Xiao Chun Miura’s hand rested lightly on the desk where the boy sat, the chill of the wood grain seeping into her fingertips.
The room was silent, save for the faint, rhythmic *humming* of a few running servers.
More than half of the sunlight from outside was blocked by heavy curtains, leaving only a few stray beams to slant across the floor littered with printer paper and organized bookshelves.
In the midst of these dim, cool tones, Kanzaki Sou’s face slowly emerged from behind the computer screen that emitted a soft, blue glow.
He adjusted the thin-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose.
The moment his gentle, clear eyes landed on Xiao Chun Miura, they constricted slightly before softening into a look of genuine surprise.
That surprise was quickly replaced by his trademark, gentle smile — one that felt as refreshing as a spring breeze.
“— Classmate Miura?”
Kanzaki Sou straightened his posture, his chair let out a soft *creak* against the wooden floor.
“What brings you to school on a Saturday morning?”
He then chuckled softly. “I didn’t expect to run into you here. Good morning.”
“Ah… That, good morning, Classmate Kanzaki…”
Responding instinctively to his greeting, Xiao Chun felt as if her heart had been squeezed by Kanzaki Sou’s hand before being dropped heavily back into her chest.
The awkwardness of an unprepared encounter surged within her. From the moment she heard his voice to the second she saw his face, she felt as if actual steam was about to rise from her head.
Her brain was currently like an overloaded centrifuge, spinning wildly as it tried to churn out a reasonable explanation in a fraction of a second.
‘It would be too embarrassing to say I was so sleepy I thought it was a school day.’
The girl bit her lip.
“I… I, well…”
Unable to find a suitable excuse in those few seconds of panic, Xiao Chun lowered her head and stared fixedly at the tips of her shoes.
She could feel her toes curling uncomfortably inside her leather shoes due to the tension.
She could also feel Kanzaki Sou’s calm gaze resting on her.
Xiao Chun swallowed hard.
“— Actually… I planned to come to the Library to study today.”
Finally, she managed to pull a normal-sounding excuse from the tangled mess of her thoughts. She looked up, trying to make her expression seem mildly annoyed rather than guilty.
“Because I might be… busy with many things next week, I wanted to take advantage of the quiet weekend to study more.”
“But when I went to the Library just now, the main door seemed locked.”
“I was wondering if I had remembered the opening hours incorrectly…”
“I originally planned to ask at the faculty office, but as I passed the Student Council room, I saw the door wasn’t fully closed. I thought someone might be on duty… so I wanted to come in and ask about the situation at the Library.”
Kanzaki Sou listened, showing a look of realization.
Even if Xiao Chun’s excuse sounded a bit odd, he did not delve deeper into the true reason. The boy was always like this.
“I see.” He nodded, his voice remaining warm. “However, the Library is supposed to be open as usual on Saturdays.”
“If you saw that the doors weren’t open, I suspect the side doors or the non-primary entrances might have been temporarily closed.”
He looked at Xiao Chun. “How about you check the main entrance again in a little while, Classmate Miura?”
This kind of consideration only made the guilt in Xiao Chun’s heart grow heavier.
“Okay… Thank you, I’ll go check.”
She awkwardly rubbed her earlobe, trying to change the subject.
“Then… what about you, Classmate Kanzaki? It’s a day off, so why are you at school?”
Kanzaki Sou sighed softly upon hearing her question, his smile carrying a hint of helplessness and sincerity.
He stood up, walked to a nearby water dispenser, took a disposable paper cup, filled it halfway with warm water, and handed it to the standing Xiao Chun.
“Ah, thank you.”
Thinking he had poured it for himself, Xiao Chun was flattered to realize he was taking care of her and hurried to thank him.
The warmth of the water spread from her palms to her whole body, slightly easing her tension.
Kanzaki Sou leaned back against the edge of the desk, his long legs crossed. His posture was relaxed, yet he maintained the dignified air of a top student.
“After we spoke yesterday, I intended to go to the Student Council to ask for you immediately. But because some urgent matters came up, I arrived late… and everyone had already gone home.”
“I happened to run into the maintenance teacher on rounds, who said they were preparing to lock the gates. So, I had no choice but to go home first.”
He paused, looking at her with a gentle, apologetic gaze.
“However, after I got home, I kept thinking that you must be very worried about that Anonymous Report Letter, Classmate Miura.”
