Although the class meeting had already wrapped up, no one had actually left yet—because next came the job assignments.
Kuroha Akira snuck back to his seat as quietly as a ninja failing a stealth check. Fujiyoshi Michio, whose eyes were bloodshot and dark circles particularly pronounced, glanced at him with concern.
"It looks like Kuroha-kun didn't sleep well again last night."
After speaking, Fujiyoshi Michio couldn't help but glance toward the podium, where Asato Hitomi was busy assigning tasks to everyone.
The person who kept Kuroha-kun up all night… could it be the Class Rep?
He immediately felt ashamed of that guess and pushed up his glasses to hide his embarrassment.
"Yeah… Michi-kun… have you ever experienced that agonizing feeling of really wanting to do something, but absolutely not being allowed to?"
"Uh… no…"
Fujiyoshi Michio scratched his cheek, then leaned in and whispered curiously.
"Kuroha-kun… have you been secretly smoking?"
When he heard "wanting to do something but not being allowed," his mind jumped straight to smoking. For high school students, smoking was a serious offense—especially in Japan, where you needed to show ID to buy cigarettes, almost like Prohibition-era America. (Unlike his previous life, where buying tobacco and alcohol had no restrictions at all… the more you know.)
Thinking about how long it had been since he'd last smoked, Kuroha Akira smacked his lips wistfully.
"No, I wish I had money to buy cigarettes…"
For the current Kuroha Akira—who couldn't even afford a soda from the vending machine—cigarettes were basically a high-end luxury item.
"Hmm? Wait, Michi-kun, how do you know what a cigarette craving feels like? Don't tell me you've been secretly—"
"Uh! Shh!"
Fujiyoshi Michio panicked, quickly pressing his index finger to his lips, signaling Kuroha Akira to keep quiet. Only after Kuroha Akira made a zipper-across-the-lips gesture did he speak, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Actually, it's not me smoking… it's a senpai from my club. He smokes in the clubroom."
"Oh? A second-year? Third-year?"
"He's a third-year senpai… but technically speaking, he's been here for six years."
"Six years? So he's a ronin—a repeat student? And he's repeated three years? Is he that legendary?"
This school actually has a hidden master like that?
If repeating one year made you bad at studying, then repeating three years made you an immortal god-tier existence. Like Master Higuchi from The Tatami Galaxy—that guy had been in university for eight years, radiating an otherworldly, transcendent aura.
"Well… Nishimura-senpai is… how should I put it… a bit individualistic."
"Individualistic? You mean a delinquent?"
Mentioning delinquents, then looking at the weak, glasses-wearing Fujiyoshi Michio, Kuroha Akira recalled a manga he'd read before—Yankee-kun to Megane-chan. Delinquents and top students made for a strangely compatible combo.
Speaking of which—if someone could get into this high school with its insanely high deviation score, could a delinquent who studied that well even still be called a delinquent? It was like a well-behaved gyaru JK—the contrast was just baffling.
"Nishimura-senpai probably isn't a delinquent. He's very different from the delinquents I've seen in manga… but smoking and dyed hair are signs of delinquency… uh…"
"So he's only a delinquent in appearance? By the way, Michi-kun, which club are you—"
Just as Kuroha Akira was about to ask which club Fujiyoshi Michio belonged to, Asato Hitomi walked up to them and asked curiously.
"What are you two talking about?"
Kuroha Akira prioritized answering the Class Rep's question.
"Nothing special. Just talking about Michi-kun's club senpai."
The conversation had started because of Kuroha Akira not sleeping well last night—which was related to Shinomiya. And thinking about Shinomiya brought back the vivid visual and tactile double impact of the previous night.
His lower abdomen felt like it was on fire.
But having an umbrella situation in class would be way too embarrassing. To distract himself, Kuroha Akira asked the Class Rep,
"By the way, Class Rep, have you finished assigning tasks? Which group did Michi-kun and I get put in?"
"Akira-kun, you and Fujiyoshi-kun are both in my group—the costume group. You'll be responsible for purchasing and preparing costumes and props with me later."
Even now in class, Asato Hitomi still called Kuroha Akira by his given name.
And observant students had already noticed that the only person the Class Rep addressed by first name was Kuroha Akira.
The unspoken message was slowly sinking in: Class Rep Asato Hitomi seemed to be gradually becoming Kuroha Akira's exclusive property.
And this marked the beginning of Asato Hitomi's influence in Class 1, Grade 1 starting to crack. Because a biased leader was very hard to command respect from the troops.
For now, Asato Hitomi could still distinguish between public and private matters, and no one had seen her show any special favoritism toward Kuroha Akira in official business… but who knew what the future held?
For example, the Chinese-style haunted house proposal she'd put forward this time—maybe it was actually a program that Kuroha Akira wanted, pushed through the Class Rep's mouth? He hadn't even come to the class meeting, only showing up after it ended—didn't that mean he already knew the result in advance?!
That's what a lot of people were thinking.
Of course, it was pure coincidence. Although Asato Hitomi had indeed considered doing a program that Kuroha Akira would like, Kuroha Akira himself couldn't care less about the Cultural Festival. His only wish was to get assigned an easy job.
So even though the Chinese-style haunted house was Asato Hitomi's proposal, its vote share was about 30% lower than usual. In the past, when the Class Rep rallied everyone, she almost always received unanimous support.
In fact, some students were already dissatisfied this time. But since the minority had to obey the majority, they couldn't do much about it.
So instead, they stared at Kuroha Akira, waiting to see if Asato Hitomi would abuse her position for personal gain.
Building a haunted house was a time-consuming, labor-intensive project. They'd be busy for the next week—maybe even have to come in next weekend to rush the work. So it was very likely she'd assign Kuroha Akira an easier task. You know—specially taking care of her man…
Kuroha Akira, who hadn't attended the class meeting, had no idea the Class Rep's reputation had already taken a hit. Right now, he was just thinking about how to slack off as efficiently as possible.
"For costumes, we can just rent them, right? That doesn't seem like much work."
"I'll handle the clothes. But there are still some small props we need to prepare—bandages, talismans to stick on foreheads, that kind of thing…"
The Class Rep smiled and tapped Kuroha Akira's forehead.
Since it was a Chinese-style haunted house, there would definitely be jiangshi—hopping zombies—so they'd need yellow talismans to stick on their foreheads.
"I see… but where do we even get those? Do we draw them ourselves?"
Even though he'd watched tons of Lam Ching-ying movies in his past life, Kuroha Akira couldn't remember anymore what was actually written on those zombie talismans.
"You could draw them yourself, but it's better to buy them from a shrine."
"Uh… we have to go to a shrine to buy them?"
Japanese shrines were Shinto, but these yellow talismans were Taoist. Were they going to use onmyōdō talismans to impersonate the real thing?
Eh… close enough, I guess.
Kuroha Akira didn't revere the gods much, so he didn't think there'd be any problem with a little religious mixing.
"Yeah, we'll go to Chiyoda Inari Shrine. I'll take you there to buy them later. Some other costumes also need small props, so we can pick everything up in one trip."
"Oh, oh… so basically I just need to follow you, Class Rep? Then I'll handle carrying the heavy stuff."
"Yes, Akira-kun. Just follow me. I'll take care of all the troublesome things for you."
Asato Hitomi had no intention of being discreet. She was going to openly favor Kuroha Akira.
Not a hint of fairness.
One hundred percent personal matters.