Calculation? Perhaps.

When Uesugi Hara returned to his room, the "click" of the door lock echoed, but the smile on his face had yet to fully fade.

He sat at his desk and plugged the digital recorder into his computer. On the screen, Kushida Kikyo's voice was sliced into segments: from the vicious, threatening tone to the indignant "pervert" she spat out in shame, followed by a sweet, soft "Yay," where even the breathy undertones hidden in the trailing syllables were clearly audible.

"The tremor in your voice when you threaten someone, the way your pitch drifts when you blush..." He tapped his fingertips against the desk, his gaze sweeping over the waveform corresponding to the word "pervert," and suddenly let out a low chuckle. "You're much more vivid than any character in an anime."

Next, he pulled out the pinhole camera that had proven so useful tonight. Its metal casing glinted coldly under the desk lamp, reflecting in his eyes like a silent mark.

Finally, his gaze settled on the stationary dot on his terminal. Kushida had returned to the dorms; the location was no longer moving. He switched screens to show the footage of the fingerprinting.

Closing the terminal, Uesugi Hara tossed his jacket onto the back of his chair and walked to the window, pushing it open just a crack.

The night breeze drifted in, carrying the distant lights of the academic building. He stared at the night view, his fingertips tapping lightly against the window frame.

"A shared secret?" he repeated in a low voice, his lips curling into that familiar arc. "Perhaps."

The mystery novel at the corner of the desk remained open to the page he had been reading, but now, it seemed like dull background noise compared to this real-life "confrontation."

He shut down his computer, deciding to organize the recordings and videos tomorrow—after all, compared to the tricks in a book, a prey who could blush while threatening someone and then turn around to offer a sweet, soft smile was clearly worth more anticipation.

At 6:30 AM, the first rays of morning light leaked through the gap in the curtains and crept onto the desk. Uesugi Hara was already seated before his computer.

On the screen, the previous night's audio waveforms were cut into segments—the metallic vibration of Kushida kicking the railing, the shrill voice of her cursing "that bitch Horikita," and finally, that sweet, soft "Yay~ we have a shared secret now." Each segment was marked with a timestamp accurate to the second.

He slid his finger across the mouse, found the clip where Kushida angrily shouted "pervert," and deleted it without hesitation; there was no need to keep segments that were useless to him.

He then scanned the remaining audio, confirming it contained only her venting curses, her forced-calm threats, her initiative in fingerprinting, and the final shift back to her sweet tone, before beginning to organize the key clips.

After deleting the irrelevant content, he selected the two audio clips with the most striking contrast:

The first half was her vicious, teary-eyed outburst while kicking the railing: "Why does everyone only look at her?!"

The second half was the cloyingly sweet laugh she gave when turning around: "I believe in you."

For the video, he captured her side profile as she gripped the iron railing in a rage, and a close-up of her smiling while hooking his wrist. The two images were placed side-by-side on the screen, like two mirrors reflecting the same person.

He packed the organized audio into a file and sent it to Kushida Kikyo's terminal, naming the file: "Last Night's Portion."

Before sending, he added a postscript: "Just finished organizing. Deleted some unnecessary parts. These remaining ones are what a 'shared secret' should really look like, right? By the way, my room number is 506. Remember to come find me."

Sure enough, within three minutes, a new message popped up on the terminal, Kushida's avatar pulsing.

He opened it to find text written in her characteristic soft tone: "Uesugi-kun, you're up so early! I received the files, but is there something you need me to 'find you' for? (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧" The emoji at the end was just like her—striving to maintain an impeccable, friendly persona.

Uesugi Hara tapped his finger on the screen and replied concisely: "Nothing major. I just want you to see with your own eyes where these 'secrets' are kept—after all, only by knowing the hiding place can it be called 'shared custody,' don't you think?"

After sending it, he turned and sat at his desk, waiting patiently. The morning light had crawled across the desk, landing right on the open mystery novel and illuminating a paragraph titled "Evidence Storage."

Hearing footsteps in the hallway and seeing the dot on his terminal moving toward his location, a knock on the door followed shortly after.

Uesugi Hara rose and walked to the door to open it.

The moment the door opened, the morning breeze stirred the curtains in the hallway, and a few rays of light fell perfectly onto Kushida Kikyo's face.

She stood at the door, her uniform skirt still swaying from her brisk walk. Her stray hairs were tucked away meticulously, but her right hand was subconsciously gripping the left side of her skirt—the fabric was pinched into deep creases, and even the pleats on her chest were wrinkled, which spoke more of her unease than any expression could.

"Come in." Uesugi Hara stepped aside to let her enter, his gaze sweeping over her hand gripping the skirt as he tapped his fingers against his side.

The room was very quiet, save for the low hum of the computer tower. When Kushida walked to the desk, her fingers loosened their grip on her skirt, only to tighten again immediately.

Her gaze swept rapidly across the desktop: the open mystery novel, the glowing computer screen (still on the audio editing interface), the empty folder in the corner, and finally, the digital recorder Uesugi Hara had just picked up—its metal casing glinting in the morning light.

