The Shinomiya mansion was wrapped in the same oppressive silence as always—that heavy, suffocating quiet that only exists in houses far too large, belonging to families who rarely, if ever, gather around a table to share a meal. The corridors stretched on endlessly, perfectly aligned, the floors polished to such a mirror sheen that they reflected the lifeless ceiling. The tall, immaculate doors were almost never fully open.
Only a handful of staff moved through the mansion, performing their duties with flawless professionalism.
The young lady's bedroom, however, offered a subtle contrast. It was still vast, elegant, and spotless, but it carried personal traces: crimson curtains filtering the morning light, a meticulously organized desk, a bookshelf with study volumes lined up by height, a few discreet boxes of keepsakes tucked away. And in the center, the wide bed with pristine, pale sheets.
It was on that bed that Shinomiya Kaguya had spent the entire night awake.
She lay on her side, the blanket pulled halfway over her face, only her red, sunken eyes visible above the fabric. She barely seemed to have blinked. Since dawn, her thoughts had twisted into a labyrinth, and every time she tried to rest, another wave of anxiety dragged her back from sleep.
She was going to have a date with Isagi.
Just remembering it made her heart race—an irritation she deeply resented because she couldn't control it, couldn't even hide it from herself.
One part of her—the Ice Queen—insisted this was the perfect chance to force him to confess. He had always been a frustrating case: smart in his own way, yet completely blind to romantic hints. Ever since elementary school, ever since she had deemed him "acceptable if he would just confess," he had stubbornly failed to notice anything. No tension, no subtle hints, no carefully constructed psychological traps.
Another part of her—the Idiot, dancing with a flower sprouting from her head—just wanted to have fun. To go out with him. To walk. To talk. To laugh at something silly. Like any normal girl would do with someone she liked.
And deep down, the child version of her simply whispered that she was scared. That she wanted to be seen. That she wanted to be loved. That she had no idea how to act on a real date.
The result was utter chaos.
Kaguya had tossed and turned for hours, trying to plan everything that might happen: locations, times, possible reactions… and strategies to make Isagi take the first step without realizing he was being led. But every plan crashed against the absurd truth that, in the end, she just wanted to be by his side.
And that made her even more nervous.
When she finally blinked and snapped out of her trance, the room was already bright.
She sat up with a start, quickly reaching under the pillow for the phone she had hidden there the night before.
Only then did she notice the notification light blinking, almost mocking her distraction.
Among them was Isagi's good-morning message.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Kaguya unlocked the phone with uncharacteristic speed for someone so exhausted and opened the chat.
"Good morning, Shinomiya-san."
The words sent butterflies swirling in her stomach.
Without thinking twice—guided purely by anxiety that had long surpassed rationality—she typed:
"Good morning, Isagi-san. About… our date tonight… everything is still on, right?"
Her finger trembled slightly as she hit send. She hated that. She detested this kind of vulnerability. But she couldn't help it.
At that exact moment, the sliding door opened softly, and Ai Hayasaka walked in without ceremony.
Her clinical gaze scanned Kaguya from head to toe in half a second.
"Ah. So that's what it was…" She crossed her arms. "I did hear some ghostly muttering last night. Looks like someone had… difficulties."
Kaguya stiffened on the bed, trying to regain her composure.
"I-I was studying."
Her voice came out too firm, too fast, too obviously fake.
Hayasaka raised an eyebrow so skeptically it could have pierced the ceiling.
"Of course, young miss. Studying. Must have been extremely thrilling material to leave you like this." She walked to the curtains and pulled them open wider, flooding the room with light. "The dark circles go nicely with the uniform, at least."
"Hayasaka!" Kaguya covered her cheeks in frustration, knowing full well she couldn't fool the girl who knew her better than anyone alive.
With a long, weary sigh—the kind that comes from dealing with this exact crisis hundreds of times—Hayasaka opened the closet and took out the Ichinan Academy uniform. Her movements were swift, efficient, almost choreographed.
"Come on. It's past time to get ready."
"I'm still replying…" Kaguya muttered, glancing quickly at her phone as if Isagi might vanish if she looked away too long.
"Yes, yes, the soccer prince can wait five minutes. You're not going to school looking like that." Hayasaka yanked the blanket away with a firm tug. "Up."
Reluctantly, Kaguya obeyed—not because she wanted to, but because Hayasaka always had that silent aura of authority even she couldn't resist.
