The emergency lights cast a sickly glow across the deserted school hallway at night.
Kushida Kikyō stood before the steel door leading to the rooftop, her uniform skirt swaying with each violent motion.
"Horikita... Horikita... Horikita!"
Each utterance of the name was punctuated by a fiercer kick.
The metallic thud of her foot striking the door echoed unnaturally loud in the silent corridor.
"Die... just die... DIE already!"
Her voice, usually saccharine sweet, now dripped with venom as she hissed through clenched teeth.
"Again today... AGAIN!" Kushida threw her head back, glaring at the water-stained ceiling. "Who does that pretentious bitch think she is, looking at me like that? How DARE she ignore me? What's so great about winning a stupid swimming race?"
"Yamauchi Haruki... Ike Kanji... Those disgusting pigs leering at me again today!" She chewed on the names like they were something foul. "If I didn't have to maintain this act, I wouldn't waste a second on you trash! Why don't you just drop out already?!"
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths.
Several minutes later...
Kushida inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, as if expelling every ounce of frustration from her lungs.
The fury melted from her features, her twisted snarl smoothing back into that gentle, practiced smile.
She patted down her skirt and adjusted a stray lock of hair with delicate fingers.
"Ahhh~ Much better!"
Her voice had regained its usual melodic lilt, the cheerful cadence of the perfect school idol.
As if the girl who had just been kicking doors and cursing names had never existed at all.
—Once again, she was Kushida Kikyō, beloved by all.
Kind. Cheerful. Empathetic.
No one could possibly imagine the black tide of malice that had surged through this very body mere seconds ago.
"Shimizu-kun, sorry~ I lied to you." She suddenly paused, playfully sticking out her tongue at the empty hallway as if sharing a harmless secret.
The boy's question from days ago seemed to echo in her ears—"How does Kushida-san usually relieve stress?"
(This is my answer.)
The dull thump of her foot against metal. The venomous curses spat through clenched teeth. Tearing off the mask in the darkness where no one could see—this was her unique stress relief.
(When did it start, I wonder...?)
Fragments of memory surfaced: the exposed scandal in middle school, the torrent of online abuse, that rainy night when she had to delete every social media account.
Then, at the entrance ceremony—Horikita Suzune's indifferent profile, Kōenji Rokusuke's careless smirk. That feeling of being utterly invisible was more suffocating than outright hatred.
That night, she'd gone to the rooftop for air, only to find the door locked.
When her first kick connected with the steel, a warped euphoria had flooded her veins.
(Ah... So that's when this bad habit started.)
Now, whenever frustration boiled over, this shadowy corner became her release valve.
Only in the darkness where no one could see could the real, ugly Kushida Kikyō breathe freely.
Just then—bzzzt.
The faint vibration of a notification from her pocket.
Kushida's slender fingers fished out her phone.
The cold glow of the screen cast eerie shadows across her face.
"Who the hell is it now...?" she muttered, irritation lacing her voice.
To maintain her "Class Angel" persona, Kushida had exchanged contacts with every single Class D student (except that damned Horikita), plus countless students from other classes.
Just replying to their mindless small talk wasted 2-3 hours daily—more exhausting than dealing with Yamauchi and Ike combined.
(Especially at this hour...)
Her lips curled as she imagined the useless drivel Yamauchi and Ike would send: "Good night~", "Drink water!", "Rest well!"
Every time, she fought the urge to block them outright, but always ended up replying with "Going to sleep" or "Taking a bath" through gritted teeth.
(Ugh... Why won't those two just DROP OUT ALREADY?!)
She forced a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and unlocked her phone—only to freeze at the friend request notification.
[Tsuki Ao (Male) wants to add you as a friend]
(A stranger?)
The username had a poetic, almost feminine flair, but the profile clearly indicated male.
Her finger hovered over the screen, hesitating.
(Did some creep get my contact info again...?)
But the message attached to the request made her pause:
[Want to tell Class D's Kushida-san an important piece of information.]
[Aren't you curious why the upperclassmen always look at you with faint disdain?]
The words pierced straight through her armor.
Kushida's nails tapped rhythmically against her phone case.
It was true.
Lately, she'd deliberately bumped into seniors in hallways and the cafeteria, greeting them with her most radiant smile—only to catch their mocking smirks as she turned away.
Those whispered giggles, those condescending glances clung to her like a curse.
"Infuriating... How does this person know? Are they from Class D?" Her thumb trembled over the Decline button.
Yet a mix of spite and curiosity ultimately drove her to slam the Accept button.
Ding.
Instantly, her screen flooded with messages.
Kushida's eyes locked onto the first line—and stayed there.
This school operates on a class hierarchy system, dividing students into four tiers based on entrance exams and undisclosed criteria: Class A for geniuses, Class D for defective goods...
Several minutes later, Kushida finally finished reading.
She couldn't deny the shocking value of the intel—the truth behind class placements, Class D's evaluation, the point system mechanics...
But to her, none of that mattered.
"If I leak this to the class tomorrow..." A sly smile crept across her lips, eyes glinting with calculation. "I might finally surpass Hirata Yōsuke as Class D's true leader. Then... everyone will look at me with those adoring, dependent eyes."
Kushida suddenly let out a sweet, tinkling laugh:
"Fufu~ I'll have to properly 'thank' this mysterious benefactor."