Chapter 173: An Unexpected Discovery

The door to the Student Council Room, which Xiao Chun Miura had instinctively closed behind her, shut softly with a faint click as she let go.

But even that tiny sound seemed incredibly clear in this moment.

Xiao Chun Miura leaned her back against the door panel.

The chill against her palms helped clear her mind slightly, but the restless heart in her chest refused to settle down.

The warm, spring breeze-like smile that usually graced Kanzaki Sou’s face was missing, making his silent presence feel much darker than usual.

That face, which always possessed a certain gentle elegance and would be described as handsome by any objective measure, was now tightly set, his lips pulled into a stiff, straight line.

Xiao Chun Miura did not remember this version of Kanzaki Sou ever appearing, even in the original game.

‘He’s never been this serious.’

The oppressive atmosphere filled the entire Student Council Room, leaving Xiao Chun Miura feeling adrift.

“Kanzaki… cough —”

Xiao Chun Miura was the first to break the silence. Her voice sounded dry, forcing her to clear her throat before speaking again.

“What… what exactly was the discovery you mentioned in your text? Is it a follow-up regarding that anonymous letter?”

Kanzaki Sou did not answer immediately.

However, his silent gaze did not exert any pressure.

Looking at Xiao Chun Miura, he seemed to be merely contemplating how to start.

As Xiao Chun Miura wondered, she actually felt a bit more relaxed.

It was as if realizing that he wasn’t upset because of her specifically allowed her to breathe a little easier.

“Miura —”

After a moment, Kanzaki Sou finally spoke. “Didn’t we talk about the anonymous report letter before?”

As he spoke, Kanzaki flicked the papers in his hand.

“Because of that letter, I took another look at the Student Council’s submission mailbox.”

“I found that the report letters are a bit strange.”

Kanzaki Sou returned to his desk and gestured for Xiao Chun Miura to come closer.

“Ah, of course, I don’t mean that the specific letter targeting you and your friend was strange. You don’t need to be overly worried or nervous — even in the absolute worst-case scenario, the school won’t let anything happen to you.”

Kanzaki operated the computer as he spoke.

“…”

Xiao Chun Miura knew Kanzaki was trying to comfort her so she wouldn’t be so tense.

However, given the current situation — especially after just meeting Yamazaki Nao — she couldn’t help but be nervous.

“What exactly is strange about them?” Xiao Chun Miura pressed.

“It’s about that Livehouse you visited recently — the one in Sakuragicho…”

“—”

Xiao Chun Miura’s heart suddenly constricted, and her mind went blank for a second.

Her biggest fear was Kanzaki Sou discovering the connection between that Livehouse and Kiyono Arisa.

Could it be —?

Xiao Chun Miura’s voice trembled even more.

“Kanzaki, are there… are there other reports targeting me?”

Unable to face the question directly, she could only ask indirectly, hoping the situation wasn’t what she feared.

She even began trying to concoct a reason to clear Arisa’s name, intending to claim that the members of the idol group at that Livehouse couldn’t possibly be students from this school… and certainly couldn’t be Kiyono Arisa, whose identity Kanzaki wasn’t supposed to know.

“…”

Kanzaki Sou looked at Xiao Chun Miura’s jumpy, startled expression, and a flash of complex emotion crossed his eyes.

Then, he shook his head, dismissing her suspicion.

“No, it isn’t targeting you, Miura.”

But his answer didn’t make Xiao Chun Miura feel like a weight had been lifted.

Instead, her tense shoulders rose even higher.

She wasn’t afraid of being the target — she was now more afraid that she wasn’t.

What she feared most was Kanzaki Sou mentioning words like “idol.”

As the saying goes, what one fears most is what happens.

Kanzaki Sou’s next words sent her heart back into her throat.

“Besides you, a large number of other students have also been reported. And the reason is exactly the same — ‘entering places unsuitable for their status as students.'”

Xiao Chun Miura froze.

“Other students?”

She blankly repeated the words. Countless malicious theories leaped into the girl’s head, each one making her feel as if she had fallen into an ice cellar.

‘…Is it really Kiyono Arisa?’

“Exactly.”

“—!”

Kanzaki Sou’s sudden confirmation coincided with the thought flashing through her mind, causing her body to jerk.

She instinctively looked at him, but he happened to be turning around to search through a stack of folders, so he missed her sudden flinch.

“Look at these notes I’ve organized.”

Kanzaki pushed a piece of paper covered in notes toward Xiao Chun Miura.

“If it weren’t for your situation making me feel like something was off, I might never have had the chance to discover this.”

Xiao Chun Miura looked down.

The handwritten entries on the paper were numerous and fragmented, mostly brief summaries Kanzaki had transcribed.

They were all different reports, and every single one cited “entering places unsuitable for students” as the reason.

“These places…” Xiao Chun Miura pointed at the locations on the paper, her voice weak. “Why are there so many?”

Kanzaki Sou sighed, his brow furrowing slightly.

“That’s exactly what’s strange.”

“There is no connection between these locations; they’re scattered quite randomly. Some are near the school, some are far, some are in the center of the Shopping Street… they’re all over the place.”

“As for the specific venues — commercial KTVs, large game centers, late-night fast-food restaurants, and even a few underground internet cafes with poor reputations.”

Xiao Chun Miura’s mind raced.

Scattered locations… with no connection?

“What about the students who were reported?”

“There’s no pattern there either,” Kanzaki replied.

“If it weren’t for the fact that you were also reported, prompting me to investigate further, I might have never noticed these similar reports piling up in the submission mailbox.”

“They all seem very trivial,” Xiao Chun Miura said.

She didn’t understand what these reports represented, but the mere phenomenon of such large-scale reporting gave her an intense sense of unease.

“They are trivial, but…”

Kanzaki Sou straightened the folder and turned to look at her.

“But they aren’t completely unconnected.”

“What really concerns me is the timing.”

“Miura, the earliest of these digital anonymous letters in the submission mailbox arrived not long ago — and since then, others have been coming in continuously, increasing in frequency and density, until they all swarmed in at once.”

“Eh?”

“The first report appeared shortly after Sports Day.”

Kanzaki’s eyes were sharp.

“Before Sports Day, forget about large-scale reporting, there wasn’t even a single anonymous letter regarding ordinary disciplinary violations during the entire last school year.”

“They all started appearing in a cluster right after Sports Day.”