THE CLOCK'S TICKING ECHOED THROUGH OUR STUFFY CLASSROOM, EACH SOUND DRIVING ME CLOSER TO LOSING IT. MY MECHANICAL PENCIL TREMBLED AGAINST MY NOTEBOOK, THE LEAD BREAKING FOR THE THIRD TIME AS I PRETENDED TO TAKE NOTES ABOUT DERIVATIVES. BEHIND ME, LOUIS SAT WITH PERFECT POSTURE, HIS VERY EXISTENCE MOCKING MY MOUNTING PANIC.

The Friday afternoon sun caught his perfectly styled hair as he took notes with elegant precision, offering that practiced princely smile whenever someone looked his way. How could he act so normal after what he'd done? It had been exactly a week since that night in my apartment, since those cold, empty eyes had pierced through me as he'd delivered his ultimatum about finding the perfect Kaguya Takahashi.

My strawberry-scented notebook - usually reserved for my fanfiction ideas - now contained Louis's impossible requirements. I flipped through the pink pages filled with my increasingly desperate observations. The specs read like a manga character sheet, and seeing them written out only highlighted how ridiculous this whole thing was:

"Must be a first-year student, naturally beautiful but completely unaware of it. Withdrawn and shy, yet secretly yearning for friendship. Most importantly - must have a specific backstory involving a childhood friend on the soccer team who got popular, leading her to distance herself from him."

The past week had been a blur of covert surveillance. Between classes, I'd haunted the first-year hallways like some creepy stalker, mapping out their schedules and routines. But reality kept refusing to align with Louis's manga-inspired criteria. The pretty girls traveled in packs, their phones perpetually poised for the perfect selfie angle. Even the quietest students had found their niches - art club kids sharing sketchbooks, library committee members huddled over light novels, science nerds comparing notes. The post-orientation enthusiasm meant nobody matched that crucial "lonely wallflower" requirement.

Chalk dust floated in the sunbeams as my gaze drifted back to Louis. This time, he caught me looking. That perfect smile spread across his face, sending ice through my veins. The rest of our class might see Prince Charming, but I knew better. That smile promised consequences I didn't want to imagine.

My hands started shaking harder as I thought about having to tell him I'd found exactly zero candidates. Part of me was lowkey curious about what he had planned (which I am SO not admitting to anyone ever), but then I remembered that look in his eyes when he'd cornered me in my apartment and nope nope nope. Not going there.

The final bell's ring shattered the afternoon quiet. While my classmates burst into motion with their weekend plans, talking about karaoke and mall trips, I watched in mounting dread as Louis methodically arranged his supplies - each pen lined up precisely, every movement deliberate and measured. Seven days had passed, and I had nothing to show him. No Kaguya. No progress. Just a notebook full of failed observations and increasingly desperate notes.

I bolted out of there. My heart thundered against my ribs as I pushed past startled classmates. The familiar escape routes - the rooftop, the emergency stairwell - were useless now. Louis knew all my hiding spots.

I ducked into the girls' bathroom, pressing my back against the cold tile wall. Desperation wasn't a great strategist, but it was all I had. I slipped into the last stall, the familiar scent of artificial strawberry air freshener and cheap body spray hitting my nose as I clicked the lock shut.

The bathroom door swung open, followed by Mayumi's annoying laugh echoing off the walls.

"Did you see his face in math class?" Mayumi's voice carried that usual edge. "When sensei called him out for daydreaming?"

"Oh my god, yes!" That was definitely Rika. "His whole 'Oh, I'm so sorry' routine was so fake."

I pulled my feet up onto the toilet seat, hugging my knees to my chest. Great. Just great. Trapped in a bathroom stall while the queen bee and her workers dissected everyone's existence.

"Speaking of fake..." Mayumi's voice got closer, probably as she checked herself in the mirror. "Louis is starting to get on my nerves. The perfect prince routine? So overplayed. Sure, he's gorgeous, but what else is there? He's just... bland."

My eyes widened. Were they seriously trash-talking Louis?

"Right?" Nami chimed in. "It's like he's trying too hard or something. That nice guy act seems so fake. Plus, he's always so standoffish and jumpy. I thought foreigners were supposed to be more... open-minded, but he's worse than most Japanese guys."

"Do you still have your eyes set on him, Mayu?"

"Well, duh, girl. He's still crazy hot and crazy rich. When God gives you something so exotic and delicious..."

