The next morning, sunlight filtered through the ginkgo leaves scattered along the roadside, casting dappled, fragmented golden shadows.
As Koharu Miura stepped through the campus gate, every step she took was unsteady.
The dark figures that had stood like ghosts outside her window last night still weighed on her stomach like a heavy lead stone, making her nauseous even as she ate breakfast before leaving home.
“Koharu! Morning—“
A cheerful voice came from behind, followed by the familiar, slightly heavy pat from Yui Hori.
Koharu Miura’s body stiffened for a moment, then she quickly adjusted her expression and turned around with a weary smile she couldn’t hide.
“Morning, Yui.”
The other two girls also came into view, so Koharu Miura greeted them as well.
“Mio, Yuzuki, morning.”
“Hey, Koharu, your complexion…”
“—Does it look that bad?”
Koharu Miura asked guiltily.
But Yui Hori cupped her chin, staring at Koharu Miura with an exaggerated expression for a moment, then switched to a smile.
“Not at all! You look great!”
“Oh, is that so?”
‘Yui is still so airheaded, but that actually helps a lot.’
“Your eyes, though…”
Just as Koharu Miura was about to relax, Sato Mio’s voice made her heart leap into her throat.
Sato Mio stepped closer, carefully examining Koharu Miura’s face.
“Such heavy dark circles? What were you doing last night?”
“We shouldn’t have dragged you out shopping for so long yesterday,” Yuzuki Yasuda said.
“It’s fine, I feel a lot better after sleeping.”
Koharu Miura responded softly.
She casually observed the three girls’ reactions.
Yui was still complaining about the math quiz today, Yuzuki was looking down at her phone, and Mio’s concern only went as far as “lack of sleep.”
‘It seems Haruka Kondo really hasn’t told anyone about what happened yesterday.’
Koharu Miura let out a long, silent sigh of relief.
Given Haruka Kondo’s fiery and straightforward personality, if she really wanted to publicize what happened at the station yesterday, these friends would have known by now. Their reactions wouldn’t be like this.
Haruka Kondo chose silence. That at least proved that beneath her obsessive possessiveness toward Sou Kanzaki, she still had her own bottom line to uphold.
The morning classes flew by as Koharu Miura’s mind wandered.
When the lunch bell rang, Koharu Miura didn’t go to the cafeteria. Instead, she crossed the sunlit corridor and headed toward the school library she often visited.
As she stepped through the main entrance of the library, the distinct scent of books wafted toward her.
This was the starting point where her relationship with Sou Kanzaki had truly changed.
Behind that row of towering classical philosophy bookshelves that almost blocked all sightlines, she and Sou Kanzaki had said all kinds of things.
‘Today, I chose to meet that person here because of an almost instinctual intuition.’
In the current situation, where those sticky, malicious stares were pervasive, only this quiet, solemn—even somewhat oppressive—library could provide her with a sense of security that came from nowhere.
It was all because of the reassuring times she had spent here with Sou Kanzaki.
However, that sense of security wavered slightly when she saw the figure sitting by the window.
Haruka Kondo wore a dark sport jacket, and her auburn short hair stood out strikingly in the sunlight.
Unlike everyone else in the library, she wasn’t reading. Instead, she had her arms crossed, one foot idly kicking the table leg, her sharp eyes fixed on the side door of the library.
Then, sensing the gaze, she turned her head and spotted Koharu Miura’s figure as she appeared.
“—Choosing to meet here, Koharu Miura, your intentions are really easy to read.”
The moment Koharu Miura sat down across from Haruka Kondo, the latter’s barbed voice came across in a low tone.
“. . . . . . Kondo-san? It’s just that this place is private and suitable for conversation.”
Koharu Miura set down her school bag and tested the waters.
“Quiet?”
“Talking in the library is against the rules anyway. I think you did it on purpose.”
Haruka Kondo seemed unexpectedly knowledgeable about certain school regulations. She snorted across from Koharu Miura, her gaze sweeping over the surrounding bookshelves.
“Who doesn’t know that you and Cang-kun like to hang out here the most? Deliberately choosing a place familiar to you to talk with me—are you trying to flaunt those unspeakable little secrets you share with him?”
Koharu Miura’s movements froze, and a wry look appeared on her face.
‘Heaven knows, I really didn’t mean that.’
She felt a bit helpless.
“I really didn’t mean that, Kondo-san. The student council room and the sports clubs are too crowded. I just thought…”
“Enough, stop acting.”
Haruka Kondo waved her hand, looking as if she saw through Koharu Miura’s acting, cutting off the topic at rapid speed.
Then, her expression suddenly relaxed.
“But it’s fine. Compared to you, I have way more things to boast about between Cang-kun and me.”
“We grew up together. I can casually rattle off a dozen embarrassing stories about him that even his parents don’t know. This level of relationship isn’t something you can catch up on just by sitting in the library for two days.”
Haha.
‘Well, you win.’
Koharu Miura could only lower her head, putting on an air of being taught, and dryly responded.
“Yeah, you’re childhood friends after all. That’s really enviable.”
‘Just say whatever you want, as long as you think it can suppress me psychologically, go ahead.’
Koharu Miura calmly retorted in her mind.
After some meaningless back-and-forth, Haruka Kondo finally dropped her aggressive demeanor. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes sharp as she stared at Koharu Miura.
“Let’s get down to business. After you had that episode last night, what exactly are you trying to hide? And what’s this ‘bad situation’ you mentioned?”
Koharu Miura took a deep breath.
She knew this was the most crucial turning point in her script.
Last night, as she stared at the stubborn dark figures across the street outside her window, she wasn’t completely crushed by fear.
On the contrary, in that extreme oppression, she had crafted a set of “lines” specifically tailored for Haruka Kondo.
“Kondo-san, actually. . . . . . Arisa Kiyono is being threatened by a very dangerous group of people.”
Koharu Miura lowered her voice to an almost inaudible level, barely loud enough for just the two of them.
She began to elaborate in detail—from the blue envelope she saw at the livehouse, to the terrifying private messages Mayumi received, to the recent and unusual rumors about Arisa leaving the group, and even the extraordinary sense of surveillance she had felt at the station.
Of course, she concealed the existence of the “System,” glossing everything over as the actions of some extreme fan group or malicious social organization.
As Koharu Miura continued, the sneer on Haruka Kondo’s face disappeared, replaced by an extremely serious tension born from her professional athlete instincts.
“Are you saying Arisa is dealing with all this alone right now?” Haruka Kondo’s knuckles cracked audibly.
Koharu Miura’s eyes reddened slightly, her tone so sincere she almost believed it herself.
“That’s exactly why I was so resistant to involving you and Kanzaki-san, Kondo-san. You were right last night. My thinking before was too naive.”
Koharu Miura paused, observing Haruka Kondo’s reaction, and then dangled the most crucial bait.