Returning to the library with the class rep, Kuroba Akira found himself unusually sentimental.
Starting tomorrow, he'd finally be free of this place. No more miserable cram-school routine, no more memorizing vocabulary like some grad school zombie.
"You look relieved, Kuroba-kun."
"I am. I won't have to come here anymore."
"Huh? You're not coming back to the library?"
"Only if I really need to. But I probably won't be here every day like before."
"So that means… you're not writing your novel anymore?"
"Ugh! Wait, how do you know about that— Ah, you saw me, didn't you…"
Of course she had. The class rep had spent the entire summer managing the library, and most of the time, Akira was the only one there. It would've been weirder if she hadn't noticed.
Besides studying and reading, Kuroba Akira had also been doing one other thing in the library: writing a novel.
After all, doing that in the classroom would've drawn too much attention. So Akira would sneak into a corner of the library and write there.
Not that he was writing anything original. No — he was doing what countless transmigrators before him had done.
Plagiarism Hero, activate!
Rip it off. Rip it all off.
That's right — one of Akira's main reasons for grinding the language so hard was exactly this.
It was part of his post-transmigration life plan.
Sure, the landlady hadn't kicked him out yet, but who knew? Maybe one day she'd snap from menopausal rage and throw him to the curb. He had to be prepared. It was time to start thinking about making money.
And for a transmigrator like him, there weren't many practical ways to gather startup capital.
The most realistic? Literary theft.
He'd realized shortly after arriving that this version of Japan wasn't quite the same as the one from his memories. Famous works he remembered didn't seem to exist here.
Even the Monogatari reference he'd tossed out earlier — the class rep hadn't recognized it.
Still, the "Plagiarist Plan" was already on the chopping block.
Once he discovered his cheat — the [Insight into Talent] ability — his life strategy had undergone a major shift.
"Can I read your work sometime?" she asked.
"Not right now. Maybe later."
"I see…"
Anri didn't press. She understood — sharing your writing took courage.
After returning the library key to the empty faculty office, the two made their way out of the building and stopped once more in front of the vending machine where they'd first met.
"So, I've basically figured out how to deal with you, Kuroba-kun. If I want your help, I just need to prepare the right compensation. You're a lot more straightforward than I expected."
"Yep. I don't work for free. No concrete reward, no motivation."
Akira laced his hands behind his head, watching as she once again inserted coins into the machine.
"But hey, talking to you hasn't been bad. It's been a while since I've had such a long conversation. I got to talk my heart out."
"You really did. I think you spoke more today than you have all semester combined. And since you've said so much… you must be thirsty by now, right? I figured that was your plan all along."
"Heh heh, you caught me! Long live the class rep!"
Looking at his smug, satisfied grin, Anri suddenly didn't feel like treating him anymore.
The other boys in class were thrilled just to talk to her — they wouldn't even dream of asking for anything more. But he? He just wanted to con her out of a drink.
Seriously? Even a bottle of juice ranks above me now?
Annoyed, she impulsively hit the button for a hot drink.
Clunk!
Akira crouched down happily to grab his prize — but the moment his hand touched it, his smile froze.
He pulled it out, stared at the label, and said flatly:
"Class rep… This is hot milk."
"I know."
"You didn't press the wrong button?"
It was scorching out. Who in their right mind drank hot drinks in this weather? The bottle was practically burning his hand.
Pouting, she huffed:
"Since I'm the one paying, I get to decide what you drink. Right?"
"…Fine, you're treating, you make the rules."
Why the sudden mood swing?
Women are such mysterious creatures…
"What about you, Class Rep?"
"I'm not drinking."
"Then take mine?"
"That one's for you."
"…I don't want it anymore."
"In that case, I'll give you something better."
"Huh?"
Anri suddenly leaned in — her posture suggested she was about to hug him.
But this time, Akira didn't flinch or pull back. Based on earlier experience, she probably wasn't planning anything too intimate. Just messing with him again.
Sure enough, while their faces stayed at a respectable distance, their bodies got closer — close enough that Akira could feel the tips of her chest brushing against him.
Before he could even process it, she reached into his pants pocket.
These uniform pockets were deep — dangerously close to sensitive territory. One wrong move and she could've grabbed his family jewels.
It was undeniably suggestive.
But Anri wasn't trying to grope him. She was just slipping something into his pocket. Then she quickly withdrew her hand, her cheeks faintly flushed.
Akira shot her a questioning look, then stuck his hand in to see what she'd given him.
And froze.
The shape. The texture…
No way.
Anri's cheeks reddened further. She fanned herself with one hand, trying to appear nonchalant.
"Don't take it out yet. I'll get embarrassed."
"…You really took them off?"
"What, did you think I was faking it earlier? I wasn't pretending — I really don't like that drafty feeling…"
"But just now, when we went upstairs to return the key, I was walking behind you. You didn't even try to cover yourself. If I'd slowed down even a little, I would've…"
Seen everything?
"Yup. That thought made me kind of excited… And once you get used to it, it feels surprisingly nice. Breezy, even. Like a sense of freedom…"
Good god, she didn't just awaken to something dangerous — she's enjoying it too!?
Even her descent into perversion was accelerated. Is this the power of genius?
"This kind of game is way too exciting. I think you're corrupting me."
"So… giving me this is part of some weird kink too?"
"Nope. It's your 'deposit.'"
"Deposit?"
"Yup. Or you could say 'leverage.' I mean, if I suddenly stopped bringing you lunch, what could you do about it?"
"Ah…"
That was true. They called it a "deal," but it was really just a verbal agreement. Nothing binding her to it.
"As long as you're holding on to that, I won't break the contract. But don't you dare try to sell it or anything. If you do, I'll start making you cursed bento full of weird ingredients and force you to eat every bite."
"…That's a horrifying punishment. I won't sell it, obviously. Honestly, if anyone ever found out I was carrying this, I'd be socially annihilated. So in a way, it's leverage over me too."
"That's why I gave it to you."
"…All right. I guess I have no choice but to accept it."
"Please take good care of it, okay? If you lose it, I'm not giving you another pair."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll treat it like a precious treasure."
Anri smiled and nodded, then deliberately bent over to retrieve a stray coin from the vending machine's change slot.
From Akira's angle, he was this close to seeing her secret garden… but in the end, nothing.
Damn it. She totally planned that. Every move was calculated!
"Well then, Kuroba-kun. See you tomorrow. If there's a chance, maybe next time you'll get to see me in my casual clothes."
"Oh, yeah…"
"And one more thing, Kuroba-kun — I do like black, but I prefer white."
"…Huh?"
She slipped the coins into her purse, stuck out her tongue cheekily, and waved goodbye with her hands behind her back.
"So… too bad. You got the color wrong."
She walked off, her strides confident and relaxed — not at all like someone who wasn't wearing anything underneath.
After she disappeared from view, Akira pulled the item out of his pocket — still warm from her body heat. Not the heat from there — it must've just been from her hand.
But still, it was more than enough to spark his imagination.
Lace, semi-transparent, cut-out design, a little ribbon…
And white.
"…Yeah, Class Rep's definitely the closet perv type."
And thus, Kuroba Akira had successfully acquired:
— Four months of free lunch
— One bottle of hot milk
— One warm pair of JK panties
…
Meanwhile, hidden in a nearby corner, Anri Hitomi watched Akira's retreating figure and pulled out the handkerchief she'd used to wipe his sweat.
She glanced around furtively, making sure no one was watching, then held it up to her nose.
She gave it a little sniff. Then a soft lick.
"…Yep. Mine really are less salty."