If only they knew. Louis wasn't just blank or boring—he was sharp, cruel, and terrifying. That night in my apartment still haunted me: the way he'd cornered me, his breath chilling against my ear as he whispered, "You're my tool now." That was spice they couldn't even imagine.

A phone chimed, its sound sharp against the tile.

"Shit, guys, we're gonna be late!" Rika's voice rose in panic.

Their heels clicked rapidly across the floor, the door swinging shut behind them. The only thing left was the fading cloud of their perfume and the pounding of my heart. I couldn't stay in this bathroom forever. Mayumi and her squad might come back, or worse - Louis might figure out where I'm hiding. My mind raced through options: the gym was too obvious, the cafeteria too exposed, the courtyard might as well have a spotlight on me...

Then it hit me. The library. It was perfect - quiet, overlooked, and definitely not somewhere anyone would expect to find me. Louis knew I only ever went to the manga section of the public library. Our school library, with its dusty classics and study guides? He'd never think to look there.

Plus, what better place to hide than somewhere totally out of character? It was like that detective manga where the phantom thief hid the jewel in plain sight at a police station.

The library doors creaked as I slipped inside, making me wince. The familiar scent of old books and furniture polish filled my nose - way different from the fruity manga smell I was used to. Afternoon sunlight streamed through tall windows, dust motes dancing in the golden beams. A few students hunched over textbooks at the study tables, but nobody looked up at my entrance.

I grabbed the first book I recognized - that Osamu Dazai one Sensei wouldn't shut up about last semester - and tried my best to look like I belonged. The wooden chair squeaked traitorously as I sat down, making me cringe. Could I be any more obvious?

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That's when I saw her.

She sat alone at a corner table, completely lost in a thick volume of... was that The Tale of Genji? The sun caught her hair just right, giving her this soft glow that looked straight out of a shoujo manga. But it wasn't just her looks - it was the way she held herself. Quiet confidence, like she was perfectly content in her own world.

I found myself studying her with the same intensity I'd been watching the first-years all week. No phone in sight. No friends hovering nearby. Just her and her books, and she seemed totally at peace with that. The way she turned each page was almost reverent, her expression changing subtly as she read - a small smile here, a raised eyebrow there.

Wait.

My heart started racing as the pieces clicked together. Naturally beautiful but not showy about it? Check. Comfortable being alone but not in an antisocial way? Check. The fact that she was here reading classical literature instead of hanging out with friends after school? Major check.

I watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a small, simple hair clip - nothing flashy or trendy. Everything about her screamed 'hidden gem character' - the kind that shows up in chapter three and ends up being the secret princess or something.

"Reina..." I whispered, remembering her name from class introductions. Could she really be the answer I'd been looking for all week? The more I watched her (trying not to be totally creepy about it), the more perfect she seemed for Louis's crazy requirements.

The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. All those manga tropes Louis was looking for - they weren't impossible after all. They were just sitting here in the library, quietly reading classical literature while the rest of us ran around like headless chickens trying to be Instagram-perfect.

I couldn't help the smile spreading across my face. For the first time in a week, I felt like I could actually breathe. Sure, this was probably just the beginning of whatever weird plan Louis had cooking, but at least I wouldn't have to face those cold eyes empty-handed.

I burst out of the library, clutching my bag to my chest, the excitement of my discovery carrying me halfway down the street. I finally have the information to get Louis off my tail. But do I really want him to? Our relationship isn’t how I wanted it to be, but I share his secret. We’re accomplices in crime. But is risking a prison sentence better than being a background character?

Those questions carried me halfway home before reality hit me like a truck - Louis never actually gave me his contact info. We hadn't even set up a meeting spot. The spring in my step faltered as I realized I had no way to tell him about my amazing discovery.

I slowed to a stop, chewing my bottom lip as I thought it through. Louis always just... appeared, like some supernatural manga character materializing whenever he felt like it. But I'd kind of messed that up today by hiding from him, hadn't I? A tiny smirk crossed my face at the thought of throwing off his perfectly calculated plans, but it quickly faded into worry.

Every step toward my apartment felt like being in a horror movie. I kept expecting Louis to emerge from behind every corner, every vending machine, every parked car. My heart jumped when a cat darted out of an alley. A businessman checking his phone by a convenience store made me freeze until I confirmed it wasn't him. Even the old lady watering her plants seemed suspicious.

