"Damn it… this is way too much!" I growled under my breath, slamming my pen onto the desk as I glared at the endless stacks of paperwork before me.
Weekend financial settlements, activity schedules, student lists, and expense reports for each club—it was a nightmare, a hurricane of paperwork that had transformed my once-organized office into a war zone of missing files and loose pages.
The sheer mess of it all clawed at my sanity.
Messy, far too messy—completely unacceptable.
My eye twitched as I stared at the chaotic mountain of documents, my OCD kicking in like a relentless drill sergeant.
The uneven piles, the misplaced folders, the crooked angles of papers hanging precariously off the edges of the desk—it was all driving me insane.
My temples throbbed, a sharp ache that pulsed with my rising frustration. The veins in my hands and feet tightened as if preparing to burst under the pressure of my irritation.
Even my magic circuits—usually dormant unless I consciously activated them—threatened to spark to life, tingling beneath my skin like restless energy demanding release.
"All of this from taking just one day off!" I hissed, the indignation burning through my chest. The unfairness of it, the sheer absurdity, fueled my frustration until it became a roaring fire.
My pulse quickened, my breathing steadied, and then—something inside me shifted.
It wasn't rage anymore; it was focus, pure and unrelenting. My mind sharpened like the blade of a sword, and I felt my magic stirring to life. My pupils gleamed with a faint golden light, casting an otherworldly glow over the papers as my awareness expanded.
I could feel the weight of each sheet, the texture of the ink embedded in the fibers.
My senses heightened to an almost unnatural level, and my vision narrowed down to stark black and white, highlighting every detail with pinpoint precision.
This chaos wouldn't defeat me.
Moving with superhuman speed, I plunged into the paperwork like a storm unleashed.
My hands moved in a blur, filing, organizing, stamping, and signing as though possessed by an otherworldly force. Folders flew open and closed with a satisfying snap.
Pens glided across paper, leaving behind precise marks as if each stroke was part of an intricate battle plan. My desk was no longer a battlefield but a workshop, and I was its master craftsman.
In that moment, I wasn't just completing paperwork—I was obliterating it.
"Yo ho! Boss!"
Just as I was fully immersed in my mountain of paperwork, an unmistakable, high-pitched voice cut through the air like a needle pricking my eardrums. I winced.
The culprit was, of course, Iroha Hanazawa—my trusted junior in the student council, though at times, I questioned if "trusted" was the right word.
With her golden hair shimmering like spring sunlight, tied into a playful, loopy braid, and sparkling amethyst-purple eyes that seemed to hold equal parts enchantment and mischief, she could easily be mistaken for an innocent doll. Her face was undeniably beautiful, as if it had been sculpted with precision to exude charm and sweetness.
But then there was the rest of her.
Iroha was tiny—absurdly tiny.
She was so short and petite that she could easily pass for an elementary school kid who'd accidentally wandered into the high school.
The school uniform looked comically oversized on her, the blazer hanging awkwardly off her narrow shoulders, the pleats of her skirt brushing her knees like it had been designed for someone twice her size.
And her curves? Let's just say that the fact her chest wasn't concave was nothing short of miraculous.
Honestly, if I compared her figure to mine, I'd probably come out ahead—not that I wanted to think about that.
Adding to my irritation, she stood there grinning like a Cheshire cat, completely unfazed by the chaos around me.
Despite clearly seeing how overwhelmed I was, she made no move to help, just bouncing on her heels with that carefree attitude of hers.
"Yo ho, my foot! Get over here and help me now!" I snapped, slamming my pen down and glaring at her with narrowed eyes that glowed faintly with magic, a clear warning to stop testing my patience.
This entire group of useless people—how did I get stuck with all of them? They only know how to depend on me, dumping every task imaginable on my plate.
So annoying!
I didn't even have time to sigh before my patience finally snapped. My murderous glare shot across the room, sending chills in every direction.
"Eek! Boss, I just came here to eat lunch! Don't be so cruel!"
Startled by the intensity of my gaze, Iroha let out a panicked squeal—some bizarre mix between a yelp and a hiccup.
She scrambled backward, clutching her lunchbox to her chest as if it were a shield, before diving behind the sofa like a startled chick fleeing a hawk.
"I just came here to eat, okay? Geez!" she whimpered, poking her head out from her makeshift fortress. Her trembling voice was laced with a grumble, but her expression betrayed her nervousness.
Meanwhile, I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my composure.
Grinding my teeth, I reminded myself of the old adage: Don't interrupt someone when they're eating.
Fine. She gets a pass—for now.
"Hmph... fine. Eat first. But when you're done, you're helping me finish this mountain of paperwork."
My voice was low and sharp, each word cutting through the air with a chilling finality.
As I spoke, my gaze bore into her with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey. The room seemed to darken slightly, a palpable pressure filling the air and pressing down on her fragile frame.
