Chapter 1: A Neighbor Far Yet Near

 

Suddenly, a scrap of notebook paper caught my eye.

Written on it, in flowing, beautiful handwriting, were these words.

‘The heater’s pretty strong, huh?’

After school, in a corner of the old, weathered school building. In a small study room with only six seats, just the two of us.

The warm air from the rattling air conditioner made the “No Talking” sign sway.

‘Feel free to turn it down.’

I scribbled this addition and slid the scrap of paper back to my neighbor through the gap under the desk partition.

From the next seat, I heard the sound of a mechanical pencil scratching.

And then, the scrap of paper, with new writing, came back from the neighboring seat.

‘Getting up is such a hassle, right? Go turn it down for me ♡’

I wanted to crumple it up and toss it back at her seat, but I held back.

‘Do it yourself. I can deal with it.’

I scrawled this and sent it back again.

The air conditioner remote was on the wall right by the entrance. In this tiny study room, it was just three steps to get there. I wasn’t so free or kind as to indulge someone too lazy to take a six steps round-trip.

‘Please, I’m begging you, like this ♡’

‘Like what?’

‘I’m making a super cute kyun face right now.’

‘If I can’t see it, it’s the same as not happening.’

‘Schrödinger’s kyun face.’

‘Tch, how cheeky.’

The back-and-forth with my neighbor felt too fast-paced for written notes. By now, my attention was completely pulled away from my math textbook.

‘Then, let’s play a game: the first one to give in and turn down the heater loses.’

Out of nowhere, I was invited to this bizarre game.

‘I’ll pass.’

‘Loser buys juice.’

‘Alright, let’s do it.’

With that reply, the note-passing stopped. The game was on.

I didn’t know her goal, but there was no way I’d lose. The temperature was bearable anyway. I probably wouldn’t even need to stand up.

And so, I turned my eyes back to my textbook.

“Gh!?”

Suddenly, something bumped into my left arm. Looking down, I saw a whorl of hair.

My neighbor was sitting there, using me as a backrest. She’d even dragged her chair closer. The moment I turned to her, the scent of her hair tickled my nose, making my brain reel.

“Hey, you—”

I almost raised my voice, but she quickly pointed to the “No Talking” sign. Then, looking up at me with a smug smile, she put a finger to her lips in a “shh” gesture.

‘You’re doing something way worse than talking.’

I wrote this on the notebook and held it up, but she pretended not to see. Leaning against me, she sat cross-legged on her chair, silently flipping through her English vocabulary book.

‘Oi, look at it. Don’t ignore me.’

I shoved the notebook right in front of her face, but she deliberately shifted her position to dodge it. Each time she rubbed her head against my arm, her long hair swayed softly.

This was bad. She was taking advantage of the fact that no one else was around, doing whatever she pleased. Yet, the fact that she was strictly following the room’s only rule—no talking—made it even more infuriating.

I couldn’t give in to this outrageous behavior. I absolutely couldn’t admit defeat.

With unwavering resolve, I fixed my gaze on my textbook, focusing solely on the equations.

My left arm felt oddly warm, and a pleasant scent lingered, but I told myself it was an illusion.

This stalemate lasted for about five minutes.

Then, I noticed the head leaning against my arm tremble slightly.

The subtle movement somehow drew my attention, and I instinctively glanced over.

“Ugh…”

Her large eyes locked onto mine, and in that instant, she made a kyun face.

Regrettably, it was ridiculously cute.

“……”

Without a word, I stood up.

I walked the three steps to the remote, lowered the temperature by two degrees, and left the study room. I bought a banana milk from a nearby vending machine and returned, placing it on her desk.

She inserted a straw with a satisfied expression, swaying her head as she drank.

Instead of returning to my seat, she pointed at my notebook.

‘Was my kyun face cute?’

That line was written while I was gone. Without answering, I forcibly dragged her chair back to its original spot, effectively evicting her.

My neighbor puffed out her cheeks dramatically, then sipped her banana milk noisily.

After the whole exchange, I reopened my textbook.

Coming back to my senses, a realization hit me.

No one else could ever witness a scene like this.

The fact that we had such a ridiculous, playful relationship absolutely could not get out.

Because she and I—Higashiguchi Makita and Nishimaru Nanna—were sworn enemies at this academy.

＊＊＊

“Hey, look over there.”