But nothing happened. The street stayed stubbornly, annoyingly normal. No mysterious transfer students appearing out of nowhere. No cryptic messages. Not even a single crow cawing ominously (which always happened in manga when something important was about to go down).

By the time I reached my building, my nerves were completely shot. How was someone so tall and striking so good at disappearing when you actually needed to find him?

I crept up the stairs to my apartment, heart thundering in my chest. Each step felt like a scene from those stealth games I'm terrible at - you know, the ones where you have to sneak past the guards without making a sound? Only this time, the stakes felt way higher than just restarting from a checkpoint.

My hand trembled as I fitted the key into the lock, turning it with painful slowness. The tiny click seemed deafening in the quiet hallway. I pushed the door open just a crack, peeking through like I was expecting some kind of horror movie jump scare.

Nothing.

The afternoon light streamed peacefully through my windows, illuminating a completely ordinary, completely empty apartment. No mysterious transfer students. No surveillance photos. Just my usual mess of manga volumes and half-finished homework.

I tiptoed inside anyway, checking behind the door, in the closet, and even - okay, this is super embarrassing - under my bed. But nope. The apartment was exactly as I'd left it this morning, right down to the wrinkled uniform I'd tossed on my chair.

A weird feeling settled in my stomach as I straightened up. Was that... disappointment? No way. That would be crazy, right? Being disappointed that the scary guy who'd threatened me wasn't lurking in my apartment? I must be more messed up than I thought.

I triple-checked the locks and dragged my study chair in front of the door. For good measure, I stacked a few manga volumes and my school bag on it too. Not exactly the Imperial Palace, but it made me feel better.

Finally letting out a long breath, I cranked up the volume on my phone. The familiar opening notes of the opening ''Household Crush'' filled my tiny apartment as I headed for the bathroom. Maybe a hot bath would help my brain make sense of... whatever my life had become.

The steam rose around me as I sank into the water, letting my thoughts drift. How had everything gotten so complicated? Just weeks ago, I was just another invisible otaku, living vicariously through my favorite manga heroines. Now I was caught up in some bizarre real-life manga plot with a mysterious (and kind of terrifying) transfer student and the school's queen bee.

I ducked my head under the water for a moment, coming up to wipe droplets from my face. Wasn't this exactly what I'd always wanted? An escape from my boring life? Some dramatic adventure where I actually mattered to the story?

But manga heroines never mentioned how exhausting it was being caught in these plots. Or how scary it could be when the mysterious guy turned out to be actually mysterious, not just misunderstood. Still, it's not like I could back out now. Louis made that pretty clear.

The water had gone cold, making me shiver. Time to get out and maybe read some normal, predictable manga where the good guys were actually good and-

I open the bathroom door, towel wrapped tightly around me, and freeze. There is Louis, standing in my kitchen, stirring something in a pot like he belongs there.

I slam the bathroom door shut, my entire body burning with mortification. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else over the rush of blood in my ears. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" I screech through the door, clutching my towel tighter. Oh god, oh god, oh god. This isn't happening. This CAN'T be happening.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" his voice drifts through casually, like breaking into someone's apartment to cook is the most normal thing in the world. I can hear the soft clink of a spoon against the pot.

"You're aware that they sell things other than instant ramen right?" I press my forehead against the cool bathroom door, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

This is like every shoujo manga ever, but NOT IN A GOOD WAY. The mysterious love interest cooking for the heroine? Sure, romantic in fiction. Breaking and entering while she's in the bath? CREEPY. SO CREEPY.

"How did you even get in?" I manage to squeak out, though I immediately regret asking. Do I really want to know? "Your locks are terrible," he replies matter-of-factly.

"You should probably upgrade them. Anyone could get in." Anyone like YOU, you mean! I want to scream. But all that comes out is a strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and a laugh.

"I... I need to get dressed," I stammer, eyeing my uniform crumpled on the bathroom floor. No way am I putting that back on. My dresser is barely ten feet away, but it might as well be miles with HIM standing between me and my clean clothes. The only thing worse than being trapped in here would be making a towel-clad dash across my studio with him watching.

"Sure, go ahead," he says, not even pausing in his stirring. "The curry needs another ten minutes anyway."

Something about his tone makes my skin crawl, but I can't put my finger on why. It's like... like he's not even seeing me as a person.

"How am I gonna get myself out of this one, and why does it have to smell so damn good?"