The final bell of the day echoed through the classroom.
Tōhō Getsukai neatly stacked his textbooks, sliding them into his bag before standing up to head for the door.
Behind him, a familiar, slightly muffled voice called out.
“Hey…
about you going to see Teacher Hiratsuka…” Eriri shifted her gaze away, a hint of awkwardness coloring her tone.
“Are you going to be alright?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t even turn around, simply offering a reassuring wave over his shoulder as he walked out.
Eriri hesitated, her lips parting as if to say more, but she ultimately swallowed her words.
The staff office sat at the far end of the second-floor corridor.
Pushing the heavy door open, Tōhō stepped into a room smelling faintly of stale coffee and paper.
Shizuka Hiratsuka sat entrenched behind her desk, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips as she aggressively flipped through a towering stack of student documents.
Her signature white lab coat was draped carelessly over the back of her chair.
Beneath it, she wore a dark dress shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal a glimpse of collarbone.
She was a woman in her early thirties, possessing sharp, striking features and an unyielding intensity knit between her brows.
However, the heavy, impossible-to-hide dark circles under her eyes somewhat undermined her fierce aura.
“Sit,” Shizuka commanded, lifting her chin to gesture at the empty chair beside her desk.
Tōhō didn’t immediately comply.
Instead, his gaze swept the cluttered desk, landing on the electric kettle.
He calmly retrieved a clean cup, poured a fresh serving of hot tea, and slid it across the desk toward her.
“Teacher Hiratsuka, please have something warm to drink first.”
Shizuka accepted the cup, her fingers freezing mid-air.
“…Thank you.”
“Also,” Tōhō finally took his seat opposite her.
He crossed his legs with practiced grace, the hem of his pleated uniform skirt resting perfectly over his knees.
“Have you been staying up late a lot recently, Teacher?”
Shizuka’s hand twitched, nearly spilling the tea.
“What makes you say that?”
“Your skin condition isn’t looking its best.” Tōhō lightly tapped the area just beneath his own flawless eyes.
“It’s a bit dry right here, and the fine lines are much more noticeable than they were last week.
If you’re going to keep burning the midnight oil, I highly suggest applying a thick layer of ceramide cream before bed.
You’ll wake up much more hydrated.”
“…”
Silence descended upon the staff office.
Shizuka slowly lowered her teacup.
She laced her fingers together, rested her chin on her knuckles, and tilted her head, staring at him for a long, agonizing minute.
Her piercing gaze practically screamed: ‘Why are you better at taking care of people than my own mother?’
“I just think, Teacher, that you have an excellent natural foundation,” Tōhō added with a gentle smile.
“It would be a terrible shame not to maintain it.”
“…Dongfang.”
“Yes?”
“Are you absolutely certain you’re a boy?”
“I am.
I confirm the equipment every single morning.”
“…If someone like you ever gets married, your future wife must have saved the entire galaxy in her past life.”
Tōhō’s expression remained perfectly placid.
“Thank you for the high praise, but I am currently single.”
Shizuka choked on her own breath, coughing twice into her fist to mask the blunder.
Subconsciously, her fingers drifted up to touch the corner of her eye—before she realized what she was doing and violently yanked her hand back down.
‘How embarrassing!’
The dignified, iron-fisted academic affairs representative of Sobu High School, a mature, independent female educator, had just been critically struck in her weakest spot by a high schooler’s skincare advice.
The worst part was that he delivered it with such earnest, thoughtful sincerity that she couldn’t even get mad.
Shizuka mentally injected herself with a dose of adrenaline, clearing her throat to reset the mood.
‘Alright, down to business.’
She yanked a crisp sheet of paper from her drawer and slid it across the desk.
“Club activity application form?” Tōhō lowered his gaze.
The header read: Service Club.
Activity Content: Provide assistance and guidance to students in the school who are facing difficulties.
Advisor: Shizuka Hiratsuka.
Existing Members: Yukinoshita Yukino.
Just one name.
Tōhō stared at the ink.
Yukinoshita Yukino.
A first-year at Sobu High School, reigning at the absolute top of her grade.
She boasted a distinguished family background and stunning looks.
As for her personality—she was cold enough to freeze Chiba Bay into a public skating rink.
Her popularity in school hovered at absolute zero.
It wasn’t that people didn’t want to approach her; it was that anyone who dared step within a three-meter radius was instantly shredded by her razor-sharp tongue.
Tōhō had been at Sobu High School for over a year and hadn’t exchanged more than ten sentences with her.
He wasn’t avoiding her; he was simply waiting for the perfect opening.
“Dongfang,” Shizuka said, plucking the unlit cigarette from her lips and tossing it onto the desk.
“You have the best reputation in this entire school, and the most gentle personality—”
“Teacher, it’s ‘gentlemanly’.”
“Right, gentle.” Shizuka’s mouth twitched in annoyance.
“Regardless, that Yukinoshita kid has an incredibly abrasive personality.
She’s undeniably brilliant, but she hasn’t the faintest clue how to interact with others.
She’s been sitting in that club room all by herself for ages, without a single person to talk to.”
She tapped a manicured fingernail against the wood.
“I want you to join the Service Club.
