Amemura Ren set down his empty glass. The leftover liquid at the bottom still gave off a strong alcoholic scent.
He rubbed his temples hard, feeling a hot rush shoot straight from his stomach to the top of his head.
"Ha… that taste is way too strong," his voice came out a little hoarse. "I might not want to touch oolong tea again for the next few days."
His cheeks were already burning, and his usually sharp vision had a hazy layer over it. Even Kitahara's punchable face across from him was starting to blur slightly.
Unlike Kitahara Iori, who seemed born to drink, Amemura Ren's alcohol tolerance was actually pretty average. Right now he was only holding on thanks to sheer willpower—not wanting to embarrass himself in front of everyone.
He absolutely couldn't pass out here. That thought kept looping in his mind.
He couldn't help remembering the scene from this morning at the school gate—Kitahara lying naked in the middle of the road while students swarmed around taking photos. If he got drunk and collapsed here, tomorrow the campus forum homepage would probably be flooded with his pictures.
"If you don't drink some water, it'll be really easy to pass out," a gentle voice suddenly said.
At the same time, a slender, delicate hand placed a glass of clear water gently on the table in front of him.
Amemura Ren looked up, his vision a little blurry, toward the source of the voice.
Nanaka was standing by the table, leaning forward slightly as she looked at him. Soft strands of hair fell over her shoulders, and her face wore a concerned smile, her eyes full of warmth.
He tried to focus and gave her a smile. This one had less of his usual composure and more genuine exhaustion and daze.
"Thanks," his voice was so soft it was almost inaudible.
He picked up the glass and downed a big gulp. The cool water slid down his throat, finally easing some of that burning feeling.
After setting the glass down, Amemura Ren slowly stood up. His steps were a little unsteady, so he had to brace himself against the table edge for a second.
Then he staggered a step toward Nanaka and wrapped his arms around her gently.
"Mm…"
Nanaka let out a small surprised sound, but she didn't push him away.
Amemura Ren lowered his head, resting his forehead against the crook of her neck. His warm breath brushed across her bare skin.
"Can I… lean on you for a bit?"
His voice was soft, carrying an unconscious note of dependence. At 186 centimeters tall, he looked a little clumsy right now. When his full weight leaned in, Nanaka had to adjust her balance slightly to stay steady.
Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, but she quickly hugged him back, one hand gently patting his back in a soothing motion.
"Does it feel really bad?" she asked softly.
Amemura Ren nodded, his hair brushing lightly against her neck.
"My head's spinning…"
"Then let me help you sit down over there for a while." Nanaka adjusted her stance to better support his weight.
Soft laughter and whispers came from around them—"Ooh—" "They're really close, huh."
But Nanaka just kept holding him gently, making sure he wouldn't fall. Her gaze swept over the "special oolong tea" on the table, and she shook her head helplessly.
Meanwhile—on the other side.
"Ugh… blegh…"
Kitahara Iori was slumped over the table like a puddle of mud, one hand gripping the back of his chair for dear life while the other pressed against his stomach. His face was pale green, forehead covered in cold sweat, and the floor beneath his feet felt like it was rolling like ocean waves.
"If you don't drink some water to sober up, you'll get even drunker~"
A crisp, slightly amused voice floated over from the side.
Iori didn't even bother lifting his eyelids. He just instinctively reached out with the hand that could still move.
An ice-cold glass was pressed into his palm.
Without thinking, he grabbed it and chugged it down—
The moment the liquid slid down his throat, Iori froze solid.
…Wait.
This texture.
This burning sensation that felt like it was scorching his esophagus.
This despairingly familiar taste of the water of life.
"Pff—!!!"
Iori sprayed it all out in one violent burst, the leftover liquid arcing through the air like a rainbow.
Then he sprang up like he'd been electrocuted and slammed the glass onto the floor.
"This isn't water at all, you bastard!!!"
The glass shattered on the wooden floor with a crisp crack.
Kitahara Iori whipped his head around, bloodshot eyes practically shooting flames as he glared at the culprit who had handed him the glass.
Imamura Kouhei was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, an evil grin plastered on his face with zero attempt to hide it.
"Yo, Kitahara Iori~" Kouhei drawled, his voice dripping with schadenfreude. "Look at you chugging so enthusiastically."
A vein popped on Iori's forehead.
"Kouhei—!!"
He ground his teeth. "You did that on purpose to get back at me, didn't you?!"
"On purpose?" Kouhei tilted his head, looking innocently offended. "Nah, I wasn't trying to get revenge at all."
He paused, then slowly turned his gaze toward the center of the clubroom. The two upperclassmen, Hisamatsu Ryujiro and Tokita Shinji, were shirtless and chugging from giant barrels, roaring at the top of their lungs. "Ohhh! Now THIS is what it means to be a man!!!"
The heat in the air seemed to warp everything.
Kouhei's eyes darkened.
"…It's just that."
His voice dropped, carrying a tragic kind of clarity. "If I don't take down at least one of them during today's 'welcome party,' I feel like… I'll never escape this 'muscle-and-alcohol hell' alive in this lifetime."
