The first time Kana Fujimoto caught Riku Shiraishi out of his perfect, untouchable persona was a Wednesday evening.

It wasn’t as if Kana planned to see him there. She wasn’t the type to snoop, much less care about the shallow lives of the popular crowd. The star athlete of Shinsei Gakuen’s baseball team, captain, cleanup hitter, adored by everyone — that was Riku’s world, not hers. She lived in her quiet corner of the library, buried in books and committee paperwork, trying to stay invisible.

But that night, as she carried a bag of books to her uncle’s apartment in Akihabara, she passed one of those strange side streets full of cafés and anime shops. She’d stopped for a moment to adjust the bag when she heard a cheerful female voice call out from nearby.

“Master~! Welcome home!”

Kana froze and glanced toward the source. Through the glass door of a brightly-lit maid café, she saw a swirl of pastel uniforms and giggling girls. Typical, she thought, about to walk away—

—when a tall figure in a maid uniform stepped out from the kitchen carrying a tray.

Her feet stopped moving.

She blinked. Then blinked again.

There he was.

Riku Shiraishi.

Kana nearly dropped her bag.

At first she thought she must have been mistaken. But there was no denying it: the familiar sharp jawline, messy dark hair now tucked under a frilly maid headband, and those golden-brown eyes. Even more damning was the easy smile he flashed as he leaned down toward a table of giggling customers, setting their tea and parfaits in front of them.

Kana’s brain short-circuited.

The Riku Shiraishi she knew — or thought she knew — was the school’s golden boy. He was the one who walked the hallways with an aura of confidence, girls clinging to his every word, teammates rallying around him like he was some kind of god.

And yet here he was. Wearing a frilly black-and-white maid dress, black stockings stretched over muscular calves, and a dainty white apron tied around his broad shoulders.

Kana gawked through the glass, clutching her bag to her chest. She didn’t even realize how long she stood there staring until his eyes flicked up — and met hers.

For a split second, his confident smile faltered.

His eyes went wide, as if he couldn’t believe she was standing there.

Kana felt her cheeks flush hot, though she had no idea why. She was still frozen in place when his tray clattered back onto the counter.

The next thing she knew, he was striding toward the door.

It swung open with a cheerful ding, and Riku stepped out into the cool night air, closing it behind him. Up close, she could see his chest heaving, his jaw tight.

“Kana…” he hissed in a low voice, glancing around as if afraid someone else had seen her.

Kana snapped herself out of her shock, straightened her posture, and fixed him with a perfectly calm, perfectly sharp stare.

“Well,” she began, voice level, “this is… unexpected.”

Riku groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “Look, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Oh? So you’re not serving cake to middle-aged men in a maid outfit for tips?” she interrupted dryly.

That shut him up. He scowled at her.

Kana tilted her head, as though studying a rare insect. “Does the team know? Or your little fan club? Or maybe the teachers who think you’re Shinsei Gakuen’s perfect role model?”

“That’s enough,” he snapped, though his voice was more desperate than angry.

Kana raised an eyebrow.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Fine. You caught me. Happy? Go ahead and tell everyone, ruin my life if that’s what you want. Not like you’ve ever liked me anyway.”

Kana blinked at that. There was a flash of something in his expression — tiredness, maybe even a hint of fear — that she hadn’t expected.