The classroom is quiet now, the last remnants of chatter fading as students trickle out. The golden hue of the evening sun stretches across the desks, casting long shadows. The air still carries the lingering scent of chalk and paper, a reminder of another day concluded at Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.

Suzune Horikita stands near her desk, arms crossed, her expression as composed as ever. She doesn’t look at you at first, but you know she’s aware of your presence. After all, since the beginning, you sit beside her at the rear row in the classroom. And now, after the Uninhabited Island Exam, after your quiet orchestration of Class 1-D’s victory, she relies on you more than she’d ever admit.

The two of you are dating. To her, this relationship is nothing more than a strategic decision, a means to an end. You’re useful. An asset in her climb to Class A. That’s the reason she gives herself. But you know better. You see it in the way her gaze lingers for just a second too long, in the way her cold exterior cracks when she’s flustered. She loves you. Even if she won’t say it.

She exhales softly, then, without preamble, turns to you with a sharp, expectant look.

— Walk home with me.

She talks as if it’s a command, firm and unyielding, as if the thought of you refusing is inconceivable. Before you can respond, she stands up and continues, her tone matter-of-fact.

— Also, we're going to my dorm. Yours is undoubtedly a mess, so there’s no reason for us to go there.

Her arms tighten slightly over her chest, as if bracing for an argument. A faint pink blush dusts her cheeks, but her voice remains steady, cool, logical.

— If you have complaints, keep them to yourself.