She took a step and walked toward the podium. Her pace was not fast, even carrying a unique, slightly cool and detached sense of rhythm.
The long legs encased in black stockings moved forward alternately, each step seemingly landing on a silent beat, drawing everyone's gaze.
Her steps were not quick, even possessing a deliberate slowness, an almost ceremonial composure.
The sound of her heels tapping the floor was clear and steady, as if every step measured the distance precisely.
Yet, it was this composed pace that made everything feel even more breathtaking.
With every step, the hem of her deep sky-blue pleated skirt swayed slightly. The length, which seemed slightly inadequate due to her changing hip-to-waist ratio, caused the section of dazzling, fair skin—the absolute territory above her knee-high black stockings—to flash in and out of sight as she moved, like a fatal rhythm tapping on the retinas of all onlookers.
The astonishing curve strained by the white undershirt across her chest subtly rose and fell with her breathing and steps. The slender red tie hung quietly, yet it was like a fuse beneath a beacon tower, silently announcing the tension contained beneath, which threatened to burst through her clothes.
The open purple-black jacket with white trim did not conceal her; instead, it acted like a stage curtain, directing all eyes even more toward the constrained focal point.
Her expression was softened by the power of the mask of the fool, making it difficult to discern clearly, leaving only a hazy, slightly distant beauty.
She looked straight ahead, chin slightly raised, as if the gazes around her that were almost coalescing into substance and the suppressed gasps had nothing to do with her.
However, beneath this icy exterior, Chinatsu's heart was experiencing a raging sandstorm:
(Steps... right... just like this... steady... mustn't panic... just pretend everyone below is a pumpkin...)
(The skirt... damn the skirt... why does it feel so light and airy... am I exposed? I shouldn't be, right?!)
(My chest... so tight... breathing... must keep breathing steady... can't gasp... Buttons! Buttons, you have to hold on!)
(The stares... so many stares... my back feels like it's being pricked by needles... Where is Shido? Where is Origami? Don't look at me, you bastards!)
(Hurry... hurry up and get to the podium... why is this path so long?!)
The short few meters from the door to the podium seemed infinitely stretched beneath her feet.
She was like a piece of art meticulously packaged but accidentally exposing too much of its content, forced to undergo a slow and public display under the scrutiny of all eyes.
Finally, just as her heart was about to scream, she reached the podium and stood still beside Teacher Kotama.
She turned slightly, scanning the entire class again with her calm, waveless blue eyes, completely suppressing the last hint of wavering beneath her cold expression.
(... I made it...)
(... Phase one... complete...)
Standing beside the podium, Phoenix-in Chinatsu (whose heart was still raging with storms, but whose exterior was frozen for a thousand miles) faintly withdrew her gaze from her classmates, turned to Teacher Kotama beside her, and gave a slight nod. Her movement was elegant yet carried an untouchable distance.
Teacher Kotama quickly prompted, "Well then, Classmate Chinatsu, please introduce yourself to everyone."
Chinatsu once again cast her gaze toward the audience. The curious, astonished, and scrutinizing stares surged like a tide, but they were silently separated by the invisible "ice wall" surrounding her.
She nodded slightly and began her self-introduction with that cool and detached voice. However, the contradictory aura, a mix of indifference and allure, that radiated from her made this experience sound even more unforgettable.
Only the fists secretly clenched, her nails almost digging into her palms, betrayed the fact that she was far from as calm as she appeared. Her red lips parted slightly, her voice cool and pleasant, yet wrapped in a layer of thin ice, revealing little emotion, only a standardized tranquility:
"I am Phoenix-in Chinatsu."
"Due to my elder brother's recuperation, starting today, I will temporarily replace my elder brother Koushi Hōoin in studying here."
"Please treat me well."
The words were concise, lacking excessive enthusiasm or deliberate attempts to please, as if she were merely stating a fixed fact. After speaking, she nodded slightly again, concluding her self-introduction.
(Done... please let this end quickly...)