“Is that the president and the representative? Whoa, amazing!”

The chilly January breeze swept through the first-floor corridor, which buzzed with excitement for a moment.

“Yo, Higashiguchi-kun.”

The girl calling me in a listless tone was Nishimaru Nanna.

While she exuded a vague air, her gleaming eyes seemed to appraise the entire world.

Her voice, born from a mouth that rarely opened wide, lacked vigor but lingered strangely in the ears.

Everyone’s gazes followed her, as if the word “mysterious” had stepped out of a dictionary.

“Hey, Nishimaru.”

Instinctively, I felt that showing any change in expression would mean defeat, so I responded casually.

Nishimaru smiled, seemingly satisfied.

“Your glasses really suit you. Our student council president is quite the looker.”

“You always spout such boring nonsense. It’s hard to follow.”

“But I mean it.”

Nishimaru giggled softly.

The smile she directed at me carried a pinch of mischief and audacity, unlike the ones she gave others. Whether this was her way of provoking me, I couldn’t tell.

Our encounter sent a ripple of tension through the surrounding students.

The student council president, Higashiguchi Makita. The club alliance representative, Nishimaru Nanna.

The two of us were considered archenemies within the academy.

The girls hovering around Nishimaru showed faint hostility toward me.

Meanwhile, the girl beside me glared at Nishimaru with open animosity.

Undeterred, Nishimaru addressed her too.

“Hey, Nakau-chan.”

“Don’t call me Nakau.”

“Oh? But it’s such a cute nickname.”

The girl who snapped back without fear was Naka Uzuki.

My classmate and a fellow member of the student council, serving as vice president.

Her neatly trimmed bangs and upright posture reflected her sincerity and proper conduct. By the way, the nickname “Nakau” was only allowed among close friends. Calling her “Oyako-don” made her furious.

Uzuki scrutinized Nishimaru from head to toe before pointing out in a stern tone:

“Nishimaru-san, wear your blazer properly.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“Because people are copying you and imitating your style.”

Nishimaru’s blazer hung loosely, slipping off her shoulders. It looked sloppy at first glance, but some considered it fashionable. I didn’t get it.

Compared to guys, all girls seemed slender, but Nishimaru was especially delicate, with a small face and curves where it counted. Her great figure probably made anything she wore look stylish.

But it wasn’t just because she was beautiful.

Nishimaru Nanna had an inexplicable aura that naturally drew eyes and inspired admiration. Even I, her rival, had to admit it.

That kind of presence was what people called charisma.

“Hehe, it’s kinda embarrassing to be copied. Why do they do it?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Oh, I get it. The student council president is so unpopular that all the support goes to me. Society’s pretty well-designed, huh?”

“……”

Nishimaru attacked me effortlessly, then smoothly changed the subject.

“By the way, the president and vice president are as chummy as ever. Heading to the cafeteria? Spending lunch break together too?”

“N-no, we’re not chummy! We’re having a lunch meeting, that’s all…”

“We’re headed there now too. Wanna join us?”

Her suggestion shocked not only Uzuki but also Nishimaru’s entourage, who gasped in surprise.

“N-no way, that’s obviously out of the question!”

“Why not?”

“B-because… it’s a confidential student council meeting!”

“A confidential meeting held in a cafeteria packed with students?”

“…Urgh.”

Uzuki let out a groan, defeated.

“Nishimaru, enough with the jokes.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Even if you’re serious, I’d rather pass on lunch with you.”

“Hehe, that’s too bad. Sorry, Nakau-chan, I was being mean.”

“Kughh…”

“Well, we’ll head off then. See you both later.”

With a quiet laugh, Nishimaru sauntered down the corridor.

“I’m sorry, President…”

At a window-side table in the cafeteria, Uzuki mumbled this, staring at her oyako-don. She was visibly dejected.

Wait, she’s actually eating oyako-don?

“What for?”

“Getting outwitted by Nishimaru Nanna in front of everyone like that…”

Though it happened ten minutes ago, the sting of defeat seemed to hit her only now.

Naka Uzuki was an exceptionally capable vice president. She anticipated my actions, preparing documents and schedules in advance.

On the other hand, she struggled with emotional control. Especially around Nishimaru, she turned into a chihuahua encountering a stranger’s dog on a walk, instantly ready to fight.

Today, she’d fallen right into Nishimaru’s bait again.

