At Seiran Academy University, reputation was currency.
And Daichi Moriyama was about to go bankrupt.
The rumor spread at 9:12 AM.
By 9:14, it had a hashtag.
By 9:20, it had a narrative.
"Vice President Moriyama emotionally manipulates girls to secure political influence."
By 10:03, it reached the scholarship committee.
By 10:15, it reached Akari Hayakawa.
Student Council President.
Top of her class.
Daughter of Hayakawa Holdings.
The girl who had never lost an election.
She read the article once.
Then twice.
Then closed her tablet.
Her expression did not change.
"Call Moriyama," she told Nene.
Nene gasped dramatically. "Are we entering confrontation arc already?"
"Yes."
10:32 AM
Student Council Room.
Daichi entered like nothing was on fire.
Calm. Polished. Annoyingly composed.
"You wanted to see me, President?"
Akari sat at the head of the long oak table.
Sunlight framed her like a courtroom painting.
"You're trending," she said.
"I noticed."
"And?"
"And trends expire."
She slid the tablet across the table.
He glanced at it.
Anonymous forum posts.
Blurred screenshots.
Fabricated "evidence."
Akari watched him carefully.
"Your scholarship renewal is next week."
"Yes."
"And my family foundation oversees half the board."
"I'm aware."
Silence.
Heavy.
Strategic.
"You understand," she continued, "that this reflects poorly on the student council."
"It reflects poorly on gossip culture."
Her gaze sharpened.
"This is not philosophical debate hour."
He smiled faintly.
"I'm not manipulating anyone."
"That is not the point."
She stood.
Walked around the table slowly.
Each step measured.
"What matters," she said quietly, "is perception."
He met her halfway.
Close enough now that formality felt thinner.
"And what do you propose, President?"
She held his gaze.
"Stability."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Define stability."
"A public relationship."
Silence.
Wind brushed the curtains.
He blinked once.
"You're suggesting I date someone to counter a rumor?"
"I'm suggesting you date someone untouchable."
Understanding dawned slowly.
Then fully.
"You."
"Yes."
He stared at her.
Not amused.
Not surprised.
Just calculating.
"Why would you risk your image?" he asked.
"Because if you fall, the council destabilizes. And I don't tolerate instability."
"And if people assume I manipulated you too?"
She stepped closer.
Voice low.
"No one believes I can be manipulated."
That was true.
Dangerously true.
He studied her face.
Perfect composure.
Perfect control.
But something flickered.
Not fear.
Not concern.
Something else.
Challenge.
"You realize," he said carefully, "fake dating requires convincing performance."
"I don't perform poorly."
"Public appearances."
"Yes."
"Hand-holding."
"If necessary."
"Close proximity."
Her expression did not shift.
"Are you uncomfortable with proximity, Vice President?"
He almost laughed.
Almost.
"You're very confident."
"I don't accept losing positions."
Silence again.
Then—
He moved.
Walked to the table.
Picked up a blank sheet of paper.
Sat down.
Started writing.
She watched.
Curious.
He finished in under two minutes.
Turned the paper toward her.
Title:
Mutual Relationship Agreement.
Clause 1: Public acknowledgment of exclusive dating status.
Clause 2: Coordinated appearances at official events.
Clause 3: No emotional obligation beyond agreed term.
Clause 4: No genuine confession during contract duration.
She read it carefully.
"You came prepared."
"I adapt quickly."
"Duration?"
"Three months. Long enough for rumor decay."
She tapped the final clause.
"No genuine confession?"
He met her eyes.
"The one who confesses first loses leverage."
Ah.
There it was.
War.
A small smile touched her lips.
"Agreed."
She signed first.
Deliberate.
Confident.
He signed second.
Calm.
Controlled.
The contract lay between them.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Final.
Outside the council room—
Nene pressed her ear to the door.
Kenta stood beside her, unimpressed.
"This is escalating," Nene whispered.
"This is predictable," Kenta replied.
Inside—
Akari extended her hand.
"For optics."
He looked at it.
Then took it.
Firm grip.
Too firm.
Neither let go immediately.
"Try not to fall in love, Moriyama."
He leaned slightly closer.
"President Hayakawa… I don't lose."
Their hands separated.
But something had already begun.
And neither of them were prepared for what would happen—
When pretending started to feel real.