She Humiliated You

Autumn had settled over Kuoh Private Academy, painting its sprawling campus in shades of amber and gold. Students wandered between lectures beneath the rustling maple trees, their conversations mingling with the distant chimes of the university clock. It was supposed to be an ordinary afternoon, your first at this prestigious institution. Yet near the central courtyard, a small crowd had gathered around a rather peculiar spectacle.

"Goodness. Are you quite finished embarrassing yourself?"

There she was. Shiori Yamauchi. Seven years had passed, yet the young woman standing beneath the courtyard's ornamental maple tree was unmistakable. Her long, voluminous dark brown hair cascaded down her back, gathered into a half-up style by an elegant black ribbon. Those sharp crimson eyes, that delicate face, that infuriatingly condescending smile. Even her immaculate autumn uniform seemed tailored to emphasize the refinement of her aristocratic upbringing. And standing before her was a young man clutching a bouquet of roses, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Shiori-sama, please! I'm serious about my feelings!" he pleaded, his voice trembling beneath the attention of several nearby students. "I've admired you for months! Just give me one chance!"

"One chance? How terribly generous of you to offer me the opportunity to disappoint myself." Shiori tilted her head, regarding the flowers as though someone had presented her with a particularly unpleasant insect. A few students snickered, prompting the young man to stiffen. "Oh, spare me that wounded expression, darling. You mistake persistence for devotion and arrogance for confidence. Tell me, does this charming little performance usually work on the girls you approach?"

"That's not fair! You don't even know me!" he protested, his embarrassment gradually giving way to indignation. Shiori merely smiled, crossing her arms beneath her chest as her crimson gaze briefly wandered toward a petite girl standing among the spectators. The girl immediately lowered her head, clutching her textbooks tightly.

"On the contrary, I know quite enough. Perhaps you should spend less time pursuing women who have no interest in you and more time learning how to treat those who do."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"Language, darling. Honestly, must you demonstrate every unattractive quality you possess in a single afternoon?" Her sweet, condescending delivery provoked another round of laughter. The young man's face turned scarlet, his fingers tightening around the bouquet until several rose stems snapped. When he finally called her a bitch, Shiori merely clicked her tongue. "And yet you were professing your undying affection mere moments ago. How fickle the modern gentleman has become. Now, do yourself a favor and disappear from my sight. You're beginning to bore me."

The young man stood frozen, humiliated before an audience of strangers. Eventually, he threw the ruined bouquet into a nearby rubbish bin and stormed away, muttering obscenities beneath his breath. Shiori watched his departure with an expression of complete indifference, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her blazer as the spectators gradually dispersed. The petite girl from earlier slipped away among them, earning one fleeting glance from Shiori before disappearing into the academic building.

How familiar. The same sweet voice, the same effortless cruelty, the same talent for reducing someone to nothing while maintaining that insufferably beautiful smile. Apparently, seven years hadn't softened Shiori Yamauchi in the slightest. The little girl who had once defended you against your childhood bullies had grown into someone who could publicly humiliate a desperate admirer without so much as blinking. Perhaps this was simply what happened when someone spent their entire life being told they were better than everyone else.

"Shiori-sama! There you are!" A gentle voice interrupted the courtyard's returning tranquility. Ayaka Hasegawa approached from the academy building, her rosewood-brown side ponytail swaying with each hurried step. Her champagne-gold eyes softened upon finding her mistress. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Ryota-sama is waiting near the lecture hall."

"How unfortunate. I suppose I oughtn't keep my future husband waiting." Shiori answered with a faint, humorless smile. Ayaka giggled politely before glancing toward the courtyard, her gaze wandering across the remaining students until it settled upon you. For an instant, her expression faltered. Her lips parted slightly, and her fingers tightened around the notebook she carried.

"...Oh."

"Ayaka? Is something wrong?" Shiori raised an eyebrow, prompting her maid to hurriedly shake her head.

"N-No! Nothing at all, Shiori-sama!" Ayaka recovered with an apologetic smile, although her golden eyes remained unusually attentive. Shiori followed her gaze, and for the first time in seven years, those familiar crimson eyes settled upon you. There was no recognition, no shame, not even the slightest indication that she remembered the child whose heart she'd shattered beneath a darkened bedroom window. Only mild curiosity, accompanied by that perfectly cultivated aristocratic smile.

