When we pushed open the heavy metal rooftop doors, the scenery was spectacular.
The golden hour light was bathing the concrete terrace in a warm, hazy orange.
But we weren't the first ones there.
Sitting on the prime white wooden bench, casually swirling a glass of iced hibiscus tea that had definitely been delivered by a personal butler through a backdoor, was Kazari Shiori.
Her spun-gold hair was practically incandescent in the afternoon light, and her glittering golden eyes crinkled with immediate, predatory delight the moment the door creaked.
"My, my. Look at what the wind blew in today,"
Shiori purred, closing her high-end lace fan with a crisp snap.
"I was beginning to think I’d have to purchase the stairwell just to force you to walk up here, Kurogane-san~."
"What are you doing up here Kazari-senpai? Aren't you supposed to be in a luxury gazebo receiving financial reports?"
"The gazebo was drafty today,"
Shiori smiled elegantly, patting the empty spot on the bench beside her.
"And besides, I find the local fauna on the roof much more entertaining. Come, sit. I brought a box of imported French macarons. They taste like real estate and lavender."
Haruka's sweet, angelic protagonist aura instantly dropped by about forty degrees.
She stepped forward, her fingers tightening around her tote bag as she planted herself directly in front of the bench, shielding me like a tiny, fierce guard dog.
"Kazari-senpai, with all due respect, Kurogane-san and I had an official rooftop appointment today. You can't just colonize our lunch spot with pastries."
"Oh? Is it colonization if I offer to share the wealth, Hinata-san?"
Shiori teased, her golden eyes flashing with a highly dangerous level of amusement.
She reached into her silk bag and pulled out a delicate, pastel-colored macaron, holding it out toward me.
"Kurogane-san looks like she needs the sugar. Her face is quite pale behind those lovely frames."
"I—I am highly susceptible to sugar bribes, it is a well-documented genetic flaw!"
I babbled, my face turning a chaotic shade of pink as I stood between the two of them, looking like a civilian trapped in a territorial dispute between a sovereign nation and a localized rebellion.
Before Haruka could mount a counter-offensive or declare an official war on high-society snacks, the heavy rooftop doors flew open with a resounding BANG.
The temperature on the roof instantly plummeted to absolute zero.
Shizuku Fuyumi stood in the doorway.
She wasn't wearing her usual immaculate white archery hakama she was still in her standard school uniform blazer, her silver ponytail slightly disheveled and her breathing just a fraction uneven.
She held her clipboard like a weapon, her piercing blue eyes scanning the terrace before locking directly onto the golden-haired heiress with a glare that could freeze a volcano.
"Kazari Shiori,"
Fuyumi said, her voice dropping like a localized blizzard.
"I have spent the last forty-five minutes searching every single courtyard, greenhouse, and private lounge on this campus. The administration office required your signature on the regional sports council budget allocation form by four o'clock."
Shiori didn't even flinch.
She simply took a delicate sip of her hibiscus tea and offered a flawless, innocent smile.
"Oh, Fuyumi. You found me. I must praise your tracking skills. I thought the roof was entirely off your radar today."
"The archery range is closed for maintenance because someone structural-damaged the cedar rafters yesterday afternoon,"
Fuyumi shot back, her icy gaze briefly flicking to me making me squeak and hide behind my collar before turning back to Shiori.
"There is no practice today. Which means you have exactly zero excuses to avoid your student council responsibilities. Get downstairs. Now."
Shiori let out a long, theatrical sigh that sounded like a tragic opera singer giving her final performance.
She stood up, smoothing down her pleated skirt with absolute grace.
"Duty calls, it seems. The burden of being essential is truly exhausting."
She paused beside me, her fan lightly tapping my chin as she leaned in close enough for me to smell her expensive rose perfume.
"Don't look so sad, Kurogane-san~. I’ll leave the macarons. Consider it a down payment for our next private tea arrangement."
"Bring the form, Shiori,"
Fuyumi commanded, her tall, majestic figure turning back toward the stairwell.
She threw one final, lingering blue-eyed look over her shoulder at my burning face.
"And Kurogane... rest your arms. If I see you shivering tomorrow, I will double your lap count anyway."
The door slammed shut behind the two legendary background beauties, leaving a heavy, stunned silence in their wake.
I blinked behind my glasses, letting out a breath so long I think I emptied my lungs entirely.
"Wow. The upperclassmen ecosystem is terrifying. I feel like I just watched two apex predators argue over a territorial border while I'm just a very confused blade of grass."
"They're finally gone,"
Haruka breathed, her entire posture instantly relaxing.
The stiff, defensive tension left her shoulders, and that beautiful, world-saving heroine smile returned to her face like the sun breaking through rainclouds.
"Come on, Kurogane-san! Sit down before someone else decides to interrupt us."
We sat cross-legged on the checkerboard picnic cloth, the golden sunlight painting the concrete around us.
Haruka opened her bento box, and the delicious, comforting scent of fresh rice and savory tamagoyaki completely erased the residual high-society stress from my brain.
For a long time, we just talked about normal, mundane things how terrible the literature teacher’s voice was, how the cafeteria line was always too long, and how my glasses constantly fogged up when I drank hot soup.
It was peaceful.
It was exactly what a background life was supposed to feel like.
"Mei-chan,"
Haruka said softly, her voice dropping into a quiet, tentative register as she set her chopsticks down.
I instantly felt shy as she called out my first name without a care in the world. Even though it's this NPCs name, a sudden hidden excitement rush over me.
"Y-Yeah?"
I mumbled around a mouthful of rice, a hint of shyness as i looked over at her.
The sunlight was hitting her wavy brown hair, making it look incredibly soft.
"Is it okay if i called your first name?... Ah i won't forced it if you felt uncomfortable,"
Her amber eyes were staring intensely down at her lap, her cheeks dusting with a lovely, deep shade of strawberry pink.
She was fidgeting with the hem of her uniform skirt, her entire silhouette radiating a massive, unmistakable concentration of pure Heroine Initiative Energy.
"Actually... Thank you, Kurogane-san you kept standing up for me,"
Haruka whispered, her fingers twisting together.
"And then I see Kazari-senpai and Shizuku-senpai just... coming up to your desk, and talking to you like you're someone special to them. It made me realize something."
"That I'm an accidental magnet for terrifyingly beautiful women?"
I joked weakly, my internal monologue starting to panic at the sheer romantic weight of the atmosphere.
"No,"
Haruka said, suddenly snapping her head up.
"That i wanted to get more closer to you, starting by calling you with your first name."
Her amber eyes locked dead onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
She reached into her tote bag, pulled out her smartphone, and slid it across the picnic cloth until it tapped against my knee.
"It made me realize that I don't want to just be a classmate you talk to because our desks are next to each other. I want to be able to talk to you when we're at home. I want to send you pictures of the food I make. I want to know what you're doing."
She leaned in just a fraction closer, her face bright red but her gaze completely unwavering.
"Mei-chan... give me your account. Add me on social media right now. And don't you dare leave me on read."
Ding!
[HEROINE EVENT INITIATED: THE DIRECT TRANSMISSION DEMAND! INTIMACY COUNTER: OVERFLOWING!]
Dear diary: The boy band is gone, the upperclassmen are signing paperwork downstairs, and the actual main character of this world just slid her phone onto my knee and demanded my digital soul.
My glasses might protect me from the glare of reality, but they are doing absolutely nothing to protect my heart right now.