A short silence fell between them.
The only background noise was the distant roar of the seniors yelling "One more barrel! PaB—!!"
Iori stared at Kouhei for a full five seconds, then slowly inhaled and let out a deep breath.
"…Yeah."
His voice was strangely calm—almost eerily so. "Someone's gotta be the sacrifice anyway."
With that, he bent down, picked up a surviving glass from the floor, wobbled over to the table to pour something, then came back and shoved the glass into Kouhei's hand like handing over a sacred token.
"I'll take responsibility."
Iori's face was dead serious, even though he was only wearing underwear and reeked of booze, making the whole thing look ridiculously comical.
"I'll drink your share. You just drink this oolong tea."
"…Ohhh."
Kouhei narrowed his eyes, then suddenly smiled. "Such a noble self-sacrifice. Thanks, Kitahara."
He raised the glass and took a casual sip.
The next second—
"Pffft—!!!"
Kouhei's entire face twisted. The liquid sprayed out like mist!
His expression turned demonic as he hurled the glass to the floor.
"You bastard!!! This is still vodka, isn't it?! You didn't even change the color!!!"
The calm on Iori's face instantly collapsed, replaced by an equally demonic grin.
"Find someone to take the heat as a decoy."
"That's definitely a great speedrun strategy."
His voice turned sinister. "Since you saw through it—Kouhei, you're gonna stay here for me!!!"
Before he even finished speaking, both of them moved at the same time!
"You traitor—!"
"You're the mastermind—!"
Both hands shot out and pinched each other's cheeks—then yanked hard!
"Ugaaa—!!!" ×2
Their faces were instantly stretched into grotesque ghost expressions, mouths twisted, eyes narrowed into slits, like two ruined clay dolls.
Right then—
"Hey hey, no fighting."
Tokita Shinji walked over and pulled them apart with one hand each. "If you really want to settle this, why not use our PaB tradition—the manly way?"
"Contest?" ×2
"Exactly!"
Tokita Shinji planted his hands on his hips and announced, "PaB-style—Face-Making Showdown!"
The rules were simple.
One person holds a mouthful of alcohol. The other makes faces or tells jokes. If the person holding the alcohol spits it out—they lose.
The room immediately erupted in cheers.
"Alright! First round—"
Kitahara Iori holds the alcohol, Imamura Kouhei makes the faces.
Iori puffed out his cheeks, looking dead serious. He absolutely could not lose to this blond otaku.
Kouhei was full of confidence.
"Watch this, Kitahara Iori."
"This is the essence of years of 'otaku arts' research."
Then—the performance began.
Face Art: Sneering Villain Grin.
Iori: "…"
No reaction.
Kouhei switched to three more expressions. Iori remained stone-faced, staring at him like he was looking at an idiot.
Sweat started beading on Kouhei's forehead.
Right then, Amemura Ren walked over, supported by Nanaka. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but his eyes were sparkling—he was clearly enjoying the show.
"Just making faces won't cut it."
He leaned lazily against Nanaka. "For someone with nerves as thick as Kitahara's, you need verbal attacks."
Kouhei's eyes lit up.
"Kitahara."
His voice suddenly turned deep and serious. "Since we've come this far in the contest, I'll tell you a secret I've been hiding in my heart."
Iori stared at him suspiciously.
Kouhei looked up at a 45-degree angle toward the ceiling, his tone heavy.
"Even though I look like this now, actually I used to—" he paused, then said, "be a total shut-in otaku."
Pffft—!!!
Iori instantly sprayed the alcohol, splattering it all over Kouhei's face.
Kouhei slowly wiped his face, then flashed a proud smile. "Guess I scared you after all."
Iori's fingers were trembling.
"Of course I was scared! Don't you have any self-awareness at all?!"
But at that moment, Tokita Shinji walked over with an even more suspicious-looking drink. "Loser has to take the penalty!"
Iori's face turned green, but he still tilted his head back and chugged it.
The next second, the world spun. He dropped to his knees right in front of a chubby senior.
Iori looked up, eyes sincere, hands forming a shooting pose. "Coach… I wanna play basketball."
Silence.
Then the whole room exploded with laughter.
Even Kouhei couldn't hold it in. "Pfft!"
The next second, the chubby senior slapped his shoulder.
"You laughed."
"Penalty drink."
Kouhei: "???"
Right then, a soft chuckle came from the side. "Pfft."
Iori and Kouhei turned at the same time. Amemura Ren was leaning against Nanaka, shoulders shaking slightly as he tried to hold back his laughter.
The two of them exchanged a glance—perfect understanding.
Then they walked toward Amemura Ren together.
"Enjoying the show, huh? Come drink with us."
"Wait, my alcohol tolerance—"
"Who cares!"
A few minutes later, Amemura Ren was also flushed red from drinking.
And inside the clubroom, laughter, booze fumes, and roars had completely blended into one chaotic mess.
The freshman welcome party.
Had only just begun.