react.

Her body moved on its own. With fluid precision, her leg swung upward in a perfect arc, meeting the ball with a forceful kick.

A stunned silence fell over the field as the ball streaked through the air—a blur of motion—before slamming cleanly into the back of the net. It threaded through a cluster of frozen players, past the goalkeeper, and struck the corner with pinpoint accuracy.

For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of the net.

Haruka landed gracefully, flicking her hair back in a practiced motion, her expression as composed as ever.

All around her, stunned eyes stared, mouths slightly open.

"That was one hell of a bicycle kick!" a loud, confident voice finally shattered the silence.

Haruka's gaze flicked briefly to the source—a good-looking boy with dyed-brown hair, a black headband keeping it in place. His grin was both impressed and teasing as he turned to the blond boy beside him.

"She's way better than you, Hayato."

The remark earned a burst of laughter from the players and onlookers.

But Haruka paid them no mind. The astonished whispers, the stifled chuckles, the growing interest in her presence—none mattered.

She had no interest in soccer. No interest in proving herself to strangers.

Her focus remained unchanged.

And she wasn't about to let a stray ball shift her course.

Igawa Haruka's POV:

I entered the school building, my footsteps echoing softly against the walls. The familiar scent of polished floors and old books filled my senses, but today, the weight of it all felt different. Maybe it was the new perspective I was beginning to shape for myself. Or maybe it was simply the weight of my thoughts pressing in.

Either way, I pushed the feeling aside and focused on the stairs ahead.

My destination was clear—class on the second floor.

But as I approached the stairway, I noticed someone standing just ahead of me. He was hunched over near the steps, an odd sight. His appearance was immediately striking. White hair, tied into a short ponytail, stark against his deep black eyes. His glasses caught the sterile glow of the fluorescent lights, flashing briefly as he moved. But it wasn't just his disheveled look that stood out. It was his attire.

A long trench coat hung over his school uniform, the hem swaying slightly as he shifted. Black, fingerless gloves completed the bizarre ensemble.

I recognized him immediately.

Zaimokuza Yoshiteru—the writer.

The same one who had once tried to get the Service Club to read his manuscript, all while parading around with that ridiculous air of self-importance. He was the epitome of the kind of person I couldn't stand—arrogant, self-centered, and completely oblivious to how others saw him.

I rolled my eyes.

There he was, hunched over, his entire posture radiating some kind of exaggerated concentration.

Something about it immediately set me on edge.

As I walked closer, I slowed my pace, curiosity getting the better of me.

Finally, unable to ignore the obvious absurdity of the situation, I asked,

"What are you doing?"

He didn't even bother to turn toward me. Instead, he let out an exaggerated "Shh!" and, in a voice that was far too loud for someone supposedly trying to be discreet, announced,

"I'm trying to peek up the girls' skirts."

A sharp, hot wave of anger shot through me.

The audacity. The complete lack of decency.

I didn't need to hear anything more to understand exactly what kind of person he was.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my patience snapping like a taut thread.

In one swift movement, I stepped forward and planted my foot firmly against his back, shoving him to the ground with a heavy thud.

For a brief moment, I stood there, watching as he flailed against the floor, struggling to lift himself. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at my lips.

"That's what you get for being a pervert," I said coolly, my voice edged with disdain, as though addressing a pest that had wandered into my path.

I didn't wait for a response. I didn't care to hear whatever excuse or ridiculous defense he might try to offer.

With one final glance, I turned on my heel and continued up the stairs, my anger still simmering beneath a composed exterior.

As effortless as stepping around a piece of trash on the floor.

o000

I strode away from the fallen boy without a backward glance, my steps measured and composed. As I ascended to the second floor, my mind shifted to more pressing matters.

How do I become a Villainess?

A noblewoman must uphold her dignity at all times. I cannot afford to lose my composure. Fortunately, I have yet to waver.

Taking a steady breath, I entered my classroom and made my way to my seat. Almost immediately, a small group of girls approached, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. One of them—a shy girl with glasses—hesitated before stepping forward.

"Igawa-san, is it true? That you're related to Hikigaya-senpai?" she asked cautiously.

I met her gaze, keeping my expression neutral.

"Yes," I answered smoothly. "He is my cousin."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the classroom.