As Hayasaka helped her change, fix her hair, and apply light makeup just enough to hide the dark circles without drawing attention, she kept up her dry humor.
"So. Is this a real date-date? Or the kind of 'date' where you pretend it's not a date because you're trying to manipulate our soccer star into confessing?"
"I don't manipulate anyone!" Kaguya protested, though her voice betrayed a flicker of doubt about whether that was true.
Hayasaka raised an eyebrow.
"Of course. You merely 'guide' fate."
"Hayasaka…"
"Fine, fine." She adjusted the red ribbon in Kaguya's hair. "Just try not to faint when he looks at you, okay?"
Kaguya looked away, cheeks faintly pink, and said nothing.
Twenty minutes later, she was perfectly composed, polished, and wearing her classic ice-cold expression once more. Only her slightly anxious eyes betrayed what she truly felt.
The two left the room, walked down the silent corridor, descended the marble staircase, and were greeted by the driver waiting at the entrance.
The limousine door opened.
Kaguya took a deep breath—one of those that tried to restore dignity.
"Let's go, Hayasaka."
"Yes, yes."
They got in, the door closed, and the limousine glided toward Ichinan Academy.
Kaguya stared out the window, discreetly biting her lower lip as countless thoughts raced through her mind.
The limousine slid to a stop at Ichinan Academy's entrance with the flawless smoothness only absurdly expensive cars can achieve. Even before it fully halted, students were already turning their heads, drawn to the familiar metallic gleam of a vehicle only a select few used.
As soon as it stopped, Hayasaka stepped out first—light, precise steps, completely unfazed by the attention she was used to receiving. She made an elegant gesture, clearing the way for Kaguya to exit.
And then Shinomiya Kaguya descended from the limousine. Her red eyes slightly tired but hidden behind perfect posture, uniform impeccable, hair flawless, expression serene and untouchable to the students—though at that moment it concealed only a silent avalanche of nerves.
The instant her feet touched the ground, eyes turned toward her as if on instinct.
Whispers began.
"It's Shinomiya-san…"
"She really comes by limo every day, huh?"
"She seems… different today? I don't know, kind of distracted?"
Kaguya heard everything, of course. She always did. But as usual, she showed no reaction. Popularity wasn't something she sought; it was merely an inevitable by-product of her family name and the perfect image she was forced to project.
She walked calmly, chin high, while Hayasaka followed with the ease of someone who had done this since childhood—because she had.
And precisely because she knew Kaguya better than anyone, Hayasaka glanced sideways at her with the classic expression of someone who knew exactly what was going through the mind of the revered "Lady Shinomiya."
Kaguya pretended to be normal, but she couldn't fool her own thoughts.
It was a whirlwind.
As she walked through the main gate, her heart clenched. Even among stares and murmurs, only one thing existed in her mind: Isagi's gentle smile, that infuriatingly calm demeanor that made even her, despite all her trained coldness, want… to get closer.
Hayasaka sighed beside her, as if reading every unfolding thought.
"You're not going to trip, are you, young miss?" she murmured in a low, sarcastic tone.
Kaguya didn't look at her, merely lifting her chin a millimeter.
"I would never do anything so undignified."
"Uh-huh." Hayasaka replied, bored. "We'll see tonight."
Kaguya almost stumbled—just almost—but recovered before anyone noticed.
They entered the main building. The hallway opened before them with neat rows of lockers, students chatting excitedly, groups forming, others turning to watch the elegant figure passing by.
She headed straight for the first-year classroom—her daily destination.
The only difference that day was the faint vibration of her phone in her hand.
Possibly a reply from Isagi.
Kaguya gripped the phone for a split second of hesitation.
That alone was enough for Hayasaka to let out an exasperated sigh.
"Oh, come on…" she muttered, rolling her eyes slightly. "At least wait for the bell before acting like a girl in love for the first time."
Kaguya blushed instantly—subtle, but undeniable—and pressed her lips together to suppress any undignified reaction.
"I'm not—"
"Yes, yes. You're not." Hayasaka cut in, weary. "Just keep walking before the crowd starts taking pictures."
Kaguya flushed faintly but quickly regained composure and continued.
The bell finally rang, and she entered the classroom with her usual flawless posture, face perfectly neutral, as if nothing in the world could rattle her.
Morning classes dragged on as always, teachers speaking at varying paces depending on student interest. But that day, for Kaguya, every voice sounded too slow, too drawn-out, as if the world had decided to torment her with merciless, elastic time.
