In other words, no one truly enjoys telling lies.

After school, in the student council room.

Yangong Yoh had gone to negotiate the light music club’s performance at the cultural festival, while Yamada Kanade was still busy with kendo club activities, leaving only Tsukasa Jinguuji and Hoshinomori Hoshino in the room—exactly as Sakuya Sakurakouji had described: “alone together.”

Tsukasa Jinguuji was busy reviewing the funding requests submitted by various clubs. With the cultural festival just around the corner, many clubs used it as their reason for requesting more funds, so extra care was required to ensure no club tried to take advantage of the opportunity.

Take the Game Research Club, for example—they applied for funding to buy video games.

On the surface, that seemed reasonable.

But you couldn’t use club funds to buy “Angel Turmoil RE-BOOT!” could you?

That was the gist of the matter.

In any case, reviewing the clubs’ funding applications was a sacred task. One careless mistake and you might be accused of corruption.

“Jinguuji, would you come with me to the drama club later?” Hoshinomori Hoshino asked.

Tsukasa Jinguuji paused in her work and glanced at Hoshinomori. “Is that a question?”

“I thought asking nicely might soften your heart,” Hoshinomori replied. “That’s my reasoning.”

“It’s not as if I can refuse the president, so you might as well just give me an order.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that, so lonely! If you really don’t want to…” Hoshinomori said sweetly.

“Can I refuse?” the boy asked.

“Well… it would be best if you came.” Hoshinomori’s smile was gentle and sweet.

Regardless of whether that smile was meant as a threat or a command, it was beautiful—something to be truly admired, like lying comfortably on the grass and gazing up at a sky full of falling stars.

“Kudou says he’s very grateful for your help with the script revisions. He’d like to discuss the original work with you. You know I don’t understand that kind of literature, so I have to rely on my capable vice president.”

“In other words, you’re just using me for convenience.”

“Don’t say it like that. You know I’m genuinely grateful to you. Unless—are you hinting that you want a reward?”

“I never said that.”

With a sigh, Tsukasa Jinguuji relented. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Hoshinomori flashed a triumphant, playful grin. “Thank you! I knew you were kind, Jinguuji.”

“Ah, my junior is so gentle. When I graduate, I can leave the council in your hands with peace of mind.”

Her dignified presence was perfectly complemented by her mischievous expression. The boy couldn’t help but remark, “President, do you really think you can keep bossing me around like this, just by saying nice things every time?”

“Of course not.”

“Let’s be clear—I still plan to quit the council after the festival.”

“Of course you can. I never forget an agreement—I told you, my memory is excellent.”

“That’s good,” Tsukasa Jinguuji replied.

“You haven’t forgotten either, have you?”

“The bet,” she said softly.

He looked at her and murmured his assent.

Satisfied, she nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

On the way to the club building, Hoshinomori kept her cheerful smile.

“Hey, Jinguuji, have you always been like this?”

“Like what? Do I look like I’ve had cosmetic surgery?”

“No, I mean your expression. You always look so aloof—not that I think you’re unhappy, but it does make you seem unapproachable to others.”

“Unapproachable?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a relief, then,” he replied earnestly.

Hoshinomori couldn’t help but laugh at his seriousness. “You’re really not very honest, are you, Jinguuji?”

He glanced at her coolly. “And what makes you say that?”

“Oh? Isn’t it obvious? Someone like you must want to talk to a pretty girl like me. Putting on that deep, mysterious air is just bait for a curious girl like me.”

She then mimicked his tone from before: “I’d really like to get along with a beautiful president like you… Right? Pfft, I wish Sakurakouji could have seen you that day, it was hilarious.”

Jinguuji sighed inwardly, admitting she really did have a good memory to repeat his words word for word.

“Fine, I admit I sometimes lie.”

“Sometimes?”

“Sometimes.”

She nodded, not pushing him to define “sometimes.”

“So what? Everyone lies now and then. Even I do, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Mhm, sometimes,” she replied with a smile.

“Well… in any case, knowing the president is capable of lying puts my mind at ease.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?” Hoshinomori asked, her gaze intense as if trying to burn right through him.

“Can you believe there’s anyone in the world who never lies? If there was, I could never be friends with them.”

“Good afternoon, President!” a third-year girl greeted them outside a club room. Hoshinomori returned the greeting with a smile, then looked back at Jinguuji.

“Why?”

“Because I’m full of lies. Being around someone like that would drive me mad with envy.”

Hoshinomori nodded thoughtfully. “Oh~~”

“So, you actually understand what I mean, President?”

“More or less. It’s just pride, isn’t it?”

He was startled, turning to look at her in surprise.

“I thought someone like you would never understand someone like me.”

“What do you mean, someone like you? We’re both just sixteen or seventeen-year-old high schoolers. We each have our limits, good and bad. If there were really such an unbridgeable gap between us, I wouldn’t be here talking with you now.”

Tsukasa Jinguuji pondered her words, then allowed a slight smile. “That’s true.”

“Ah, you smiled!”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just rare. I thought you only smiled around Sakurakouji.”

“That’s not true,” he said, quickly hiding the trace of a smile.

Hearing her mention his childhood friend made him a little self-conscious.

“A childhood friend, huh… That’s nice. I wish I’d had an older brother or sister to grow up with.”

“You’re an only child, President?”

“You know that already. And you? I seem to recall you’re an only child too?”

Jinguuji fell silent and stopped in front of a clubroom door.

“We’ve arrived, President—drama club.”