***
The next day, Xiao Chun Miura headed to school with an even more complicated mood, almost arriving in the classroom just as the bell rang.
Last night, she had tossed and turned, her mind filled with Kanzaki Sou’s words: “There’s no need to use reasons like ‘discussing work’ or ‘interest in astronomy’.”
And his gaze, sometimes gentle, sometimes as if he could see through everything.
Due to lack of sleep, there was a faint blue-black under her eyes, and her whole demeanor seemed a bit listless.
All morning, she tried her best to avoid recalling the scene after school yesterday, but Kanzaki Sou’s words and expression kept intruding into her mind without warning.
Because she cared about the meaning behind Kanzaki Sou’s words, she felt restless no matter what she did during class or break.
Recalling the original game plot……seemed meaningless now.
Because apart from the main storyline of the heroines’ Personal Route, before Kondo Haruka’s Personal Route, there wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy in the Main Route itself.
Moreover, since the goal of “preventing Kanzaki Sou from participating in other club activities” had already been achieved, and “Kanzaki Sou’s actions no longer matched the original game plot,” at least for the next few days or weeks, before Kondo Haruka’s personal story began and before the school Sports Day started, she probably didn’t need to worry about the original game plot affecting Kanzaki Sou’s current life.
***
When the lunch bell rang, she almost flinched reflexively.
Time to go to the Library again.
Time to face Kanzaki Sou again.
She dawdled as she packed her things, took a deep breath, and walked toward the Library with a sense of resignation.
To her surprise, only Sakura-sensei was at the Library front desk, dozing off.
“Good afternoon, Sensei……”
Xiao Chun Miura greeted softly.
“Hmm? Oh, Miura-san.”
Sakura-sensei lifted her head sleepily.
“Ah, Kanzaki-san took leave at noon. Said the Student Council had some urgent matters. You’ll have to manage by yourself today.”
“He took leave?”
Xiao Chun Miura was stunned, then inexplicably felt relieved.
But right after, a faint, indescribable sense of loss welled up inside her.
“Yes, the message just came in,” Sakura-sensei muttered, yawning again.
“Then I’ll leave it to you. I’ll take a nap…”
Sakura-sensei slumped back down, and silence returned to the front desk.
Xiao Chun Miura stood awkwardly behind the counter.
Kanzaki Sou wasn’t here.
Throughout the lunch break, the Library was unusually quiet, with only a few students coming in to borrow or return books.
Xiao Chun Miura handled all the tasks by herself, and her movements were actually smoother without having to worry about that gaze.
However, this kind of “smoothness” left her feeling an unprecedented emptiness and loneliness.
She even found herself glancing toward the door several times, then realizing that figure definitely wouldn’t appear, and immediately looked away, as if unwilling to admit she was hoping for something.
What was there to hope for?
With Kanzaki Sou absent, didn’t it perfectly avoid the awkwardness from yesterday’s conversation?
Wasn’t this exactly what her subconscious wished for?
But……why did her heart feel so unsettled?
The afternoon classes passed in a similar daze.
After school, Xiao Chun Miura went to the Library again, wondering if Kanzaki Sou would show up.
When she pushed open the Library door and saw the familiar figure standing behind the counter, head down as he sorted books, her heart skipped a beat.
He was there.
Kanzaki Sou looked up at the sound, still wearing that gentle expression.
“Good afternoon, Miura-san.”
“G-Good afternoon, Kanzaki-san.”
Xiao Chun Miura tried to make her voice sound normal.
“You took leave at noon…”
“Mm, there were some Student Council documents that needed urgent handling.”
Kanzaki Sou explained, his tone calm.
“Thanks for handling the work at noon.”
“N-no, it was nothing.”
The conversation ended there.
The two began working in silent agreement, just like the day before.
The atmosphere seemed to have returned to normal, but there was a subtle difference.
Kanzaki Sou was still polite and considerate, handling most of the external tasks, but Xiao Chun Miura couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a thin, invisible barrier between them.
Their communication was limited to necessary work exchanges—precise and efficient—yet lacked the awkwardness that used to make her uncomfortable.
She had gradually grown accustomed to that missing awkwardness, but now that it was truly gone, she felt even more at a loss.
On one hand, Xiao Chun Miura felt relieved at the sense of a “safe distance,” yet on the other, the invisible wall made her feel stifled.
She felt like an awkward dancer who had finally mustered the courage to step onto the dance floor, only to have her only partner suddenly step back, leaving her alone and bewildered.
As work was ending, Xiao Chun Miura was organizing the last shelf when Kanzaki Sou’s voice suddenly came from beside her.
“Miura-san.”
“Yes!”
She responded almost like a startled bird.
Kanzaki Sou seemed amused by her overreaction, a faint smile tugging at his lips before he quickly suppressed it.
“It’s nothing. Just a reminder—tomorrow is Friday, so we don’t need to be on duty at the Library over the weekend.”
“Ah……right.”
Xiao Chun Miura finally remembered.
That meant for the next two days, she had no “valid reason” to see Kanzaki Sou.
“So, after work ends tomorrow, it’s a brief farewell.”
Kanzaki Sou’s tone was light, his expression relaxed.
“Enjoy your weekend.”
“……You too.”
Xiao Chun Miura replied dryly.
There was no promise to walk home together, no extra conversation—just an ordinary colleague relationship, nothing more. Once the part-time shift ended, so did any connection.
At that moment, Kanzaki Sou’s phone lit up.
He glanced at it and quickly typed a reply.
Xiao Chun Miura’s heart tightened involuntarily.
Was it Kondo Haruka?
Did they have plans over the weekend?
After putting down his phone, Kanzaki Sou casually added:
“By the way, Miura-san, if you’re free over the weekend, you might want to review the scope of the upcoming Midterm Exams.”
“The difficulty seems to have increased this time, and the range is wider than last semester.”
He paused, then added,
“There’s no harm in preparing early, even if it ruins the weekend mood. Haha.”
It seemed like a casual, self-deprecating reminder.
But Xiao Chun Miura froze.
Midterm Exams?
Right—there was a Midterm Exams plot in the game.
But something was off.
The Midterm Exams were supposed to occur about a third of the way through the Main Route’s content.
Why was it happening already?
The timeline was completely wrong!
“I’ll head back first, then. Miura-san, be careful on your way home after school.”
While she was still stunned, Kanzaki Sou said his goodbye, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left, leaving Xiao Chun Miura alone behind the counter.
She instinctively looked at Kanzaki Sou’s back.
The boy’s figure was well-proportioned, his steps light.
But those strange words had left a pebble in Xiao Chun Miura’s heart, sending ripples of unease across her once-calm mind.