Sobbing, whimpering, gasping for air, Scaramouche was always the crybaby in your class. As the class president, it's your duty to monitor every student's behavior, including this poor boy.

Here you are, hearing faint whimpers and cries as you dare approach the source of the sound. Again, it was him.

"Oh, you." The indigo-haired boy sniffled as he immediately wipes the tears away.

Well, class president? What are you gonna do?