“What a big change.”
After Aoi Hasegawa left, Amane Jinguu sat down in her own seat, her expression tinged with a bit of helplessness.
“From the way you two were talking, it seems like you and the President were pretty close before.”
Yu Suzuki chimed in at this moment. Ever since he heard Amane Jinguu call her “Little Aoi” with that somewhat affectionate tone, he’d been curious about it.
Back in the club, whenever Aoi Hasegawa heard Amane Jinguu’s name, she would react like a cat about to hiss—both hostile and afraid.
Yu Suzuki didn’t believe it for a second if someone claimed these two weren’t connected.
“Yeah, we met in elementary school at a concert. For a while, I pestered her every day.”
Yu Suzuki’s face filled with doubt at those words.
“You… pestered Hasegawa-senpai?”
“Yeah, is there a problem with that? Even in middle school, she could be considered my idol.”
“Still your idol?”
Yu Suzuki felt like his worldview was crumbling just a bit. One was a talented, poised, and graceful beauty, while the other was a shut-in girl who left early, skipped classes, and spent every day gaming in the club room.
If there was any common ground between them, it was only that they were both girls, both human, and both good-looking.
There was no doubt—if Amane Jinguu hadn’t said it herself, Yu Suzuki would have thought whoever claimed this was crazy.
No matter how he looked at it, with Aoi Hasegawa’s timid and lazy nature, she could only be toyed with by the current Student Council President.
Yu Suzuki fell into thought about it, but soon realized something strange.
Come to think of it, the Student Council President here liked music too—after all, all her music-related skills were at Master Level.
It was clear she’d put in a lot of effort in that field.
With that in mind, Yu Suzuki tentatively asked, “Then you must know a lot about music too, Senpai.”
“Of course. You could say I’ve been exposed to it since I was a child, but it wasn’t until middle school, when I received more detailed guidance, that my skill became somewhat decent.”
Somewhat decent…
Her self-deprecating words sounded especially grating to Yu Suzuki. Was this what it meant to be a genius?
He cleared his throat and tried steering the topic back to Aoi Hasegawa: “If that’s the case, then it’s no wonder you and the President know each other.”
“Yu Suzuki, you want to know about Little Aoi’s past, and why she’s become like this now, right?”
It was as if she could see right through his thoughts—Amane Jinguu suddenly said this, leaving Yu Suzuki stunned.
He hadn’t expected her to be so direct, but since she’d seen through him, he decided to admit it outright.
“Alright, I’ll be honest. I really want to know about Hasegawa-senpai’s past, because from how she acts now, she doesn’t seem like someone who’d hole up in the club room every day being a shut-in.”
In fact, just by her playing ability, it was clear Aoi Hasegawa had put in a long period of practice. For her to have fallen into this state, there had to be a reason.
“Mm, that’s probably because of me.” Amane Jinguu’s tone was flat as she spoke.
“Would you mind telling me?”
Yu Suzuki pressed on, since he’d suspected something like this for a while.
However, what followed wasn’t the answer he wanted:
“As for that, I think it’s best if you ask the person involved yourself. I can only tell you one thing: I personally did nothing wrong.”
Yu Suzuki was stunned for a few seconds—he’d never heard her speak so decisively before.
He didn’t press further; first, it would be disrespectful to keep asking, and second, it really had nothing to do with him.
Even if his curiosity burned now, he’d just have to ask the President about it next time.
Thinking this, Yu Suzuki tried changing the topic:
“Well then, Senpai, is there something else you wanted me to do here in the Student Council Room? Don’t tell me it was just about the School Trip?”
“Of course not.” Amane Jinguu smiled, pulling out a stack of documents from the drawer. “Since you’ve officially joined the Student Council, there’s some work you need to get familiar with in advance.”
She slid the documents over to Yu Suzuki:
“These are introductions to the functions of each Student Council department and the upcoming work schedule. Your main job is to help me with miscellaneous tasks, but it’s still necessary to understand the overall operations. Remember to memorize all of it.”
After speaking, she added, “Don’t worry, today’s just busy. After this, I won’t take up too much of your time.”
Yu Suzuki opened the documents to find a detailed list of the Student Council’s organizational structure—besides the President and Vice President, there were the General Affairs Department, Public Relations Department, Discipline Department, Sports Department, and others, along with the members’ names and recent projects.
“I have to memorize all of this?”
Yu Suzuki was dumbfounded, but the President’s smile told him there was no negotiating.
When he came out of the Student Council Room, it was already evening, and Yu Suzuki felt like his mind was no longer his own.
He suspected he was even walking a bit unsteadily now.
She said all he needed to do was memorize the documents, but in reality, Amane Jinguu kept asking him questions while she processed paperwork.
“Yu Suzuki, do you think this club’s funding application is reasonable?”
“If it were you, how would you arrange this event’s process?”
“These two clubs have a conflict. Whose side would you take?”
Each question required him to think carefully, breaking his memorization rhythm.
Then his answers would always get critiqued—anyone listening in would think he was taking some kind of quiz.
At this point, Yu Suzuki wasn’t even sure what his role in the Student Council was.
Vice President? Was there not someone in that position before?
President’s Secretary? But isn’t the Secretary just supposed to serve tea and organize files?
Yu Suzuki grumbled in his heart, the more he thought about it, the more he felt he’d been tricked.
This couldn’t be a good thing.
Fortunately, she promised she wouldn’t keep him busy all the time. Otherwise, he’d have to reconsider the cost-benefit ratio of signing that agreement.
The setting sun stretched the shadows of the school building long. Only a few students’ footsteps echoed in the hallway, and the occasional evening breeze carried a faint scent of cherry blossoms.
Yu Suzuki walked slowly, taking deep breaths to relax his mind.
At that moment, a melodious violin sound drifted to his ears.
It was the sound of a violin—smooth, but occasionally stumbling, as if the performer was practicing a passage over and over.
Yu Suzuki unconsciously followed the sound, his feet leading him to the Music Room before he knew it.
As he pushed the door open, a frustrated female voice rang out:
“Damn it, it’s supposed to be like this… How could I make such a rookie mistake back then?”
It was Aoi Hasegawa.
Through the crack of the door, he could see the President standing with her back to the entrance, violin in hand, frowning intently at the Score on the stand.
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