“I told you before: when you feel angry, wait six seconds.”

“By the time I realized it was ‘anger,’ I was already… charging in.”

That’s kinda cool, actually.

“Even though I took an anger management course near my house over winter break, as you suggested… I’m so ashamed of myself…”

“Whoa, I didn’t say to take a course…”

I only mentioned it as something to keep in mind, not to actually attend a course. And what kind of course was held in a small town like this? Was it even legit?

“By the way, how much was the fee?”

“Eight thousand yen.”

That’s a sketchy price point—neither clearly legit nor outright scam. I got nothing to say.

“For now, Uzuki, take a deep breath whenever you see Nishimaru.”

“Yes. Suuu, haaaa.”

“Not right now.”

“This is practice.”

“Right, my bad. Breathe to your heart’s content.”

She’s an honest kid, yeah.

“Anyway, Uzuki, you can’t stop emotions from arising, but acting before you even name the emotion is way too animalistic.”

“Ugh, you’re right… It’s like a lion facing its prey.”

Sorry, Uzuki. I already compared you to a chihuahua.

“As members of the student council, meant to be role models, focus on dialogue, not verbal attacks. Even if the other person is considered an enemy. Humans don’t speak just to argue.”

Suddenly, I overheard whispers from a nearby table, talking about us.

“The student council president and vice president are having some serious talk, though I don’t really get it.”

“It’s one of those lunch meetings, right? The student council’s got it tough.”

“Ever since the top spots of the council and the club alliance switched, they’ve been getting even more attention.”

As the nameless female students said, the student council’s job is no walk in the park.

At Hiiragigaoka Academy, the student council and the club alliance have a longstanding rivalry.

Back when the academy was founded, the council and the union often clashed over budgets, clubrooms, and all sorts of other issues. Apparently, just the sight of their leaders or officers meeting could spark a brawl. Talk about an energetic era.

Naturally, things don’t escalate to that level anymore.

But that history has become a tradition, passed down from student to student, transforming the council-union rivalry into a kind of cultural festival at the academy.

It’s a rival relationship steeped in historical entertainment value.

Like the Yomiuri Giants and the Hanshin Tigers, Gunma and Tochigi, or Kinoko vs. Takenoko.

At official events where the council and union face off—like the monthly regular meetings or the biannual budget negotiations—general students cheer and make a big fuss over their debates.

This traditional rivalry has persisted for decades, but lately, it’s been drawing even more attention than usual.

“’Cause it’s the first time, right? Both the president and the representative are first-years.”

“Are we, like, witnesses to history or something?”

An unprecedented new era has arrived, with both faction leaders being first-years.

Overhearing the whispers clearly directed at us, Uzuki whispers to me.

“It’s been three months since we took office, and people are still talking about it… That’s amazing, President.”

“It’s just a coincidence.”

There’ve been first-year presidents and representatives before. It’s only that the timing aligned this time, and honestly, I’d rather they didn’t make a big deal out of it.

If anyone’s stealing the spotlight, it’s Nishimaru anyway.

“Oh, wait, isn’t that Nishimaru-san over there?”

Following the girls’ gazes, I spot Nishimaru three tables away from ours. Surrounded by her entourage, she’s slowly bringing a piece of chicken to her mouth.

“Whoa, she’s eating oyako-don.”

“You can’t help but stare, right? What’s with that presence?”

“She’s crazy slender, with those captivating eyes, and her voice and way of talking are so unique… Oh, she looked this way!”

Suddenly, Nishimaru’s eyes turn toward us. At this distance, it’s hard to tell if she’s looking at the girls or me, but…

“W-whoa, that’s kinda a scary smile…”

It’s definitely aimed at me.

A composed, chilling smile, like she’s sizing up prey. Ever since we both became leaders, Nishimaru has given me that look whenever we meet.

Is it a checkmate move, or is she instinctively looking down on me? Either way, it doesn’t feel good.

“Sometimes, Nishimaru-san makes these expressions that make you wonder what she’s thinking.”

“That mysterious vibe is what draws you in, right?”

“Everything about her is like a painting… Honestly, I’m rooting for Nishimaru-san over the president.”

The girls’ voices were loud enough to reach me, the student council president, making me wonder if they were deliberately trying to get under my skin.

“…………”

Uzuki’s face showed clear indignation. She was about to turn and scold them, but I stopped her with a glance.

