novelraw Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Sakuramiya Hitomi knew she had a bad habit.
Hypocrisy.
Of course, everyone wore a mask now and then—no one wants the unvarnished truth all the time—so people postured and performed to hide what they really thought. But Hitomi understood exactly how far her own act went, and she knew how ugly the truth underneath actually was.
Because she saw herself so clearly, the girl wrapped gentle skin over a heart bristling with rational, defensive thorns. On her first day at Yuanyue she had announced to the entire school: "I will never fall in love."
It sounded like disdain for the entire student body, yet the real purpose was to keep anyone from slipping past those thorns and glimpsing the real, wretched her. When that happened, whatever affection they felt would shrivel in horror. Since the ending was inevitable, why even begin?
Yet she had overlooked one thing: the thorns repelled intruders, but they couldn't stop the true self from looking outward—yearning to approach someone outside.
She couldn't remember when she first liked Yan Huan.
She only recalled one afternoon when she invited the whole student council to her rented flat. They had planned to eat out, but Yan Huan cooked instead. She remembered tasting her favorite caramel pudding, then glancing instinctively at the boy who had made it.
Her three cats were curled against him like velcro, purring and rubbing, clearly in love. He stroked their chins with endless patience, smiling down at them.
In that instant the thorns quivered, the ugly core stirred, and she began to ache to know him—everything: his thoughts, his routines, his joys and sorrows... his body.
To learn when he would drop by the office, she installed her first hidden camera in the student-council room.
After that, restraint snapped.
His classroom, half the corridors, the council office, the street outside his part-time job—even the exterior of his rental apartment.
Remember the random Plane message she sent during Ye Shiyu's hypnosis stunt last Friday? That was his usual clock-out time, yet Hitomi hadn't spotted him leaving the bar or returning home. So she messaged him—then called without waiting, flustering Ye Shiyu entirely.
Reason told her this wasn't how affection was supposed to work. She shouldn't be spying, shouldn't be trying to script his life. Yet the real self inside could no longer be caged. She was a prisoner dancing in shackles named "the considerate Vice-President Sakuramiya."
The laptop folder had contained far more than candid photos. She had catalogued every sentence he spoke.
She had reached the point of dissecting each word, desperate to map every thought in his head.
Often she failed.
[Fish—big fish, tiger-striped shark.]
Below the screenshot of that Plane chat she had typed:
"9 March, post-aquarium message. Doesn't seem to refer to an actual shark. No clear response to my trivia. Meaning unknown—file for now."
[I'm gonna fight Sukuna, for real?]
"6 March, after delegating the Principal report to the President. Said this out of nowhere. Why equate the Principal with a mythic demon? Does he find him terrifying? Meaning unknown."
[Where did you dump me? Is this even still the country?]
"4 March, first day of term. President's remark when he saw the reorganised council room. Possibly upset that the décor no longer felt like Linmen? All I did was shift the desks and add some shelves."
Pages more, from last term until now.
After half a year the council had grown used to their President's cryptic comments—maybe local Linmen or Longguo slang? Yet when she asked natives, none recognised the phrases.
Words were only the surface. Mid-conversation Yan Huan would sometimes betray emotions she could not interpret. She remembered collecting corporate data for a joint report last semester. When they hit the Golden Lion Group, he murmured,
"Their offices close at four-thirty?"
"Yes, President. That's why paperwork there's such a pain—you queue for weeks."
"I see..."
An ordinary exchange, but his expression had been complicated beyond comprehension.
Questions multiplied, yet she dared not ask, terrified the truth would leak—terrified he would step closer, study the girl who liked him, and realise how much she already knew.
"How did you know I didn't go home?"
"How did you know my shift ends at that time?"
"How did you know who I spoke to in class?"
Because I'm always watching you from the shadows—that is the real answer. But Hitomi could never say it aloud. Morality condemned her; uttering it aloud would make him recoil, perhaps erase every place she had in this world.
