"BRING HIM OUT."

"Huh?" asked the girl in question.

"Your club president," I said. "I need to see him."

The girl who'd come to answer the newspaper club door stood there, bewildered. I didn't recognize her in the slightest. Perhaps, she was a first-year student.

"Er, I don't think," she started. "Upperclassman Kiryuu is extremely busy at the moment—"

"It'll only take a minute."

I squeezed past her and through the crevice of the door. Here, on the first floor in the east wing, was the newspaper club headquarters. Various photographs and precious newspaper clips were pinned to corkboards propped around the room. The hardwood floorboards creaked under my feet, proving their wear.

Several computers were located in the far corner of the room, which members of the club used to draft the school paper for print. The clubroom was also equipped with a fair number of cupboards, a sink, a couch, and thick curtains blocking the windows.

Then, at the far end of the room, seated behind the large desk, sat my objective: Kaname Kiryuu, the club president.

To put it simply, he was the type to catch eyes. Numerous piercings. An ever-constant smirk. His orange hair was kept in a neat and tidy style, while his salmon-pink eyes were veiled behind a pair of tinted glasses that hung loosely on the bridge of his nose. Normally, even his dark blue jacket wouldn't be allowed under the school regulations, but since he'd gotten in good with the principal and other staff members, they let it slide so long as he wrote about them positively in the school paper.

"—I'd say my demands were rather reasonable." Kiryuu's phone call had his undivided attention. Despite his high-handed delivery of words into his phone, pressed tightly against his ear, his voice was smooth and honeyed, as if he were toying with the other person on the line. "I require a witness to corroborate the story. Unfortunately, if you were to refuse, I'd be forced to fill in the gaps myself. I'm sure the principal would love to hear all about the fake gun you and your friend smuggled onto campus. . ." The corners of his mouth lifted. "Oh? So you will talk? That's smart. I'll call you back with a set date and time for an interview."

The call ended.

As soon as it did, the girl from earlier sauntered up to his desk, cradling a stack of freshly printed newspapers in arm. Her green hair was held in an up-do, with her bangs parted to hang by her cheek. "Upperclassman Kiryuu," she deadpanned, "can you please stop threatening the students we feature in our paper?"

"It's not a threat if they agree on their own terms," he answered with a starkly innocent chuckle.

"Sure, only after you leave them no other choice."

"It's all apart of being a good reporter. Besides, I'd like to remind you that the students in question don't deserve any sympathy. They smuggled a toy gun onto school grounds, fully intending to use it to terrorize their classmates. If anything, I'm the nice guy for giving them an opportunity to tell their side of the story." He released a heavy-handed sigh. "My kindness truly is a sin. More people should be more like me."

". . .Can you take this seriously?"

He pursed his lips in a dramatic fashion, but in a split second, it disappeared. "I'm taking this extreeemely seriously. After nearly three years, the popularity of the newspaper club is officially booming. My article about Ren Takumi has the entire student body in a chokehold. This is the perfect opportunity to increase our success. The more interesting news stories I publish from here on out, the better. . . Oh?"

Although the two of them had been absorbed in conversation, Kiryuu looked up, as if finally realizing I was there. Slowly, his eyes gained a mischievous glint, which was accompanied by his trademark smirk.

"When did this little lamb wander in?"

I swallowed, hard.

"Here, here, take a seat." Least to my expectations, he practically jumped out of his chair. Within seconds, his arm was excitedly around me, which he used to usher me towards his very chair. "Welcome to our headquarters. My name is Kiryuu, and that over there is Erina. Can I interest you in some tea and snacks?"

Before I could even answer, he sprinted across the room to prepare the tea cups and electric kettle.

"Erina's family owns a tea shop, so we have a relatively rich supply to choose from. Green tea, oolong, and jasmine, to name a few. Perhaps you've heard of the brand Eri-cha?"

"No, I'm fine—" I sputtered.

"How about madeleines?" My rebuttal didn't faze him in the slightest. "I received some as a gift this morning. If that isn't to your tastes, I have other sweets to choose from as well. Take your pick."

"Like I said—"

. . .

Despite my adamant refusal, within ten minutes, somehow I found myself sitting down, green tea in front of me, served in a teacup decorated with cutesy ducks. Not to mention, it was paired with store-bought madeleines. Kiryuu sat across from me, his gentle demeanour glowing brighter than the lights overheard. Erina stood behind him, like some well-adjusted secretary.