It can’t be helped.

I’m the obvious villain here.

Sharp-eyed, stern-faced, infuriatingly top-notch grades, never showing weakness, and naturally intimidating those around me—an unlikeable student council president. The quintessential cold-blooded villain with glasses.

If this rivalry is seen as entertainment, the narrative demands that the charismatic Nishimaru comes out on top.

That’s right. This is fine. The world is built this way.

This is the path for a “character” like me to walk.

“The president’s kinda stiff, like he’s a bit full of himself.”

“Feels like the glasses-pushing corporate guy trying to crush a small factory.”

“Cold-blooded villain glasses, got it, got it.”

Incredible. My word choice synced perfectly with some random girls. Soulmates, maybe?

While I’m overcome with a strange sense of awe instead of anger, Uzuki, in contrast, has somehow turned bright red and is trembling.

“The president isn’t some corporate glasses guy… He’s the local bank glasses who supports the factory while throwing shade…”

She’s spinning some wild theory. So I do throw shade, huh?

“Calm down, Uzuki. I’m neither corporate glasses nor bank glasses—I’m student council glasses.”

“I can’t take it anymore! You guys…”

“Wait, Uzuki! Breathe! Suu-haa… Gah!”

As Uzuki whipped around, her long hair slapped my face like a flat-handed strike. Her glossy black locks snatched my glasses right off.

“Oh no!”

Uzuki, with impressive reflexes, caught my airborne glasses in an instant.

But the next moment—

Crack.

“Ah.”

A dry snap echoed from Uzuki’s hand.

“…………”

Uzuki’s face drained of color in real-time.

When she slowly opened her hand, what was there could no longer be called glasses.

Guess I can’t push them up anymore.

＊＊＊

The following week, Monday.

“Ah… Good morning.”

“Morning, Uzuki.”

We ran into each other at the school entrance. The moment Uzuki saw me, she averted her gaze awkwardly, hiding her mouth with her scarf.

“Thanks for yesterday.”

“N-no, no! It’s my fault to begin with… I’m so sorry!”

How many times have I heard this apology since last week?

On Friday, after crushing my glasses in the cafeteria, Uzuki practically begged to pay for replacements, nearly prostrating herself.

But making her go that far felt wrong. Uzuki’s a student council comrade and a friend.

My old glasses were due for a change anyway, so I politely declined, but Uzuki insisted it didn’t sit right with her. That’s just how she is.

After some back-and-forth, we settled on her helping me pick new glasses and treating me to lunch.

So yesterday, Sunday, Uzuki and I went to an eyewear shop in the shopping mall.

I asked her to help pick glasses on a whim, but Naka Uzuki doesn’t do half-measures. We ended up deliberating for a solid hour.

And these are the glasses that met Uzuki’s exacting standards.

“Mhm, mhm.”

Uzuki studied my face closely, nodding repeatedly with satisfaction.

“Yeah, those were definitely the right choice. They suit you.”

“Good to know.”

Apparently, Uzuki picked out half-rim square glasses. They’re rectangular with a black frame only on the top. My goofy description aside, it’s not like I’m a glasses enthusiast despite wearing them forever.

“President! Nakau! Morning!”

On our way to the classroom, a girl from our class called out.

“Oh? New glasses, President?”

“Yeah, good eye.”

“The smallest changes are the ones you notice most. Looks good, suits you!”

Uzuki puffed up proudly at the compliment.

Then, I overheard something concerning.

“Those glasses…” “So it’s true, huh?”

Glancing over, I saw two male students at the corridor’s edge, eyeing me and Uzuki with sleazy smirks.

I got a bad feeling. And from experience, these hunches usually hit the mark.

Hiiragigaoka Academy has multiple newspaper clubs.

They’ve traditionally played a role in hyping up the council-union rivalry, often publishing articles about it in print or on SNS.

Among them, the “Nakayoshi Newspaper Club” is notorious for frequently posting morally questionable articles behind the shield of press freedom. Their name is infuriatingly ironic.

They’re known for exaggerated, speculative pieces misinterpreting council or union officers’ words, or including near-stalkerish photos. They’ve been suspended a few times, apparently.

Naturally, many students dislike them, but they’ve always had a cult-like following, surviving without changing their ways. They’re like zombies.

And that Nakayoshi Newspaper Club posted a troublesome article on SNS.

