What an interesting turn of events, Anri Hitomi thought, concealing her amused smile with LV1 acting skills.
She was genuinely curious to see how Kuroba Akira would handle the fallout. For now, she decided to play along with his bit. Smiling sweetly, she reached out and patted Akira on the head.
"Hehe, good boy. I made lots of tasty treats just for you~"
The class erupted into an even greater shock.
Did the class rep just openly admit to keeping a classmate as her personal pet?!
The sweet, approachable school idol Anri Hitomi is actually a sadistic queen?!
This was headline material for the campus gossip columns.
The newspaper club was probably already sniffing its way over.
But Akira wasn't brain-dead—he'd already prepared his follow-up. That spur-of-the-moment line had been said with a purpose. Now that the new bomb had gone off and buried the shockwave from the last one, he just needed to walk it back smoothly and defuse the situation entirely.
So, brushing aside Anri's hand, Akira raised both palms and spoke in a light, casual tone.
"Kidding, of course. This bento isn't just for me—Class Rep made it for the Literature Club members. I mean, look at the size—no way that's meant for one person, right?"
A three-tiered deluxe bento box. If she'd made something like that for just one person, it'd be as good as a confession—like saying "The moon is beautiful tonight," but in lunch form. It would unmistakably carry romantic intent.
But if it was meant to be shared among "everyone," then making a big batch like that wasn't strange at all.
And that explanation lined up perfectly with the kind of person Anri Hitomi was known to be: someone thoughtful, who always had others in mind.
At this point, some of the students remembered that she was also the Literature Club's president. Realization dawned across the room.
All Akira had to do was lump himself in with "everyone," and he'd successfully dodge the target painted on his back.
"And I just happened to join the Literature Club too, so I got lucky and got included. Isn't that right, Class Rep?"
What a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Someone give me a medal—master of crisis control right here!
So, please, Class Rep, I'm begging you—don't turn this into a damn romcom scene in front of the entire class!
Anri kept her smile, but there was a new glint of appreciation in her eyes.
As expected of Kuroba-kun… slippery. Or should I say, smooth.
She'd suspected it yesterday during their little "deal," but it was now clear as day—Akira had life experience far beyond what most high schoolers could fake.
Just like her.
Inwardly amused, Anri played along cheerfully.
"That's right. Kuroba-kun is our newest Literature Club member. I personally invited him."
"Oh, I see… so Kuroba-kun joined the Literature Club, huh."
Fujiyoshi Michio nodded, finally understanding. The other students seemed to reach the same conclusion and visibly relaxed.
But then, like a ripple on still water, their gazes drifted—not toward Akira anymore, but toward another boy in the class.
The misunderstanding might have been cleared up, but the trouble was far from over.
Akira had worked in cutthroat corporate offices in his past life. Even if he loathed socializing, he'd been forced to learn the basics of reading the room—a passive skill he couldn't unlearn.
And the current atmosphere? Still tense.
Which meant something was brewing.
The real trouble's just about to walk in.
Someone was about to lose it upon hearing Akira had joined the Literature Club.
Akira quickly pieced together the logic behind the entire situation.
By all rights, with Anri's popularity, there should've been people lining up to join the Literature Club—even without her asking. Even without her, surely someone at this school would've been interested in literature.
And yet, reality was: nobody joined.
Which could only mean that joining the Literature Club was considered "dangerous." That doing so would make you a target.
So the conclusion was obvious—this membership shortage had been engineered.
And not to attack the Literature Club itself… but Anri Hitomi.
Someone was deliberately preventing people from joining—probably not out of malice or bullying, but something far simpler.
Someone was in love with Anri Hitomi.
After all, she was beautiful, smart, kind. Plenty of guys had to be nursing crushes on her. And among them, there was bound to be one who thought he had a real shot at dating her.
So he blocked others from joining—so he could be the first one in.
Proximity equals opportunity. Getting into the same club would give him a huge lead over the competition. Once they were alone, day after day, he could slowly win her over. Three years of high school… how could I not win her heart?
That was probably how he saw it.
But Anri hadn't accepted him. And now things were stuck—he didn't join the club, and he made sure no one else did either. Hence, the staffing crisis.
Anri had probably blamed herself for the lack of interest and decided to take matters into her own hands—reaching out to someone like Akira.
And now, that someone who'd been lying low was finally on the move.
A boy seated near the center of the classroom slapped his desk and stood, striding toward Akira's corner with a stern look on his face.
It was obvious—he was here to pick a fight.
Akira recognized him. He was part of the same popular clique as Anri, one of the loudest, most active boys in class.
You could map the "heat zones" of the classroom by just watching during breaks. Akira's corner was like a quarantine zone—dead quiet. Other cliques were like planets circling stars, evenly spaced around the room. But the epicenter of the energy was always right behind Anri—the center of the classroom.
That's where the "in crowd" hung out—guys and girls laughing loudly, tossing around useless filler phrases like "Ehh~ maji?" "Red bean paste?" "Omoshiroi~!" but somehow always drawing laughter, filling the class with that sweet, easy-going buzz.
And this guy—he was at the very center of it.
It was probably because he had that kind of influence that he was able to suppress people from joining the Literature Club.
He probably said something like, "I've got my eye on Anri. Hands off." So the others in class—knowing he liked her—chose not to join, just to avoid stirring the pot.
The boy had bleached yellow hair and a decently handsome face. The type who looked like he knew how to make girls laugh. A bright, sunny extrovert.
Akira didn't remember his name, but he did remember his face.
Back when Anri ran for class rep, he'd been the first to vote for her—loudly cheering her on and canvassing classmates for votes. In the end, of course, she won in a landslide. Akira didn't think the guy's efforts made a difference, but still.
And yesterday, when Kobayakawa-sensei asked everyone to applaud Akira, this guy had immediately followed Anri's lead, even whistling and hollering—not out of genuine support, but obviously trying to impress her.
So, in Akira's mind, he labeled the guy with crystal clarity:
Class Rep's number one bootlicker.
I might've called myself a dog… but you? You're the real one.