A girl with long, flowing hair—black at the roots and dyed pine green at the tips—pushed open the heavy steel door.
The groan of the hinges echoed ominously as she stepped into the dimly lit room.
The room, hidden behind the school library in a wing reserved for administrative records, was a secret few knew existed.
Accessible only to the student council, it was more bunker than office, its shadowy atmosphere adding weight to the discussions held within its walls.
A single bulb swayed gently from the ceiling, casting faint, flickering light.
The sparse furnishings reflected the room's purpose: a scuffed wooden table sat at its center, surrounded by a mismatched collection of leather couches and a black swivel chair.
Stacks of documents were scattered haphazardly across the table, along with a half-empty coffee mug and a deck of cards.
In the swivel chair, Satou Gotou, the school president, lounged with his legs propped up on the table. His unbuttoned white shirt revealed a worn brown undershirt, and his pants, loose without a belt, added to his disheveled appearance. Crocs adorned his feet, completing the image of someone entirely too comfortable in his position.
Saito Tenjin sighed as she approached him, her heels clicking softly against the concrete floor.
She stopped just short of the table and raised her hand, intending to slap him awake.
Before her palm could make contact, Satou's hand shot up, catching her wrist effortlessly. His piercing blue eyes opened lazily, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Now, Tenjin, is that any way to treat your esteemed school president?"
Saito yanked her hand back, glaring at him. "If anyone saw you like this, they'd never believe you were the president. You're supposed to carry yourself with dignity!"
Satou stretched, unbothered by her reprimand. "Dignity's overrated. Comfort is what really matters."
"Comfort doesn't excuse sloppiness," Saito snapped. "Even if you dress like an idiot, you're still the school president. Try to act like it!"
Satou chuckled, leaning back further in his chair. "Would you rather I wore a suit to bed, Tenjin?"
Saito groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're impossible."
"Fine, fine. Let's get to the part where you yell at me about something important," Satou said, waving a hand dismissively.
Before Saito could respond, Satou turned toward the door. "Kazuto, you can come in. I know you've been lurking."
"What?!" Saito spun around, her eyes narrowing.
The door creaked open, and a tall boy with vibrant orange hair stepped inside.
Mizumi Kazuto, the vice president, carried himself with a poise that contrasted sharply with Satou's relaxed demeanor.
Every step was measured, his movements fluid and deliberate, as if he were walking on a stage designed solely for him.
"Kazuto," Satou greeted casually, gesturing toward the couches. "Make yourself comfortable."
Mizumi inclined his head slightly before sinking into the nearest couch. His sharp green eyes flicked toward Saito, who was still glaring at him.
"Satou, I see you're as productive as ever," Mizumi said dryly, his lips curving into a faint smile.
"You couldn't have waited to be invited?" Saito muttered, crossing her arms.
"He's the vice president, Tenjin. He doesn't need an invitation," Satou interjected smoothly.
"But it was supposed to be just the two of us…" Saito mumbled, her cheeks faintly pink.
"Huh? What was that? I didn't catch it," Satou teased, leaning closer.
"It's nothing!" Saito huffed, crossing her arms.
Mizumi ignored her, his attention focused on Satou. "We have a problem."
Satou's grin faded, his posture shifting slightly. "Oh? What kind of problem?"
Mizumi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Class 1-B's leader has caught wind of the Nakamura Eiya Project."
The room fell silent.
Saito's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. "How…? That information is supposed to be confidential!"
Satou's playful demeanor vanished entirely. He sat upright, his hands clasped in front of him. "Does Nakamura know about this?"
"No," Mizumi replied. "At least, not yet. But if Class 1-B starts poking around, it's only a matter of time."
Satou leaned back again, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good. If Nakamura doesn't know, then this can still be contained."
"Contained?" Saito snapped, her voice rising. "Do you understand how serious this is? If Class 1-B's leader is involved—"
"It's fine," Satou interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "We stick to the plan."
Mizumi tilted his head, studying him. "You're awfully confident, considering how precarious this situation is."
"Confidence is what brought me here," Satou replied smoothly. "And it's what will keep this plan on track."
Saito slammed her hands on the table, leaning forward. "Satou, this isn't a joke. If this spirals out of control, everything we've worked for—"
"It won't," Satou said, cutting her off again. His eyes met hers, his gaze steady. "Tenjin, I need you to trust me."
For a moment, Saito said nothing, her lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, she exhaled sharply, stepping back. "Fine. But if this backfires, it's on you."
Satou grinned. "It's always on me, isn't it?"
Mizumi rose from the couch, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "I'll keep an eye on Class 1-B. If anything changes, I'll let you know."
"Appreciate it," Satou said, his grin widening.
As Kazuto turned to leave, Saito muttered under her breath, "This is a disaster waiting to happen."
"You worry too much, Tenjin," Satou said lightly, standing and stretching. "Trust me. Everything's under control."
Saito watched as the two boys left the room, the door clicking shut behind them. The dim light flickered, casting her shadow against the wall. She stared at the table, her mind racing with possibilities.
"What are you planning, Satou?" she whispered, her voice barely audible in the heavy silence.