Although Director Sakayanagi was quietly distressed, recalling the regrets of his daughter's childhood and mourning his late wife, he had no idea that the furious Atsuomi Ayanokoji, who stormed off earlier, was already planning his moves against him in the outside world.
Sure, Kiyotaka himself paid no mind to Atsuomi's threats, but that was primarily because he was sheltered in AN High School—a massive project on par with or arguably superior to the White Room—leaving Atsuomi powerless to forcibly remove him.
Likewise, Director Sakayanagi was unconcerned about Atsuomi's threats, confident in his own status and capabilities. But as a figure of Atsuomi's caliber, he wasn't about to slink away like some lowly street thug after tossing out a few menacing words.
At Atsuomi's level, while one couldn't exactly say his every word was "as good as nailed to the wall," it was true that threats born of anger typically ended up carried out. From the moment the White Room was conceived twenty years ago, Atsuomi Ayanokoji had received massive funding and relied on his own abilities to build an extensive network of connections.
Once those connections were set in motion, they posed a formidable force indeed. All while Director Sakayanagi remained busy with school affairs and utterly unaware, Atsuomi secretly forged alliances, made deals, and promised resources and benefits, gathering a sizeable group of supporters.
Complicated as it sounded, the essence was straightforward: Japan might be limited in size, but there were numerous factions. When Atsuomi Ayanokoji was willing to distribute resources and exchange favors, while Director Sakayanagi's own faction remained in the dark, someone inevitably brought up an impeachment proposal against the director in a certain meeting. They cited various data from recent years, accusing him of abusing his authority and calling for his detention and investigation.
Of course, the director's faction was no pushover; it wielded considerable power, or else Director Sakayanagi wouldn't have ended up in charge of such a successful venture as AN High School. Naturally, the two factions began their customary bickering. But every bit of that "debate" at the negotiation table was purely for show. Who was right and who was wrong mattered far less than the under-the-table dealings happening afterward.
In the end, it came down to forging alliances with the surrounding factions, which had little direct stake in the conflict. These other factions were the real targets for persuasion. It wasn't just "AN faction vs. White Room faction." Those on the sidelines came with their own changeable viewpoints. People who stood against the director one day might defend him the next, claiming he was actually being unfairly treated. Conversely, those who had spoken up for him before might suddenly go silent. Both sides became locked in a deadlock, each trying to outbid the other to sway neutral parties.
In such a whirlwind of backroom maneuvering, the ultimate outcome was dictated by which side was more determined and offered more incentives.
All these high-level twists and turns were far beyond the everyday consciousness of the school. AN itself kept running normally, while students, in every grade level, griped about overextended makeup classes. As the December schedule dragged on, the number of students calling in sick soared, each complaining about the relentless workload. No one had any inkling about the shifting power struggles overhead; they simply continued their busy school life.
Only Yukio, courtesy of his connections and off-campus phone, caught wind of rumors that someone was trying to bring down Director Sakayanagi, and the two sides were currently deadlocked. He felt zero surprise; it took no great detective skills to guess this was Atsuomi Ayanokoji's doing. Still, it had nothing to do with him. Whichever side won, they'd both eventually be replaced by him, after all.
For now, the real focus was figuring out how to gather the thirty billion needed. With that in mind, Yukio went about his days as though nothing had happened—leisurely attending classes when he felt like it, skipping them when he didn't.
Of course, to avoid having class points docked, he took care to ask the teachers for sick leave. Not like the time he helped Sakura with her photoshoot by taking an entire day off; this time, he might just claim an upset stomach and skip a single class or two. That was all it took to avoid any trouble.
And at least no one was about to shove a suppository at him for "one or two missed classes."
That day, Yukio skipped two classes, taking a casual stroll around campus. Seeing the tree branches gradually darken, he realized winter was approaching and late autumn was fading away.
He slipped both hands into his pockets to ward off the wind and wandered until he found a vending machine, intending to buy a hot drink to warm his hands. But just as he approached, someone tossed him a black can from near the vending machine.
Rather than automatically catching it, he first confirmed it wasn't anything dangerous—just a black coffee—then extended one hand to deftly grab the warm can.
"Treat's on me, junior." The voice belonged to Kiryuin, that exceptionally confident upperclassman. She waved with one hand while holding another peculiar-looking drink.
Why peculiar? As Yukio drew closer, he saw the label read something like "Matcha Chocolate Hot Red Bean Soup," a flavor combination he wasn't keen on sampling.
Kiryuin, however, had tested it, popping the tab for a taste. Even she, bold as she was, gave a disgusted wince and spat, "Ugh, it's awful—like rancid chocolate soaking in sticky red beans."
Yukio forced himself not to imagine the taste based on her description. Glancing around, he noticed students trickling out of the teaching building, searching for a vending machine without a line. It must have been break time, which explained why he'd run into Kiryuin here. "You actually like that sort of drink?" he asked.
"As if." Kiryuin's expression was rather exasperated as she eyed the canned drink, clearly having no intention of taking a second sip. "I'm just after that thrill, the same way you might get from a capsule toy machine or a lottery ticket."
"In other words, it's like a harmless form of gambling?" Yukio opened the tab on his can of hot coffee, taking a casual sip as he spoke. He recalled Kiryuin telling him before how she enjoyed these limited, safe forms of excitement.
"Exactly." Kiryuin, tall and poised, leaned against the vending machine without a care. "Don't you think it's exciting just picking a random drink among all these bizarre options?
"If it turns out to be tasty, it's like hitting the jackpot—you've 'won' the bet. But if you end up with something disgusting like this, then you've basically 'lost.' And all you're out is the cost of one can."
"It's a thrill that doesn't involve genuine danger or the risk of going bankrupt. I think we ought to spread the word—everyone could benefit from gambling like this."
Yukio wasn't sure if she was entirely serious or just making idle conversation. He continued sipping his coffee, feeling the warmth travel from his throat to his stomach.
Meanwhile, he couldn't help noticing the girl in front of him. White hair, red eyes, standing in the chill of late autumn—or possibly the first hints of winter—her hair swaying slightly in the breeze. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, coupled with a piercing gaze that wasn't overtly hostile but brimmed with carefree boldness.
She was so contradictory—yet somehow so cohesive at the same time. It was like she was the reigning "queen" of the season, perched on the boundary between autumn and winter, leaving you unsure whether she embodied the lingering fall or heralded the coming cold.
***
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