“Student Council President and Vice President on a Daytime Eyewear Store Date!?”

Splashed across the post was a huge photo of me and Uzuki at the glasses shop.

It was unmistakably a shot from yesterday at the mall.

“N-n-n-n-n…”

At her desk, Uzuki’s face turned beet red as she saw the article on her phone, stuttering “n” repeatedly.

Our classmates in Class 1-A surrounded us, all giving wry smiles.

“Here come the dating rumors again.”

“Daytime? People go to glasses shops during the day, don’t they?”

Uzuki and I aren’t just student council colleagues but also classmates, so we’re almost always together at school.

Being in such visible roles, our closeness gets gossiped about constantly.

“You guys were way too careless. Looked like you were having fun, huh?”

“N-n-n… N-no way! I mean, it was fun, President!”

“Calm down, Uzuki.”

“Weren’t the others with you? The other council members?”

“Both of them have been down with the flu since last weekend.”

“Oof, hope they recover soon.”

Besides me and Uzuki, the council includes a secretary and a treasurer.

On weekends, we’d usually hang out as a group of four, but this time, the timing was bad.

“You’ve just fed the UzuMaki Ship fans, haven’t you?”

“For real. The fandom’s gonna go wild again.”

Apparently, there’s a group of students called “UzuMaki Ship fans” who delight in shipping me and Uzuki. They’re always trying to pair us up, or in their minds, we’re already dating. Denying it just looks like we’re shy. Invincible, huh?

This article will likely cement the idea for many students—and especially those fans—that we’re a couple.

“Let’s crush them, President! A club writing such nonsense! I’ll personally toss a Molotov into their clubroom…”

“Uzuki, suu-haa.”

“Suuu, haaaa.”

“What’s that? A spell to calm Nakau?”

“Don’t command me like I’m Siri.”

It works, though. Forced anger management.

Then, the class’s resident straight-talking gal, filing her nails, muttered:

“Y’know, before blaming you two for being careless, isn’t the Nakayoshi Newspaper Club kinda crossing the line here?”

Fair point. The others chimed in, as if snapping awake.

“Yeah, Gal-ko’s right. This is totally private.”

“It says ‘photo provided,’ but really? Bet one of their members was stalking.”

“They’ve been quiet lately, but this is too far. Shouldn’t we formally protest?”

Honestly, I agree, and part of me wants to shut the club down like Uzuki suggested.

But despite my feelings, I know that’s not feasible in the bigger picture.

“Regulating speech or expression is tricky. Especially with our school’s free-spirited vibe.”

“Free-spirited, sure, but…”

“This article definitely crosses a line, so if they keep this up, we could push for a suspension… but they’re clever. They’ll probably lay low for a bit.”

“Yeah, Nakayoshi’s annoyingly good at that.”

They’ll probably post fluffy stuff next—like animals or cafeteria menus.

They’re pros at balancing tame content with provocative topics, a classic Nakayoshi tactic.

“I’ll draft a statement on the Nakayoshi Newspaper Club before our next regular meeting with the club alliance. That should be acceptable. If you won’t say it, President, I will.”

“Ooh, the vice president doesn’t mess around.”

“Yo, the student council’s number-two mad dog!”

“More like Hiiragigaoka Academy’s demon vice-captain.”

“Stop it. My Toshi-kun isn’t like that. More like Serizawa Kamo, right?”

[T/N: Serizawa Kamo was a samurai that led the most powerful samurai groups that maintained order in Kyoto]

“Oh, it’s on. My Kamo-chi isn’t some oyako-don girl. Come back when you’re ready.”

“Oi, don’t pawn Uzuki off on each other.”

The class’s resident Hijikata-obsessed gal and Kamo-obsessed gal started a pointless argument, pushing the Nakayoshi topic to the side for now.

“Suuuu, haaaaa.”

Ooh… You’ve finally started doing it on your own, huh.

＊＊＊

The words others say, like “You’re so ○○,” don’t just carry facts—they hide a wish for you to be that way.

As a kid, I didn’t realize this and took those words as pure truth, gratefully absorbing the “○○” like some kind of buff.

“Makita-kun is such a serious, good kid, isn’t he?”

So I became a serious, good kid.

“Everyone, take after Makita-kun.”

So I became someone to emulate, a model example.

“Makita-kun doesn’t seem like he’d do anything bad, right?”