"You and Hikigaya-kun both have such a noble bearing…"

"That explains so much! There was always something different about him."

"So, does that mean your family is from an old family?"

"Are your families from the countryside? Do you have a large estate?"

I considered their words carefully.

Noble? Well, I suppose Hikigaya does carry himself differently from most—detached yet unwavering, with a quiet dignity to his presence.

Old? Our family is certainly old, with roots in the countryside stretching back generations.

Estate? The family house is large, though hardly extravagant by noble standards.

Choosing my words precisely, I replied, "Yes, our family is old, and we have a large house for a family of our size."

Rather than satisfying their curiosity, my response only seemed to fuel their excitement.

"I knew it! They really do come from an old noble family!"

"An estate in the countryside? That's so prestigious!"

"Wait, if their families are connected, does that mean… an arranged marriage?!"

"That explains the connection between the Hikigaya and Yukinoshita families!"

"No wonder they act so differently from everyone else—this is the influence of high society!"

"If Hikigaya-kun is actually from an aristocratic family, that makes him even more attractive…"

"He always had that air of mystery, but now it makes sense. A nobleman in disguise!"

Unbeknownst to me, my simple response had set off a storm of speculation.

As far as I was concerned, I had merely answered a question truthfully. Folding my hands neatly on my desk, I dismissed their chatter from my thoughts.

I must focus on refining my presence and my influence. A Villainess does not concern herself with trivial gossip.

0o00

The classroom was bathed in the soft glow of the midday sun, golden streaks of light filtering through the windows and casting long shadows across the polished desks. The faint scratch of pens and pencils filled the air, punctuated by the rhythmic cadence of the teacher's voice as she continued her lecture.

I sat with perfect posture—back straight, shoulders poised, hands resting lightly on my notebook as I took careful notes. Each stroke of my pen was precise, deliberate—my handwriting an elegant script, a reflection of years of disciplined instruction. I listened intently, absorbing the lesson with the quiet composure expected of a noblewoman.

Unbeknownst to me, my classmates had begun to observe me with hushed admiration.

"Look at how she holds her pen… so graceful."

"She doesn't even fidget. It's like she was trained in etiquette from birth."

"Her posture is perfect. Have you ever seen her slouch?"

"Igawa-san is like a proper lady… It's almost intimidating."

"It makes sense, doesn't it? She and Hikigaya-senpai come from an old, noble family."

I remained oblivious to their whispers, my focus unwavering. The teacher's words were important, but my mind, too, was occupied with my ambitions.

A Villainess must possess refinement and intelligence, strength of presence without the need for boastful displays.

I turned a page in my notebook with a measured movement, the soft rustle breaking the stillness for the briefest moment. Nearby students glanced in my direction, their eyes flickering with intrigue. Even something as simple as flipping a page seemed to reinforce the image they had crafted in their minds.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed the shy girl from earlier stealing glances, her expression one of quiet awe. Others hesitated before returning their attention to the lecture, as if unwilling to be caught staring.

Unaware of their fascination, I calmly continued taking notes, planning my next steps.

If I am to truly embody the role of a Villainess, I must master control—not only of my actions but of the perceptions that surround me.

The lesson continued, but in the minds of my classmates, a noble lady sat among them, poised, dignified, and untouchable.

00o0

I set my pencil down, my gaze drifting from my notes as I surveyed the classroom. A flaw in my carefully cultivated image had become glaringly apparent.

The teacher had stepped out, leaving a brief interlude before the next lesson. In that time, my classmates had effortlessly fallen into their usual rhythm—small groups forming naturally, conversations flowing with ease.

Laughter, whispered gossip, the casual exchange of stories.

But I had no such group. No entourage.

A true Villainess was never alone. She was surrounded by loyal followers—those who hung onto her every word, who moved in step with her will. Presence alone was not enough; influence was the true mark of power. A Villainess commanded attention not just through demeanor but through the social structure she built around herself.

This was a flaw I could not afford to overlook.

I needed to consult Hikigaya.

This weakness in my path—it had to be corrected.

000o

After school, I intercepted Hikigaya just as he was about to enter the Service Club's classroom. He gave me his usual half-lidded, mildly exhausted stare as I stepped in front of him.

"Hikigaya," I began, cutting straight to the point. "I've encountered a problem."

