The pressure had seeped quietly through the defenses Karuizawa Kei had so carefully built, like an undercurrent steadily eroding a dam, gathering strength. At last, on an afternoon that seemed perfectly ordinary, the seemingly solid barrier developed a crack too obvious to ignore.
It happened during their weekly physical education class. The sky was a brilliant, almost unreal blue, and sunlight spilled generously across every corner of the field. Following the teacher's instructions, the girls split into groups for a fitness test. The air was filled with the fresh scent of trampled grass, mingled with the girls' light panting and laughter as they exercised. Yet beneath the scene's apparent energy, an undercurrent was quietly stirring.
Whether it was pure coincidence or some invisible twist of fate, Karuizawa and Shinohara Mami ended up in the same group for a flexibility exercise that required partners. They had to stand back to back, link arms, and take turns carrying each other while performing a series of assigned stretches. It was a routine drill, meant to test trust and coordination.
Halfway through the exercise, it was Shinohara's turn to carry Karuizawa. Perhaps she felt how much more tense her partner's body was than usual; perhaps it was concern she had long kept bottled up. As their bodies pressed close and the surrounding noise rose, Shinohara took the opportunity to ask in an extremely soft voice, audible only to the two of them. "Kei, have you really been all right lately? You've looked pale, and your dark circles are so heavy... Is it... because of what happened at that old school? Is it making you—"
The words were as faint as a feather landing, but to Karuizawa, they struck like thunder splitting a tranquil sky. Her body visibly stiffened, as if frozen in an instant. It felt as though even her blood had stopped flowing. The hand resting lightly on Shinohara's shoulder to keep her balance suddenly clenched tight, her nails unconsciously digging into the fabric of Shinohara's gym clothes.
"Ugh..." Shinohara let out a muffled groan as the sudden pressure squeezed her.
Karuizawa seemed not to hear. She whipped her head around, and the pretty, delicate face that was usually so charming turned paper-white in an instant. Her large eyes, usually alight with either sunny warmth or a hint of haughtiness, were now filled with a mixture of abject terror, offended anger, and deep unease. She stared at Shinohara's profile from inches away, her gaze nearly ferocious.
"Shut up!" She forced two short, sharp syllables through her teeth. Her voice sounded distorted from the effort of keeping it down. "Don't talk about that here! Don't say anything! Do you hear me?"
Her reaction was far too intense. Though she kept her voice low, the sudden burst of hostility and the savage expression so unlike her usual self made several girls nearby, resting or working on other exercises, stop what they were doing and look over in curiosity and confusion. Even the physical education teacher farther away seemed to notice the commotion and glanced their way.
As soon as she shouted, Karuizawa realized what a terrible mistake she had made. She released Shinohara's clothes as if they had burned her and immediately lowered her head, letting her thick hair fall forward to hide her face. She panted rapidly, her chest heaving as if she had just sprinted a hundred meters. She instinctively tugged at the hem of her gym shirt, trying to hide her uncontrollable, soul-deep trembling with the mechanical act of straightening her clothes. But her knuckles had gone pale, and her shoulders still trembled faintly. They exposed the storm raging inside her.
Shinohara had clearly been startled by the sudden outburst, too. She stood frozen, her face full of bewilderment and regret.
From beginning to end, the whole scene had been clearly observed, every detail caught without fail, by Kushida Kikyo. She was nearby, "happening" to be doing floor exercises, but had in fact kept Karuizawa in the corner of her eye the entire time.
That evening, in the familiar, reassuring confines of Dorm 129, Kushida sat cross-legged on the soft carpet and animatedly recounted the hair-raising dozen or so seconds to Feng Qi, acting it out with a touch of theatrical flair.
"Feng Qi, you absolutely wouldn't believe the look on Karuizawa's face!" Kushida's voice rose with excitement as she gestured wildly. "In an instant, her face went completely white! Her eyes were wide open, and they were full of... how should I put it? It was the kind of look you'd have if you were walking down the street and someone suddenly clapped a hand over your mouth and dragged you into an alley! Shock and anger, with a little... ferocity? Yes, ferocity! She looked like a completely different person!" She picked up the juice Feng Qi had prepared for her and took a big gulp before continuing. "And she reacted that strongly just because Shinohara said something so vague! That definitely isn't some ordinary worry or little secret. It's her greatest weakness, her most sensitive spot—the kind you absolutely can't touch!"
Feng Qi sat quietly in his chair behind the desk, leaning back slightly. His fingertips tapped the smooth desktop slowly and rhythmically, almost inaudibly. The yellow light of the desk lamp outlined his sharply defined profile and reflected in his deep, well-like eyes, making it impossible to tell what thoughts were stirring within. Karuizawa's almost uncontrolled reaction was like a heavy weight, confirming his earlier suspicions beyond doubt. She really was doing everything she could to conceal an unbearable past, one that might even be deeply traumatic. That past lay at the very root of her deepest, most vulnerable, most terrible fears. Shinohara knew about it, but judging by her reaction, she seemed more like someone who had learned of it passively and shared some of the burden of keeping it secret than a source of active threats or blackmail.