Iroha's face turned ghostly pale, her eyes wide with terror as she shrank even further behind the sofa, clutching her lunchbox like her life depended on it.
"Y-yes, ma'am…" She stammered and nodded obediently.
Avoiding my piercing gaze, Iroha shuffled cautiously toward the door, her every movement exaggerated with timid care.
Her trembling hand hovered over the doorknob, and as soon as she turned it and the hallway light spilled in like the glow of salvation, she bolted.
Without so much as glancing back, she darted through the doorway, leaving it swinging open in her wake. Not even the courtesy to close the door behind her. Typical.
Scared off by such a minor threat? Weak. Far too weak.
With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair, picked up my midday coffee, and took a deliberate sip, savoring the bitterness that seemed to match my mood perfectly.
Then, without another thought, I returned to tackling the endless mountain of paperwork on my desk.
Let her run. She'd be back soon enough.
***
"Ugh, finally done!!! Boss, you're so cruel, even during break time, you made me work!" Iroha complained, stretching her small body, creating a series of crackling sounds, like middle-aged people with spinal issues. It was to be expected, though, since we had just cleared an entire mountain of paperwork.
After complaining, she glanced at the lunchbox beside me and asked with a smug look, "Hmm, so the boss hasn't had lunch yet? No wonder you're so cranky today." It seemed like she was trying to provoke me.
"…Yeah… but, thanks anyway." Even though this was technically your job too.
Exhausted, I pulled out my lunchbox. Today, Yuki had made me a Bento, and I'd been looking forward to it, curious to see how it turned out. But then, how the hell did I end up being called up by the president for this?
He went on a date with the vice president, and Airi—the supposed secretary—had some mental issues and offed the job, so all their work naturally fell on me. Just thinking about it made me feel bitter. But whatever, being angry wouldn't make the food taste good, so for now, I decided to just ignore it.
"Ugh, finally done!!!" Iroha groaned dramatically, her tiny body stretching out with such force that a series of crackling noises echoed from her joints—like the sound of a middle-aged person cracking their back. It was no surprise, though. After the marathon session we'd just endured to clear that entire mountain of paperwork, she had every right to act like she'd run a marathon.
As she finished stretching, she glanced at the lunchbox sitting beside me, a smug look creeping across her face. "Hmm, so the boss hasn't had lunch yet? No wonder you're so cranky today," she teased, clearly trying to get a rise out of me.
"…Yeah…" I muttered, my mood souring just thinking about it. "But thanks anyway."
Though I didn't voice it, she'd just done the bare minimum—this whole mess of paperwork should've been her responsibility, too.
With a tired sigh, I opened my lunchbox. Yuki had made it for me today, a homemade Bento, and I'd been looking forward to it all morning.
I'd been curious to see how her cooking had turned out, hoping for something both tasty and comforting.
But of course, that expectation got squashed the moment the president roped me into this paperwork nightmare.
While he was off enjoying his date with the vice president, and Airi—the so-called secretary—had left the job unfinished, all their work had to be dumped on me.
Thinking about it, I could feel my irritation bubbling up again, but I forced it down.
It wasn't like getting angry was going to make the food taste any better. I focused on the Bento instead, pushing the bitterness of the situation aside, at least for the moment.
"..." I opened the lunchbox, squinting at the contents inside. The familiar food stared back at me, but something was off.
Though it was the same kind of stuff I usually cook, it wasn't arranged neatly, nor was it visually appealing.
The colors were all mixed up, the rice slightly uneven, and the vegetables were a little overcooked.
It wasn't the most appetizing sight, but I could only hope the taste would still make up for the lack of presentation. After all the stress, I was just desperate for something decent to eat.
I set my chopsticks down and began to pick up a piece, ready to take the first bite. But before I could even take a single mouthful, the little brat beside me practically salivated at the sight of my lunch.
Her eyes widened, and her lips quivered with anticipation, like a starving ghost.
"Boss, can I have a bite?"
I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "You just ate!"
I shot her a disgusted look. Seriously, how do all the girls around me have such insatiable appetites?
"But I need to eat more to grow!" Iroha protested, practically vibrating with eagerness.
She was undeterred by my annoyance. "And… it's been so long since I've had food cooked by you," she added, her eyes gleaming with a weird kind of longing.
I couldn't help but feel a bit irritated at her.
She probably thought I was the one who made the food, but that wasn't the case. Yuki had prepared it, not me.
Still, I supposed I should give her some credit for helping me with all that paperwork earlier. A little feedback wouldn't hurt.
"Fine. I guess it's a thank-you for helping me," I muttered, clicking my tongue as I reluctantly handed her the lunchbox.
Iroha's face immediately lit up as though she'd just been handed the most precious treasure in the world.
"Thank you so much!" Without even looking at the lunchbox, the girl's eyes sparkled as she grabbed a piece of egg, expecting the pinnacle of culinary delight, the absolute peak of flavor.
