Hoshinomiya Chie took a slow sip of her coffee, the warmth doing little to dispel the sudden chill of exposure. She had intended to be the observer, the gentle adult making casual inquiry. Instead, she felt like a specimen under a dispassionate lens.
"Student, your movements are very skilled. Have you worked here long?" she asked, her voice a model of pleasant, idle curiosity.
Sakamoto paused. He turned, and his gaze—calm, assessing—landed on her. Not on the customer, but on the teacher.
"Hoshinomiya-sensei. Thank you for your attention." His voice was polite, yet it felt like the quiet click of a lock. "I am currently on duty. I would be happy to answer your questions afterward."
Her smile held, a practiced reflex, but her fingers tightened imperceptibly around the porcelain handle. He knows. Not just her role, but her name. They had never been formally introduced. Her casual attire, her unassuming posture—it had all been a transparent costume to him. Her probe was deflected with the effortless grace of a master fencer, and she was left neatly sidelined with a promise of later that felt more like a dismissal.
"Ah… of course. My apologies for the interruption," she managed, the gentle smile still in place. She watched him glide away, a server once more, her mind racing.
Across the room, Kamuro Masumi noted the exchange. The gentle-looking woman with brown curls… a teacher? A flicker of unease passed through her, but it was eclipsed by the now-familiar sense of security Sakamoto's composure inspired. She finished her coffee and left, unaware that her departure was a signal.
Ishizaki Daichi, a rough-cut boy lurking near the café's potted plants, lowered his head the moment Kamuro's back vanished through the door. His thumbs flew over his phone.
*[Target has left the cafe.]*
On the shopping center's second floor, Ryuuen Kakeru read the message, a predator's smile touching his lips. The bait was taken. The stage was clearing. Now, for the main event.
Hoshinomiya Chie was still nursing her cooling coffee, replaying the unsettling encounter, when Sakamoto returned. The transformation was startling. The black apron was gone. He now stood before her in the pristine burgundy of the Koudo Ikusei uniform, every line sharp, his presence shifting from efficient server to poised, unreadable student. The shift was so complete it felt deliberate—a demonstration that the role of 'waiter' was just that, a role to be doffed as easily as the apron.
He gave a slight, formal bow. "Hoshinomiya-sensei. Thank you for waiting. How may I assist you?"
The pretense was gone. He had named her, acknowledged her purpose, and now stood waiting for her to state her business. It was a move that seized control of the conversation before it had even begun.
Hoshinomiya Chie set her cup down with a soft clink. The game of subtle inquiry was over. He had called her bluff.
"Since I've been exposed," she said, her gentle tone now edged with a teacher's directness, "I'll be direct. Sakamoto-kun. The S-System. The information leak. I have reason to believe you are at the center of it." She leaned forward slightly, her earlier warmth replaced by focused intensity. "My class is operating in the dark. I cannot help them directly. But I need to understand what kind of student I—and they—are truly competing against. Who are you, really?"
Hoshinomiya Chie's smile was a masterpiece of pedagogical concern, warm and utterly deliberate. "Hello, Sakamoto-kun. I am Hoshinomiya Chie, the homeroom teacher of Class B." The admission was a strategic retreat into honesty, a repositioning. "I happened to be passing and saw you working. As a teacher, it's heartening to see a student take on responsibility with such dedication."
She let the praise hang for a beat before introducing the gentle hook of concern. "Of course, school rules do discourage part-time work. Though… I understand you secured this through a rather unique channel." She leaned forward slightly, her tone softening to one of confidential curiosity. "I am curious, though. How do you manage to balance this with your studies? The academic standards in Class A are exceptionally high."
It was a perfect teacher's question—supportive on the surface, probing beneath.
Sakamoto's expression did not flicker. "Thank you for your concern, Hoshinomiya-sensei." His voice was a model of respectful neutrality. "Within any system, rules define a permissible trajectory of operation. Academics and this work are separate vectors within that framework. By adhering to the internal logic of each, they can proceed in parallel without interference."
The answer was a closed loop of logic, impeccably polite and utterly empty. It acknowledged her point while revealing nothing, treating her inquiry as a simple matter of time management rather than the deep probe into his motives and methods that it was. Hoshinomiya felt the pressure of his composure—not a forceful push, but the weight of a vacuum, drawing out her efforts and offering nothing in return.
She lifted her cooled coffee, the bitterness on her tongue mirroring her frustration. Her eyes, however, remained soft, analytical. "Sakamoto-kun," she said, her voice dropping to a more intimate, contemplative register. "You seem to possess a… particularly nuanced understanding of 'rules.'"
It was not quite a question. It was an observation laid bare, an invitation for him to either elaborate or to reveal, by his refusal, the depth of his calculations.
Sakamoto offered no elaboration. He simply continued to regard her with that same, patient calm, his silence itself an answer. He was waiting—for her next move, or for her to concede the endgame. The ball remained in her court, but she was playing on a field whose boundaries he had already mapped to perfection.
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