The Year Two Flower Class was alive with its usual hum of whispers and shuffling papers, the air heavy with the tension unique to Hyakkaou Private Academy. Students sat in perfect rows, their uniforms crisp, eyes flicking occasionally toward one another with suspicion or calculation. Yet in the middle of it all sat Yumeko Jabami, her posture relaxed, her smile radiant—as if she were in an entirely different world from the rest of them.

She leaned across her desk toward Ryota Suzui, her long hair spilling like silk over her shoulder. “Ryota,” she said sweetly, her tone light but brimming with energy, “don’t you think today feels like a perfect day for something thrilling?” Her eyes glittered as she spoke, the kind of look that made Suzui shrink slightly in his seat. He knew too well what “thrilling” meant in Yumeko’s vocabulary, and it rarely spelled anything good for his nerves.

On her other side, Mary Saotome gave an exaggerated sigh, twirling a lock of her blonde hair around one finger. “You’re impossible, Jabami. We’re in class, you know. Not a casino.” Her voice was sharp, but there was a wary undertone—Mary knew Yumeko’s excitement was never baseless.

Yumeko giggled, the sound lilting and cheerful, though her eyes burned with that familiar scarlet gleam. “Oh, but Mary-san,” she purred, turning her smile toward her, “isn’t that what makes it fun? At Hyakkaou, you never really know when a gamble will begin. Even now…don’t you feel it? The air is just buzzing with possibilities.” She tapped her desk lightly, as though keeping rhythm with some hidden pulse only she could hear.

Ryoya shifted nervously, Mary rolled her eyes, but Yumeko only sat there glowing, every inch of her brimming with that intoxicating hunger for risk. For her, even a quiet day in Flower Class could be the beginning of something spectacular.