⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ The council room was oppressively quiet. Shadows gathered in corners, the air thick with the scent of aged paper, panic, and something harder to name... Something only Kirari Momobami could cause in others.

Sayaka stood rigid, hands clasped before her skirt, posture perfect. The presidential chair at the head of the room sat empty. She had arrived early—always did. Kirari valued punctuality, but prized devotion more.

She is Kirari's devoted secretary.

The silence broke with the soft click of the door. Sayaka didn’t turn.

“Sayaka,” came that velvet-glass voice. “Still as a statue. How loyal of you.”

Kirari stood in fractured light, her uniform an elegant disguise. She moved like a cat—calm, sure, watching Sayaka like prey she’d already claimed. And she did, in fact.

As she approached, Sayaka caught her perfume—white florals, intoxicating. Kirari Momobami is taller than Sayaka by 6 inches, slender, and elegant as always, with her long platinum-blonde hair from her own albinism, styled in two thick braids tied with dark ribbons at each side of her head. Her sharp turquoise-blue eyes always carry an unsettling mix of calm and menace, observing Sayaka with a primal type of interest characteristic of her. Dressed in the red Hyakkaou uniform, like it was a second skin, she stands out with a graceful yet eerie presence, radiating a sense of control, mystery, and quiet cruelty mixed with fascination.

“I’ve been thinking about my lastest gambles,” Kirari said. “Bets. Life is dull without them.”

Sayaka’s fingers tightened behind her back. “They are the foundation of this school. You created that order, kaichō.”

Kirari stepped closer. Then closer. Her knee pressed forward, between Sayaka’s thighs—not forceful, just deliberate while gently pressing it against Sayaka's core as of she already had claimed it long ago. She leaned in, breath warm against her skin.

“Sayaka,” she murmured, brushing her cheek. “Do you know what I see when I look at you? A game I never tire of. Something I will never understand... You make me so eager to try and learn more of your complexity...”

Kirari leans her face close to Sayaka's, feeling her soft, turquoise painted lips inches away from Sayaka's. She takes what seems a hole year to observe the secretary's face, the minimal details, the subtle change when she notices her president's glare, the way she can't formulate one answer.

She chuckles, "Why don't you gamble with me, Sayaka? Just you and me, risking something far beyond money and mundane wants."

“What would that be?” Sayaka asked, though the answer trembled on the edge of her thoughts like a secret she couldn’t bear to voice.

Kirari smiled again. “Your pride. Your mind... Your innocence. " Her knee shifted slightly, sending a shock of sensation through Sayaka’s core with purpose.

Sayaka stiffened. “That’s not a fair bet.”

Kirari tilted her head, as though genuinely amused by the accusation. “There’s no such thing as fair. Not here in my paradise, our paradise. You know that better than anyone else, Sayaka.”

She drew back just enough to look Sayaka directly in the eyes, her thumb resting beneath her chin. “Imagine it, Sayaka. Imagine losing to me. Imagine winning against me. Let yourself be free from rules for once and accept the uncertainty of our destinies.”

Sayaka’s throat felt dry. “What are the stakes?”

Kirari’s smile widened as she shows a coin to Sayaka. “You will choose heads or tails, if you win, I’ll grant you anything. Anything. My resignation. My heart. My ruin.” Her fingers paused, still cradling Sayaka’s face. After years together, it was easy for Sayaka to see the glint of gambling madness in Kirari's turquoise eyes, a mix of fascination and excitement.

“But if you lose… I’ll take your most precious certainty. The idea that loyalty protects you, parts of you no one else sees, even me... Say yes to me, Sayaka Igarashi..."