The morning classes finally concluded, signaling the arrival of lunch. Nagumo Miyabi let out a long sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Yet, the prickling sensation of being watched—a phantom vigilance—refused to fully dissipate.
The unbelievable scene from after first period still replayed in his mind. He had even found himself meticulously checking his desk and the classroom corners, suspecting Sakamoto had left behind miniature cameras or similar devices. Of course, he found nothing.
To the curious glances of his classmates, he offered a pale explanation: an overzealous first-year junior fulfilling a peculiar Student Council task. He told them not to mind it. But his rare, undignified look of shock had already been witnessed by all, rendering his dismissal a transparent cover-up. Whispers proliferated. How could Vice President Nagumo, the unifying force of Year 2 known for his unflappable control, be so visibly rattled by a newcomer? Though, admittedly, the newcomer's entrance had been exceptionally bizarre. The various rumors surrounding Sakamoto thus gained a more potent, mysterious weight.
Asahina Natsume, observing his state, approached with a relaxed smile. "Miyabi, don't think so much about it. Shall we go to the cafeteria for lunch together?"
Nagumo considered for a moment, then nodded. Sakamoto-kun should be eating by himself now. He explicitly said he didn't need constant following. It should be fine. A fraction of relief settled over him as he walked side-by-side with Asahina out of the Class 2-A classroom.
However, the moment he crossed the threshold, the nightmare returned.
The tall, black, statue-like figure stood silently in the shadows beside the door, perfectly calculated in timing and placement, almost merging with the wall. It was Sakamoto.
Nagumo's heart lurched, a gasp catching in his throat.
Sakamoto-kun offered a slight bow, his voice steady and clear. "Vice President Nagumo, good afternoon. Lunch break has arrived. I have prepared more suitable meals for you and Senior Asahina. Please follow me." His gaze shifted to Asahina, his manners impeccable.
Asahina watched Nagumo's expression instantly stiffen and shift, and couldn't stifle a soft chuckle. He had vaguely explained the cause of this "interview period" farce to her that morning. Now, she found the scene before her absurdly entertaining.
"Oh my," she said, her tone light with teasing. "It seems your 'little assessment' is proceeding quite 'smoothly.' This Sakamoto-kun is truly… outstanding in execution." She actively reached out, half-pushing the dazed Nagumo forward. "Come on, don't disappoint the junior's 'painstaking efforts.' I'm rather looking forward to it!"
Like a most professional attendant, Sakamoto-kun fell into step half a pace behind them, his posture flawless.
This precise scene unfolded in the corridor of the second-year building just as Ryuuen Kakeru arrived.
Ryuuen was using his lunch break to personally gauge the atmosphere in the second-year domain, laying preliminary groundwork for his plans after the first-year midterms. He had not expected to be greeted by such a "splendid" spectacle immediately.
There was Sakamoto-kun—the enigma he held in such high, wary regard, his greatest imaginary rival—following a pair of unfamiliar second-years with step-by-step deference, his attitude so respectful it bordered on humble.
Who were they? Ryuuen's eyes narrowed. That blond boy and brown-haired girl… to command such behavior from Sakamoto, could they be the true core of the second year? The blond boy's aura did feel distinctly unordinary.
A startling conjecture ignited in Ryuuen's mind: Could that test paper incident not have been a setup at all? Could Sakamoto-kun have genuinely aligned himself with high-level second-year figures? Had all my deductions been wrong?
The thought sent a sharp tension through him. He dismissed it just as quickly; it didn't fit Sakamoto's profile. Yet, the evidence before his eyes defied explanation.
Driven by potent doubt and investigative urge, Ryuuen melted into the background, silently trailing the trio.
Sakamoto-kun led Nagumo and Asahina all the way to the student cafeteria, now a cacophony of noise and movement at the peak of the lunch hour. Nagumo's mind spun, adrift in a sea of cognitive dissonance. Was this really the Koudo Ikusei High School, famed for its strict hierarchy and cutthroat competition?
Why did this feel like a sudden, jarring shift into some bizarre theatrical performance? Nagumo's mind reeled, unable to reconcile the scene with the school's ruthless ethos. Asahina, in stark contrast, had fully embraced her role as an audience member, her smile bright with anticipation for the next act.
Sakamoto-kun guided them to a relatively quiet, unused long table and gestured for them to sit opposite each other. Then, the performance that would gradually hush the entire cafeteria and leave its occupants dumbfounded, began.
With a magician's flourish, Sakamoto produced a neatly folded, high-quality dark red velvet cloth. A flick of his wrist sent it unfurling through the air, settling with perfect precision to cover the entire table, instantly transforming the ordinary cafeteria surface into something worthy of a fine dining establishment.
But that was merely the overture.
Next, as if conjuring it from thin air, he guided forward a covered serving cart. With an elegant motion, he lifted the silver dome. An entrancing aroma bloomed instantly, accompanied by the sight of astonishingly exquisite dishes: pan-seared foie gras with fig compote, slow-cooked Wagyu ribeye, lobster bisque, asparagus salad arranged with artistic precision—each a masterpiece that defied any possibility of originating from a school kitchen.
"These meals," Sakamoto-kun stated calmly, arranging the plates with dazzling speed and flawless placement, "were prepared by me last night in the cafeteria kitchen under special permission, and preserved using precise methods to ensure optimal flavor for you today." With each placement, he announced the dish and a succinct culinary note, his voice cutting through the growing murmur with strange, penetrating clarity.
Nagumo's expression had cycled from shock, to numbness, and finally into a distant, dissociated bewilderment. One person? One night? This is… this is beyond human capability. His internal monologue was a silent scream of absurdity.
Asahina, however, leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Wow… Sakamoto-kun, you're truly amazing!" she breathed.
By now, a crowd had coalesced around them. Whispers crescendoed into open gasps and exclamations.
"Is that… Vice President Nagumo?"
"That waiter… is that the perfect-score freshman, Sakamoto?"
"Those dishes… since when does our cafeteria serve that?"
"He said he made them himself? Is he serious?!"
"The presentation, the smell… it's like a Michelin-starred restaurant!"
"Are they… having a candlelit dinner in here?"
Indeed, after arranging eight perfectly portioned dishes, Sakamoto-kun's final act was to place a delicate silver candelabra at the table's center. He gave a soft, precise snap of his fingers.
Pfft.
The three white candles ignited simultaneously, their warm, flickering glow instantly painting the velvet tablecloth and the diners' faces in soft, dancing light.
Sakamoto-kun took a measured step back, executed a slight, impeccable bow, and assumed the poised stance of a maître d'.
"'Candlelight Lunch for Two,'" he intoned. "Pardon the informality. Please enjoy your meal."
Candlelight flickered. Exquisite food steamed gently. A strangely, undeniably romantic atmosphere settled over the corner of the bustling cafeteria.
Through the warm, hazy light, Asahina looked at Nagumo—who appeared utterly soul-snatched—and could no longer contain herself. A peal of genuine, delighted laughter escaped her. This atmosphere, this sheer, unbelievable grandeur… it was utterly, magnificently insane.
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