"Make way, make way, the teachers are here."
Kirisu Mafuyu and Hiratsuka Shizuka pushed their way through the crowd with difficulty and walked up to Utaha and Kaguya.
They'd already heard the full story from the students.
Kirisu looked quite anxious as she questioned Kaguya, while Hiratsuka focused on maintaining order.
Without hesitation, Utaha threw open Yoru's tent flap.
She saw Yoru still fast asleep, black eye bags heavy under his eyes.
In an instant, she imagined this as evidence of him staying up all night from the excitement of committing the crime.
"Wake up!"
Utaha didn't hold back—she grabbed a manga lying nearby and tossed it at Yoru's body.
The sleeping Yoru jolted awake, blinked, and rubbed the spot where he'd been hit.
"Kirisu-sensei, could you please move aside?" Kaguya stepped up beside Utaha and coldly peered into the tent.
"Achoo—"
"What's… going on?"
Yoru sneezed, then noticed the two girls glaring at him. His heart began to race in fear and confusion.
What did I do this time?
Why is Shinomiya looking at me like that too…?
And why are there so many people standing outside my tent?
"Get out," Utaha ordered sharply.
Yoru had no idea what was going on.
But as someone who feared women, he froze from the tone in Utaha's voice. His body instinctively curled up in defense.
Half stumbling, half crawling, he scrambled out of the tent—a pitiful sight.
Right into the glaring sunlight and rows of slanted silhouettes surrounding him.
He sat on the ground, looking like a criminal awaiting judgment.
"What… what is this…?"
In his mind, images of the times he had been falsely accused flashed.
A terrible feeling grew in his gut.
Utaha and Kaguya just stood there staring at him in silence.
But the crowd behind them was buzzing with chatter, filled with accusations and insults directed at him.
Hayasaka watched Yoru coldly, perhaps already wondering whether to seal him in concrete or dump his family into Tokyo Bay.
And don't doubt it—if Kaguya had really been violated or harmed, depending on the severity, this wasn't just about Yoru anymore.
Hiratsuka looked on with mixed emotions—suspicion, sympathy, and deep disappointment.
Of all people, he had to provoke the heiress of the Shinomiya family—one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country.
She frowned and sighed inwardly.
Now, everyone believed Yoru had stolen Utaha's panties and stockings.
All the circumstantial evidence pointed to him.
Except Yoru himself—he was completely clueless.
"No… what are you talking about?"
"You think I stole Kasumigaoka's panties and stockings?"
"No… that's not true… I didn't do it!"
Only now did he realize what people were accusing him of. He panicked and scrambled to his feet to explain.
But his legs were shaking so badly they couldn't support his weight. As he tried to stand, he fell forward.
Desperately wriggling, he ended up collapsing at Kirisu's feet.
Thud—
His massive weight slammed into the ground, making his knees feel like they'd shattered. He let out a muffled groan of pain.
Many onlookers burst into laughter at how ridiculous he looked.
"Kitakame, if it was you, just admit it and hand them over," Kirisu said.
"If not, I'm calling the police."
She took a step back and looked down at Yoru with a trace of disgust.
Originally, she'd just thought of him as a disobedient, mischievous student.
She hadn't imagined he'd be a pervert who stole girls' underwear.
A troublemaker and a criminal are completely different things.
And criminals didn't deserve kindness.
"No, it wasn't me!"
Yoru suddenly raised his head and shouted angrily.
But yelling wasn't going to change anything now.
Why didn't Kirisu believe him at all? Why didn't she even give him a chance to explain before threatening to call the police?
If the police got involved, things would escalate beyond repair.
"Even now, you still want to deny it?" Utaha sneered.
"You've stalked me, spied on me… is it really that far-fetched to think you're the culprit?"
She folded her arms with confidence.
"You don't have proof," Yoru said, tears welling up in his eyes. "How can you say that without evidence?"
This wasn't like the usual bullying he endured.
Yoru understood that if he didn't fight back now, once the police were called, no one would believe him, and he'd never get another chance to defend himself.
His life would be over.
Being expelled, losing the tuition money—none of that mattered.
But his parents' hopes, the stain on his record, getting sent to juvenile detention—that would ruin everything.
What he didn't know was that this wasn't just about Utaha.
He had also offended Shinomiya Kaguya—a terrifying heiress.
If he knew that, he might have broken down on the spot.
"I'll search the tent myself!" Utaha declared, stepping forward.
"F—fine… no, wait…"
Yoru gathered his courage to agree, then immediately regretted it.
There were so many embarrassing things in his tent—if Utaha found them, he'd die of shame on the spot.
"Oh?"
Utaha laughed coldly. Now she was even more convinced he was hiding something.
"This is my private space. You don't have direct proof that I stole anything. Why should you get to search my tent?"
Yoru tried to suppress his fear, using all his strength to say it.
And once he did, it felt like all the air was sucked out of his body. He couldn't breathe.
Utaha frowned, about to reply—when Kaguya interrupted.
"I said: search it."
Kaguya took a step forward, lifting her head slightly to meet Yoru's eyes.
She was petite, but Yoru felt like he was being crushed under her gaze.
Against Utaha, he could barely muster courage.
But against Kaguya…
He knew what kind of monster she was—a heiress standing at the pinnacle of national power.
If she got upset, it wasn't just his own life at stake—his entire family could be buried.
She didn't even have to speak. There were plenty of people eager to curry favor with her.
Maybe…
Fear. Confusion. Helplessness. Panic.
Yoru squeezed his eyes shut in despair. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
Why were these women treating him like this?
He hadn't done anything wrong…
Was this the "rich people can never be wrong" effect?
The next second, Yoru dug his nails deep into his palm, forcing himself not to cry.
These fucking bitches…