"Those files..." she spoke first, her voice carrying a deliberately softened trailing note. "When Uesugi-kun said you wanted me to see the 'hiding place,' did you mean they were stored on the computer?"

Uesugi Hara didn't answer directly, instead placing the recorder on the desk in front of her: "Not just there. There's a backup of the audio here, and the video is in an encrypted cloud folder—the password is the number of times you kicked the railing last night."

Kushida's fingers, gripping her skirt, tightened violently. The fabric sank deeper between her knuckles, and her shoulders trembled slightly. When she looked up, the sweetness in her smile had faded: "Uesugi-kun even counted that?"

"It is 'important evidence,' after all." He tapped the line "Evidence Storage" in the mystery novel. "The book says one must remember every detail of key evidence—just like remembering how your knuckles turned white while gripping the railing last night, and how you're gripping your skirt right now..."

Before Uesugi Hara could finish, the figure before him suddenly moved—Kushida lunged, her knee whistling through the air toward his jaw.

The kick was fast and sharp, completely devoid of her usual softness, as if she were venting an entire night's worth of panic and rage through the motion.

But Uesugi Hara was prepared. He sidestepped almost the moment she lifted her leg, simultaneously grabbing her ankle—his fingertips brushed the taut muscle beneath her uniform trousers. Before she could retract her leg, his other hand pinned her shoulder, using her own momentum to shove her aside.

"Ugh!" Kushida stumbled backward, her lower back hitting the edge of the bed. Just as she tried to steady herself, Uesugi Hara closed in.

He didn't use brute force; he simply pressed his knee against the back of her legs, and with a downward push, she fell onto the bed uncontrollably.

Before she could prop herself up on the sheets, Uesugi Hara leaned over, pinning her wrists to the pillow with both hands, and sat on her waist—his weight wasn't heavy, but it acted like a stone precisely pressing a lever, rendering her limbs powerless.

"Let go of me!" Kushida's voice changed completely, the sweetness gone, replaced by a sharp, angry tremor. She struggled, twisting her waist and trying to drive her knee into his back, but her upper body was pinned firmly. The red marks forming on her wrists under his grip only made the pressure on her waist feel more intense.

"Don't move." Uesugi Hara's voice was steady, even carrying a hint of nonchalance. "If you move again, you might just give me a reaction, and that would be a whole different story."

The words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing most of her struggle. Kushida froze for a few seconds, stopping her twisting, though her chest heaved violently and a few strands of hair stuck to her sweat-dampened forehead.

She looked up, glaring at him. There was no trace of a smile left in her eyes, only raw, undisguised malice and panic: "Uesugi Hara! Have you been plotting against me from the very beginning?!"

"Plotting?" He looked down at her, the morning light slanting through the curtain gap to illuminate her taut jawline. "From the moment you walked into that alley last night, shouldn't we call it 'cooperation'?"

"Cooperation, my ass!" Her voice was thick with tears, yet she stubbornly refused to let them fall. "You deliberately sent those files to lure me here, deliberately said those things to provoke me—what exactly do you want?!"

Uesugi Hara loosened his grip on her wrists slightly but didn't get up. "I don't want anything. Just like you were venting your temper on the railing last night, I just want you to calm down now—after all, kicking me is much more dangerous than kicking a railing." He paused, watching the emotions roiling in her eyes, and added, "Of course, it's also much more interesting."

"Interesting?" Kushida was trembling with rage, her wrists struggling again under his palms. "You have me pinned here and you call it interesting?! What exactly do you intend to do with those recordings and videos? Threaten me? Make me do what you want?!"

"It seems now," Uesugi Hara lowered his head to glance at her still-writhing body, "that even without the recording, you seem quite obedient to 'body control'."

This sentence completely ignited her fury. Kushida jerked her head to the side, putting all her strength into trying to bite the hand he had pressed against the pillow, but he sensed it in advance and lifted his wrist, narrowly avoiding her teeth.

She bit into empty air and could only glare indignantly at the ceiling. Her tears finally broke through, sliding from the corners of her eyes into the pillow: "You bastard... you've been watching me make a fool of myself from the very beginning, haven't you?!"

Uesugi Hara remained silent for a few seconds. The body beneath him was still trembling slightly, though it was no longer a struggle, but rather a sense of grievance after having her disguise punctured.

He finally moved, shifting slightly off her, yet he did not release her wrists. He simply leaned down to look at her reddened eyes: "I wouldn't call it making a fool of you."

"But the way you look right now is certainly more genuine than when you're smiling at me."

"Genuine?" Kushida sniffled, her voice raspy and strained. "You went through all this trouble just to see me look genuine?!"

"Not entirely." Uesugi Hara's fingertips brushed lightly against the red marks on her wrists. Seeing she was no longer struggling, he slowly let go, though he remained seated on her without moving. "I mostly wanted to know what a person wearing a smiling mask would look like when that mask was ripped off—and it seems, you're much cuter than the villains in mystery novels."

Kushida rubbed her aching wrists, lying on the bed and glaring at him. Her eyes were still wet, but they already held a hint of the same ferocity she had shown when kicking the railing last night: "Cut the crap! I'm asking you, what exactly do you want? Give me a straight answer!"