Faced with the Class Rep's relentless stream of enticing offers, Kuroba Akira didn't look excited at all. Instead, he let out a sigh.
He admitted—it was tempting. If Kuroba had truly been a fifteen-year-old boy, he would've already nodded like a bobblehead and gotten completely hooked.
Too bad his mental age had to be multiplied by two. The days of innocent enthusiasm were long gone.
Even when it was kindness, he still couldn't help but be skeptical.
"Is the Literature Club really that important? Enough for you to go this far?"
"It is important. But more than that—it's because you're Kuroba-kun that I'm giving it everything I've got to bring you in."
"Hah…"
Kuroba sighed again. Her words were full of sincerity, filled with a sense of how much she valued him. And yet, all it earned from him was a wry smile.
Because he knew all too well—behind sweet words always lay interest.
Your average high school student might not think that deeply, but it was obvious that Anri Hitomi was far more mature than most her age. Everything she said was laced with intention.
Sure, chatting with her was fun. She probably didn't mean any harm. She was just really good at reading people and saying what they wanted to hear.
But that kind of emotionally calculated conversation left Kuroba uneasy. It reminded him of the manipulative bosses from his past life—those smooth talkers who said all the right things, only to throw you under the bus the next day.
"Class Rep, you don't have to say stuff just to please me. Maybe it works on other people, but for me? It just has the opposite effect."
"..."
In that instant, the air between them shifted.
Despite the scorching summer heat, Kuroba felt a chill crawl up his spine.
He turned his head slightly, only to find the Class Rep standing in front of the vending machine with her head bowed. Her bangs cast a shadow over her face, making it impossible to see her expression.
"Class Rep?"
"It's… really hot today, huh."
She looked up again, her smile still on—but this time, Kuroba noticed something off.
That smile… felt hollow. Mechanical. The kind of fake politeness you saw on convenience store clerks. Completely devoid of warmth.
She pulled a slim, black-and-white striped coin purse from her pocket and took out a neatly folded, crisp ¥1,000 bill. The machine's light was already on, but she didn't select a drink.
"Kuroba-san," she said, her tone suddenly distant, "the Literature Club is my only place to breathe. I don't want to lose it."
Her way of addressing him had changed. She'd stopped calling him "-kun" and switched to the more neutral "-san."
It was subtle, but it meant something.
She'd dropped the act.
She wasn't trying to win him over anymore. She wasn't sugarcoating her words.
And she was finally being honest—about why she cared so much about the club.
It seemed Anri Hitomi didn't suffer from academic pressure, but from something else entirely.
Kuroba guessed it was probably family-related. At their age, kids often clashed with their parents, and many felt like they no longer had a place at home.
If she hadn't been an honor student, if she were more of a delinquent, maybe she would've run away by now.
But Anri Hitomi, more mature than most, hadn't gone that far. She didn't act out. Instead, she kept everything bottled up and sought refuge at school—in the Literature Club.
That's why she was so desperate to protect it.
Teenage drama, huh.
Even though he'd basically nailed it, Kuroba didn't press. He had no intention of getting involved in her family's mess.
Every household has its problems. Outsiders can't help, and it's best they don't try.
"The other members of the club… they're all girls. They're good girls. Easy to be around. That's why I don't want to expose them to danger."
"Ohhh…"
Kuroba's reply was distracted. The heat was frying his brain.
And to be honest, he didn't care much about student relationships to begin with.
From experience, he knew: no matter how close you were in school, once you graduated and real life started, you'd eventually lose touch.
In the end, everyone becomes a stranger again.
So what's the point?
Suddenly, a powerful force yanked him forward. His entire body was dragged out of the shade next to the vending machine. He stumbled a few steps before catching himself.
The Class Rep had grabbed him by the collar—and pulled him right in front of her.
Now they were face to face—way too close.
And the first thing Kuroba noticed was…
Her eyelashes are really long.
Her breath brushed against his skin. It tickled.
He caught a faint floral scent. That was probably what people called the natural fragrance of a high school girl.
…Man, that's such a virgin thought.
It's obviously just her shampoo.
"Hoooh—!"
"Guh—! My eyes!"
Anri puffed up her cheeks and blew a sharp breath into his face.
That pleasant scent filled his nose, but the blast of air nearly shredded his poor eyeballs.
He squeezed his eyes shut. The sting brought actual tears to the corners of his eyes.
"Listen to me properly."
"I was listening! What the hell was that sneak attack for?!"
"Then listen closely," she said, her voice suddenly ice-cold. "I don't want trash like those brain-dead, dick-for-brains perverts or filthy, manipulative sluts coming near my sweet club members with their disgusting motives. Is that clear?"
"..."
When Kuroba finally forced his eyes open again, what he saw was a face completely stripped of its usual smile.
Her expression was cold. Emotionless.
Yikes… that glare could kill someone.
Even the little curve at the corners of her mouth was gone.
If she'd been the sweet, gentle princess until just now—then this version of the Class Rep was a venom-tongued, sadistic queen.
"You said you're not mute, right, Kuroba-san? Then answer me."
"Yes ma'am! I understand completely, Your Excellency the Class Rep!"
"Good."
She let go of his collar, smoothed it back into place, then gently brushed his cheek with her hand—wiping away the tears at the corners of his eyes with her thumb, and dabbing the sweat from his temple with her palm.
After finishing all that, she stepped back, and as if nothing had happened, said—
"Now, shall we continue our discussion, Kuroba-kun?"
Her tone softened again, and the smile returned—but the impression she'd left was seared into Kuroba's brain.
Note to self: never cross the Class Rep. If she turns on you, you're screwed.
He wasn't exactly afraid of a high school girl. But that shift in her attitude made him take things seriously.
"You didn't want guys joining the Literature Club just for pervy reasons… So all that before, was it a test?"
"The test ended a while ago. The moment you turned down my panties, I already knew you were the kind of pervert who knows his boundaries."
A pervert with boundaries? What kind of backhanded compliment is that…
Still, it meant she trusted him.
She'd only extended the invitation because she trusted him.
And when there's trust involved, that makes it a transaction—a deal based on mutual benefit.
So, if it's a deal…
"Let's talk compensation, then."
---
T/N: that school is cooked if he's the best option