32. It seemed that the origin of all these events lay in her beauty.

After his duty was over, Tsukiya Jinguuji made his way alone to the old school building. Sakurakoji Sakura had already parted ways with him earlier, heading off to the track team.

Golden sunlight filtered through the leaves and poured in through the windows, casting dappled columns of light onto the corridor floor. From outside came the sound of a baseball being struck, soaring through the air and slamming into the wire fence.

When he arrived at the student council room, he was surprised to find the door locked.

After a moment’s thought, Tsukiya Jinguuji returned to the staff room to fetch the key for the old building, signing his name and class on the key record board.

Once inside the student council room, he didn’t sit down immediately. Instead, he wandered about, his eyes drifting over the walls, the bookshelves, the chandelier overhead, and the worn floorboards.

In short, the boy felt as if he had stepped into a nostalgic museum, searching for something that might match his memories.

After making a complete circuit, Tsukiya finally sat down on the sofa, took a novel from his bag, and began to read in silence.

[Then the dagger was drawn, and he reverted to his usual self—calm, kind, and approachable.]

[But whenever his greed swelled again, he would continue his crimes.]

[Caroline suddenly realized the truth.]

Knock, knock, knock—

At that moment the door to the student council room was rapped upon. Tsukiya Jinguuji lifted his eyelids slightly, pondering whether he had the right to say, "Come in."

During his hesitation, the door was already pushed open.

"Um… Good afternoon."

The newcomer was a boy with glasses, neither tall nor short, a little chubby, wearing indoor shoes with green toes—the mark of a first-year student.

At Kamizakura High School, indoor shoes are color-coded: green for first years, blue for second years, red for third years. By looking at someone's shoes, you could immediately tell their year—a very efficient system.

Tsukiya Jinguuji didn’t close his book, remaining as he was, his gaze falling on the boy at the door.

The boy’s eyes wandered around the room before finally settling on Tsukiya.

"Hello, upperclassman."

With a blank expression, Tsukiya tilted his head slightly.

"Excuse me, is President Hoshinomori here?"

"As you can see, I’m the only one here."

"May I ask who you are, senpai…?"

"Roughly speaking, I’m with the student council."

"Roughly?"

"Think of me as someone doing part-time work. Is there something you need?"

It was clear the boy didn’t quite grasp who Tsukiya was, but since Tsukiya was his senior and alone in the student council room, he had no choice but to address him.

"I’m Kudo from the Drama Club."

"Hello, I’m Jinguuji."

Tsukiya Jinguuji closed his novel, observing the boy’s expression. He showed no particular reaction to the name.

As for Tsukiya’s reputation at school, among the first-years it was less like gossip and more like a campus legend. After all, when Tsukiya Jinguuji caused his suspension incident, these first-years had not yet entered Kamizakura High and couldn’t have experienced the shock firsthand.

"The president hasn’t arrived yet. I’m sorry, I don’t have her contact information. You can wait here for a bit—she should be here soon," Tsukiya said.

In truth, he did have her contact details—he used to, but Tsukiya Jinguuji had deleted them.

But such things, for Tsukiya, were meaningless even if erased. He could still recall Hoshinomori Hoshino’s email, LINE ID, and phone number effortlessly.

Thus, "deleting" was a luxury for him—a process that allowed him to simulate erasure.

It did nothing in essence, just a way to fool himself.

By this logic, Hoshinomori Hoshino probably still had his information on her phone unless she deleted it immediately after their breakup; otherwise, she would eventually notice the unfamiliar contact.

But now, none of that mattered.

After seeing that photograph, Tsukiya Jinguuji could no longer pretend not to know.

The boy before him, Kudo, finally began to state the purpose of his visit.

Originally, Tsukiya wanted to advise him to wait for Hoshinomori Hoshino, but then he thought—he was still a senpai, and now a member of the student council.

Had it been a second-year who looked down on him, he might have chosen to ignore it, but when faced with a junior, Tsukiya decided to show at least a little of his seniority.

Just a little, though.

The Drama Club, to which Kudo belonged, had only just been revived this year.

Previously, Kamizakura High had a Drama Club, but when Tsukiya first enrolled, the club had suspended activities for a year due to lack of members.

It wasn’t until this April, with the arrival of new students, that the club reformed. Nearly all the members were first-years, including their president.

A club without upperclassmen naturally fostered a freer atmosphere, but it also meant they had no one to guide them—a fatal weakness for any club hoping to achieve results.

Even so, after a semester of working together, the Drama Club was gradually finding its feet.

And this led, inevitably, to a certain topic.

The Culture Festival.

Every late October, Kamizakura High holds a three-day culture festival known as the Kamizakura Festival. Like at many other high schools, each day sees various clubs and classes stage performances in the school auditorium.

In fact, the Drama Club’s play is typically the highlight of the event. Last year, their absence was deeply felt by the students, who clamored for its revival.

And so, this year, the Drama Club was finally back.

Recruiting members, writing scripts, making costumes, rehearsing—all for this year’s festival.

Even if their acting skills were unpolished, the sight of fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds working together with such earnestness is something to be encouraged. It’s also in line with Kamizakura High’s emphasis on club culture.

If the festival were judged solely by skill or competition, it would lose its true meaning.

Thus, no matter how rough the performance, the student council could never reject the Drama Club’s application.

Even after all this, Tsukiya still didn’t quite grasp Kudo’s purpose. He was much more concerned with what happened next in his novel, and he had to resist the urge to bounce his leg with impatience—an impolite thing to do, so he held back.

Raising a hand to rub his brow, Tsukiya thought for a long moment before speaking slowly, "So, why don’t you tell me exactly why you’re here today?"

"Oh, right, I was just about to," Kudo replied, scratching his nose a little sheepishly.

At that moment, footsteps sounded outside. Hoshinomori Hoshino and Hitsugumi Yo entered the room together, just as Kudo’s words reached their ears:

"I’d like to invite President Hoshinomori to star in our play at the Culture Festival."