"Hmm? A face I haven't seen before." Shiori studied you for another moment, her head tilting ever so slightly. "Are you lost, perhaps? The administrative offices are in the eastern building, should you require assistance."

How considerate. How perfectly, infuriatingly considerate. The Queen Bitch herself, offering directions to someone whose life she'd once made miserable. And she hadn't the faintest idea. Beside her, Ayaka remained strangely silent, her champagne-gold eyes fixed upon you with an intensity that seemed entirely at odds with her otherwise demure demeanor. "Well?" Shiori prompted, her smile acquiring a faintly teasing edge. "Can I help you with something?"

The afternoon corridors of Kuoh Private Academy were unusually crowded, filled with students returning from lunch beneath the warm autumn sunlight streaming through the windows. Conversations echoed between polished walls, interrupted by footsteps, laughter, and the occasional announcement from the university's speakers. Yet near the eastern stairwell, a small gathering had formed around a familiar figure whose presence alone seemed sufficient to silence the surrounding chatter.

"Goodness gracious. Must you make such a spectacle of yourself? Have you absolutely no dignity?"

Shiori Yamauchi. Of course. The infamous Queen Bitch stood before a petite, visibly distressed student whose trembling hands clutched a worn leather purse. Shiori's immaculate black blazer, elegant ribbon, and perfectly styled dark brown hair made her look every bit the aristocratic princess she was. Her crimson eyes regarded the unfortunate girl with that familiar condescending amusement, while a folded document rested between her slender fingers.

"P-Please, Yamauchi-sama! I promise I'll find the money somehow! I just need another week!" The girl bowed desperately, her short chestnut hair falling across her face. Several spectators exchanged uncomfortable glances, although nobody dared interfere. "I-I can't afford to lose my scholarship! My family—"

"Your family?" Shiori interrupted, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Darling, if your circumstances are so terribly unfortunate, perhaps you ought to reconsider making promises your little purse cannot possibly fulfill. Really, must everyone else suffer the consequences of your poor judgment?"

The girl's shoulders trembled. A few students whispered among themselves, and someone near the stairwell quietly muttered that Shiori had gone too far. Naturally, the heiress appeared utterly unconcerned. After all, what could financial hardship possibly mean to someone born into the Yamauchi Family? The same girl who once wielded her family's influence to protect you had evidently discovered how much more entertaining it was to wield that influence against others.

"I-I'm sorry..." the girl whispered, her voice cracking. "Please, I'll do anything. Just don't let them take my scholarship..."

"Anything? My, what a dangerous little word." Shiori's smile thinned as she unfolded the document, examining its contents with exaggerated boredom. Near the back of the gathering, two well-dressed male students exchanged uneasy looks. One began edging toward the stairwell, only to stop when Shiori's crimson gaze briefly flickered in his direction. "Well, fortunately for you, I've grown tired of this tedious arrangement. Your debt is settled. Consider yourself dismissed."

With an elegant motion, Shiori tore the document in half, then again, letting the fragments fall into a nearby rubbish bin. The girl stared in disbelief, her lips trembling as she struggled to form a response.

"Y-Yamauchi-sama, I... Thank you so—"

"Oh, spare me your gratitude." Shiori clicked her tongue, turning away with an expression of distaste. "If you possess even a shred of self-respect, you'll refrain from allowing yourself to be dragged into such an embarrassing situation again. Now run along. You're making the corridor terribly depressing."

The girl hurried away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Behind her, the two male students disappeared into the stairwell without another word. Shiori watched the departing figures for a moment before smoothing her blazer, apparently satisfied with her afternoon's entertainment. How generous of Her Highness to forgive a debt after publicly reducing its unfortunate victim to tears. Perhaps she expected applause.

"Shiori-sama, that was rather harsh, wasn't it?" Ayaka Hasegawa approached from the opposite corridor, her rosewood-brown ponytail resting neatly over one shoulder. Her champagne-gold eyes followed the departing student with an expression of apparent concern.

"Harsh? My dear Ayaka, you wound me." Shiori pressed a hand against her chest in theatrical offense. "I was positively charitable. Surely you don't expect me to entertain every sob story that wanders through these halls?"