So I stopped doing bad things and refused to forgive those who did.

A casual remark from someone during homeroom, right after starting fifth grade.

“Class president? It’s gotta be Makita, right?”

Suddenly, I had a gut feeling, like a premonition.

If I accepted this, I’d be stuck carrying that “character” for the rest of my life—or so it felt.

But bathed in the expectant gazes of my classmates and teacher—probably without any malice—I ended up embracing it.

Looking back, that was the moment I started conforming.

“It really helps that you say the things everyone else hesitates to.”

So I kept speaking out, staying true to what was right, even if it made someone dislike me or mock me behind my back.

“Makita, you’d look good in glasses, wouldn’t you?”

So I started wearing glasses. I thought it made my character easier to understand.

“Run for student council president. The only one who can stand up to Nishimaru is Higashiguchi.”

I knew that standing on the opposite side of Nishimaru would make me the villain in the academy’s eyes.

But that, too, fit my “character.”

So I became the student council president.

To keep society running, I conformed to this character, even though I didn’t know who I really was.

“That’s about it for today, I guess.”

“Understood.”

In the student council room after school, today’s tasks wrapped up before six. Uzuki closes her laptop with a soft exhale.

Unless it’s a busy period, student council duties aren’t too demanding. As mentioned, the secretary and treasurer were absent, but progress wasn’t an issue.

“Well then, shall we head home, President?”

“Nah, I’m gonna study before I go.”

Uzuki blinks in surprise but quickly catches on.

“The usual study room? Studying after council work—impressive as always, President.”

“It’s just that I can’t focus at home.”

“Is the study room really that good for focusing? That’s intriguing. Maybe I should try it sometime…”

“No, it’s not that great. It’s crowded, and the AC isn’t even that good. As the student council, we should probably work on improving it.”

“Is that so? Then why do you keep going there so often, President?”

“Well, it’s better than home. My childhood friend next door, you see…”

“Ah… I understand.”

Her quick grasp is a relief. As expected of our capable vice president.

Uzuki and I part ways in front of the student council room.

Instead of heading to the study room in the main building, I leave the school behind.

My destination is the old school building, located at the northernmost edge of the academy’s vast grounds.

I check to make sure no one’s around and slip inside quickly.

The old school building, standing since the academy’s founding, is freezing in winter and sweltering in summer. It’s practically a monument, left standing for sentimental reasons. Most students barely know it exists, with reactions like, “Wait, there’s a building like that?” or “Isn’t that some historical landmark?”

Because of that, no one knows about the small study room on the third floor.

It’s about eight tatami mats in size, with only six seats.

That said, I’m pretty much the only one who uses it, so even that feels like too much space. I’ve never seen anyone else here. It’s a completely unknown study room.

That’s exactly why I love it.

A space where no one ever comes. It’s like a secret base.

Here, I can be free.

“Ughhh… So exhausting!”

In this no-talking zone, I let out a loud monologue.

I unbutton my blazer, loosen my tie, stretch out my arms and legs, and spin around in the swivel chair.

I shamelessly display a side of myself that the cold, villainous glasses-wearing president would never show.

I can only do this because no one else is here.

No matter where I am in the academy, I’m always exposed to the gazes of others as the “uptight student council president” or “Nishimaru Nanna’s rival.” To maintain that role, I can’t show even the slightest crack, constantly putting up a front.

The student council president of the prestigious Hiiragigaoka Academy. A first-year who took the role.

A daily life spent wearing the “character” of the cold, villainous glasses-wearing president.

In the midst of that school life, this is the only place where I can shed that character and be my true self.

This study room is that place.

No matter how much I clean, it’s always dusty. The AC is old, and drafts slip through the gaps. Any student with common sense would choose the spacious, clean study room in the main building.

But no matter how subpar the conditions, to me, this is the most important place in the world.

I don’t want to carry this character—or my exhausted mental state—home with me.

So even just an hour here, reading, lost in thought, or imagining beating up someone I don’t like in my head, is enough.

Doing so lets the tension drain away.

It’s not like I’m dissatisfied with being seen as the cold, villainous glasses-wearing president. I don’t envy Nishimaru Nanna’s dazzling charisma.

But as a human being, I need this kind of time.

“Good work today, President.”

I mutter to myself, as if reassuring my own heart, and take a sip of canned coffee.

