Chapter 3: Who Is He?

The morning sun hung lazily in the sky, casting soft rays through the windows of Seishin High’s classroom 2-A. The air carried the usual scent of newly cleaned floors and faint traces of perfume from the girls adjusting their hair in their seats.

Aori Kazuyuki sat at his usual desk near the window, elbow resting on the surface, fingers lightly supporting his cheek as he gazed outside. It was another day, another routine, another repetition of his predictable life.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Then, the door slid open.

"Alright, everyone, quiet down," the teacher’s voice rang through the room. The chattering students turned their attention forward, though a few still whispered among themselves, their curiosity already piqued by the presence of someone new.

The teacher adjusted his glasses and motioned toward the girl standing beside him.

"As some of you might have heard, we have a transfer student joining us for the summer term. Introduce yourself."

Aori barely lifted his gaze. He already knew.

That girl.

The girl with the blue-tipped hair.

She stood there, hands in her pockets, her stance completely unbothered by the eyes locked onto her. Unlike most transfer students, who fidgeted or spoke nervously, she didn’t hesitate.

“Chiyo.” Her voice was clear, confident. “Chiyo [insert surname].”

A short introduction, nothing extra. No fake smiles, no unnecessary pleasantries.

She really didn’t care.

A few students immediately reacted, whispering among themselves. Some eyes widened in recognition, others simply muttered in confusion.

"Wait... that Chiyo?"

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"No way, she transferred here?"

"I thought she got suspended at her old school."

Aori’s ears caught the murmurs, but he kept his focus on the window. He wasn’t particularly interested in whatever rumors surrounded her.

He had already experienced enough of her personality firsthand.

"Chiyo, take the empty seat over there," the teacher instructed, pointing to a desk just a few rows from Aori’s. She casually strolled to her seat, ignoring the stares thrown her way, before dropping into the chair with an exhale.

The moment her name was written on the board, it was official. Chiyo was now part of 2-A.

The teacher placed a stack of papers on his desk and checked his watch. "I'll be stepping out for a few minutes. I need to make a call. Behave yourselves."

With that, he left the room.

That’s when she noticed it.

Every few seconds, girls in the classroom would steal glances at someone.

Her sharp gaze followed their focus until it landed on him.

Aori Kazuyuki.

He sat there, completely unbothered, as if none of it mattered to him. His fingers tapped lightly against the desk, his mind elsewhere.

But Chiyo wasn’t having it.

"Who the hell is he, anyway?"

The words cut through the air like a knife.

Silence.

The entire class turned to stare at her in shock, jaws slightly open, as if she had just insulted a national treasure.

Chiyo blinked. "What?"

One of the girls—a short-haired brunette sitting near her—leaned in slightly, her voice a mix of disbelief and warning.

"That’s Aori Kazuyuki. You seriously don’t know him?"

Chiyo raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to?"

The girl sighed, as if explaining something painfully obvious. "He’s the son of the Kazuyuki family. You know, the rich ones who own businesses across the country?"

Chiyo tilted her head slightly. "Ouh... another rich brat."

A few students gasped.

The tension in the room shifted instantly.

The air became thick with anticipation, waiting to see how Aori would react.

And yet—he didn’t.

Aori didn’t even glance her way.

He just sat there, completely unfazed, as if her words were nothing more than background noise.

This annoyed her.

"What's with that dead-eyed expression?" she pushed. "Do rich kids not react to anything that isn’t money-related?"

Still no reaction.

"Tch." Chiyo clicked her tongue. "What, you think ignoring me makes you look cool?"

Aori finally turned his gaze to her. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, locked onto hers for a moment. Then, in the calmest voice possible, he said:

"Are you always this desperate for attention?"

The class collectively held their breath.

Chiyo smirked. "Only when someone looks like they need to be knocked off their pedestal."

A few students exchanged nervous glances.

This wasn’t like the usual girls who swooned over Aori. This was different.

Before she could say more, the teacher returned, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air. "Alright, back to work. Let’s continue where we left off."

And just like that, the moment was gone.

But the impact wasn’t.

Even as the day moved on, as classes progressed, Aori found himself replaying the exchange in his mind.

Her words didn’t particularly affect him. He’d heard plenty of jealous comments before. But there was something about her attitude—the way she didn’t hesitate, didn’t care—that stuck with him.

And it annoyed him.

---

That night

Aori lay in bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The dim glow of his bedside lamp cast long shadows along the walls of his sleek, minimalist room.

He tried to shake it off.

Tried to ignore the strange irritation that clung to him.

But the more he pushed it aside, the more it stayed.

That damn girl.

Her voice. Her attitude. The way she talked back to him like he wasn’t who he was.

No one did that.

Not in the way she did.

Aori exhaled sharply, turning onto his side.

He didn’t care.

He wouldn’t care.

But somehow, against his better judgment, he knew—this wasn’t the last time she’d piss him off.

And that realization alone was enough to irritate him even more.