The final bell's chime was a release valve for Class 2-B, sending a wave of students toward the door in a chatter-filled current. Riko Aoyama did not join the immediate exodus. She methodically arranged her textbooks, her movements precise, her mind sharper. When the room had emptied to a quiet hum, she stood, smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt, and walked out—not toward the gates, but toward the heart of the school's authority.
The Student Council room door felt heavier than others. She knocked twice, crisp and clear.
"Enter."
The voice from within was calm, carrying an effortless weight. Riko slid the door open and stepped inside.
The room was orderly, dominated by a large table. But the true focal point was the girl seated at its head. Hoshino, the Council President. Last year's Vice President. The 'Princess.'
Up close, the title made sense. It wasn't about delicate beauty or frivolous grace. It was about density. An aura of settled, unmovable authority that seemed to still the very air around her. She wasn't just looking at Riko; she was assessing her, with a gaze that felt like it could inventory a soul.
"Aoyama Riko," Hoshino stated, not as a greeting, but as a confirmation. She closed the ledger before her. "You requested an appointment with urgency. Why?"
Riko bowed, the angle perfect, a calculated display of respect. "President Hoshino. Thank you for your time. My purpose is straightforward. I wish to join the Student Council." She remained bowed for a beat longer than strictly necessary before rising, meeting the President's eyes. "I believe I can contribute to upholding the school's standards."
Hoshino's expression didn't change. "Many students wish to join. Your transfer records show capability. But purpose is different from credential. Why do you want to join? What is your true objective here?"
Riko had prepared for skepticism. "A school's standards are upheld by visible pillars. I wish to be one such pillar," she recited, her voice polished. "I also believe in understanding the environment I operate in. For instance, my new class contains some… uniquely solitary individuals. Understanding student dynamics seems crucial to effective governance."
There was a flicker in Hoshino's eyes—a swift, intelligent connection. She leaned back slightly, the gesture somehow amplifying her presence.
"So," Hoshino said, her voice dropping to a softer, more penetrating tone. "You wish to know more about Sato-senpai and Tanaka-senpai. They are individuals of… noteworthy character."
Riko's composure slipped for a nanosecond. The president had not only understood her subtext but had articulated it with startling directness. "Does… the Council have a particular interest in them?" Riko asked, her curiosity overriding caution. "Why are the rumors about them so… contained? It feels deliberate. As if information about them is being managed."
For the first time, a trace of something personal—a shadow of old regret—passed through Hoshino's calm demeanor. "I made a mistake last year," she said, her gaze turning inward for a moment. "A misjudgment regarding assumptions and rumors. I am simply ensuring that mistake is not repeated. They have placed a significant amount of trust in… certain circumstances. You will realize soon enough that rumors are a pale, worthless currency when it comes to earning their genuine concern."
The answer was a riddle. Riko's hunger for logic rebelled. "It makes no sense," she pressed, her polite facade thinning to reveal raw ambition. "To be two of the most discussed students in the school, to have held the spotlight, and yet to choose this… this absolute solitude. It's an inefficient use of social capital."
Hoshino listened, then gave a slow, knowing nod. "You will understand it better once you see it for yourself. Until then, any explanation from me would seem illogical to you. It is a lesson best learned, not told."
She stood, the decision made. "Your application is accepted, Aoyama. You will start on the Logistics Committee. You will be formally introduced at the general assembly tomorrow as a new member." She moved to the window, looking out at the emptying courtyard. "Welcome to the Council. Remember, you are here to serve the student body, not to dissect it. Sometimes, understanding is a form of respect, not a strategy."
The dismissal was clear. Riko bowed again, her mind churning with more questions than answers. She had gained her entry, but the confrontation had not yielded conquest—it had revealed a deeper, more guarded mystery. The Princess hadn't given her the keys to the kingdom; she had shown her that the kingdom's most interesting treasures were under a protection she didn't yet understand.
As Riko left the room, the weight of Hoshino's final words settled on her. A mistake. Trust. Learned, not told. The unseen confrontation was over. She had her position. But the battle for understanding, she now knew, would be a much longer war.
(End of Chapter 35)