Sobu High, the student council office.
The hour hand of the clock had just swept past five, and the lingering glow of the setting sun coated everything in the room with a layer of indolent honey gold.
Iroha Isshiki was standing in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the office, tidying her carefully trimmed shoulder-length brown hair.
She tucked a disobedient lock behind her ear and gave the youthful, dazzling girl in the mirror, eyes glinting with sly mischief, the "little devil" smile she had practiced countless times, the kind precisely calibrated to trigger the protective instincts of the opposite sex.
"Done!"
Iroha turned around with satisfaction and, for the two student council officers on the sofa watching her with adoring eyes, smugly jangled the freshly acquired ring of keys in her hand.
The top of one key was hastily marked with a red label that read, "All-School Facilities, Master."
"As expected of the president! You actually got the legendary master key out of the head teacher, who's famous for being a stickler immune to every kind of persuasion!" said one boy, glasses-clad and rather earnest-looking, in genuine admiration.
"Right, right! With this, we'll have so many more venue options for activities from now on!" the other short-haired girl chimed in excitedly.
Listening to her subordinates' flattery, that "everything is under my control" pride surfaced on Iroha's small face.
She enjoyed this feeling, enjoyed the moment of using her own unique "charm" and "skill" to deftly bypass tedious rules and harvest the admiration of others.
In her view, this was a talent she had been born with.
"Hehe, I just happened to hear that the head teacher thinks the student council needs more activity space, that's all." Iroha waved a modest hand.
In truth, her tail had long since started wagging.
Dealing with a serious-faced middle-aged man like the head teacher, the tactic was simple.
You only had to display, at exactly the right moment, just the right note of "responsibility and trouble," paired with a few tears brimming with "grievance and helplessness," throw in a little gentle wheedling, and the whole thing was easy to wrap up.
In her view, the entire world, especially the small society of a school, was essentially a network composed of complex interpersonal relationships.
So long as you could pinpoint the key nodes in the network and use the most suitable "key" to open them, whether by wheedling, playing weak, trading favors, or sowing discord, then there was nothing that couldn't be accomplished.
Rules were dead. People were alive.
And she, Iroha Isshiki, was best at dealing with "people."
But her ambitions stretched far beyond this.
A measly student council president, a "big name" who could call the wind and rain on campus, these titles were nothing more than a nice line on her résumé to her, a stepping stone for climbing higher rungs in the future.
What she truly craved was the ultimate resource that would solve everything in one stroke and let her cross class barriers.
As she thought this.
Iroha's gaze drifted, of its own accord, through the spotless windows of the office, toward the building belonging to the second-years in the distance.
The Service Club.
The "Ice Queen" with the enviable pedigree, perfect looks, and outstanding ability, Yukino Yukinoshita.
And... the "top-tier figure" who, over the past several weeks, had stirred up the entire school and even sent towering waves through the business world outside it: Seiji Fujiwara.
There had once been a time when Hayato Hayama was the top-grade "prey" in her eyes, the "ultimate target" she'd thought, once secured, would let her walk sideways through the school.
But now, putting Hayato side by side with Seiji Fujiwara, the former's little school halo built on family and looks instantly faded into the absurdity of kindergarteners playing house.
What Seiji Fujiwara represented was overwhelming, crushing power.
Hmph, what's that bit of authority the Service Club has?
Iroha calculated to herself, the corner of her mouth curling into an even slier arc, like a young fox who had just spotted apex prey.
Seiji Fujiwara... what he wields is a power that goes far beyond this campus and can shape the real world.
As long as I can hang on to that thigh, never mind a measly student council. The whole of Sobu High, even my entire future life, will be smooth sailing!
The thought sent her blood running slightly hot with excitement.
It was far more thrilling than winning a student council election or wheedling a key out of the head teacher.
She immediately activated the network of personal connections she had been cultivating for years.
A few phone calls, a few seemingly casual LINE messages, and through several "friends" who were on good terms with second-year seniors, on the pretext of "just being curious about the gorgeous new transfer guy and wanting to know what kind of girls he liked," she easily pieced together Seiji Fujiwara's recent campus movements.
The information came back fast, pointing to a scenario that quickened her pulse.
Seiji Fujiwara and Yukino Yukinoshita had lately taken to spending time alone after school on the rooftop on the top floor of the school building.
"Alone on the rooftop?" Iroha chewed on the information, an "I see how it is" smile spreading across her face.
A man and a woman, alone, the rooftop, dusk.
In the brain of an ordinary high school girl, those few keywords could practically auto-generate a whole script bristling with dramatic conflict.
The perfect breeding ground for secrets, conflicts, and damning leverage to be left behind!