Little did she know…
After just one bite, the gleam of delight in Iroha's eyes vanished, replaced by a look of complete disappointment, as if she had just bitten into a sour, unripe fruit. Her face twisted into a grimace, and she stared down at her piece of egg like it had betrayed her.
Curious about whether it was really that bad, I grabbed a piece myself and took a bite. My reaction was exactly the same.
Hmm, it wasn't terrible, but it was... so incredibly bland. There was nothing to it—no flavor, no excitement, just plain and forgettable. I tried to hide my dissatisfaction, but my face must've betrayed me. I could practically feel the same empty, defeated look that had crossed Iroha's face creeping onto mine.
"…Boss, you didn't make this, did you?" Iroha asked, her voice laced with both curiosity and judgment as she watched my expression fall. She clearly wasn't impressed, and I could understand why. She came from a rich family, where I was sure her meals were always carefully prepared and far more delicious than this.
"Mm, my little sister made it." I didn't bother to lie, letting her know directly who was responsible.
"Your sister? Don't tell me it's that mif—the beautiful one who just moved here, right?!" Iroha's eyes went wide, her voice rising in shock as if she wanted the entire world to hear her outburst. She practically shouted, her surprise filling the room.
"Yuki Hoshizora, that's her name," I said, deadpan, keeping my focus on the food in front of me.
"Ah, yes, Hoshizora… I've seen her around. She doesn't really talk to anyone, so I didn't know her name." Iroha nodded, her gaze lingering on me as I ate in silence.
She probably thought I'd be offended by her not knowing my sister's name, as if it was some deep betrayal.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes internally. It was almost like she thought I was petty enough to care about something like that.
Sigh… "this is the biggest problem I've got on my plate right now," I thought, my gaze drifting toward the office door.
The fact that Hoshizora refuses to connect with anyone hits a nerve with me. As her older brother—though technically just a stepbrother—I feel this constant weight of responsibility to help her.
The tricky part is finding a way to help her without her even realizing I'm doing it. I can't just shove her into a friendship and hope it works. I need to find a subtle way to guide her, one she won't notice, or worse, resent.
Last night, I threw aside my student council duties to watch a movie with her. It wasn't all just for fun, though. I carefully chose a film about "The Power of Friendship," thinking that maybe—just maybe—it could break through to her.
It sounds cheesy, but there's truth in it. The movie was about a shy girl with social anxiety who found her place in a music group.
It resonated with me—how, even though the girl preferred being alone, she discovered that connecting with others could open up a whole new world. It's something I believe in, too, though I might not always show it.
For example, during lunch today—if it weren't for Iroha's help, I would have been buried in paperwork for hours. That's the kind of thing I want Hoshizora to understand—that relying on others is OK.
I can't always be there for her. Sometimes, she needs to have friends outside of me—people like Iroha, who can offer her support and companionship when I'm not around.
And speaking of Iroha, she might be able to help me with this.
"...Hmm." I glanced at the girl beside me, my smile dark and mischievous.
"Eh, boss, why are you looking at me like that... Could it be... you want to 'eat' me?" Iroha misinterpreted my expression and shrank back, covering herself as though she feared I was about to pounce.
Sorry, Iroha, but I only go for girls with bigger assets. You're not even close—don't get any ideas.
I stood up, weary, and lightly tapped her on the head.
"Stop fantasizing, girl. I just need you to do me a favor." I shot her a sharp look, making sure to cut off any of her playful thoughts.
"Ouch, you didn't have to hit me that hard. I'll end up shrinking!" She rubbed her head but came closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she placed a finger to her lips and giggled.
"So, what do you want me to do?" she asked with a smirk, squinting at me and leaning in a little too eagerly.
"It's simple. I need you to approach Hoshizora and get her into the literature club." I handed her a piece of paper with "Literature Club Budget Report" written on it.
"Iroha, you know I can't stand troublemakers—people who don't pull their weight. And these guys have been draining the budget like there's no tomorrow."
"So, you're planning to deal with them?" I placed my hand on her shoulder and flashed a grin—one that could only be described as devious. Seeing it, Iroha returned the smile, her eyes narrowing with understanding.
"So, what you're saying is that you want the literature club to recruit Hoshizora, right?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Exactly." I pulled my hand away from her shoulder and nodded, sinking back into my chair.
It was the perfect setup. On the one hand, I could pressure the literature club to shape up, and on the other, I could get Hoshizora to interact with people without doing anything myself. She wouldn't feel guilty for me taking care of her.
"Got it, boss. How much can I lie?" she asked, her tone suddenly serious.
"Lie as much as you need. Hoshizora won't be easily fooled, but if it comes down to it, use me as bait."
"Gladly," she said, nodding with a sly grin. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she looked nothing like the playful girl I knew. This was the real Iroha, the one behind the facade—the one who'd do whatever it took to get things done, even if it meant stepping on others.
And I knew this side of her all too well. A perfect match for me.