As a classmate—” She caught herself, coughing awkwardly.
“…As a girl—ahem, as a classmate, try to interact with her.
Teach her how to deal with people.”
The slip of the tongue was glaringly obvious.
Tōhō caught it, but chose to let it slide.
Arguing about his gender with the faculty was a losing battle; he’d be correcting them until graduation.
He shifted his focus back to the paper.
Shizuka’s underlying message was crystal clear: ‘There is a problem child who desperately needs your feminine charm to guide her.’
The Service Club.
Yukinoshita Yukino.
Wait a minute.
He knew this exact script.
In the original timeline, the person sitting in this chair was supposed to be a certain dead-fish-eyed loner.
Hikigaya Hachiman, the undisputed king of outcasts at Sobu High School, was meant to be half-threatened, half-kicked into the Service Club by Shizuka, kicking off a turbulent enemies-turned-confidants drama with Yukinoshita.
But now…
Hachiman’s golden ticket had somehow landed in his hands?
A massive question mark floated through Tōhō’s mind.
‘This isn’t right.
Our playstyles are completely incompatible.’
That guy relied on self-destructive, social-suicide tactics to solve problems.
Tōhō, on the other hand, was walking the flawless, gentle Big Sister route.
If he got shoved into the room, would the Service Club even retain its original flavor?
Then again…
Yukinoshita Yukino was a top-tier ice beauty, an SSS-rank conquest target.
If he managed to melt that glacier, the system rewards would be absolutely explosive.
Besides, he needed to make contact with her eventually.
Now that Shizuka was practically handing him a VIP boarding pass, there was zero reason to hesitate.
“Well?” Shizuka tilted her head, studying his silence.
“Are you going to take it?”
Tōhō flipped the application over, noting the room assignment printed on the back.
Special building, at the very end of the first floor.
“I’ll take it.”
His answer was crisp, decisive, lacking even a fraction of a second of hesitation.
Shizuka raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by his immediate surrender.
“You don’t even want to ask what exactly you’ll be doing?”
“No need.” Tōhō stood up, gracefully plucking the form from the desk.
“Helping a lost classmate find their way is, after all, a big sis—no, it’s simply what classmates should do for one another.”
Shizuka nodded, a satisfied smirk touching her lips.
“Keep the form and head straight to the club room.
I’ve already given Yukinoshita a heads-up; she knows a new member is arriving today.”
“Understood.”
Tōhō turned and walked to the door, his fingers wrapping around the brass handle.
“Dongfang.”
He glanced back over his shoulder.
Shizuka was resting her chin on her hand again, the unlit cigarette back between her lips.
She stared at the ceiling, feigning complete indifference.
“That face cream…
what brand was it again?”
“Curel.
The intensive moisture care cream.
You can pick it up at any local drugstore.”
“…Got it.”
The heavy door clicked shut.
Tōhō stood alone in the quiet hallway for two full seconds, pressing a hand to his mouth to suppress a laugh.
Teacher Shizuka Hiratsuka had tried so hard to maintain her strict, authoritative aura from start to finish, yet he had effortlessly led her by the nose the entire time.
She had even caved and asked for the skincare brand.
The psychological defenses of an older, single female teacher were basically wet tissue paper against max-level Big Sister energy.
‘Alright, enough teasing the faculty.’
It was time to meet the real target.
The late afternoon sun stretched across the corridor, painting the floorboards into a flowing river of orange light.
Tōhō handled the connecting walkway and turned into the special building.
This wing of the school was notoriously empty.
The hallway was so dead silent that he could hear the soft, rhythmic rustle of his uniform skirt brushing against his knees with every step.
At the very end of the first floor, a single door stood shut.
A modest wooden plaque hung from the handle: Service Club.
The calligraphy was immaculate, every stroke radiating a strict, unyielding earnestness.
Holding the application form, Tōhō raised a knuckle and rapped twice against the wood.
No response.
He knocked twice more.
Still nothing.
On the third attempt, he simply turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The dying sunlight poured through the large windows, soaking the entire club room in a thick, suffocating hue of amber and red.
Beside a long table near the glass, a black-haired girl sat in absolute silence, reading a paperback novel.
Her dark hair cascaded smoothly over her shoulders, the very tips brushing against the edge of the pages.
Her skin was porcelain fair, her school uniform worn with such impeccable precision that not a single wrinkle could be found.
Her posture was so perfectly upright it bordered on surreal.
She was the only living soul in the room.
A circle of empty chairs sat arranged in the center, seemingly existing only to amplify her isolation.
At the sound of the door opening, her slender fingers paused on the edge of a page.
She slowly lifted her head.
They stood half a classroom apart, their gazes colliding in the quiet air.
Not a single unnecessary emotion flickered across Yukinoshita Yukino’s face.
She spent exactly three seconds sizing him up—from his shimmering silver hair, down to the red ribbon tied neatly at the collar of his sailor uniform, all the way to the slender legs wrapped in black over-the-knee socks beneath his pleated skirt.
Then, she calmly snapped her book shut.
Pressing her fingertips against the cover, she finally spoke.
“If you are here to sell entry tickets for a beauty pageant, you may leave.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“—pretty senpai.”