Drawing my gaze to the tea, the sweets, and the boy straight ahead, invisible question marks floated up and around my head.

Was this really Kaname Kiryuu? The founder and current president of the newspaper club? The third-year student who wrote that demeaning article for Takumi, and was responsible for countless others since the club's founding?

Well, considering the conversation I'd overheard, there was no doubt it was him.

Still, he seemed friendlier than I thought he'd be.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect from him. His personality aside, I never particularly liked his articles. They lacked originality, and always felt so disingenuous.

It was why I had a random idea to anonymously submit my gossip columns to the school paper, in order to spruce it up.

My venture was a reach in the dark. I never actually expected that the club would publish my silly little articles in the school paper. But, for some reason, they did. Every single week since last year, without fail.

Kiryuu had greenlit them. It was his email I anonymously sent them to, after all.

Deep down, I expected he'd have ignored my emails—my articles.

Yet, he didn't.

He published them, without questioning who I was, or why I sent them.

I always wanted to confront him and ask him why he accepted my articles, but doing so would give away my anonymity, so I never did. Even now, I was extremely curious. Sure, my articles contributed to the paper's total readership, but there had to be another reason. Another explanation for why he accepted them every week.

"Upperclassman Kiryuu, is it me, or is she reaaally staring at you?" Erina whispered in an obnoxiously loud voice.

"I'd stare too. Just look at me," Kiryuu remarked, utterly beaming.

Untameable heat rushed to my cheeks.

Clearly, the guy had a huge ego.

I reached for the tea cup, and took a loud slurp of my tea.

For now, I had to forget about my gossip column and quelling my curiosity. There was a more important reason why I was here today.

"To get straight to the point. . ." I cleared my throat. Reaching into my bag, I tossed a furled-up newspaper onto the table. "I'm here for this reason."

"Oh, we don't do returns. All sales related to the school paper are final."

"No, not that," I remarked, frustrated he didn't immediately comprehend. "I'm referring to the contents."

His eyebrows rose in understanding. "What a fantastic article it was, huh? My talent amazes even myself. I plan to release another article on top of that to seal the deal. If the first article was to your liking, please stay tuned for the continuation."

My words weren't getting through to him. That, or he was pretending that they weren't.

"You can't publish another article," I laid it out in layman's terms.

"Ah, that reminds me," he mused. "Rumour has it, the principal will hold an emergency assembly tomorrow morning to address what happened. He intends to use Ren Takumi to set an example for everyone else. His crimes will be presented to the entire student body, and justice will be served. All of his awards and trophies will be consequently revoked. I hear expulsion is also on the table."

My stomach sank to my gut.

An emergency assembly? As soon as tomorrow morning?

This was bad. It was worse than I ever thought, actually. I was running out of time.

"Can you please just listen to me?" I snapped, now desperate. "I get it, you have no idea who I am, so whatever I'm saying likely isn't making any sense—"

"Oh, I'm more than aware of who you are."

My heart stalled in my chest.

"Anri Hinomori, right?" My name slipped seamlessly from his lips, as if he'd uttered it a hundred times before. "Believe me, I never expected that a lowly reporter like me would ever be graced by the presence of Ren Takumi's girlfriend. It's an honour, truly." He turned to Erina. "I must say, though, she is much cuter than the students in her class implied."

"Upperclassman Kiryuu," Erina chastised.

I frowned as well. "You interviewed the students in my class?"

"I take my job as a reporter extremely seriously. Interviews in particular are one of my duties. Considering recent events, it didn't take much for them to blather all about you."

"Yet, somehow, you still got it wrong," I murmured. "I'm not his girlfriend."

"Is that so? My apologies, then." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "At the end of the day, whether you are or not doesn't matter. To be honest, most people were starting to assume Takumi had absolutely no romantic interest in girls. Until you appeared, that is. I really appreciate you're involvement in this whole situation, Hinomori. Because of the consequences of your rivalry, we've distributed triple our usual amount of articles and are still printing more. We're more famous than ever."

"Your article is full of lies."

"Half-truths," he corrected, coyly smiling. "Regardless, the people are eating it up. What's the harm?"

"Takumi didn't do it."