Kanzaki Sou pushed up his glasses and shifted his gaze to an open folder on the computer screen, his tone becoming serious.
“Since I promised to ask for you yesterday, it would be far too slow to wait until next Monday to give you an answer.”
“So I thought I’d come in early Saturday morning when there aren’t many people around to check it myself. Since I’m an unofficial assistant for the Student Council, I happen to have a spare key.”
After hearing his explanation, Xiao Chun was completely stunned.
Her hand gripped the paper cup, causing the warm water to ripple. She never imagined Kanzaki Sou would come to school specifically for such a reason — just to fulfill a verbal promise on his day off.
This kind of upright, serious, and incredibly thoughtful personality —
“Classmate Kanzaki…” Xiao Chun opened her mouth, but for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.
The confusion of being cared for so deeply, combined with the guilt of having been using him, twisted into a tangled mess in her heart.
‘You… really didn’t need to work so hard. I, I could have waited until Monday…’
“It’s fine. It wasn’t that much work, so please don’t let it bother you, Classmate Miura.”
Kanzaki Sou waved his hand dismissively, as if it weren’t a big deal.
He turned toward the computer emitting the blue light, his tone carrying a natural, undeniable friendliness.
“But, since you happened to come by, I suppose it must be the arrangement of destiny.”
“I’ve already found the email from the reporter. If you don’t mind, would you like to come and take a look? I wanted to share what I’ve found so far with you anyway.”
Upon hearing this, the awkwardness on Xiao Chun’s face vanished instantly as she turned serious. She set the water cup down and walked quickly to Kanzaki Sou’s seat.
In the center of the blue-tinted screen, a scanned version of a letter appeared.
The letter was written on ordinary printer paper, the handwriting a very common style.
Kanzaki Sou moved to the side, giving Xiao Chun a better view.
“This is the specific content of that anonymous letter.”
His voice sounded exceptionally clear in the dim room, carrying a sense of methodical calm. He pointed his long finger at the screen, hovering over the handwritten text.
“The general content is the same as what you saw on LIME yesterday.”
“The other party claims to have witnessed students from our school entering and leaving a Livehouse entrance in Sakuragicho. The sender stated that to prevent students from violating school rules — such as entering entertainment venues with complex environments or safety incidents caused by a lack of supervision of minors — they reported this out of a sense of justice. They hope the Student Council will step in to provide warnings and education.”
Kanzaki Sou’s voice paused, his tone becoming subtle.
“At the end of the letter, the names of those students are listed very clearly — just as I told you yesterday: Xiao Chun Miura, Yui Hori, Mio Sato, and Yuzuki Yasuda.”
“According to the records, these are all students in your class, right?”
Xiao Chun stared intently at the four names listed side by side on the screen.
Indeed, Kiyono Arisa was not there.
She really wasn’t.
While confirming this, a bizarre sense of discord exploded in her mind. She had spent all last night worrying if Kiyono Arisa’s identity had been exposed. But now, seeing the original document, she realized that the core of the problem wasn’t there at all.
“Classmate Kanzaki.”
Xiao Chun turned her head, her eyes filled with deep confusion. She stared directly into Kanzaki Sou’s clear eyes, her tone becoming sharp.
“Don’t you think… one detail is quite strange?”
Kanzaki Sou pushed his glasses up. He didn’t answer immediately but motioned for her to continue.
“The letter says they saw us at the Livehouse entrance. However, given the situation back then…”
Xiao Chun thought back to the details of that day, her mind racing.
“Even if they saw the uniform or the school crest and could identify us as students of this Academy… what about our names?”
She reached out and pointed to the four clearly legible names on the screen.
“If it were a famous top student like you, Classmate Kanzaki, or a future star active in a certain field like Classmate Kondo Haruka, it wouldn’t be strange for someone to recognize your name.”
“But the four of us… even if Yui Hori and the others are a bit lively sometimes, we are all just ordinary students in our class, right? Not to mention someone like me…”
“How did the sender write down the specific full names of the four of us so accurately and without any errors?”
“— You’re right, Classmate Miura.”
Kanzaki Sou nodded. The boy’s voice was low and gentle, carrying an air of understanding.
“That is exactly why I rushed to school this morning. It was because I was concerned about that point — the discord caused by this excessive accuracy — that I became so invested in this matter.”