Time slipped into late afternoon.
A strange tension hung in the air of Class 1-C—quiet, heavy, almost suffocating.
As soon as the dismissal bell rang, students stood up as usual, but their movements were unnaturally cautious. Every few seconds, their eyes drifted toward the back-row window seat, as though watching for the stirring of a sleeping predator.
Ryuuen Kakeru still sat there, arms crossed, unmoving.
His sharp, predatory gaze swept the room like a lion surveying its territory.
The earlier humiliation in the cafeteria—Sakamoto's unnervingly calm tone, those cutting words that hit him straight in the core—still burned under his skin. Rage and shame hadn't vanished, but they had hardened into something else.
Determination.
Sheer brute force could keep Class 1-C cowed.
But it couldn't shape them into a weapon.
It couldn't build a class capable of challenging Class 1-A.
Capable of challenging that Sakamoto.
Violence was a tool—a last resort. Not the best one.
Sakamoto's words—"scattered sand into a fist"—remained stuck in his mind like both a thorn and a revelation.
During lunch break, he had already taken steps—just a few looks, a few threats—and the more unruly members of the class had quickly quieted down.
It was a start.
But only a start.
He needed authority. He needed strategy.
He needed Class 1-C to become strong.
Ryuuen rose, ignoring the nervous, sidelong glances sent his way, and strode straight out of the classroom.
He had a destination.
Class 1-A.
He needed to see Sakamoto with his own eyes—see how he carried himself on his turf.
What gave him that audacity? That composure?
Was it still that pretentious, polished elegance?
Or did he have another face?
Ryuuen reached the hallway outside Class 1-A and leaned against the window, eyes as sharp as an eagle's as he scanned the classroom interior.
Class 1-A looked exactly like the rumors:
Students neatly organizing notes, chatting softly, radiating an air of polished superiority.
Ryuuen let out a disdainful snort and searched for a certain black-haired figure.
Black-rimmed glasses.
Perfect posture.
That irritating calmness.
But—
He wasn't there.
The window seat was empty.
Front rows, corners, shadows—nothing.
"Tch. Gone already?"
Ryuuen narrowed his eyes.
He slipped away fast.
Too fast.
He swept the room again to be sure, then turned to leave—
"Are you looking for Sakamoto-kun, fellow student?"
The voice was soft. Clear. And carried a poised amusement.
Ryuuen spun around.
A petite silver-haired girl stood several steps away, leaning lightly on a dark wooden cane. Her posture was peaceful, refined, and utterly composed.
She tilted her head slightly, violet eyes meeting his sharp gaze with effortless grace.
An almost invisible smile touched her lips.
*Sakayanagi Arisu.*
Ryuuen's pupils tightened.
Someone from Class 1-A… and she'd read him instantly.
Sakayanagi tapped the tip of her cane lightly against the floor—tok—and spoke in her smooth, gentle voice:
"In just two days, Sakamoto-kun has become quite the campus celebrity. Everything he does tends to draw attention."
She shifted her gaze toward the classroom behind the glass.
"So if a student from another class is peeking into Class 1-A right after school… there's a very high chance they're looking for him. It's hardly a difficult deduction."
Ryuuen clicked his tongue, holding back the irritation of being seen through.
"Heh. Someone from his class would naturally have sharp eyes."
His voice dipped into sarcasm.
"But so what? He's not here. I'm not going to stand around waiting."
He turned to leave.
"Of course," she said lightly, stopping him in his tracks, "there's no need to wait."
His eyes narrowed.
He slowly turned back, voice edged with impatience.
"You've got something else to say?"
Sakayanagi's gaze met his squarely.
Her tone dropped, gentle but probing—like a scalpel wrapped in silk.
"The look in your eyes… isn't the gaze of a fan admiring an idol."
Her smile deepened just a millimeter.
"That hostility—and that desire for conquest… You were planning to set your sights on him, weren't you?"
Ryuuen stiffened.
This woman—she had read him cleanly.
Instantly.
His eyes sharpened dangerously.
"So what if I am? What's it to you? You Class 1-A types gonna defend your golden boy?"
"Defend him?"
Sakayanagi let out a soft laugh.
"Oh no. You misunderstand."
She took one slow step forward, leaning in just slightly—her smile small, but filled with a chilling charm.
"What I mean is…"
Her violet eyes gleamed with a wicked curiosity.
"I also want to target Sakamoto-kun… just a little."
Ryuuen froze.
He hadn't expected that.
Ryuuen stared at the petite silver-haired girl before him, momentarily forgetting to breathe.
A student of Class 1-A.
Sakamoto's classmate.
And she had calmly said she wanted to "target Sakamoto."
For a heartbeat, his mind stalled.
But then—
Hah.
Now *this* was interesting.
So that pretentious guy wasn't universally adored in Class 1-A after all.
Good.
Very good.
The fire of conquest in Ryuuen's chest flared even higher.
"Oh?"
A vicious grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, cruel and amused.
"So even a classmate wants to mess with him? Looks like Sakamoto-kun isn't as perfect as he acts."
Sakayanagi did not react to the provocation.
Her cane tapped lightly once—tok—against the floor.
"This isn't the place to discuss such matters," she said calmly.
"If you're interested, Ryuuen-kun… shall we continue this conversation elsewhere?"
Ryuuen held her gaze for several seconds, eyes narrowing with calculation.
Finally, he gave a sharp nod.
"…Fine. Lead the way."
A faint smile curved Sakayanagi's lips.
She turned and walked down the corridor, cane tapping rhythmically at her side.
Ryuuen followed, his tall frame looming behind her, giving the pair a strangely intimidating air.
Neither of them noticed the stir of movement near the Class 1-A doorway.
A figure slipped silently out from the shadows behind the opened classroom door—half concealed by the frame, half illuminated by the hallway light.
*Kamuro Masumi.*
She had simply been preparing to leave after class.
But the faint voices outside the window—
"…Sakamoto…"
"…target…"
"…I had the same idea…"
Each word had pierced through her usual indifference like an icicle stabbing straight into her chest.
Sakayanagi Arisu.
The silver-haired girl with the cane.
Colluding with a student from another class—
To target *Sakamoto-kun*?
Kamuro's heart thumped once—hard.
The memory of that casual, almost offhand phrase Sakamoto had said outside the convenience store—
"Let's have some juice."
—flashed through her mind.
She couldn't name the feeling rising inside her.
But it was sharp.
Uncomfortable.
Urgent.
Her body moved before she consciously made a decision.
Like a cat slipping into darkness, Kamuro followed them—silent, swift, entirely unseen.
She kept her distance, steps light, purple eyes fixed unwaveringly on the two figures walking ahead.
Her fingers curled into the hem of her uniform skirt without her realizing it.
Just what were Sakayanagi-san and that delinquent from another class planning?
And—
Would Sakamoto-kun…
that elegant, unreadable boy…
—be in danger?