Then came the math test.
Normally, she would complete it without blinking, without hesitation, with the cold precision of someone trained never to make mistakes. But this time… her thoughts kept slipping away.
Every time she tried to focus, some detail of the date invaded her mind like a loud, obnoxious thief—kicking down doors, shouting, doing cartwheels, and setting off fireworks inside her head.
What should she wear?
Would Isagi prefer something traditional?
Or modern?
Or simple?
Or maybe he wouldn't even notice—which would be an unforgivable insult?
What would they talk about?
What if he was late?
What if she seemed too nervous?
What if… the date was a complete disaster?
She gripped her pen tightly.
The idiot inside her, spinning with flowers, screamed that everything would be fine.
The strategist inside her wrote out possible failure scenarios.
And the child deep down just wanted to hold his hand.
Just a little…
It took immense self-control to finish the test without doodling "Isagi" somewhere on the page—an act that would be historically embarrassing and worthy of being burned if it ever happened.
When the period ended, she took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and slipped back into Shinomiya heiress mode before anyone noticed her distraction.
The afternoon brought the hardest part: Student Council.
The council room was as usual. President Touya Kenzaki was already there beside Chisaki Sarashina—the two so in sync they seemed to share their own universe. Maria and Alisa were whispering, Yuki was jotting something in her notebook, and Fujiwara… well, Fujiwara was eating cookies on the table, as always.
Kaguya entered with her usual grace, took her seat, and began work.
Or tried to.
Because every five minutes, her hand slipped into her pocket where her phone was kept—not to reply (Isagi hadn't sent anything new), but to check for notifications, a message, any sign of digital life.
Hayasaka, nearby helping with paperwork, watched her like someone observing a baby bird about to leap from a cliff without wings.
It really was hard.
Kaguya tried to focus on tasks: organizing spring festival reports, reviewing documents, preparing volunteer lists. All perfectly routine. Normally, she would handle it flawlessly. But that day, every minute felt twice as long.
The clock on the wall—merciless as a personal enemy—read only 3:25 p.m.
Still so much time left.
Touya commented on the budget. Chisaki added details with near-maternal precision. Fujiwara asked something absurd. Yuki tried not to sigh too loudly. Maria offered opinions, and Alisa cut her off or something…
Kaguya didn't pay attention. She just wanted to leave.
She mentally scolded herself for it.
It was unbecoming of a Shinomiya to abandon duties over a mere date.
Unacceptable.
Shameful.
Unforgivable.
But at the same time…
The date was at 7 p.m.—after Isagi finished practice. She knew that. She had arranged it herself. The schedule was set. There was time.
Still, with every page she signed, impatience grew a little more—like a glass slowly filling until it overflowed.
At 4:10 p.m., she checked her phone for the seventh time.
At 4:40 p.m., the fourteenth.
At 5:13 p.m., Fujiwara stared at her for several long seconds before breaking into a dangerous grin, as if about to say something that would cause absolute chaos.
Kaguya glared daggers, silently ordering her to keep quiet.
Fujiwara's smile only widened.
Finally, around 5:50 p.m., the last tasks were done. Touya dismissed everyone with his usual "Good work, everyone," while Chisaki began packing up materials. Kaguya stood with perfect, fake calm and said goodbye.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, her heart began to race.
Hayasaka was already waiting outside—she had just come from the restroom.
"So, finally time to get ready for the date?"
Kaguya kept her face neutral.
"It's merely a social engagement."
"Sure. And I'm a Korean pop star."
"Hayasaka…"
"Right, right." She sighed, walking beside Kaguya toward the exit. "Let's turn you into someone who doesn't look ready to faint from anxiety."
"I am not anxious."
Hayasaka gave her a look that said she wasn't buying it and added with mild malice: "Oh, of course not. You only checked your phone twenty-two times since council started."
Kaguya froze mid-step.
"…You counted?"
"Someone had to keep statistics."
Her mouth opened for a moment, but she said nothing. Better that way. Hayasaka had won—as always.
Outside, the limousine was waiting.
Kaguya took a deep breath.
The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in warm tones.
A little over ninety minutes left.
Ninety minutes until the date.
Ninety minutes until she saw Isagi.
Ninety minutes until she potentially ruined everything… or perhaps…
Turned that moment into something she would never forget.
Heart pounding, she got into the car—ready to prepare, and utterly unable to admit to herself just how anxious she truly was.
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