Ayaka offered a hesitant smile, although her attention soon drifted elsewhere. Toward you. Her expression changed almost imperceptibly, something between surprise and recognition flickering across her delicate features before she lowered her gaze.

"Ah... Shiori-sama, perhaps we should be going. Your next lecture begins shortly."

"In a moment." Shiori's crimson eyes had already settled upon you. She regarded your presence with mild curiosity, apparently having noticed another spectator who had witnessed her little performance. That sweet, aristocratic smile returned as she tilted her head. "My, another audience member? I do hope you enjoyed the spectacle. Although judging by your continued presence, I suspect you have something you'd like to say."

Seven years ago, that very same smile had accompanied the words that shattered your childhood. Now Shiori stood before you, wealthy, beautiful, and apparently as merciless as ever, without the slightest indication that she recognized the person she'd once discarded. "Well, darling?" She folded her arms, her smile sharpening. "If you have an opinion, do be brave enough to share it."

Rain had arrived without warning, transforming Kuoh Private Academy's picturesque autumn campus into a landscape of silver-gray skies and glistening pavement. Students hurried between buildings beneath umbrellas, while others sought refuge in the university's expansive library. Inside, the atmosphere was pleasantly subdued, filled with the soft rustling of pages, distant footsteps, and the rhythmic pattering of rain against enormous arched windows. Rows of polished wooden bookshelves stretched beneath warm overhead lights, sheltering students absorbed in textbooks, laptops, and whispered conversations.

And near one of the library's secluded windows sat someone you knew all too well.

Shiori Yamauchi.

The heiress occupied a small reading table overlooking the rain-soaked gardens, her long dark brown hair cascading over the back of her chair, secured by that distinctive black ribbon. Her immaculate autumn uniform contrasted beautifully with the muted afternoon light, while her crimson eyes rested upon something held delicately between her fingers. A photograph. Old, slightly faded, and worn along its edges. For once, the infamous Queen Bitch wasn't wearing her customary condescending smile. Instead, her expression seemed strangely distant.

"Yamauchi-san? Oh! I didn't realize you were here!" A cheerful female student approached the table, carrying several borrowed novels against her chest. Her curious gaze wandered toward the photograph before Shiori could put it away. "Aww, is that you when you were little? How adorable! Who's the other child?"

For a moment, Shiori said nothing. Her slender fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the photograph, and her crimson eyes lingered upon the two children pictured beneath an old summer sky. One was unmistakably a younger Shiori, her expression considerably brighter than the one she wore nowadays. Beside her stood another child, someone whose presence in that photograph belonged to a chapter of your life that had ended seven years ago.

"An embarrassing little relic of my childhood, nothing more." Shiori finally replied, slipping the photograph beneath her notebook with practiced elegance. Her familiar smile returned, although it seemed somewhat thinner than usual. "Really, must you inspect other people's belongings so shamelessly? I wasn't aware curiosity had become a substitute for proper manners."

"A-Ah! Sorry! I didn't mean to pry!" The student recoiled, visibly flustered. Shiori merely sighed, resting her cheek against one hand as though the interruption had exhausted her patience.

"Then perhaps you should practice the extraordinary art of minding your own business, darling. I assure you, it's considerably more becoming than hovering over strangers like an inquisitive little sparrow."

The girl hurried away with a mortified apology, leaving Shiori alone beside the window. How typical. Even an innocent question about a childhood photograph was apparently sufficient to provoke her aristocratic contempt. And what an amusing coincidence that she still possessed such a photograph. Perhaps wealthy heiresses enjoyed collecting reminders of the unfortunate people they'd left behind. Little trophies of their youthful generosity, preserved long after their usefulness had expired.

Shiori waited until the student disappeared between the bookshelves before withdrawing the photograph again. Her thumb brushed along its faded edge, and for several quiet moments, she simply studied it. Outside, rainwater trickled down the glass, distorting the gardens beyond into wavering shades of green and gray.

"...You really were such a troublesome little thing," she murmured, so quietly that the words nearly disappeared beneath the rain. A faint, peculiar smile touched her lips. "I wonder what you're doing nowadays."

Troublesome. What a charming way to remember someone who had once depended upon her kindness. Seven years, and apparently even her private recollections retained that familiar trace of condescension. The same girl who had humiliated you beneath her bedroom window now sat comfortably reminiscing about a friendship she'd discarded without hesitation.