He sighed, already looking like he regretted stopping. "You always do."

I ignored that. "I don't have an entourage. A Villainess is supposed to have one, correct?"

He blinked at me, then scratched his cheek, considering. "Yeah, that's a problem. Friends, huh? Can't say I know much about that."

"You don't say," I replied dryly.

Pulling out his phone, Hikigaya tapped at the screen for a moment before nodding to himself. "Alright, I looked it up. Google-sensei never fails. The standard villainess entourage consists of a few key archetypes. Let's see..." He skimmed through the list:

Blind Loyalty – The one who follows without question.

Gossip Mongers – The ones who spread rumors and scandals.

Social Climbers – Those looking to gain status through association.

Lackeys/Hangers-on – The weak-willed followers who just go with the flow.

"The 'Mean Girls' Dynamic – A group known for being cruel and dismissive."

He scrolled further, narrowing his eyes. "Then there are these specific roles:

1. Head Lackey – The most devoted follower.

2. Gossip Queen – The master of manipulation and intrigue.

3. Fashionista – The one obsessed with trends and appearances.

4. The Envious One – Secretly resentful and possibly sabotaging.

5. The Clueless Follower – Just there for comedic relief."

Hikigaya lowered his phone, giving me a look of mild skepticism. "You seriously want to go through with this?"

I crossed my arms, maintaining my composed demeanor. "Of course. A proper Villainess must command the social sphere. This is part of the role that you gave me."

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "You realize this means getting involved in high school drama, right? Once you start dealing with people who actually care about status and popularity, you can't just walk away."

I tilted my head, unbothered. "I've handled nobles and their endless posturing. High school should be simple in comparison."

Hikigaya let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Alright, your funeral. Just don't say I didn't warn you when this all turns into a mess."

I allowed myself a small, confident smirk. A Villainess did not back down from a challenge.

The next step was clear—I needed to build my entourage.

000o

I watched as Hikigaya scribbled something onto a piece of paper before crumpling it into a ball. He rolled it between his palms like a gambler preparing to toss dice, his expression as unreadable as ever. After a few seconds, he opened his hands and looked at me.

"Alright," he said dryly. "Pick a slip for your first entourage member."

I raised an eyebrow but humored him, reaching for one of the crumpled papers. Slowly, I unfolded it and read the word scrawled across it.

"Gossip Queen," I announced, holding it up for him to see.

Hikigaya nodded as if this outcome had been inevitable. "Figures. Alright then. Tomorrow, during lunch, we'll scout your year and find someone who fits the role."

I couldn't help but smirk. It was such an absurd method, yet strangely fitting. "Sounds good," I said, rising from my seat. The halls were nearly empty now, save for the few students lingering for club activities.

Leaving Hikigaya to whatever thoughts occupied his perpetually cynical mind, I made my way home, already turning over the plan in my head.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

00o0

The lunch bell rang, signaling the start of the midday break, and students flooded into the courtyard, eager to find their usual spots. I followed Hikigaya through the crowd, making our way to a quiet bench at the edge of the courtyard. We sat down, our eyes scanning the sea of faces as students settled into their familiar groups, unpacking lunches and chatting.

Hikigaya pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping the screen with focused intensity. "Alright," he muttered, glancing at me. "Let's start by watching. Look for the Gossip Queen in her natural habitat."

I nodded, though a strange discomfort settled in my chest. Was this really what I had to do? Sitting here, observing others like a predator? The whole situation felt surreal, almost like stepping into an alien world. But I couldn't back out now—I had a goal, and this was part of the plan.

We sat in silence for a while, watching the students mingle in their usual lunch clusters. The hum of laughter and conversation filled the air, but nothing stood out. Girls huddled together, sharing inside jokes. A couple of boys discussed sports. First-years wandered about, unsure where to sit.

"I don't think we're going to find anyone like this," I said with a sigh. "This feels... pointless."

Hikigaya didn't even look up from his phone. "You're underestimating the subtlety of high school dynamics, Haruka," he said dryly. "The Gossip Queen doesn't exactly wear a neon sign. You need to watch more closely."

I didn't reply, continuing to observe the groups around us. A few girls gathered in tight circles, their heads bent together as they whispered and giggled. But none of them seemed like a Gossip Queen. There were a couple of girls exchanging sharp glances, but they were too self-contained, too quiet.