"Other than Shinohara," Feng Qi asked, his voice still even, without a hint of emotion, "has anyone around her—whether from our class or another—acted as if they know? Or has anyone behaved in a way that makes you think they're using this to get close to Karuizawa, drop hints, or even threaten her?" He needed to determine precisely whether there was an active outside threat. The answer would affect his next move.
At his question, Kushida dropped her exaggerated expression and knitted her brows in concentration, carefully sifting through every detail and fragment she had observed over the past few days. She thought for a full minute before shaking her head with certainty. "As far as I can tell, no. Neither anyone in our class nor anyone from the other classes I've heard about through other channels has acted that way. It feels... more like Karuizawa's own demons are tormenting her." She tried to put her observations into words more precisely. "She seems to be getting more and more anxious because her points are running low, and she's afraid she won't be able to maintain her current... well, 'popular' image, the one where 'Hirata-kun protects her.' She's scared her old wounds will be exposed in front of everyone. Shinohara seems to be the only person she can let her guard down around just a little and confide in a little—but clearly she doesn't trust Shinohara completely, or she wouldn't have reacted so strongly." She paused, remembering another important detail, then added, "I've paid special attention to this: whenever Hirata-kun acts especially gentle and caring toward her, she smiles sweetly and responds enthusiastically on the surface, but her body always stiffens for the briefest moment, and her eyes flicker. It's as if... as if she's afraid his clear, honest eyes will see through the carefully polished exterior she's built."
That final detail was the last crucial piece of the puzzle, bringing the picture in Feng Qi's mind into perfect focus. Karuizawa Kei feared not only having her past exposed to the public; she was even more afraid of Hirata Yousuke—the "protector" on whom she currently relied for a sense of security and her outward status—discovering the traumatic past so at odds with her public image. That suggested her past was probably the exact opposite of the "tough," "confident," "center of the group" persona she had worked so hard to present to Hirata and everyone else. She might even have been utterly weak and helpless, a victim. If that truth came out, it wouldn't just destroy her social standing; it could also undermine Hirata's desire to protect her and leave her isolated and helpless once again.
"It seems her current 'trouble' is mostly rooted in her inner fears and anxiety over how difficult it's becoming to maintain the status quo, rather than any direct, ongoing external threat," Feng Qi concluded coolly. That meant less immediate risk and less chance of confrontation if he intervened. At the same time, it meant he would need to act with greater subtlety and focus more on the psychological side. What he intended to use was the other girl's inner vulnerabilities and emotional needs, not a specific external crisis.
"What should we do next?" Kushida leaned forward, her face eager, like a hound waiting for instructions.
"For now, keep things as they are and continue watching," Feng Qi decided. It seemed cautious, but it gave him greater control. He needed Karuizawa to remain trapped in her self-torment a little longer, letting fear and unease rise like a slow tide and further erode her mental defenses, draining her strength. He knew that when someone was driven to the brink of collapse by inner pressure, her judgment weakened and her defenses grew fragile. Then she would be more likely to reach for help from the seemingly only "lifeline" that could offer understanding and support. To grasp that lifeline, she would often be willing to pay far more than she had ever expected.
"All right! I understand!" Kushida was a little disappointed that they couldn't take more direct, exciting action right away, but she had developed an almost blind trust in Feng Qi's judgment. She immediately nodded and agreed.
Feng Qi rose from his chair and slowly walked over to the window. Outside, the heavy night pressed over the campus like undiluted ink. Here and there, lights shone stubbornly in the distant dormitory buildings, like fireflies struggling to stay alive. The outline and colors of the unexpected puzzle piece that was Karuizawa Kei had become increasingly vivid and clear in his mind. A girl scarred by a cruel past of bullying, deeply insecure and desperate for safety, she used a carefully crafted tough exterior and the search for a reliable "protector" to disguise herself, trying to sever all ties with her past. Now, however, the foundation sustaining that façade—her ample points—was wavering and crumbling. The fear deep in her heart grew along with it, like a waking beast constantly gnawing at her sanity.
He didn't need to play the merciless one who tore open her old wounds. That might be direct, but it would invite fierce hostility and backlash, perhaps even driving her entirely into Hirata's protection. He only needed to wait in the shadows like the most patient of hunters, waiting until she could no longer bear the ever-growing pressure, until her fear overwhelmed her disguise and she tremulously offered him the leverage that held her fate in its grasp.
When that time came, he could choose to become a silent, costly protector, or a dangerous confidant holding the secret that could determine her fate. His choice would depend on which role brought him the greatest, most lasting advantage in Class D's complicated game.
He could already clearly picture the caged bird, frantic from the wounds of her past and desperately pretending to be strong, flapping her long-exhausted wings. Driven by fear, she would fly, step by step, unaware and bewildered, toward the invisible net he had carefully woven and been waiting to spring. It seemed he could already smell what was coming: the scent of prey caught in a net, mingled with despair and submission.
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