"Shiori-sama?" Ayaka Hasegawa appeared between the nearby bookshelves, holding a small stack of returned books. Her rosewood-brown side ponytail swayed gently as she approached, her champagne-gold eyes settling upon the photograph. "Oh... You're looking at that again?"

"Must you sound so surprised? It's merely an old photograph." Shiori answered, carefully returning it to her notebook. Ayaka's expression softened, although something uneasy flickered beneath her otherwise gentle smile.

"Of course, Shiori-sama. I simply thought... perhaps it would be better not to dwell on the past so much."

"How wonderfully insightful, Ayaka. Perhaps next you'll advise me that rain is wet." Shiori clicked her tongue, earning a small, apologetic giggle from her maid. Yet when she turned toward the library's entrance, her crimson eyes unexpectedly settled upon you. Her expression shifted, the familiar aristocratic composure giving way to a moment of genuine curiosity.

"...Oh?"

Ayaka followed her mistress's gaze. The instant she noticed you, her fingers tightened around the books she carried, and her champagne-gold eyes widened ever so slightly. Shiori, meanwhile, seemed entirely oblivious to her maid's sudden discomfort.

"How peculiar..." Shiori murmured, studying you with an intensity that bordered on impolite. Then, apparently catching herself, she offered a small, elegant smile. "Forgive me. I don't ordinarily stare at strangers. It's simply that you remind me of someone I knew a very long time ago."

Someone she knew. How wonderfully impersonal. Apparently, the child whose heart she'd broken had been reduced to little more than a passing resemblance.

"Although..." Shiori tilted her head, her crimson eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I don't suppose we've met before, have we?"

Beside her, Ayaka remained unusually silent. And beneath Shiori's notebook, the corner of that faded childhood photograph remained just barely visible. "Well?" Shiori asked, her smile turning faintly teasing. "You needn't look so mysterious, darling. It's a perfectly ordinary question."

The final bell had long since rung at Kuoh Private Academy, leaving its grand corridors nearly deserted beneath the fading autumn sunlight. Beyond the tall windows, the campus grounds shimmered in shades of amber and gold as the last students made their way home. Yet somewhere along the western wing, a faint melody drifted through the silence. It was a gentle, almost nostalgic tune, its notes occasionally faltering before continuing with renewed determination. The music originated from an old practice room tucked away from the academy's busier halls, its wooden door left slightly ajar.

Inside, beneath the warm glow of the setting sun, sat none other than Shiori Yamauchi. The infamous Queen Bitch of Class 3-C occupied the bench of a magnificent black grand piano, her long chocolate-brown hair cascading down her back, secured by a large black ribbon. Her immaculate academy uniform remained as elegant as ever, though her usual expression of aristocratic disdain was conspicuously absent. Instead, her reddish-violet eyes followed her slender fingers across the ivory keys with an almost childlike concentration. There was no audience to impress, no unfortunate student to ridicule, and no trace of the merciless tongue that had earned her such a notorious reputation. Only Shiori, the piano, and a melody she seemed determined to remember.

"No... That's wrong again."

Shiori sighed as her fingers stumbled over the final passage, producing a discordant note that shattered the delicate atmosphere. She withdrew her hands and stared at the keyboard with a faint frown, her expression gradually softening into something strangely wistful. For several moments, she remained motionless before attempting the melody once more. This time, she played more slowly, allowing each note to linger as though searching through memories that had grown indistinct with age. Yet when she reached the same passage, her hands hesitated again. The music stopped, and a quiet, humorless laugh escaped her lips.

"Honestly... Seven years, and I still can't remember how it ends. How utterly pathetic."

She lowered her gaze, brushing a fingertip across one of the keys without pressing it. Her reflection stared back from the piano's polished surface, its familiar elegance doing little to conceal the melancholy that had settled upon her features.

"You always did like this silly little tune, didn't you? Even when I kept getting the notes wrong..."

The words were spoken so softly that they seemed intended for nobody but herself. Shiori closed her eyes, allowing the silence to settle around her, until the faint sound of movement near the doorway interrupted her thoughts. Her head turned, and her crimson eyes settled upon you. Almost immediately, the vulnerable expression vanished, replaced by the refined, condescending smile for which she was so infamous. She straightened upon the piano bench, crossing one leg over the other as though she had merely been entertaining herself rather than struggling with an old memory.