A perfect plan rapidly took shape inside her quick-running little head.
She would personally lift the mysterious veil over the school's most attention-grabbing "golden couple" and seize hold of the unspeakable secret between them.
By that time, whether it was the always-aloof Yukino Yukinoshita or the unfathomable Seiji Fujiwara, both would become pieces she could move at will.
She had even already prepared her opening line for the negotiation: "Fujiwara-sensei, it's not that I want to threaten you. I just thought... maybe I could be of some small help?"
After school.
She didn't go to the café with her friends as usual. Instead, using her newly acquired master key, she silently slipped ahead of time into the stairwell leading up to the rooftop.
Iroha carefully scouted the layout, and finally, behind the metal water tank on one side of the rooftop, she found a peeping blind spot where she absolutely would not be discovered.
She crouched down, hiding her petite body completely in the massive shadow, leaving only a pair of eyes glittering with excitement and calculation, and waited with her heart pounding.
...
Wind howled across the rooftop, swirling a few withered leaves into spiraling patterns over the empty concrete.
The heavy iron door leading up to the rooftop creaked as it was pushed open from outside, the friction breaking the stillness of the place.
Crouched behind the water tank, Iroha instantly held her breath and curled her body tighter. At the same time she excitedly, quietly raised her phone, opened the recording function, and poked the camera lens out through the gap by the water tank.
They were here!
Her prey, right on schedule, were stepping into her preset trap.
Two figures walked in, one in front of the other.
The one in front was Seiji Fujiwara.
Today he wore only a finely made white dress shirt and well-cut black slacks, no tie, the cuffs of his shirt casually rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms with clean lines that hinted at strength.
Both hands tucked into his pockets, his strides unhurried, that faint, amused smile on his face.
Following behind him was Yukino Yukinoshita.
Yukino was still in the Sobu High uniform.
A spotless white shirt, a meticulously tied red ribbon, and that dark pleated skirt that set off her slender, straight legs to even greater perfection.
Her spine was held ramrod straight, her steps as still as a phantom, but on that beautiful face, normally as cold as ice, there was only an emotionless numbness.
Iroha's sharp instincts caught it instantly.
So they really are at odds with each other? Or is it... she's being coerced?
She thought excitedly. Looking at how out of it Yukinoshita-senpai seems, she must have suffered some unimaginable wrong.
Good. The more she suffers, the more valuable my leverage becomes!
In her view, this was clearly a scene of a wealthy young rake forcing himself on a girl from a respectable family.
Seiji Fujiwara was forceful and overbearing, Yukino Yukinoshita was proud and unwilling to bow, and so within this coercive relationship, she was displaying the cold front of nonviolent noncooperation.
And this "conflict" and "coercion" was exactly the "weakness" and "entry point" she could exploit.
Seiji walked to the center of the rooftop and, without changing his expression, swept a glance toward where the water tank stood.
A flicker of amusement passed through his eyes.
He stopped, then turned to face Yukino, who had followed him.
He didn't speak. He simply looked her over slowly, from head to toe, the way one might appraise an expensive work of art.
Yukino came to a halt before him, her lashes lowered slightly, saying nothing, like a lifeless statue.
"Good. Today's wind speed and lighting are both suitable." Seiji finally spoke, his voice flat but carrying an unquestionable note of command. "Take off your clothes."
Take... take off her clothes?!
Hidden in the shadows, Iroha heard that line and her eyes flew wide. Her heart almost leapt into her throat.
She had to fight not to scream out loud!
She had imagined many possible explosive scenarios, but she hadn't expected it to be so direct!
So crude! So thrilling!
I have to record this!
Iroha's fingers trembled slightly with excitement, but she still pressed the record button on her phone in a death grip, terrified of missing a single frame. The lens locked firmly onto the two figures at the center of the rooftop.
This was decisive evidence!
The kind of "leverage" that could utterly ruin the proud Ice Queen's reputation!
With this in hand, wouldn't Seiji Fujiwara be hers to mold as she pleased?
That arrogant man, in order to safeguard Yukino Yukinoshita's good name, would surely be willing to pay an enormous price to her, the only "person in the know"!
However, the scene that played out next caused Iroha's brain, racing at top speed in her excitement, to briefly hang.
In the face of such a humiliating command, Yukino Yukinoshita didn't show the slightest resistance, anger, or even a sliver of hesitation.
She simply answered calmly, "Yes."
Then, like a robot executing a programmed routine, she lifted her slender hand and began to undo the red ribbon at her chest.
The ribbon, the first button of the shirt, the second...
