The second day at Seiji University was a repeat of the first, but with even greater intensity. Kiko was fully settled into her role. She laughed with Momo, traded style tips with Akira, and brushed off compliments with the grace of someone long accustomed to beauty.
But as soon as classes ended, the social mask fell away. Kiko dodged an invitation from Momo and Akira, inventing an "urgent study session," and rushed to her true sanctuary: the Furusato Bookstore.
There, the ritual was sacred: inside the bookstore's tiny restroom, she carefully cleansed her face. The flawless Kiko vanished, revealing plain skin, slight signs of fatigue, and then, her clunky glasses returned to their place. In that cocoon of paper and books, she could be the Kiko she truly was.
She had been there for ten minutes, comfortably nestled in a remote corner with her glasses on, flipping through an obscure shojo manga about a period romance, when a voice caught her off guard.
"It's not common to see someone reading that title."
Kiko gasped, nearly dropping the book. It was Hiroki. He was standing right there beside her, a thick hardcover book in his hands.
Kiko turned around in total panic. Her eyes widened. He saw her. No makeup, wearing glasses, her hair falling messily. She was the polar opposite of the campus "it-girl."
Hiroki's face remained perfectly neutral. He looked directly at her.
Did he recognize me?Kiko's heart pounded wildly. His gaze... it's the same as Hiroki-kun's back at Seiji. But... he isn't saying anything.
He focused on the manga in her hands. "It's a rare edition. The author balances the historical drama and the poetry of the romance quite well."
"Yes," Kiko managed to stammer, grateful he hadn't made any reference to the university or her makeup.
"My name is Hiroki." He extended his hand.
"Kiko," she replied, feeling his firm palm against hers.
"Kiko. If you like complex plots, I suggest volume twenty. The family arc there is what hooked me," he said. His tone was casual, the conversation strictly about manga.
*He recognized me,Kiko thought, feeling a wave of dread and fascination. He knows who I am, but he's protecting me. He's pretending he doesn't know me.
This silent complicity was more dangerous than any public exposure.
They agreed to meet again at the bookstore the following day. Kiko left the Furusato Bookstore with a nervous smile and the certainty that Hiroki had just become the silent guardian of her greatest secret simply by speaking of nothing but manga.