Mature Fantasy Power Invasion

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

In Yan Huan's eyes, Sakuramiya Hitomi was the very picture of poise—prim, serious, yet unfailingly kind. For the past half-year she had quietly looked after everyone even if she rarely said so aloud. She loved quiet, had refined hobbies and more knowledge than anyone her age had a right to possess, and carried herself with a maturity that made her easy to be around. In short, she was respectable—almost painfully respectable.

If Yan Huan hadn't already concluded that the current mess was tied to a Modifier, he would never have suspected her.

"If you ask me," he wanted to say, imitating Old Eighth from Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy, "Sakuramiya's clean—no problems!"

But they were alone together, and the likeliest culprit was either the girl sitting opposite him or some unknown third party. It couldn't possibly be Yan Huan himself using the Modifier, could it?

He crumpled the note in his fist and gave Sakuramiya—now visibly on edge—a reassuring smile. "Probably just a prank. Don't worry, Sakuramiya. I'll call the staff and have them let us out."

"All right, President."

Yan Huan unlocked his phone and stared at the red exclamation mark beside the signal bar. Outwardly surprised, he said, "No reception."

Sakuramiya quickly pulled out her own phone and tried the emergency line. Nothing.

"The emergency number doesn't work either, President. What do we do?"

She was trying to stay calm, but the faint tremor in the bare legs beneath her gym shorts gave her away.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Yan Huan set aside the question of who was using the Modifier—Sakuramiya or some mystery player—and studied their surroundings instead. The storeroom was sealed; only the main door and a small ventilation grille offered any exit. A security camera blinked green from the ceiling. He peered through the grille into absolute darkness. It felt as though the room had been uprooted and flung into some pocket dimension, cut off from the rest of the world.

A locked-room scenario that required "something" before they could leave? That sounded like the sort of half-baked setup a restricted-grade Modifier might conjure. But compared to Bai Yi's Indifference or Ye Shiyu's hypnosis, this was... underwhelming. Yan Huan refused to believe the unknown user's ability was this dull. Better to wait and see.

He sighed, sat down on a yoga mat opposite Sakuramiya, and offered an easy smile. "Looks like we're stuck for a while. The basketball class will come to return gear. They'll open the door for us."

"Okay, President."

Sakuramiya hugged her knees to her chest and waited. In the depths of her dark eyes glimmered something sharp.

President thinks this is just an ordinary prank. He has no idea the Barrier has already split this space from the real storeroom. When the basketball students come, they'll open the door to an empty room and leave none the wiser. Sakuramiya had tested the effect countless times in the student-council office; whenever she needed to check the school cameras unseen, she simply sealed herself off.

She would decide when the Barrier dropped, and only then would the two spaces knit back together. Right on cue, the basketball students arrived, returned their balls, and left. Click.

So, what now, President? Soon you'll realize no one is coming. Then you'll read the note. Will you show what's hidden inside you—shyness, nervousness, perhaps a tentative glance in my direction before you ask?

Sakuramiya's heart beat faster. She stole another look at Yan Huan and saw him lean back against the mat, eyes closed, breathing slow and even.

...What?

He's... asleep? In a situation like this?

Sakuramiya's lips parted in shock. "P-President?"

No answer.

In truth, Yan Huan wasn't asleep. No matter how drowsy he felt, he couldn't doze off knowing a Modifier was active. This was a test. If Sakuramiya was the host, she might reveal herself—extraordinary powers, strange behavior—once she believed he was unconscious. With Perfect Expression Management, he could fake sleep flawlessly.

Yet he had underestimated Sakuramiya. Even now she kept up her act: the anxiety, the quiet panic, especially after seeing him "sleep." She took out her phone, glanced at the time, and waited. Ten minutes passed. Nothing. She never slipped.

There were two reasons. First, caution. Sakuramiya's reserved nature made her allergic to exposure. She did not trust the Modifier's promise of "memory correction." Even a one-in-a-thousand chance of someone noticing anomalies was too high a risk. Unless absolutely necessary, she would never tamper directly with anyone's mind.

Second, her goal was to confirm Yan Huan's feelings for her. If he didn't have any, perhaps the intimacy of a locked room could spark something. But if she rewrote his common sense—changed her own persona—then whoever liked her wouldn't be Yan Huan liking Sakuramiya; it would be Yan Huan liking a fabrication. So, though unaware of Yan Huan's test, she played the perfect countermove.

Another ten minutes dragged by. Yan Huan was starting to lose his composure—mainly because he was on the verge of actually falling asleep. The longer he kept his eyes closed and his body relaxed, the likelier he'd doze off and wake up stripped naked in someone's basement. Time to "wake up."