Yukino's movements were steady and fluid, every detail flawless, as though she weren't undressing in a public place but completing the most ordinary of daily tasks.
Iroha's breathing quickened at the sight before her.
Her mouth went dry as she stared fixedly at her phone screen, watching the white fabric being slowly drawn aside, revealing the delicate curves of Yukinoshita-senpai wrapped in pure white underwear.
Next came the skirt.
The zipper was drawn down, the hem slid smoothly to the floor, revealing those long, perfectly proportioned legs sheathed in black over-the-knee socks.
Throughout the entire process, Yukino Yukinoshita's expression did not change in the slightest.
Still that same icy numbness.
This gave Iroha a faint sense of dissonance, but the wrongness was quickly washed away by the euphoria of the "fruit of victory" that was almost in her grasp.
She had already begun rehearsing the upcoming plotline in her head with delight.
She herself, taking this video, walking up to Seiji Fujiwara, and in a tone of feigned innocence laden with suggestion, presenting him with a few "small requests."
For instance, having him use his power to help her completely take control of the student council, or even... becoming his "special assistant," and from there entering the upper-class world she had dreamed of.
Iroha was certain that to protect the reputation of the Yukinoshita family, Seiji Fujiwara would agree to all her terms.
While she was still lost in this fantasy, the "stripping" on the rooftop had reached its final step.
The black over-the-knee socks were drawn down with an elegant motion, and the last two pieces of intimate clothing were also slowly removed by Yukino with the same calm, completely unembarrassed gesture, then folded with impeccable neatness and placed on a clean patch of ground to one side.
In the end, Yukino Yukinoshita, who in the hearts of every student in the school was sacred and untouchable like a flower on an unreachable peak, like an Ice Queen goddess, stood there entirely bare on the evening rooftop.
A breeze blew past, lifting her sleek black hair.
It also raised a faint scattering of goosebumps across that snow-pale, almost unreal body of hers.
Iroha felt her throat dry up. She gripped her phone in a death clutch, feeling as if she now held a weapon capable of shaking the entire school, even of overturning her own life.
The fruit of victory was within reach.
The lens was aimed. Decisive evidence was being recorded.
Iroha adjusted the angle of her phone, preparing to preserve this historic moment from the clearest angle possible.
She had even already thought it through. In a moment, she would deliberately zoom the lens in to capture the humiliation, resentment, or despair on Yukino Yukinoshita's face.
That kind of expression was the most valuable, most cutting part of any piece of "leverage."
But when she focused her lens on Yukino's face through the camera, none of what she had anticipated came to pass.
No humiliation, no anger, no tears, not even... shyness.
Yukino Yukinoshita's face was still as placid as a numb mask.
Those eyes had no focus. They simply gazed calmly at the magnificent city skyline ahead, dyed gold and red by the setting sun, as though all the noise, humiliation, and filth of this world had nothing to do with her.
This... what on earth was going on?
Iroha froze for a moment.
Why wasn't she crying? Why wasn't she resisting? Why was it... that expression?
A girl forced to strip naked in front of a man, how could she possibly wear an expression so utterly unmoved?
She felt the "leverage" in her hands, that video capable of inflicting social death on any normal girl, suddenly losing its edge in the face of Yukino's detached expression.
Its threat value was depreciating rapidly, in a strange way.
And on the other side, Seiji Fujiwara's next move only threw Iroha into greater confusion.
He didn't, as Iroha had imagined, immediately make some violating move on Yukino.
He simply walked a slow circle around her, like the most discerning gourmet appraising a top-tier dish. Then he stopped in front of her and reached out a hand.
Seiji's fingers traced lightly along her elegant collarbone, his voice carrying a thread of teasing amusement, as if coaxing a noble pet cat. "Tsk, tsk, look here, Yukino... a single gust of wind, and you've raised so many little goosebumps."
"Are you telling me you feel cold? Or... is it that you're anticipating something?"
Yukino remained silent and made no reply, as though it weren't her own body being commented on, simply allowing his fingers to wander across her smooth skin.
Seiji's fingers slid down along her arm, lightly pinching her forearm. He shook his head and said in a tone of slightly exaggerated disappointment, "Still so tense. What, you've been letting your mind wander again while I was away?"
"My apologies." Yukino finally spoke, her voice flat without a single inflection, as though reporting a workplace error. "I will adjust my state."
"Adjust your state?"
Seiji let out a soft laugh, as if he'd heard some amusing joke, his palm pressing without ceremony against her flat, taut stomach, taking in the warmth and fine texture of her skin there.
"Pretty words. But the changes in your physique are quite obvious. Have you forgotten, as my possession, who your body belongs to?"
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