If only somewhere existed that could accept her ugliness—a place where she could bare everything and still be normal. Where staring at him, learning everything, confessing every twisted wish would be as natural as breathing.
The day that wish crystallised, a voice whispered in her mind:
[Activate Room Boundary?]
Room Boundary?
[Boundary Level: 1]
[Effect Summary: Once per week, designate an enclosed area (max 50 m²) and erect a boundary. Maximum active boundaries: 1.]
[Inside the boundary you may:
- Create compulsory rules and gain omniscient surveillance of the space. Visualise the interior from anywhere at will.
- Alter a single item of common sense for any individual within. Cannot impose impossible actions.
- Upon leaving, subjects forget all events inside; memories auto-correct. Third parties may notice inconsistencies if present.]
[While you remain inside, the boundary levels up—expanding area and enhancing effects.]
Reading the text had not prepared her for the serenity she felt the first time she cast the boundary in the council office. Since then, the boundary there had never been lifted.
Snap!
A click of fingers shattered her reverie; the floating text dissolved.
[Boundary Level: 2]
[Effect Summary: Once per week, designate an enclosed area (max 75 m²). Maximum active boundaries: 2.]
Blinking, she surfaced from her thoughts and found Yan Huan beside her in gym kit.
"Sakuramiya, class is ending. Our turn to tidy up."
Monday afternoon, volleyball elective—she had chosen the same slot as Yan Huan. After lunch he had wandered campus with Ye Shiyu, skipped the council room for a secret nap, then showed up at the gym. Hitomi's stamina was dismal; she only moved when the coach insisted, spending free play on the bench. Never before had she sat motionless until the bell.
"...All right, President."
She rose, trailing him to dismantle one side of the net while he took the other.
"You barely moved today. Feeling okay?"
"A bit. I'll be fine after this week."
She followed, wordlessly gathering the net.
This week?
Yan Huan paused, understanding dawning on his face. He glanced at her.
"Then let me finish this. You go rest."
She met his smile, shook her head, and kept winding the mesh. "It's fine. Let's do it together."
Actually, she wasn't on her period; she just needed to ask Yan Huan something.
About Ye Shiyu.
Plenty of girls at school followed Yan Huan's every move, and Sakuramiya Hitomi had long since made peace with their existence—after all, surveillance left her little time for jealousy. Yan Huan never treated anyone with more than polite detachment; in other words, it was all surface courtesy.
Ye Shiyu, however, was different.
Hitomi had never seen Yan Huan look at anyone with such patience, such softness.
On Saturday the president had suddenly phoned to ask why she loved cats; it had to be because of that girl—the blank-faced one who looked more like a wooden doll than a person.
Hitomi had been watching the president since last semester; she could recite his daily habits in her sleep.
So what gave Ye Shiyu the right?
Because she's his older sister?
Is she even a good older sister?
Yes—contrary to the gentle image Yan Huan projected, Hitomi could feel how differently he treated Ye Shiyu.
What Hitomi didn't know was that the real engine behind that tenderness was Yan Huan's raw survival instinct.
She told herself to stay calm; that night the president had said he remembered why she liked cats.
Did that mean he might like her?
If they were mutually in love, then her peeking, her surveillance, her control, surely all of it was justified?
She had to be sure of his feelings.
But the tactful, considerate persona she'd cultivated would never pry into someone's private life.
So she would have to try another way.
"The weather's warming up. It's been nice lately—really sunny on the weekend."
"When the president went to the aquarium?"
"Exactly. We got roasted out there."
Hitomi reeled in the practice net, stowed it on the trolley, and together with Yan Huan—her pushing, him guiding—they rolled it toward the equipment room behind the gym.
The unlocked door opened onto a vast, sealed space. Yuanyue was filthy rich—tuition fees ensured that—so every conceivable piece of gear lay inside: balls, pads, field equipment, yoga mats, crash mats, you name it.
Hitomi stepped in first. In tandem they maneuvered the trolley inside and parked it.
"Done."