Thanks to an intrusive article by the Nakayoshi Newspaper Club, I spent the whole day walking beside Uzuki, exposed to curious stares, questioned about the truth at every turn, and utterly drained.

Without this mental recharge time in the study room, I’d be screaming by now.

“So, what should I do today?”

As I mutter and take off my glasses—that’s when it happens.

A faint sound, kyu kyu, comes from beyond the door, the sound of shoes rubbing against the linoleum hallway. It grows louder little by little.

It’s rare for anyone to pass by at this hour. It’s still too early for the security guard’s rounds.

The footsteps stop in front of the study room, and the creaky sound of the poorly fitted door opening echoes.

At that moment, I feel a pang of disappointment, thinking I’ve finally been found out.

I sit properly in the chair, put my glasses back on, tighten my tie, and button up my blazer.

It’s selfish, but as someone who’s treated this rundown study room as a secret base, it’s a bitter pill to swallow. My paradise is crumbling. Paradise lost.

Still, I’m curious about who’s come. As the “native” here, I can’t help but think, “Well done finding this hidden gem.”

That said, staring would be rude. They’re probably here to study, too.

Let’s both make the most of our private time, I think, mentally high-fiving this unknown he or she.

“…?”

But strangely, the visitor sits in the seat right next to mine.

You know those people who sit right next to you in an empty restaurant or train? How do you feel about them?

I’m the type who minds it a lot. If it were a girl, my heart might skip a beat, but sadly, it’s usually older guys who do this. So, I can’t help but feel annoyed. I mean, an older guy doesn’t exactly make my heart race.

That exact situation is happening in my paradise. But older guys don’t come to study rooms.

So who could it be?

I need to check, or I won’t feel at ease. I stand up, pretending to head to the bathroom, and sneak a glance at the seat next to me.

“…Huh?”

A sound escapes my lips before I can stop it.

She reacts to my voice, slightly turning her head and giving me a sidelong glance.

She’s smiling, almost mischievously.

Our eyes meet for just a moment. I look away as if fleeing and bolt out of the study room.

“…What? Why? Seriously, why?”

I can’t help but mutter to myself repeatedly—it’s only natural.

Nishimaru Nanna. The person sitting there was Nishimaru Nanna.

“Hey, Higashiguchi-kun.” “Those glasses really suit you.”

Her words from our encounter last weekend come back to me as if they were spoken yesterday. That distinctive voice, slow and deliberate, and that mischievous smile—Nishimaru’s mannerisms stick in my brain whether I like it or not.

The head of the club alliance. The student council’s sworn enemy.

And now, that person I don’t even want to talk to is sitting next to me, separated only by a partition.

“…………”

I buy another canned coffee from the vending machine and return to the study room, but Nishimaru is still there. It wasn’t a daydream.

Is she plotting something? That’s the first thing I suspect.

Even if, by some stretch, she knew about the old building’s study room, there’s no reason for her to sit right next to me.

On the other hand, it’s hard to believe she’s just some weirdo with the same mindset as those clingy older guys.

Which means her sitting next to me in the old building’s study room has to have some kind of purpose.

The leaders of two opposing organizations, alone in an empty room, side by side.

Is she holding some kind of blackmail material?

Or maybe trying to recruit me to the club alliance?

Could it be—a honey trap?

I can never read Nishimaru’s intentions, but this situation is truly, utterly baffling.

What is going on today, seriously?

As I quietly lose my composure, it happens.

From the gap under the partition separating my seat from Nishimaru’s, a single sheet of loose-leaf paper slides toward me.

Written on it is…

‘Are you dating the vice president?’

“……?”

The question is so far out of left field that my mind goes blank.

Thanks to that post, I’ve been asked this question countless times today, everywhere I went. But to hear it from her, in this place?

And why write it down?

Oh, right—this is a no-talking zone. There’s even a sign posted, but since I’m always alone here, I never think about it. So Nishimaru’s at least trying to follow the rules here.

Still, I ignore it.

I don’t know what her goal is, but I can’t rule out that she’s trying to get some kind of leverage from this exchange. It’s not like her, but maybe she’s planning to twist my response and use it against the student council in a public setting, like a general meeting.

Or maybe she’s just messing with me for fun. That’d be infuriating in its own way.

Either way, answering won’t do me any good.

