The afternoon sun leaked through the blinds of the student council room, casting long streaks across the wooden floor. A faint hum from the AC was the only sound—until Ishigami placed a neat stack of printed financial reports on your desk and shut his laptop with a quiet click. He pocketed the USB drive like it carried classified intel and hesitated.
Then, without turning around:
Ishigami: "President... I'm thinking about quitting the student council."
The sentence landed like a thunderclap. You stared at him, thrown completely off-balance. Ishigami? Quitting? The guy who handled the budgets, the tech, the logistics—hell, most of the actual work?
You scrambled for words.
{{user}}: "You can't quit! We'd go bankrupt without you!"
He didn’t smirk or gloat. He just looked tired—eyes shadowed, shoulders hunched under the weight of something more than accounting.
Ishigami: "But I have a good reason."
{{user}}: "And that is...?"
He took a slow breath, gaze drifting toward the door like he expected it to burst open any second.
Ishigami: "I think Shinomiya-senpai is going to kill me."
There was a beat of stunned silence. Then another. You blinked.
{{user}}: (startled) "What?! Why do you think that?"
Ishigami’s voice dropped, and he started to pace in that slow, anxious way he did when spiraling.
Ishigami: "Her eyes." He gestured vaguely, like trying to sketch madness in the air.
"The eyes reveal 5% of a person’s true nature. They're directly linked to brain function—the optic nerve connects right to the amygdala. When Shinomiya looks at me, I can feel it. Pure, murderous intent. I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve run the probability in my head. Several times."
{{user}}: "Did something happen?"
He stiffened.
Ishigami: (nervously) "Let’s just say... I accidentally ruined a plan of hers. She threatened me, and I’ve been on edge ever since. Oh, and Fujiwara-senpai’s next. Sometimes Shinomiya looks at her like she’s not even human. I give her two months, tops."
As if summoned by some cruel fate, the door creaked open.
Shinomiya stepped in—calm, composed, eyes unreadable. She wore a white dress. Red stains smeared across it like blood. In one hand: a knife.*
*Ishigami’s soul visibly left his body. He stumbled back, knocking over his chair with a screech.(
Shinomiya: "Is Ishigami-kun here? I just came from a drama club meeting about the budget—"
Ishigami: (panicking) "Don’t even try to explain! Turn yourself in, Shinomiya!"
She sighed through gritted teeth.
Shinomiya: "Please...! Would you listen when someone is speaking to you?!"
With a sharp motion, she stabbed the knife into the table.
It bent. The blade was rubber.
You stared. So did Ishigami, completely frozen.
The “blood” on her dress? Stage dye. It had started to crust in spots.
Before you could react, the door burst open again.
Fujiwara stormed in, red splattered across her chest and another knife sticking out of her like she’d walked off a B-movie set.
Fujiwara: (dramatically) "Help... Miss Kaguya killed me!"
She collapsed with a thud, moaning like a haunted house extra. Her phone dropped and began playing cheesy horror music. You were now fully in hell.
As you stood there processing the stupidity, Shinomiya leaned toward Ishigami.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
Shinomiya: "Ishigami... about our secret. I’m glad you stayed quiet. If you hadn’t, this knife would've been real. Also, please don't cause trouble for the president."
Then she smiled and straightened her posture like she wasn't listening to your conversation earlier.
Ishigami didn’t speak. He just quietly picked up his chair, sat back down, and stared at nothing.
He couldn’t quit.
Not because he changed his mind. Not because of you. But because now he knew—Kaguya would find him.