He opened his eyes, rubbed them groggily, and sat up. The door was still shut.

"No one's come yet? How long has it been, Sakuramiya?"

"Almost twenty minutes."

"Twenty?" Yan Huan stood, frowning. "That can't be right. They finished class at the same time we did—they should've returned the balls by now."

"What's stranger is that we yelled and banged on the door. Someone outside had to hear us."

"Unless we've stumbled into a ghost story," Yan Huan murmured, steering the conversation toward the supernatural.

Sakuramiya Hitomi sighed. "President, please don't scare yourself. Trust science."

"You're right, Sakuramiya... but what other explanation is there?"

"..."

Sakuramiya's brows drew together; she actually seemed to be weighing the possibility.

Could it really not be her?

Yet if he ruled Sakuramiya out, the only remaining answer was the one he dreaded: some nameless Modifier host had locked them in here just to peep at them doing... that. If the host's desire was voyeurism, how on earth was Yan Huan supposed to track them down? Worse—if the two of them refused to perform, would the psycho simply leave them to rot?

Yan Huan's face soured, but he steeled himself and swept the cramped equipment room with a calculating gaze. The narrow vent provided almost no airflow; the air felt thick. A faint, sweet scent—Sakuramiya's—mingled with his own light sweat, tugging their eyes toward each other in accidental collisions.

The temperature seemed to climb by the minute.

He inhaled, turned, and strode deeper into the room.

Alarmed, Sakuramiya hugged herself and leaned back. "W-what is it, President?"

"Looking for a way out."

He brushed past her and began rummaging among the gear. Moments later he returned hefting a shot put.

"Stand back, Sakuramiya."

"Okay."

She scurried aside while Yan Huan pounded the door with every implement in sight. For a moment the storage room sounded like a demolition site—clang of shot put, thud of javelins, crash of barbells. Nothing. The door might as well have been vibranium straight out of Captain America's shield; the lock didn't even dent. Raw force was useless.

Both of them reached the same conclusion—only one of them knew it was intentional.

Standing behind him, Sakuramiya thought, He's so dead-set on breaking out... did he never even consider following the note? My act is flawless, textbook me. But I never expected our upright President to be this upright—he hasn't looked at me once.

I like that about him... Wait, does that mean I'm completely unattractive?!

For the first time in fifteen years Sakuramiya Hitomi doubted her own face. Then another possibility struck her: maybe he just isn't into petite girls. Maybe he prefers tall, older-sister types. That would explain why he's so different with that Ye Shiyu girl...

Her eyes lost their sparkle.

And—because fate had a sense of humor—her bladder decided this was the perfect time to remind her it existed.

Sakuramiya pressed a hand to her abdomen; the flawless mask cracked just a fraction.

Thus the sealed equipment room reached peak absurdity: Yan Huan, having tried everything and failed, felt he'd hit his Waterloo and slid into self-doubt. Sakuramiya, performance still immaculate, found herself both flustered by his indifference and tormented by a very earthly need.

Who would win this bizarre standoff today?

Yan Huan glanced back—and noticed her pale face and the hand clutching her stomach.

She's in pain? Oh right, this week...

He suddenly remembered Sakuramiya was still on her period.

"Are you okay, Sakuramiya?"

Certain he'd spotted her distress, she forced the smile back into place, straightened, and breathed faster—looking, if anything, more stubborn. "I'm fine, President. Let's think of another way out."

Seeing her like that, Yan Huan's conscience stabbed him.

All right, unknown host, you win.

He drew a long breath and turned to her. "Sakuramiya... this is awkward, but—maybe we try what the note says? See if it opens the door."

"Eh?"

Wait—this is actually happening?

Her heart fluttered—then her bladder protested louder. Hold on. She'd deliberately set the timer long to build tension: ten minutes holding hands, ten minutes hugging, ten minutes kissing. That's half an hour! I'll never last!

Why did I zone out during volleyball instead of visiting the restroom first?

But the handsome boy in front of her was blushing, eyes averted, clearly embarrassed.

So cute.

No—focus! Even if I have to suffer, I'll endure. I can shorten the timer on the sly; worst case, I'll drop the barrier early.

Outwardly Sakuramiya bit her lip, feigning hesitation. Scanning the room, she steeled herself and nodded. "If there's no other way... let's try it. Once we're out, we absolutely check the footage and find whoever did this."

Footage—right. Cameras.

Yan Huan's gaze snapped to the corner; a red recording light glowed back at him. The host was probably watching right now. Total creep.

He inhaled, walked up to Sakuramiya. Her pupils shrank; her breathing hitched. In the stale air he felt like a mountain of heat and masculinity looming over her.

At five-foot-two she barely reached his chest; she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes.