Just as I was about to suggest we call it a day, my eyes landed on a girl standing alone by the edge of the courtyard. She had long black hair and wore a plain, oversized cardigan. Her lunch sat forgotten on the bench beside her, untouched. Instead, she was typing rapidly on her phone, glancing around nervously, as if waiting for something—or—something.

"Do you see her?" Hikigaya whispered, noticing my shift in focus.

I nodded. "Yeah. She's... different. Hiding something, maybe?"

We watched her for a moment longer, and then Hikigaya made a quiet decision. "Let's follow her. She might be our lead."

We stood up and blended into the flow of students, casually making our way toward her. She was so engrossed in her phone that she didn't notice us trailing behind her. Hikigaya gave me a subtle nod, signaling me to slow down. We kept our pace steady, careful not to draw attention.

We followed her across the courtyard and into a quieter, more secluded area near the school's back gates. She stopped, looked around, and then quickly resumed typing, her expression tense and frantic.

Then, as if the pressure was too much, she let out a frustrated sigh.

"Damn it…" she muttered under her breath. "I shouldn't have said that... They're going to find out."

I felt a twinge of discomfort. This was it. The moment we'd been waiting for.

Hikigaya and I exchanged a glance, remaining hidden behind a wall. We watched as the girl's eyes darted nervously, clearly afraid someone would catch her. Slowly, she closed her phone, and the small, defeated look on her face told us everything we needed to know. She wasn't just spreading gossip—she was making up rumors. And now, she was worried it was about to blow up in her face.

"That's a twist I didn't see coming," Hikigaya muttered, his voice low.

"She's not just gossiping—she's inventing the stories."

I frowned, watching her rub her face in frustration. Part of me felt sorry for her, but another part of me felt a strange unease. This wasn't the kind of person I wanted in my entourage.

"Should we confront her?" I asked, glancing at Hikigaya. But he shook his head.

"No point," he said quietly. "Someone who manufactures rumors for fun isn't someone we want in the entourage. The last thing we need is chaos like that."

I nodded, relieved. I didn't want to get involved with someone who treated rumors as a game. There was too much at stake.

We turned and walked away, leaving her to her own devices. As we passed through the courtyard again, I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd uncovered something important. We hadn't found the perfect Gossip Queen yet, but we had found a lead.

0o00

As Hikigaya and I made our way back toward the school building, something caught his attention. He stopped abruptly, his posture stiffening slightly as he tilted his head, his gaze fixed on the far side of the courtyard. He tapped me gently on the shoulder, pulling my attention to wherever he was looking.

Following his line of sight, I spotted a girl sitting alone on a bench, her lunch abandoned beside her. She was typing furiously on her phone, her fingers moving so quickly they almost blurred. Between rapid taps on the screen, she shoved hurried bites of rice from her bento into her mouth, barely glancing down at what she was eating. Every few seconds, she darted her eyes around, scanning the area before quickly returning to her phone.

There was something off about her. She ate with such urgency, barely chewing, as if she had somewhere else to be—or someone to avoid. The sharp glances over her shoulder made it seem like she was on edge, as though she was waiting for something or someone.

"Could this be her?" I whispered, nodding discreetly in the girl's direction. "She looks like she's hiding something."

Hikigaya didn't respond right away. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapping away with a look of deep concentration. I watched him for a moment, curious about what he was reading. After a brief silence, he looked up from the screen, his lips curling into a small grin.

"I think we've found someone interesting," he said, his tone casual but with an unmistakable spark of intrigue. He tapped me lightly on the shoulder to make sure I was paying attention. "Look at her. And then look at this."

I followed his gaze back to the girl, my brow furrowing slightly as I studied her more carefully. Her frantic typing and nervous scanning of the surroundings made it clear that something was off. Hikigaya held out his phone, and I glanced at it.

On the screen was a tweet from Sobu High's unofficial gossip account, with a picture of the girl. The caption read: "Yumiko Nakayama: Someone's been trying to leak her family's financial problems. Watch out for her. She might need money. -MT"

I stared at the tweet, then glanced back at the girl. She hadn't noticed us watching yet, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were witnessing a hidden side of her. "That's... definitely something," I muttered, my voice laced with skepticism. "But why is she eating like that? Like she's in some sort of rush?"