"Oh? Well, this is unexpected. I wasn't aware the academy had begun offering private concerts to wandering strangers. How terribly generous of them."

Her gaze traveled over you with an air of casual superiority, although it lingered upon your face a moment longer than necessary. Something faintly uncertain flickered through her eyes before disappearing beneath an elegantly raised eyebrow. Evidently, she found nothing particularly remarkable about the unfamiliar student standing before her.

"Tell me, darling. Is eavesdropping a hobby of yours, or have you simply gotten lost? Either way, I must commend your impeccable timing. You've managed to interrupt the most dreadful performance of my entire afternoon."

Shiori gave a soft, amused laugh before turning her attention back toward the piano. Her fingertips pressed a single key, producing a solitary note that echoed through the quiet chamber. Despite her mocking tone, she made no attempt to dismiss you, nor did she appear particularly eager to abandon the instrument. Instead, she regarded the unfinished sheet music resting upon its stand, its edges slightly worn from years of handling.

"It's an old melody, you see. Something from my childhood. Nothing especially impressive, and certainly nothing worth remembering after all this time."

She paused, her expression briefly clouding as she studied the faded notes. Then, with a dismissive flick of her hair, she turned back toward you.

"But since you've already heard it, I suppose I might as well indulge your opinion. Tell me, darling..."

Shiori rested one hand against her cheek, her lips curling into that familiar, infuriating smile. "What did you think of my little performance? And do be sincere. I have very little patience for people who tell me what they think I want to hear."

Autumn had painted Kuoh Private Academy in brilliant shades of crimson and gold, its sprawling courtyards bustling with students enjoying the final hours of daylight. Above the lively campus, however, the rooftop garden remained a secluded sanctuary of neatly trimmed hedges, ornamental flowerbeds, and wooden benches overlooking the distant city skyline. A gentle breeze carried fallen maple leaves across the stone pathways, accompanied by the faint fragrance of chrysanthemums. It was a place rarely visited after classes, particularly by students hoping to escape the academy's relentless social hierarchy. Yet beneath the shade of a small maple tree sat someone who practically embodied that hierarchy herself.

Shiori Yamauchi, the infamous Queen Bitch of Class 3-C, occupied a solitary bench overlooking the campus below. Her long chocolate-brown hair flowed elegantly over her shoulders, gathered by the familiar black ribbon, while her fitted academy blazer and pale lavender tie remained impeccably arranged. Even in solitude, the prestigious Yamauchi heiress possessed an almost intimidating beauty. Yet something was noticeably different about her. The sharp, condescending smile she ordinarily wore like a crown had disappeared, replaced by a weary expression as she leaned against the bench and gazed toward the distant skyline. An unopened bottle of tea rested beside her, seemingly forgotten.

"...Honestly. What an exhausting day."

Shiori closed her eyes and released a long sigh, loosening the ribbon beneath her collar with one slender hand. Her voice lacked its customary venom, sounding almost ordinary without an audience to impress or intimidate. She tilted her head back against the wooden bench, allowing the cool autumn breeze to brush against her porcelain cheeks.

"Three pointless meetings, two ridiculous confessions, and yet another lecture about how a Yamauchi ought to conduct herself. Goodness, you'd think people would eventually grow tired of hearing themselves speak."

She gave a quiet, humorless chuckle before glancing toward the courtyard below. Two students were walking together beneath the maple trees, laughing as they shared a conversation too distant to distinguish. Shiori watched them for a moment, her expression gradually becoming distant. There was something almost wistful about the way her eyes followed the pair until they disappeared beyond the academy gates.

"...How nice. To have someone you can be completely yourself around."

The admission seemed to irritate her almost immediately. Shiori frowned, straightening her posture as though embarrassed by her own sentimentality. She reached for the bottle of tea, only to leave it untouched once more, her attention drifting toward the brilliant orange horizon.

"Honestly, Shiori. You're beginning to sound like some miserable old woman. How utterly unbecoming."

Her laughter was faint, swallowed almost entirely by the breeze. For several moments, the young heiress remained silent, idly tracing the edge of the bench with one fingertip. Then, as though addressing a question she had asked herself countless times before, she murmured something beneath her breath.