However, Teacher Kotama seemed to feel this was too simple and quickly added, "Ah, Classmate Chinatsu, please write your name on the blackboard so everyone can remember you better."
Chinatsu's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. (... I have to write my name too?!)
But she did not refuse. She turned and picked up the chalk. The moment her fingertip touched the chalk, the instinct of "Understanding and Reproduction" belonging to the The core of reason quietly flowed—she instantly grasped the composition of the chalk, the material of the blackboard, and... (... the most beautiful stroke structure and writing strength for the name "Chinatsu"...)
Thus, under everyone's gaze, she held the chalk, wrist suspended, and brought the tip down onto the blackboard.
Her movement was not flowing and smooth; instead, it carried a strange, precise, and restrained aesthetic.
Every stroke seemed meticulously calculated, the force even, and the lines smooth.
Phoenix Inu Chika
The five Hanzi characters appeared neatly on the blackboard, their structure beautiful, the brushstrokes clear, and even possessing an indescribable, almost printed precision that complemented her current icy temperament perfectly.
(... Good... didn't write it wrong... didn't shake either... The The core of reason is occasionally useful...)
After finishing the last stroke, she gently placed the chalk back in the tray, her fingertips untouched by chalk dust.
She turned back to the class, maintaining her expressionless demeanor, as if she had just completed a trivial task.
However, only she knew that when she wrote the character "千" (Chinatsu), her heart skipped a beat—that was a part of her true name.
"Wow..." A low murmur of admiration rose from the audience, not just for her handwriting, but also for her series of cool and decisive movements.
Shido looked at the characters on the blackboard, then at the "sister" before him, whose temperament was completely different from his friend Koushi. The sense of incongruity and curiosity in his heart intensified simultaneously.
(The handwriting is really good... completely unlike the chicken scratch of that guy Koushi... Are they really siblings?)
Origami's gaze also swept across the blackboard, committing the name to memory. (Phoenix-in Chinatsu. Requires attention.)
Chinatsu tilted her head slightly, looking at Teacher Kotama, using her eyes to ask if she was finished.
Throughout the entire process, she maintained her aura of a cold and arrogant young lady who kept others at bay, flawlessly concealing the panic that had long since crumbled her inner defenses.
Her entrance perfectly defined what constituted the "ultimate temptation of the ascetic type."
Chinatsu took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
She could feel the stares of the entire class, but under the influence of the mask's field, the pressure of these gazes seemed significantly lessened.
Using a slightly trembling but clear voice, she briefly recounted the story again: "The siblings were separated, reunited during a Spatial Quake, the brother was injured protecting her, and she came to substitute and take care of him."
Her narration carried a hint of shyness and sincerity, and combined with the effect of the mask of the fool, it sounded particularly convincing and sympathetic.
"So that's what happened!"
"Classmate Koushi is amazing!" "Good luck, Classmate Chinatsu!"
Friendly applause rang out in the classroom.
"Well, Classmate Chinatsu, you can temporarily sit..." Teacher Kotama scanned the classroom.
"Teacher!" Shido suddenly stood up, pointing to the empty seat beside him. (It was originally Koushi's seat.)
"Let Classmate Hōōin sit here! I am her brother's friend, so I can help look after her!"
He spoke with a sincere and eager expression.
Chinatsu's heart tightened: (Shido, you warm-hearted idiot! Being too close to you gives me so much pressure!)
However, Teacher Kotama nodded with satisfaction:
"That's wonderful! Thank you, Classmate Itsuka. Classmate Chinatsu, please take your brother's seat."
Chinatsu had no choice but to thank her in a low voice, then walked to the seat next to Shido and sat down under the friendly (and still curious) gazes of the entire class.
She could feel the friendly and concerned gaze Shido directed at her from beside her, as well as the calm yet intensely present stare of Origami from diagonally in front.
(Success... I managed to get through it for now...) (But this seat... it's practically a volcano...)
Her school life began in a state that appeared stable but was secretly surging with undercurrents (mainly stemming from her internal nervousness).