"Did you hear? Today's the yearly beauty contest. Whoever wins gets crowned Queen."
"I heard, I heard! Last year's champion was a second-year senior. This year we've got several gorgeous first-years—Shiina-san, Kujou-san, and the newly transferred Kirisaki-san. If they all enter, who knows which lucky girl will take the Queen title."
During the break, clusters of students chatted away. Someone brought up the topic and the whole class jumped in with interest.
Reviewing her notes at her desk, Chitoge Kirisaki turned to the boy beside her. "Monitor, what's this beauty contest they're talking about?"
Shiraishi Shin explained, "It's an annual pageant. Contestants show off their looks and talent, then the audience votes. Whoever gets the most votes wins. Registration's open today; the contest itself is tomorrow after school."
Chitoge nodded, intrigued. "So what's the prize for winning?"
Before Shiraishi Shin could answer, Alisa by the window cut in. "The prize? The honorary title of Queen—the undisputed top girl in school."
Chitoge grinned. "Heh, sounds fun. Kujou-san, are you entering?"
Alisa folded her arms, chin high. "Naturally. I'm gunning for Student Council president next year; the Queen title would clinch it. How about you, Kirisaki-san?"
Chitoge had planned to join for fun, but after hearing Alisa's ambitions she shook her head. "I'll pass. I just transferred; I don't want to make that big a splash."
"I see."
Alisa shifted her gaze to Shiraishi Shin, propping her chin on a hand, lips curving. "Shin, you'll vote for me, right?"
Chitoge noticed the change in address—yesterday it had been "Monitor"; today it was the far more intimate "Shin."
Soft russian: "Say you'll vote for me, say it, say it…"
Shiraishi Shin raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? Alisa, what are you muttering?"
She lowered her hand, confident. "Nothing. Just that the crown's mine."
"If you're that sure, one vote more or less won't matter."
Alisa's cheeks puffed in irritation; her right heel tapped the floor.
She turned away, hiding a sullen face, whispering in russian, "Shouldn't have sounded so cocky~"
Classic reverse-psychology. When the tension peaked, Shiraishi Shin added, "But I don't know the other girls. You're my friend—who else would I vote for?"
Alisa's heart soared at the word "friend." Her forced scowl fled; she couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from lifting.
Afraid he'd see her grin, she kept her back to him. "R-right… thanks."
"Mm-hmm."
Chitoge tapped her chin. One calls him Shin, the other calls her Alisa—something's definitely going on.
Wait, why am I gossiping? Back to my book.
Used to writing in English back in the States, she now struggled with Japanese in Japan.
She ran a finger over the notebook Shiraishi Shin had lent her—every stroke bold and elegant, prettier even than her own.
Noon arrived. After lunch Shiraishi Shin looked for a quiet spot, but his Monster radar pinged—inside the school.
"Thirtieth Monster. Second set, here I come." He dashed off with a cruel smile.
At the same time, a rash of "ghost" attacks struck: girls groped or shoved by an unseen force, a voice warning, "Quit the Queen race or die."
Several entrants were attacked within minutes. None badly hurt, but the scare kept many from signing up.
"The trail ends here."
On the second floor the signal vanished. Shiraishi Shin pieced together the so-called haunting.
A Zodiarts with intermittent invisibility and Henshin, he guessed, was sabotaging contestants so it—or the girl it liked—could win.
"Alisa signed up this morning. With her looks she's the prime target!"
He sprinted to the Student Council room and knocked.
"Come in."
Nine council members sat in session. "Sorry to interrupt. I need Alisa," he said.
"You mean our junior Kujou?"
"That's Shiraishi Shin from her class."
"Way too familiar, calling her by first name."
Besides Alisa only two other girls sat among the officers; the rest were boys annoyed that an outsider addressed her so intimately.
Alisa rose. "President, excuse me a moment."
The bespectacled council president nodded.
Outside, Alisa asked, "Shin, what's wrong?"
"Girls in the pageant are being attacked."
"We know. That's what we're debating—whether to cancel this year's contest before something worse happens."