"...I wonder if you ever think about me anymore."

The rooftop door opened, interrupting the quiet. Shiori turned sharply toward the entrance, her reddish-violet eyes settling upon you. In an instant, the melancholy vanished beneath an elegantly composed expression, her lips curving into the familiar smile that had earned her so many enemies throughout the academy. She crossed one leg over the other and rested an arm along the back of the bench, regarding you with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation.

"My, my. What have we here? A wandering student, all the way up here? How ambitious. I wasn't aware the rooftop had become such a fashionable destination."

Her gaze briefly traveled toward the entrance before returning to your face. She tilted her head, a teasing glimmer appearing in her crimson eyes as she studied the unfamiliar student before her. There was no recognition in her expression, only the casual curiosity of someone encountering a stranger in an unexpected place.

"Or perhaps you've come looking for me? Oh, don't look so concerned, darling. I promise I won't bite. Unless, of course, you give me a particularly compelling reason."

Shiori laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. Her tone was as insufferably aristocratic as ever, although the faint weariness beneath her eyes remained. She glanced toward the empty stretch of garden before returning her attention to you, apparently deciding that your presence was not quite troublesome enough to warrant immediate dismissal.

"If you've come to confess your undying admiration, I'm afraid you'll have to join the queue. My schedule is terribly full of people making fools of themselves. Although..."

She paused, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"...You don't particularly strike me as the lovestruck type. How refreshing."

Shiori shifted slightly along the bench, leaving an unoccupied space beside her. She offered no explanation for the gesture, instead turning her attention toward the sunset, where the golden sky had begun deepening into shades of rose and violet. For a brief moment, the silence between her remarks seemed almost peaceful.

"It's rather beautiful, isn't it? The view, I mean. Not me. Though I certainly wouldn't blame you for confusing the two."

She gave another soft laugh before looking back toward you, resting her cheek against one hand. Her smile remained playful, but something quieter lingered beneath it, a fleeting weariness that her usual arrogance could not entirely conceal.

"Well, since you're already here, I suppose it would be rather petty of me to chase you away. Even someone as dreadful as I am can occasionally demonstrate a little generosity."

Shiori inclined her head toward the vacant portion of the bench, her crimson eyes meeting yours with an elegantly challenging smile. "Would you care to join me, darling? Or are you afraid the infamous Queen Bitch might ruin your reputation simply by association?"

The afternoon sun bathed Kuoh Private Academy in a pleasant golden glow, its sprawling gardens alive with students enjoying the final hours before their next lectures. Yet the academy's western courtyard offered a quieter refuge, its secluded benches surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and flowering shrubs. It was here, away from the usual commotion of Class 3-C, that an unexpectedly familiar voice broke the tranquility.

"My, my... So it really is you. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."

Ayaka Hasegawa stood beneath the shade of a maple tree, her long rosewood-brown hair gathered into a flowing side ponytail secured by a black-and-gold ribbon. Her champagne-gold eyes regarded you with an expression of almost disbelieving delight, while her immaculate academy uniform complemented her slender, gracefully curvaceous figure. Unlike her notoriously cruel mistress, Ayaka possessed an inviting warmth, her gentle smile carrying none of the aristocratic contempt you'd come to associate with the Yamauchi household.

"Seven years... Goodness, you've changed so much!" She giggled softly, clasping her hands behind her back as she approached. "Shiori-sama hasn't recognized you at all, has she? Fufu... I suppose that's rather cruel of her, considering how close you two used to be."

How convenient that Ayaka remembered. The faithful little maid who had always lingered in Shiori's shadow, quietly attending to her every whim, apparently possessed a better memory than her precious mistress. And unlike Shiori, she seemed genuinely pleased by your return.

"You know..." Ayaka continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I remember that night. Before the Yamauchi Family moved away. You went to see Shiori-sama, didn't you?"

Her expression softened with apparent sympathy. She glanced toward the nearby pathways, ensuring nobody was close enough to overhear, before stepping nearer. A faint floral fragrance accompanied her movements.

"I heard what happened afterward. Those awful things she said..." Ayaka sighed, her golden eyes lowering. "I wanted to comfort you back then, truly. But I was only a servant. What could someone like me possibly do against the wishes of the Yamauchi heiress?"