"So you say. Seeing as the evidence points otherwise, and you have nothing else to add to the conversation, it seems our little chitchat is over." As fickle as the breeze itself, Kiryuu's interest in me vanished, replacing with boredom. He rose to his feet and tucked in his chair. "Erina," he called out. "Escort our lost little lamb to the door."

"Yes, sir," she responded, already moving towards me.

For somebody who appeared so timid, she had unbelievable strength. With one tug alone, she dragged me up from my seat and across the room.

"Wait!" I wrangled free, bursting from her grip at the last second. I scurried right back up to him. "You don't understand," I tried again. "He's innocent."

Listless, he unfurled a wrapper to a green lollipop that he grabbed from his jacket pocket, and plopped it onto his mouth. "That is merely your opinion."

"No, it isn't. Takumi didn't do it. But, because of your article, everyone believes he did."

"If I remember correctly, Takumi was caught with those answer sheets. They were in his textbooks and notebooks, with your entire class to serve as witnesses. As an honour student, he had easy access to the faculty office. He could've strolled into that room and stolen them anytime he wanted. If not Takumi, who else could've taken it?"

"That's. . ."

"Are you implying you know who the real culprit is?"

My gut churned, suddenly at a loss for words.

"While I admire your tenacity to clear his name, you must realize this whole 'innocence' thing is a reach in the dark. Sometimes it's better to accept the truth early on than to suffer heartbreak later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm a busy person. My next article won't write itself."

He sifted through a pile of documents at his desk, taking the chance to tune me out.

Although I wouldn't exactly consider myself eloquent, there were very few times I found myself unable to speak. Now, was one such time.

He was good.

I gnawed the inside of my cheek.

He had a knack for digging up hidden truths. He chose his words carefully, never showed his true emotions on his face or in his voice, and could chat up anyone with that silver tongue of his.

If we continued with this conversation, there was a high likelihood that he'd figure out what I was hiding.

Meaning, Naoya would be caught and held responsible. Takumi would discover Naoya's involvement in the whole ordeal and about his one-sided crush. And Creeper's true identity would forever remain a mystery. It'd be an immediate game over.

Even then, I couldn't back down. Kiryuu's paper had influence—more influence than I could ever amass on my own. After the success of his article two days ago, the student body would likely only listen to whatever he wrote next. If the principal seriously was going to hold a surprise assembly tomorrow morning, utilizing my gossip column was out of the picture, since my next article wasn't going to be posted until next week.

As of right now, he was my only solution. My only way out of this. I had to change his mind, no matter what.

"Can't you at least rewrite the article?" I asked. "You said it yourself: it was full of half-truths. You purposefully exaggerated in order to attract more of an audience. If you just rescind some of those previous statements, and made it so that your next article paints Takumi in a more positive light—"

"I appreciate your continued interest in our club. Really, I do. But, like I said, busy schedule." His glowing, faux smile twisted like a knife in my gut. "Please continue to support our paper. Goodbye—"

"I'm just asking—"

He sighed, removing the sucker from his mouth. Still with a calm and collected demeanour, he spun back around. "Erina, do you think you can give the two of us some privacy?"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, positive. Just give us a few minutes."

Albeit hesitant, she departed from the room at that, shutting the door behind her.

Within the silent room, the ticking clock echoed louder than my pounding heart.

Kiryuu fought a loud sigh. "Erina is our newest member, and here you are giving her a poor view of me, her beloved upperclassman. We're short-staffed as is, so I'd appreciate it if you were kinder to us and the work we do here, Hinomori. Being antagonized like this is only going to scare her away."

"So, you're saying it's all right if I antagonize just you?"

A laugh escaped him—likely the most genuine reaction to come from him today. "Wow, brutal. You have quite a mouth on you."

"Er, sorry." I sheepishly swallowed. "I don't intend for it to come across as some form of antagonization. I really am here to talk about the paper."

"The paper, huh." He leaned against his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and drawing out his letters. "I'm starting to doubt that, you know. It seems to me you know a lot more about this than you're willing to admit."

"I don't know any more than you do," I answered on beat, ignoring his probing gaze. "But, I do know Takumi. Since you're Kanome High's lead reporter, you should know him too."