Ding-ding-ding—class had ended. Yan Huan glanced at Hitomi, who was already winded from the light effort, and felt a sudden thirst.
Not because of her—he'd just spent an entire PE period moving and hadn't had a drop to drink.
"I'm parched. Let's go, Sakuramiya. I'll grab some water—what would you like?"
"I was thinking of heading off-campus for a drink and maybe some dessert. Care to come?"
"Dessert, huh."
As Yan Huan rubbed his chin and prepared to leave, the door in front of them slammed shut with a violent bang.
Yan Huan blinked; Hitomi jumped, hands flying to her ears.
"What the—?"
He frowned, strode to the door, and twisted the handle.
Creak-creak-creak.
The knob groaned under his grip, but the door stood as immovable as iron.
"President, what's wrong?"
"It's locked?"
"Huh?"
Hitomi frowned, tried the handle herself, then shouted toward the corridor,
"Hello? Whoever you are, this isn't funny—open up!"
Silence.
Yan Huan drew a breath, motioned Hitomi aside, and backed up several steps.
Then he charged, kicking the door with everything he had.
BANG!!
The impact sounded like a gong, yet the door didn't budge. The force vanished as if swallowed by the sea; the recoil sent him stumbling backward.
"President! Are you okay?!"
"I'm fine."
Hitomi lowered her hands from her ears and hurried over, eyeing the door.
"What on earth happened? Did someone lock us in?"
"No idea."
He already suspected something was off.
Sure enough, a slip of paper fluttered through the crack beneath the door like a ghost and landed between them.
Yan Huan picked it up. Together they read:
[Want to get out?]
[Then you two must hold hands for ten minutes, hug for ten minutes, and kiss for ten minutes.]
For a moment his mind went white.
The flavor was right—every irrational thing suddenly made perfect sense.
Slowly he turned to Hitomi, who had clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.
In that instant he thought he understood.
Perfect Expression Management—activate.
Yet Hitomi, sensing his gaze, shrank back as if startled, putting distance between them.
Her wary eyes flicked to him; for a heartbeat she wondered if this was Yan Huan finally acting on his baser instincts.
Then memory reasserted itself: the president she knew wouldn't do this. She chose to trust him.
Even so, she kept a cautious gap, her voice wavering, far from its usual calm—
"President... what... what is going on?"
Seeing her genuine, unfeigned fear—the natural reaction of a girl trapped alone with a boy—Yan Huan felt a flicker of doubt.
She really seemed afraid he'd locked them in to do something unspeakable.
"Stay calm, Sakuramiya. Don't panic. Let me think."
"Y-yes. It's okay, President, I just—"
She bit her lip and decided to trust him.
It couldn't be Sakuramiya the Vice-President; the old Sakuramiya had always been considerate and discreet, nothing like Ye Shiyu—a textbook Modifier host.
Someone else, then.
But why?
Ye Shiyu had used the Modifier to satisfy her possessiveness and drive him from the house.
Now what was the motive?
Whoever was behind this had locked them up just to watch them cross lines while hiding in the dark?
What a weird kink.
Wait—actually, come to think of it...
Yan Huan's thoughts stuttered; even his perfectly controlled expression nearly cracked.
Watching someone you like—or at least feel something for—with someone else...
Then hiding and secretly enjoying it.
Unwanted memories assaulted him, triggering a migraine. For once, knowledge felt like a curse.
In that moment he understood the core axiom of Lovecraftian horror: knowledge is damnation.
Right now, Yan Huan was convinced humanity was beyond saving.
What strange things people could watch, indeed.
But which possibility was the right one?
Did Sakuramiya Vice-President do it?
But what would be her motive?
Yan Huan turned to look at her, only to find that she had already slipped behind the crash mat, clearly worried he might do something reckless in this situation.
But if it wasn't Sakuramiya Vice-President using the Modifier...
Then who exactly was the one using it?
And what effect were they trying to achieve?
Folding the slip of paper with the exit instructions between his fingers, Yan Huan fell into deep thought.
(End of Chapter)