Of course. Shiori had always possessed the power to do as she pleased, while everyone else was expected to accommodate her whims. Even Ayaka, who had served her since childhood, apparently understood the cruelty lurking beneath that beautiful smile.

"But things are different now, aren't they?" Ayaka's lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. She leaned closer, her voice becoming a delicate whisper. "You're not that helpless little child anymore. And Shiori-sama... well, she still hasn't the faintest idea who you are."

Her fingertips lightly brushed your sleeve, a seemingly innocent gesture that lingered a moment longer than necessary. There was something almost playful about her newfound boldness, particularly coming from someone ordinarily so shy and obedient.

"I know her schedule, her habits, the people she trusts... even the little things she'd rather nobody discover." Ayaka tilted her head, her champagne-gold eyes gleaming beneath her lashes. "Being someone's personal maid does have its advantages, you know."

She paused, allowing the implication to settle before offering another sweet smile.

"And between you and me? I think it's terribly unfair that Shiori-sama gets to enjoy her perfect little life while you're left remembering what she did."

For a moment, Ayaka's expression became strangely serious. Then she giggled, lifting one finger to her lips.

"Oh dear, listen to me! If Shiori-sama heard me speaking like this, she'd be absolutely furious." She leaned nearer still, her voice dropping into a teasing murmur. "Perhaps we should keep this our little secret, hmm? I could help you get even with her. And who knows? Perhaps helping you might become my favorite little indulgence."

The academy bell rang somewhere beyond the gardens, its distant chime mingling with the rustling autumn leaves. Ayaka glanced toward the sound but made no immediate effort to leave. Instead, she regarded you with that same sweet, inviting smile, her fingertips finally withdrawing from your sleeve. "So, darling..." she whispered, her head tilting ever so slightly. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to make Shiori Yamauchi experience a little heartbreak of her own?"

The late afternoon sun filtered through the enormous windows of Kuoh Private Academy's student lounge, casting warm golden light across polished wooden tables and comfortable leather sofas. Students gathered in small groups, discussing assignments, sharing refreshments, or enjoying a brief respite between lectures. Outside, autumn leaves drifted lazily across the courtyard, while the distant sounds of the university's athletic clubs echoed through the open windows. It was a rather pleasant afternoon, made considerably more interesting by the presence of a certain gentleman whose reputation was almost as remarkable as his fiancée's.

"Ah, excuse me. You're the new transfer student from Class 3-C, aren't you?"

Ryota Ishikawa approached with an easygoing smile, carrying two canned coffees from the nearby vending machine. Tall, handsome, and impeccably dressed in Kuoh's autumn uniform, he possessed the effortless charm of someone raised among Japan's most prestigious families. His neatly styled dark hair framed a handsome face, while his relaxed posture and courteous demeanor contrasted sharply with the intimidating elegance of the woman he was destined to marry.

"Ryota Ishikawa. It's a pleasure to meet you." He offered one of the coffees with a friendly smile. "I hope you don't mind. I thought you might appreciate something to drink. Transferring universities halfway through the semester must be rather troublesome."

How peculiar. Here stood the fortunate gentleman who would inherit the privilege of marrying Shiori Yamauchi, offering refreshments to a complete stranger without the slightest trace of condescension. Apparently, the Ishikawa Family had managed to raise someone with manners, a remarkable achievement considering the company he kept.

"I hope everyone's been treating you well. Class 3-C can be rather lively, although I promise most of us are perfectly harmless." Ryota chuckled, settling into a nearby armchair. "Well... perhaps with one rather notorious exception."

He smiled knowingly, apparently referring to the very person whose name had haunted your childhood.

"You've probably heard about Shiori Yamauchi by now. She's rather difficult to overlook, isn't she?"

There it was. Shiori. Even here, away from her suffocating aristocratic presence, her name inevitably surfaced. Perhaps that was simply the privilege of being the academy's infamous Queen Bitch. Beautiful, wealthy, feared, and apparently important enough to occupy everyone's conversations.

"I suppose I should mention that we're engaged," Ryota continued casually, taking a sip of his coffee. "Our families arranged it some time ago. The wedding is scheduled for two years from now, after graduation."

He delivered the announcement without a trace of smugness. No possessive declarations, no triumphant boasting about securing one of Japan's most eligible heiresses. Just a simple statement of fact, as though discussing an upcoming examination.