Hikigaya shrugged, his eyes still on his phone as he scrolled through more tweets. "This MT person... she's probably trying to stay ahead of something. Maybe she's spreading the gossip, or maybe she's just trying to cover her tracks."

I shifted uncomfortably, watching the girl again. She looked so lost in her own world, glancing over her shoulder with increasing frequency, as if she were expecting someone to approach. It was as though she were desperate to finish something before time ran out. "I guess she could be the one," I said, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "But should we approach her? I don't know how she'll react."

Hikigaya didn't answer right away. Instead, he continued scrolling, tapping on various links with an expression of focus. "She's definitely hiding something," he muttered, still absorbed in his phone. "And it's not just food. This MT... we need to figure out who that is."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, still unsure what he was getting at.

He finally looked up, a cynical smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Let's just say," he said, his voice dripping with dry amusement, "we might have just found our first Gossip Queen. Whether she likes it or not."

I glanced back at the girl, still absorbed in her phone, her hurried movements, and the flickers of unease in her gaze. It felt like we were on the edge of something bigger. If she was the "Gossip Queen" we were looking for, this was just the beginning of a much more complicated—and far more dangerous—game than I had expected.

o000

I made a mistake.

Hikigaya and I had planned to speak with the unknown girl after school, once he was done with the Service Club. That had been the plan—simple, straightforward, and efficient. And yet, I couldn't help myself. My curiosity got the better of me.

I had caught sight of her just after the final bell, her distinctive shoulder-length auburn hair swaying as she walked briskly through the school gates. I followed at a distance, careful not to get too close. But the moment we passed the park, she vanished.

Or rather, she had never really been ahead of me in the first place.

"You're not very good at this, are you?"

A voice—smooth, laced with amusement—came from behind me.

I turned sharply, my breath catching in my throat.

There she was, the girl with the shoulder-length auburn hair, regarding me with fox-like amber eyes that glinted in the fading sunlight. Her arms were crossed, weight shifted to one hip, exuding the effortless confidence of someone who always knew exactly where they stood. Even out of uniform, she looked effortlessly polished—her manicured nails painted a subtle shade of pink, her casual cardigan draped over her shoulders with a grace only someone with an eye for fashion could pull off.

I had been the one following her, yet somehow, it felt like I had walked straight into her trap.

"It was easier to have friends as a noble," I thought to myself. I had always been able to tell who wanted to benefit from my status and who sought genuine friendship. But here, in this school, in this world, everything felt more uncertain. How was I supposed to explain that I wanted to talk to her? That I wanted to be her friend?

I straightened my posture, trying to regain some composure. "I'm Igawa Haruka. I transferred into classroom 2-C," I introduced myself, keeping my voice steady.

She tilted her head slightly as if sizing me up. Then, her lips curled into a smirk—sharp, knowing, and just a little dangerous.

"Tsukishima Mei," she said smoothly. "Classroom 2-D. So, you're the new girl. The talk of the school." She paused, letting the words hang in the air before her smirk widened just a fraction. "What can I do for you?"

She was testing me. That much was clear. And for the first time, I realized something crucial—Tsukishima wasn't just another girl in the school's social hierarchy. She was a predator, and this? This was her territory.

o000

"Why don't we stop by a café and talk? I'll explain why I was following you," I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

Tsukishima studied me, her amber eyes gleaming with intrigue, before she shrugged. "Alright," she said casually as if she hadn't just caught me tailing her like an amateur.

The café we stopped at was a quiet little place just off the main road, with warm lighting and the faint aroma of roasted beans lingering in the air. We ordered our drinks, and I stirred my coffee absentmindedly, my mind racing to figure out how to approach this.

How was I supposed to say it? That I had been looking for someone like her? That I wanted her to be part of my entourage? That, despite all my experience in social circles, I still found myself lost in this school's hierarchy?

Tsukishima, meanwhile, sipped her drink leisurely, watching me with barely concealed amusement. She finally leaned back in her chair, one brow arched as she broke the silence.

"So, what can I do for you, Igawa-san?" she asked smoothly. "Now that we're having coffee together."