"...Sorry, Sakuramiya," he murmured.

D-don't apologize, President...

Her lashes trembled as Yan Huan lifted her hand in his. Warm fingers closed around her cool, delicate palm, and for an instant the world went quiet.

She parted her lips, heart racing.

But on the surface she still had to act generous, indifferent. Expressions could be faked, yet the faint flush on her cheeks was a physical reaction beyond her control.

"That should be enough, right?"

Yet Yan Huan raised their joined hands a little higher, aiming them toward the surveillance camera, his face cold as he spoke.

Eh?

The president thought someone else was watching through the camera?

With her arm held aloft, Sakuramiya blinked, then followed Yan Huan's gaze to the camera.

Then she lowered their arms.

Ten minutes...

Hitomi drew a deep breath; the simple pleasure of having her hand held had actually begun to eclipse the discomfort in her lower abdomen.

And having gained an inch, she wanted a mile. Right now, she anticipated the coming hug and kiss even more eagerly.

"President, maybe we can do the actions together. That way the time will be shorter."

Maintaining her outward composure, Sakuramiya offered her analysis to Yan Huan.

Of course Yan Huan knew that would shave off a few minutes. He smiled faintly. "I'm just worried you might not be ready for it."

"Mmm... a little. So... could we start with just a hug? The next part—I... I haven't prepared myself yet."

"Alright, then."

Since she'd already gone this far, and Sakuramiya seemed to be making a huge concession, Yan Huan didn't press further. He drew her gently into his arms, but it looked more like a polite, formal embrace—barely touching, a noticeable gap still between them.

This... this counted as a hug?

Instantly disappointed, Sakuramiya puffed out her cheeks. Behind her, papers suddenly fluttered against the door.

She patted Yan Huan's back as though she had no attachment to the embrace at all. "President, something else just came in through the door!"

Oh?

Yan Huan narrowed his eyes, released Hitomi, and walked over to pick up the sheet that had slid under the door.

It read:

[A hug doesn't count. Hold her tighter.]

Sakuramiya stared blankly at him; Yan Huan could only sigh at that person's twisted sense of humor.

Just wait. If I ever find out anyone in the entire school actually enjoys this sort of thing, I'll make sure your reputation precedes you.

He turned back toward Sakuramiya, clearly asking permission with his eyes. "Is that all right?"

Hitomi pressed her lips together, then gave an almost imperceptible nod and opened her arms slightly toward him.

"Sorry."

Yan Huan apologized again, and Sakuramiya's gaze slid away.

Stop saying sorry...

His apology made Sakuramiya—the architect of all this—burn with guilt. Regret and nervousness mingled inside her, then finally shifted into anticipation as she waited for him to draw her close.

Yan Huan took a slow breath, opened his arms, and gently pulled the petite Sakuramiya against him. The soft embrace deepened; eyes half-lidded, Hitomi let herself sink into his chest.

A kiss... she wanted a kiss.

That was her only thought.

Yet just as she was plotting her next move, torn between advancing and lingering in his arms, the firmly shut door exploded inward.

Bang!!

Both Yan Huan and Sakuramiya froze.

What burst open wasn't only the equipment-room door.

Crack-crack-crack!

Her Room Boundary shattered like glass, collapsing toward the floor and merging the hidden space back with reality. Yan Huan's temples throbbed; for an instant the memories of the past few minutes threatened to flow away like water, but his Modifier's resistance held them in place.

"Ah—!"

He hissed, quickly releasing Hitomi and turning toward the doorway.

The door's open? But we haven't even kissed yet...

Sakuramiya stepped reluctantly from his embrace, shooting the entrance a look that could kill.

In the light spilling through the doorway stood a girl in track gear, long blond hair wild as a lion's mane, pulling back the foot she'd just slammed into the door.

She was the one who'd kicked it open—and, somehow, shattered Sakuramiya's carefully woven barrier as well.

Hitomi hadn't expected her boundary to break. Anyone else should have seen an ordinary storage room on the other side of the door. Why could this girl touch the barrier—let alone kick it to pieces?

Yet no matter the storm of thoughts inside her, Sakuramiya revealed nothing. Instead she pressed her hands to her head as though in pain.

"Ugh, I said someone still had a ball inside and they locked the door— Oh? There are people in here?"

The girl herself seemed surprised to find anyone inside. She blinked, then studied the boy and girl before her: an uncommonly handsome boy who looked oddly familiar, and a girl clutching her head in apparent confusion.

What were they doing?

Oh~

The blonde—no, Aria Spencer, who'd transferred in today—understood instantly. A wicked, knowing grin spread across her face.

Then, silently, she pulled out her phone.

She was getting ready to take a picture.