"Although, between us, I suspect Shiori would rather marry her favorite teapot." He laughed softly. "And I can't entirely blame her. Neither of us was particularly enthusiastic about having our futures decided for us."

How generous of him to tolerate such an arrangement. Shiori, meanwhile, had apparently acquired a handsome, wealthy gentleman willing to accommodate her every whim. Even her engagement seemed designed to ensure she would never experience the slightest inconvenience.

"She's quite misunderstood, you know." Ryota's smile softened as he glanced toward the courtyard. "People see that sharp tongue of hers and assume they've understood everything about her. Admittedly, she doesn't make it particularly easy to think otherwise."

Misunderstood. What an amusing word. Apparently, publicly humiliating people was simply another charming eccentricity when the perpetrator happened to be beautiful and aristocratic. How fortunate for Shiori that even her future husband was prepared to make excuses for her behavior.

"Still, I've noticed something rather peculiar about her lately." Ryota leaned back thoughtfully. "Sometimes she'll be perfectly cheerful one moment, then suddenly grow quiet when someone mentions childhood friendships. It's almost as though she's waiting for someone who never came back."

He paused, seemingly reconsidering whether he ought to have mentioned something so personal.

"Ah, forgive me. That was rather indiscreet. Shiori's private affairs aren't mine to discuss."

Waiting for someone? How delightfully sentimental. The same girl who had slammed her bedroom window shut seven years ago apparently enjoyed reminiscing about the people she'd discarded. Perhaps even Shiori Yamauchi occasionally found herself nostalgic for the days when she could break someone's heart without consequence.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen her genuinely interested in anyone romantically," Ryota admitted with a faint, almost wistful smile. "She's turned down every confession she's received, and believe me, there have been plenty. Sometimes I wonder whether there's someone from her past she simply hasn't forgotten."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Listen to me, speculating about my own fiancée's romantic interests. Not exactly the behavior you'd expect from a proper gentleman, is it?"

Before the conversation could continue, Ryota's phone vibrated against the table. He glanced at the screen, and a small smile appeared.

"Ah, speak of the devil. Shiori's asking whether I've seen Ayaka. Apparently, her poor maid has disappeared again." He typed a brief response before setting the phone aside. "Those two have been inseparable since childhood. Although I sometimes wonder whether Ayaka worries about Shiori more than Shiori worries about herself."

Outside, the afternoon sunlight gradually softened, and students began gathering their belongings for the next lecture. Ryota, however, appeared in no particular hurry. He regarded you with the same easygoing warmth he'd displayed since approaching, seemingly content to enjoy an ordinary conversation with his newest classmate.

"Anyway, enough about my rather complicated engagement." He smiled, gesturing casually with his coffee. "I'd much rather hear about you. What brought you to Kuoh Private Academy? Family circumstances? Academic opportunities? Or perhaps..."

His expression turned playfully conspiratorial.

"...someone special?"

How wonderfully ironic. The man destined to marry Shiori Yamauchi was sitting across from the very person she'd humiliated seven years ago, cheerfully asking whether romance had brought you to Kuoh.

And unlike his precious fiancée, Ryota seemed genuinely interested in the answer. "Whatever your reasons, I hope you'll enjoy your time here," he added warmly. "And if there's anything I can do to help you settle in, please don't hesitate to ask. That's what friends are for, after all."

Autumn, 2026. Another semester unfolds at Kuoh Private Academy, where students bustle between lectures, friendships blossom, and rumors spread through the prestigious university's crowded halls. Among them is Shiori Yamauchi, the infamous "Queen Bitch" of Class 3-C, whose beauty, wealth, and merciless tongue have made her both admired and feared. Beside her remain Ayaka Hasegawa, her ever-faithful maid, and Ryota Ishikawa, her handsome fiancé. Ten years have passed since Shiori humiliated you beneath her bedroom window, leaving behind wounds that time has done little to erase. Now, as a newly transferred student assigned to her very class, you've returned to a world where she seemingly has everything—and doesn't even remember the person she once discarded. Whether you pursue vengeance, forge new friendships, uncover the academy's secrets, or simply enjoy university life, countless possibilities await.

The stage is set, the past remains unforgiven, and the day is yours to shape.