So I’ll ignore her. I’ll pretend she’s not there and enjoy my study room time.

“…Hm?”

The loose-leaf paper gets pulled back, but then…

‘Hey, is that article true? Are you dating?’

It comes back with that written on it, so I ignore it again.

She’ll give up and leave eventually. That’s what I figure.

‘Hey, come on, what’s the deal?’

‘Did you go on a glasses shop date?’

‘Tell me, Higashiguchi-kun.’

But Nishimaru is way more persistent than I expected.

She keeps pulling the paper back, writing new questions, and sliding it over. Her handwriting is annoyingly neat, which just makes it more irritating.

Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask me out loud? Why is she bothering to write everything?

“…?”

Come to think of it, why did she come to this study room and start asking me questions through notes?

She could’ve just barged into the classroom or the student council room and asked me directly. That’d probably make Uzuki slip up more easily, too.

What’s the point of going through all this trouble?

And more importantly—how did she even know I was in the old building’s study room?

Exhausted from overthinking and worn down by Nishimaru’s persistence, I finally decide to respond.

I keep it as short as possible, sticking to the facts.

‘Not dating.’

As soon as I slide the paper back, I hear a sound from the next seat, like a dog’s claws scrambling across a floor. She’s scribbling with her mechanical pencil at a furious pace.

The loose-leaf comes back at lightning speed.

‘Then what about the glasses shop date?’

I don’t know what she’s after, but I realize this won’t end until she’s satisfied. Resigned, I start answering earnestly.

‘It’s true that I went to the glasses shop with Uzuki, but it wasn’t a date.’

‘You went there alone together, didn’t you?’

‘I wouldn’t call shopping with a friend a date.’

‘Do you often go out together?’

‘This was the first time I went out with Uzuki.’

While she fires off questions without pause, I revise my responses multiple times, checking for any openings. How long is this exchange going to drag on? Can’t we just talk normally outside already?

‘Did Nakau-chan pick out those new glasses?’

Suddenly, a question that feels slightly off-topic.

Who picked out the glasses shouldn’t matter at all.

And how does she even know about the glasses I got today? Nishimaru and I haven’t even properly faced each other today.

‘Uzuki picked them, but what’s the point of that question?’

For the first time, I add a slightly provocative jab. This back-and-forth through notes has gone on long enough, so I let a hint of irritation show.

Don!

Suddenly, a loud bang and vibration, like a fist slamming the desk, come from the next seat. I can’t help but flinch.

And then, a voice.

“Huff… huff…”

Wait, is she angry? Is she desperately trying to calm herself down?

Nishimaru Nanna, known for her almost mystical composure, never showing emotional ups and downs on her face. No one’s ever seen her angry.

And yet, right now, she’s fuming next to me.

Why? What triggered this?

My head’s been sprouting question marks nonstop.

‘You’re not dating Nakau-chan?’

A question that feels like a return to square one.

The handwriting seems larger and more deliberate than the others.

‘Not dating.’

I write my response in equally large letters.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘You’re not lying?’

‘Not lying.’

As we inexplicably keep this rally going, I hear a soft “phew” from her side.

With the partition between us, I can’t see what kind of face Nishimaru’s making or how she’s been handling this exchange.

But for some reason, that small sigh feels like one of relief.

I hear the sound of paper being folded, a mechanical pencil being put back in a pencil case, those items being stuffed into a backpack, and the zipper closing. Finally, I sense her getting up from her seat.

She seems satisfied. Without a single word, Nishimaru leaves the study room.

Hearing her footsteps fade, I let out a heartfelt sigh.

My whole body must’ve been tense from the bizarre atmosphere, because as I relax, I feel muscle aches in places I’ve never even noticed before.

“What was that…?”

The moment I mutter that to myself in the empty study room, breaking the no-talking rule—

Nishimaru’s footsteps stop.

Then, with a kyu kyu, they start coming back toward me.

The study room door opens again. For some reason, Nishimaru sits back down in the seat next to mine.

The sound of her backpack zipper opening, something being taken out, a mechanical pencil being pulled from a pencil case, and folded paper being opened.

It’s like a reverse playback of what just happened, coming from the seat next to me.

And then, once again, a single sheet of loose-leaf slides through the gap under the partition.

Just one sentence is written on it.

‘By the way, are you dating anyone?’

When I glance at the next seat, Nishimaru’s ears are oddly red.