Over the past few days, her vision of the "ideal partner" had gradually taken shape.
First and foremost, they had to be a mystery enthusiast—that was non-negotiable.
She imagined the two of them in the library at noon, arguing passionately over some locked-room trick, only to share a sudden epiphany with matching grins.
(At the very least, they should understand terms like "red herring" and "Knox's Decalogue"...)
A kind nature was the baseline—Holmes could be eccentric, but Watson was always warm and reliable.
(Our conversational wavelengths must align...)
If they couldn't even discuss The Tragedy of Y without awkward silences, how could they spark investigative synergy?
Second, they needed strong social skills—this was the gap she most desperately wanted filled.
The ideal partner should flit between all four classes like a social butterfly, effortlessly striking up conversations with everyone from the shyest girl to the most intimidating guy.
Meanwhile, she could linger in the shadows like Holmes observing a client, catching every unnatural pause and suspicious microexpression.
(It might not be 221B Baker Street... but this division of labor would be perfect...)
Third, preferably a handsome male classmate.
She'd seriously studied the chapter on the "halo effect" in Criminal Psychology—attractive people did earn strangers' trust more easily.
As for the gender preference, it was purely pragmatic: when interrogating sweaty sports club boys, a male partner would have a clear advantage.
At this thought, she abruptly stopped.
(What am I even fantasizing about...?)
Shiina Hiyori buried her face in her hands.
This wasn't Poirot—what were the odds of a perfect assistant magically falling from the sky?
Yet when she looked up, her gaze still drifted helplessly toward the library entrance—as if someone carrying a mystery novel might walk in any second.
(Reality isn't some contrived detective story coincidence...)
She sighed softly.
Just then, the library's glass doors swung open, and a bright chatter like wind chimes shattered the quiet.
"Ichinose-san, Class C has been really crossing the line lately!"
"Yeah, they cornered Satō-kun in the boys' bathroom yesterday..."
"They keep targeting guys and switching up their members—it's impossible to guard against!"
Shiina peeked up to see a group settling at a study table nearby.
At the center, a pink-haired girl—now placing her textbook on the table—spoke with gentle firmness: "I'll think of something. For today, let's focus on studying, okay? We came to the library to study, after all. Making a ruckus would ruin everyone's concentration."
(Ichinose...! Class B's leader...!)
Shiina instinctively hunched but couldn't help peering through the bookshelf gaps.
The legendary Ichinose Honami was even more radiant than imagined—not in a blinding way, but like morning sunlight through sheer curtains, softly enveloping her little group.
Now clasping her hands together, the simple gesture somehow worked like magic, instantly calming her agitated classmates.
"If Ichinose-san says so..."
"Okay, we'll follow your lead..."
"You decide, Class Rep."
(Class C... It must be our class causing trouble.)
The realization made Shiina's ears burn.
Just yesterday, Ryūen had gathered everyone in a karaoke booth. "Starting today," he'd rapped the glass table, "we're targeting Class B's boys. I want Ichinose to learn exactly how badly she fucked up by crossing me. And before we climb to Class A, we'll crush every obstacle in our way—starting with the eyesore that is Class B."
It all traced back to last month's incident—Ichinose Honami had somehow coaxed a Class C student into revealing Ryūen's identity.
This had infuriated Ryūen.
Though he'd spared the snitch (out of respect for Shiina and Ibuki), it was obvious he had no intention of letting Ichinose off easy.
Especially since Class B was the first hurdle Class C needed to overcome.
Shiina disapproved of Ryūen's methods but knew protesting would be useless—possibly even dangerous.
She'd seen what happened to dissenters.
Like it or not, Ryūen was indispensable to Class C's current standing.
Without him, they were just a scattered mob; with him, they could actually compete with other classes.
But Shiina quickly pushed these thoughts aside—her priority was the surveillance investigation.
Through the shelf gaps, Ichinose was now patiently explaining a problem.
(Ichinose-san must know something! That day, she contacted Class C right before Ryūen got that notification. In other words, she definitely knows the mystery person—maybe even is that person!)
The pieces clicked into place, suspicion crystallizing.
Yet despite her urgency, Shiina's feet stayed rooted.
With so many people around, she never had the courage to initiate conversations—let alone as a Class C student approaching someone her class had just harassed. She'd likely just be met with cold rejection.
Tangled in these worries, she couldn't move.
Then—Ichinose suddenly paused, standing with a radiant smile. "Shimizu-kun? What a coincidence! Are you here to study too?"
Following her gaze, Shiina saw a boy approaching.
Around 185 cm tall—just slightly shorter than Yamada—with sharp features and an upright posture that spoke of disciplined training, his expression was calm but unreadable.
"Want to join us?"
"Not today. I'm actually here for mystery novels." He waved her off. "Don't let me interrupt."
"Alright." Ichinose nodded, her tone tinged with obvious disappointment. "We won't keep you, then."
Through the shelves, Shiina watched as the boy walked closer—and froze.
She knew him.
Last month, he'd chosen his Japanese literature textbook based on her recommendation.