The air inside was even more turbid than outside, a foul cocktail of cheap tobacco, unwashed alcohol, and the damp, musty humidity unique to basements.
The moment Kanzaki Sou stepped into the main hall of the livehouse, a faint crease appeared between his brows.
His eyes, calm as a scanner, rapidly and coldly assessed everything around him.
He stood in the shadows, and the motley neon lights danced chaotically across the stained walls, contorting and twisting the faces of the various social outcasts into grotesque masks.
This place was a magnet for idle loafers, flamboyantly dressed geeks, and all sorts of fringe characters who lurked in the dark corners. It was, indeed, unsuitable.
To a “good child” accustomed to school rules, stepping in here was like exposing oneself to a chaos that could spiral out of control at any moment.
The abysmal sanitary conditions, the chaotic social ecosystem, and the virtually non-existent fire escape—all of it was beyond Kanzaki Sou’s red line.
He gave his most objective and decisive verdict in his mind.
Without an adult guardian, someone like Koharu Miura would be completely exposed to such an uncontrolled environment.
However, one thing did take Kanzaki Sou slightly by surprise: the security here was quite competent.
Just as he was about to venture further inside, a burly shadow loomed before him, radiating an intense pressure and blocking his path with a rude, imposing presence.
The memory replayed in Kanzaki Sou’s mind like a tape rewinding. “Hey, you. Yeah, the one in the uniform, kid.”
The man blocking him was middle-aged, with a crew cut and a black vest printed with “STAFF.”
His arms were covered in bulging muscles and several prominent scars.
His murky but watchful eyes were fixed on Kanzaki Sou’s clean, crisp student uniform and the expensive DSLR camera slung over his right shoulder.
“This isn’t a place for brats like you. Minors are forbidden. Get lost and go back to your school.”
The security guard’s tone was harsh, laced with the kind of rough vigilance earned from scraping by at the bottom of society.
Kanzaki Sou had originally assumed that a place where Koharu Miura and her otaku friends could hang out, and even where Kiyono Arisa could stay long-term, would have lax, dictatorial security.
He thought they would turn a blind eye to rule-breaking students for profit. But the reality contradicted that assumption.
If the guard here was so diligent about kicking out all students, how did Koharu Miura and the others manage to get in so easily? It was an unexpected twist.
Despite the rapid calculations in his mind, not a single ripple of panic showed on Kanzaki Sou’s face.
He maintained his well-mannered, even slightly aloof bearing of a top student. He gave a slight bow, his tone calm and gentle.
“You’ve misunderstood. I’m sorry for the trouble. I’m not here to hang out or have fun.”
“Save it. What else could a kid in a uniform be? Don’t give me that crap. Get out now, or I’ll make you.”
The guard had little patience left. Taking a step forward, he raised his thick arm.
“My sister called me here.”
Kanzaki Sou spoke unhurriedly, a faint, resigned wry smile appearing on his face as if on cue.
He turned slightly, using his slender fingers to gently adjust the DSLR camera on his right shoulder, making sure it was the center of the guard’s attention.
“My sister’s idol group is preparing for a very important performance, but they’ve been having some trouble with their dance positioning lately, which led to some internal disagreements. So she asked me to bring our family camera today to help record their afternoon rehearsal.”
“We’ll use this footage for a frame-by-frame review and motion correction later.” Kanzaki Sou’s voice was extremely steady.
His calm self-assurance made the guard, who was sure he was just a delinquent, hesitate for a moment.
“Sister? Which group? What’s her name?”
The guard eyed him suspiciously, clearly not easily convinced. “Girls are in here rehearsing all the time. How do I know you’re not just making up an excuse to sneak in and take pictures?”
“My sister told me not to mention it casually. It involves some internal privacy and plans that haven’t been announced yet.”
Kanzaki Sou looked the guard straight in the eye, his gaze clear and guiltless.
“They’re the group rehearsing the J-Pop dance music. As for the name…”
“If you don’t believe me, we can make a deal. You can supervise me checking the contents of this camera’s memory card when I leave today. If you find any unauthorized photos other than their rehearsal footage, you can confiscate the card immediately or call the police directly.”
Hearing “check the camera contents” and “call the police,” the alertness in the guard’s eyes lessened slightly.
There was a compelling credibility about this young man, a kind of natural poise and confidence that was completely different from the lying, fidgeting bad students he usually caught.
“Also, I promise you, I won’t disturb any other guests. I’ll just stay in the corner of the rehearsal hall.”
Kanzaki Sou reached into the inner pocket of his uniform, his fingers pulling out a well-made, hard plastic card stamped with the school’s official seal, and smoothly handed it to the guard.
“This is my student ID. I’m willing to leave it with you until I come out. If I do anything wrong while I’m inside, you can use this card to lodge a complaint with our school’s disciplinary office anytime. I don’t think I’d want to risk my school record.”
Under the dim lighting, the gilded characters shimmered with a cold, authoritative gleam: “Student Council President, Private Seika High School, Kanzaki Sou.”
The guard took the heavy student ID, glanced at the perfect, textbook-mugshot photo of the teenager, then back at the composed, logical boy before him. He finally let out a grunt from his nose.
“…Tsk. These honor students nowadays, what a pain.”
The guard shoved the student ID into his pocket and stepped aside, revealing a narrow path.
“Remember what you said. Keep your nose clean when you’re in there. Don’t wander off. If I find out you’ve taken anything you shouldn’t have when you come out, I’ll smash your camera to pieces.”
“Thank you very much for your understanding. I appreciate it.”
Kanzaki Sou gave a slight, impeccably polite nod.
The memory came to an abrupt halt there.
Now, walking alone down the dim corridor, the sound of his leather shoes on the floor was drowned out by the increasingly loud music ahead.
His finger unconsciously touched the empty inner pocket of his uniform, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes.
He reiterated his earlier judgment to himself—if even a student ID could, to some extent, serve as a pass, then this place was absolutely not a domain suitable for a good girl like Koharu Miura.
Boom
Along with a final electronic mix that felt like it would shatter his eardrums, the J-Pop dance music that had been raging behind the heavy soundproof door in front of him came to an abrupt stop.
Timing was perfect.
Expressionless, Kanzaki Sou reached out his right hand, placed it on the cold door handle, and pushed it open steadily.
The bright light from the rehearsal space flooded out, making his eyes squint slightly.
Stepping past the cluttered scaffolding for stage adjustments and the blinding spotlights, Kanzaki Sou focused his gaze on the center of the floor.
There, several young idol girls, drenched in sweat and wearing soaked-through practice clothes, were sprawled ungracefully on the wooden floor, panting heavily under the pale post-rehearsal light, completely exposed in his line of sight.