Lunch at Hakone Onsen Ryokan was served à la carte.
Each guest's menu matched the grade of their room, a delicate system that made even lunch feel like a ceremony. Guests could order anything they liked—so long as they didn't waste it too extravagantly.
As the most renowned hot-spring resort in the whole of Japan, the ryokan's cuisine was naturally top-tier.
Even so, the teachers of Sobu High had gone above and beyond, reserving high-end rooms for students and staff alike.
For most students, this first lunch felt almost impossibly luxurious.
Haruto, however, lost interest the moment he opened the menu.
The place prided itself on atmosphere—quiet tatami halls, steam drifting through paper windows, the faint perfume of hinoki wood—and its cuisine followed the same elegant philosophy.
Sushi, sashimi, tempura, all artfully arranged like museum exhibits. Other dishes existed too, but the selection was painfully small.
He sighed.
"Yeah… better not ruin my appetite."
He'd grown used to light flavors, but being someone who enjoy scalding spicy foods, light flavors is not really for him. Habit, after all, didn't answer to reason.
Haruto was about to skip lunch entirely and go explore the scenery outside when a sudden commotion rippled through the restaurant.
The student seated nearest the sliding doors craned his neck toward the hallway.
"Hey—those uniforms… are those from Shuchiin?!"
The name alone drew attention like a spark in dry grass. Heads turned. Conversations halted. Even students sitting deeper inside the room began murmuring.
Sobu High's students weren't strangers to the four great academies; they'd met Shuchiin students before at various cross-school events.
They all understood what that name meant.
Shuchiin Academy—the legendary aristocratic private school.
Even among elites, that name carried undeniable weight.
The students nearest the door quickly retreated to their seats, sitting a little straighter, faces composed. Pride—the kind only high-schoolers possessed—flickered to life. Sobu might not match Shuchiin's pedigree, but they weren't about to let those nobles see them flustered.
Moments later, a small group of Shuchiin students stepped inside.
Their posture was perfect. Every movement seemed measured and refined.
They glanced around, surprised to find the restaurant already occupied, but didn't show it. In pairs and trios they found empty tables, opened their menus, and pretended not to notice the Sobu students across the room.
Of course, they noticed. Everyone noticed.
Man, even the way they sit looks expensive… one Sobu student thought bitterly.
It was the twenty-first century, yet the difference between commoner and noble still felt like two different species. The Shuchiin kids weren't eccentric or haughty like in light novels—they were calm, confident, and perfectly educated.
They had more resources, more polish, more… everything.
Just as Soubu's students were silently vowing not to lose in dignity, an unexpected exclamation cut through the air.
"It's Haruto-sama!"
Every head turned—this time toward the Shuchiin side.
Several girls in the crimson uniforms of Shuchiin Academy had suddenly stood up, eyes sparkling.
"Haruto-sama! It's been ages!"
"Haruto-sama, everyone at Shuchiin still talks about you!"
"Vice President Haruto, we've missed you!"
They bowed lightly, their voices bubbling with excitement that no amount of etiquette could hide.
For a moment, the entire restaurant froze.
The Sobu students blinked, processing what they'd just heard. Then, realization dawned.
Wait—Haruto? Our Haruto?
Right. Their "legendary classmate" had once spent a semester at Shuchiin as an exchange student.
They'd heard stories—how he'd made waves even among the nobility—but seeing it in person was something else entirely.
The young ladies of Shuchiin were practically beaming at him.
Any trace of jealousy vanished from the Sobu students' faces. Instead, they sat taller, pride swelling in their chests.
If even Shuchiin's upper crust admired their Haruto, then Sobu had won something today.
Collective pride easily overpowered personal envy.
Haruto, meanwhile, smiled politely as he replied to each greeting.
His aura—gentle, unhurried, unmistakably confident—drew more and more attention. Soon, the girls who'd noticed him first were joined by others, whispering, laughing softly, even asking if they could take a photo with the "legendary former vice president."
The situation was spiraling fast.
"Haruto-kun!"
That voice—bright, full of chaotic energy—cut through the crowd like a flashbang.
Chika Fujiwara bounded forward, practically glowing.
"There you are! I knew it was you!"
Haruto turned to her, keeping the same gentle smile.
"Secretary Fujiwara. Long time no see."
The smile hid a sigh.
Of course she's here… For world peace, I may need to deploy countermeasures.
"Long time no see!" Chika beamed, oblivious. "Did you also come to Kanagawa for the graduation camp?"
"Ah, what a coincidence," Haruto said smoothly.
"Right? It's so great! Now we can spend time together again!"
Gasps rippled through the surrounding Shuchiin students
Kaguya-sama… chose the camp location herself, didn't she? And Haruto-sama paid part of the cost… Wait. Don't tell me…?
Their eyes met in silent, scandalized understanding.
That's right—it had to be that one. The rumored pairing. Kaguya-sama × Haruto-sama. Every noble instinct in the room whispered that destiny itself was unfolding before them.
And then, the air changed.
Click—click—click.
The soft rhythm of heels on polished wood echoed across the room.
All eyes turned as Shinomiya Kaguya entered—poised, radiant, her long hair tied back in a graceful ribbon. Every step she took seemed choreographed by fate itself. She looked less like a high-school girl and more like an actress stepping into her spotlight.
"Kaguya-sama…" someone whispered.
She stopped before Haruto, tilting her head slightly. "Haruto, long time no see. What a coincidence."
Her faint smile was devastating. Even Fujiwara went silent for a heartbeat.
Coincidence, my foot, thought every student watching.
Almost instinctively, the Shuchiin students shuffled backward, giving the two their space—half out of respect, half out of sheer awe.
It was like watching royalty perform a waltz no one else could hear.
"Well, yes," Haruto said, playing along. "What a coincidence. Thank you, Kaguya-san, for choosing Kanagawa as our camp site…"
Fujiwara, who had never once read a room in her life, clapped her hands.
"Oh! So you picked Kanagawa, Kaguya-chan! I thought it was because you wanted to spend time with Haruto-kun!"
The room imploded.
Kaguya froze. For a second, the mask of calm grace almost cracked. Her hand remained on her cheek—a physical reminder to stay composed. If she let go now, her face would be redder than a ripe tomato.
Fujiwara's words had basically been a confession on her behalf.
Before anyone could react further, one brave soul stood up.
"Sorry to interrupt—but I have something urgent to discuss with Secretary Fujiwara."
It was Ishigami Yuu.
He strode up, grabbed Fujiwara by the arm, clamped a hand over her mouth, and started dragging her out of the line of fire.
Anyone else would've hesitated to step into a scene like this. But not Ishigami. The man was built of rebar and raw determination—the kind who'd charge into hell itself to save a friend from self-destruction.
As Fujiwara's muffled protests faded down the hallway, Haruto caught Ishigami's movement out of the corner of his eye and smirked.
And that, he thought, is the real hero right there.