Suzune Horikita's life had always been overshadowed by one person: her brother's back. Some people had jokingly called her a "bro-con," but she knew it wasn't a twisted attachment, but pure admiration. And now, fate had played the cruelest joke on her. When she finally set foot in the school where her brother reigned as student council president, she was greeted with the label of Class D. A chasm of three letters separated her from her brother in the lofty heights of Class A.
Her nails dug deep into her palms. She thought of her perfect attendance record in middle school, her consistently top-ranking grades, and the relentlessly disciplined days and nights. All this evidence of her excellence was now crushed by the label of Class D.
"This class assignment system is completely unreasonable!..."
Suzune Horikita's voice seeped through her clenched teeth. Rage boiled in her chest—not self-doubt, but a fierce rejection of this evaluation system.
"Kiyomizu-kun! Let's exchange contact information!" Horikita suddenly stood up.
"Oh? So proactive all of a sudden?" Kiyomizu raised an eyebrow. They had just exchanged contacts when a transfer notification popped up on his phone.
"80,000 points. It's yours. We're completely even." Her actions were astonishingly fast. The moment she put away her phone, her delicate face had returned to its usual iciness, as if silently declaring, "I'll kill you if you dare speak to me."
Watching her retreating back, Kiyomizu shook his head with a wry smile. "Don't tell me she's going to confront Teacher Chabashira..." His gaze followed her stubborn figure until she disappeared at the cafeteria entrance.
Suzune Horikita possessed an almost arrogant self-confidence. When reality deviated from her expectations, she never wasted time on self-doubt. This almost obsessive certainty saved her from falling into pointless mental anguish. However, that confidence was about to collide with cold, hard reality. Rokusuke Koenji was the best example. Kiyomizu's report on Monday about the interviewers deliberately lowering his score hadn't changed his class assignment in the end.
(80,000 points just like that... Horikita-san is surprisingly generous.)
Kiyomizu gently rubbed his phone screen, the light of the transfer notification reflecting on his thoughtful face. He had only intended to charge a symbolic amount, as it was just a piece of information he had on hand.
(Could the student council president be secretly giving her an allowance?)
The thought was dismissed as soon as it appeared. Given her brother's personality, he probably wouldn't indulge his sister in such a way.
(Wait... what if that was most of her savings...)
(Doesn't that mean she'll be broke next month...)
However, Kiyomizu's thoughts were soon drawn to his account balance—the number had surpassed the 300,000 mark. Adding the 80,000 from Horikita, the amount might seem substantial to an ordinary student. But he unconsciously converted it: at the school's exchange rate, it was equivalent to a month's salary for a regular worker. 300,000 yen in Tokyo probably couldn't even rent a decent apartment.
(This is far from enough... I need to at least break the million mark.)
...
Kiyomizu locked his phone and put it in his pocket, his fingertips brushing against the folded note. He slowly unfolded it. Unfamiliar handwriting came into view:
[Come find me in room 1203 after dinner today.♡]
The handwriting was neat and delicate, likely a girl's. If he remembered correctly, the upper floors were exclusively for girls.
(An invitation from the girls' dorm... ?)
If this were Yamauchi or Ike, they would probably be jumping for joy right now. After leaving the cafeteria, Kiyomizu went to the front desk in the dormitory lobby and asked who lived in room 1203.
"Student resident information is confidential~" the receptionist with round glasses said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You shouldn't ask too many questions. But be safe, okay?" She tapped her lips, a suggestive expression on her face. Her reaction undoubtedly confirmed the most obvious guess: it was indeed the girls' dormitory.
Kiyomizu took the elevator. He paused in front of room 1203 for a moment, then knocked gently.
"Coming!" a clear and pleasant voice answered from inside.
The door opened quickly. Kiyomizu looked up and immediately recognized her. Kei Karuizawa was wearing a loose short-sleeved T-shirt and casual shorts, her long legs looking especially fair under the hallway light. She leaned casually against the doorframe, her hair still slightly damp as if she had just showered. "Kiyomizu-kun, you're here," she said with a slight tilt of her head and a faint smile.
Kiyomizu couldn't help but look at her for a moment longer before quickly averting his gaze. "Come on in!" Karuizawa suddenly stood on her tiptoes and affectionately linked her arms with his. The soft touch of the girl was clearly felt through his uniform, carrying a faint scent of shower gel. She half-pulled, half-pushed him into the room as if dragging a large stuffed toy.
However, it was less her pulling and more him semi-cooperating with her actions. If he had resisted even slightly, this somewhat intimate "kidnapping" would have failed immediately. He could clearly feel the soft pressure against his arm. Instinctively, he had to admit the sensation was quite titillating, but reason told him that this sudden intimacy was far too deliberate. After all, they were just classmates.
Karuizawa looked up, her face flushed, her voice a mix of shyness and determination. "Kiyomizu-kun... actually, I noticed you on the first day of the opening ceremony when you confronted Yamauchi-kun." She paused, her fingertips unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes. "Of course... part of it was because of your looks..."
She took a deep breath, as if mustering all her strength to get the next words out. "Um, please... let's date, on the premise that you protect me."
Hearing this, Kiyomizu was completely stunned. What kind of confession was this? Others would at least say "on the premise of marriage." This girl had come out with "on the premise of protection"—it sounded more like a bodyguard contract.
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