Before I could answer, a familiar voice interrupted from behind me.

"She wants to be your friend, but she's lacking in social skills."

I turned sharply, already recognizing the voice.

Hikigaya Hachiman stood there, looking as unbothered as ever, hands in his pockets, eyes lazily scanning the two of us.

Tsukishima's smirk widened instantly. "Oh? The famous Hikigaya Hachiman."

I blinked in confusion. "Famous?"

She chuckled, resting her chin on one hand. "Yukinoshita Yukino's boyfriend."

My eyes widened slightly as I turned back to Hikigaya. "You're dating Yukinoshita-san?" I asked, surprised.

He exhaled, clearly exasperated, before dropping into the seat beside me. "We're partners," he corrected, his tone making it clear that he'd had this conversation more times than he cared to count.

Tsukishima hummed in amusement, tapping her nails against her cup. "Is that so?" She studied him, then me, her expression unreadable. "Well, this just got a lot more interesting."

"I assume you're MT," Hikigaya said casually, leaning back in his chair. "Using the English alphabet instead of kanji—pretty clever."

Across the table, Tsukishima's fox-like eyes gleamed with amusement, but she feigned innocence, twirling a strand of auburn hair around her finger. "Oh? I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Hikigaya didn't react, merely offering a slow blink before continuing. "We can play mind games all day, but I think I have something more interesting for you."

Tsukishima rested her chin on her hand, curiosity flickering across her face. "Oh? Now that does sound intriguing. Go on, then. I'm listening."

Hikigaya's gaze flicked toward me briefly before he turned back to her. "Like I said, Igawa here is looking for friends. And I think you should be her friend."

Tsukishima arched a brow, her lips curving into a smirk. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you like power," Hikigaya said bluntly, his voice carrying that familiar edge of cynicism. "We third-years are about to graduate, which means a shift in the school's social hierarchy is inevitable. Once Hayama and Miura are gone, there's going to be a scramble for influence. Students will form groups and alliances—everyone will be looking to establish the next king and queen of Sobu High." He gestured toward me. "Igawa here may be new, but she has a real shot at being that queen."

Tsukishima's smirk faltered for a moment before she let out an amused chuckle. "That's quite the claim," she said, stirring her drink leisurely.

Hikigaya shrugged. "You live for gossip, don't you? Imagine being at the very center of it all—the one controlling the flow of information rather than just reporting on it. If you attach yourself to the right person, you'll be in a position to shape the narrative however you want."

She let out a laugh, light and airy but undeniably delighted. She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against the rim of her cup. "You make a compelling argument, Hikigaya-senpai." She turned her gaze to me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Alright. I'll be her friend."

Somehow, I had the distinct feeling that she was going to be much more than that.

0o00

After exchanging numbers with Tsukishima, I made my way home, and Hikigaya walked me halfway before heading off on his own. It would have been just another ordinary night if it weren't for Tsukishima. She'd been texting me nonstop, bombarding me with questions about myself. It was oddly relentless, but I didn't mind. Even my mother didn't scold me for staying up late, which was a rarity—this was the first time my phone had received so many notifications.

I woke up on time the next morning but still felt groggy, thanks to the late-night exchange. Despite the sleepiness weighing on me, I dragged myself out of bed and went through my usual routine: a quick shower, slipping into my school uniform, and having breakfast with my family.

By the time I arrived at Sobu High, everything seemed normal. The halls buzzed with the usual chatter, but I was still caught up in the whirlwind from last night.

The first break came, and as I sat at my desk preparing for the next class, I cleared my workspace. My thoughts were distracted when a voice called out to me from the door.

"Igawa-san, someone from classroom 2-J is here to speak with you."

I nodded in acknowledgment, offering a polite smile as I stood up and made my way to the entrance. As I approached, my gaze fell upon the woman standing by the door.

She was stunning—her beauty undeniable, with an air of quiet elegance. Her features were sharp, with long, platinum blonde hair cascading around her shoulders, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to study me with an almost knowing glance.

"Hello, I'm Fujisaki Airi," she said, her voice sweet and composed. But there was something beneath it—something almost sinister, like a hidden agenda wrapped in a layer of politeness.

"Hello, I'm Igawa Haruka," I replied, instinctively offering a smile. But for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that I already knew this person.