"Our school's picture perfect golden boy," he mused in agreement. "Born into an affluent family, he's displayed an exceptional dedication to his education from an early age. He's consistently ranked at the top of his class since his primary and middle school years. He's excelled academically, maintaining a straight-A record. He's organized school events, fundraisers, and community service initiatives, leaving a positive impact on his peers and the local community. He's a star athlete, a promising violinist—his dedication to both his studies and extracurricular activities makes him a role model for teenagers across Japan, and well-adored by all adults."

"See!" I said, as if proven a point. "A guy like that would never cheat!"

"True, I don't believe he would cheat, either."

"So, you agree to rescind your article?"

His pause was painstaking.

"Say, Hinomori. Are your ears there for decoration?"

"H—huh?" I hardly processed his question. At least, until he tugged on both of my earlobes for emphasis. "O-ow!"

"Just making sure they work." He released them, albeit expressionless. "I'm not rescinding or rewriting anything."

I stiffened, ignoring the slight sting. "Huh? But—"

"Doing what you ask comes with countless repercussions," he explained. "For one, the credibility of the newspaper club is at risk. The paper is already out there in the world. If I take it down, or mention that I lied in it, the students at our school will come to distrust me. If they distrust me, I'll lose sales. If I lose sales, the club will be forced to shut down. See where this is headed? I can't just "rewrite" an article—Ren Takumi's, or otherwise."

"B-b-but—" I'd turned into a broken record.

"As a reporter, I have the duty to deliver information to the people. Even if it's information the majority can't bear. Takumi isn't a cheater—both you and I can agree on that. But, the facts are: the majority of the school believes he is." His lips peeled back into a smirk. "So I will take the side of the school."

All at once, it hit me. Exactly the type of person he was. Suddenly, I felt like a total idiot. "So, the truth doesn't matter as long as you write about whatever's guaranteed to be popular?"

"Aha. You finally get it. Smart girl." He simpered. "Quite simple, isn't it? If the people believe Takumi is good, I'll paint him out to be a saint. If they believe he's evil, I'll make him out to be the most heinous villain imaginable."

"You're a disgrace to reporters everywhere."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He towered over me from his lanky height, his facial features stunning even from afar. "Don't take it to heart. I always choose the side that'll entertain me the most. Or the side willing to bribe me with the biggest bundle of cash— kidding, just kidding, no need to give me such a frightening look."

My glare darkened tenfold.

Here, I thought I could actually change his mind. How naive could I be? In retrospect, journalism was a business. Even when I wrote my articles, I purposefully appealed to the wider audience. Kiryuu was doing the same. Like he said, why would he help me, if the newspaper club would only suffer as a result?

I convinced myself I could persuade him to write a positive article about Takumi. That if he did, the situation would change. But, if that wasn't an option. . . if a positive article wasn't on the table. . .

"I always choose the side that'll entertain me the most."

Entertainment. . .

"You said it has to entertain you, right?"

"Hm?"

"You'll write an article so long as it's entertaining," I repeated. "Then, I have just the story you and the school will love."

Kiryuu's eyebrow dipped in definite curiosity. Following that was an ear-wide grin that swallowed the lower half of his face. "Is that so? And, pray tell, why should I hear out your so-called "story"?"

"Because you were right," I answered, my lips splitting into a matching smile. "I do know more about this than I've admitted. I have information—answers—that will drive you crazy."

He eyed me, raking me over from head to toe in tentative consideration. "Answers?"

"I'll give you the culprit. The person who tried to frame Takumi."

A snort escaped him. At last, he cracked. "Now that is something."

"But I have one condition," I added. "You have to swear to publish whatever I tell you. And it has to be up first thing tomorrow—before the principal's assembly. Do we have a deal?"

He tilted his head, his bangs spilling across his forehead.

"What?" I demanded.

"Just, it's strange."

Bewilderment coursed through me. "What is?"

"Even though this is technically the first time we've had a conversation, I'm getting a strong sense of deja vu. . ." His gaze never left mine. "By chance, have the two of us met before?"

Damn, he seriously was sharp. We'd only ever exchanged emails, yet he picked up on my speech pattern? Already? Was that even possible?

"It's your imagination," I replied.

"Perhaps, it is." Nonetheless, with the cordiality of a gentleman, he beckoned to the table, and for me to take my earlier seat. A smug smile cut into his cheek. "I'd say negotiations are a success. What are you waiting for? I'm listening."

________

Sorry for the late update — life got in the way :'(

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