novelraw Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Chapter 47
"Beep!"
"Ah—finally inside."
After forever in line, Yan Huan and Sakuramiya Hitomi finally passed the ticket gate and entered the sprawling exhibition center.
Whatever else you could say about it, the moment you stepped in the opulence of the Golden Lion Group slapped you in the face. Sunlight spilled through the glass ceiling and glinted off the marble pillars, gilding the lion reliefs carved into every wall until the whole place looked like a palace of gold.
And this was only the first hall.
The Golden Lion Exhibition Center was actually a cluster of halls linked together, each hosting a different theme: official game launches, fashion shows, autograph booths, doujin circles, the inner-circle doujin zone, entertainment lounges, snack courts—
And finally, at the very center, the "Main Hall."
It was the only venue with a proper stage, so every official event—including the upcoming guest meet-and-greet—would be held there. Bai Yi would take the stage later as well.
Yan Huan unfolded the map the staff had handed out, ready to ask Sakuramiya where they should start, but the moment they stepped indoors she snapped her parasol shut, pointed down a corridor and said,
"President, I'm going to the restroom."
"Sure, I'll wait here."
Sakuramiya gave a small nod and a smile, then turned away.
Inside the empty restroom she hummed a tune while pressing a hidden button on the parasol handle, then washed her hands.
"Ding-ding~"
Moments later a woman in a qipao and sunglasses walked in.
It was Nara, Sakuramiya's personal bodyguard.
Seeing Sakuramiya looking so relaxed, Nara sighed silently and tapped off the alert on her phone.
"My Young Lady, I've told you—unless it's an emergency, don't push that button even if I'm right beside you."
Sakuramiya seemed not to hear. She beamed at Nara while drying her hands under the blower.
"Hm-hm~"
Nara blinked, not sure what the cheer was for.
Then Sakuramiya pulled out her phone and opened her photo gallery.
"..."
Nara raised an eyebrow and looked. On the screen, Yan Huan held his phone up while Sakuramiya leaned in close. Both of them were smiling at the camera—a rare shot of the student-council president and vice-president together.
Nara glanced away, then looked back at the proud girl holding the phone like a trophy.
"So?"
The word popped Sakuramiya's bubble. Her cheeks puffed out. She flicked through the photos even faster.
"So?! Look, there's more! We took a whole bunch—some with filters and stickers too!"
"..."
Nara's mouth opened slightly as the images flashed by like a slideshow.
Only then did she understand why she'd been summoned.
"...Young Lady, did you drag me here just to show off pictures with Yan Huan?"
Sakuramiya froze, then tried to sound casual.
"It's a milestone, okay? And it's not just the photos—President turned down other people asking for pictures so he could take one with me!"
"..."
"He said something cool like 'I can't leave the one who can't take photos alone'—do you get it, Nara?!"
"Yeah, yeah, you win, Young Lady."
"I win again?!"
Nara exhaled, her face broadcasting the universal truth hard work, worse pay.
That look only puffed Sakuramiya's cheeks bigger and redder. But when she turned the screen back to the photo of her and Yan Huan, her face melted into a warm smile.
"Hmph. I'm printing all of these and hanging them up when we get home!"
"Sure, maybe add a condolence plaque underneath: 'Love, forever missed.'"
"Nara!!"
Sakuramiya swung a tiny fist; Nara caught it with one hand.
Whenever Yan Huan was involved, Sakuramiya's IQ flickered—off right now, apparently, judging by the silly grin and odd remarks. When it flickered on, she was busy tailing Yan Huan or glaring down rivals like Ye Shiyu.
Cute, really. Face flushed with first love.
Nara deflected the punch and said in a monotone,
"Looking at it, you two are a perfect match—talented guy, pretty girl, a match made in heaven."
The words were so flat they might have been read off a teleprompter. Sakuramiya, who knew her too well, only snorted.
"Whatever. Unappreciative people just don't get it..."
She hugged the phone to her chest.
"Anyway, how's the entertainment zone set-up?"
"All done. Fortune-telling, two-player games, claw machines—and the haunted house, of course."
"Good."
Sakuramiya's pulse steadied. A conspiratorial grin spread across her face.
With this chain of activities, love's flame would surely ignite—and Yan Huan would be hers.
"As long as everything goes smoothly, it won't be long before President confesses to me. He'll be mine."
She could keep her carefully crafted persona intact. He'd never see the cracks if she kept the act going forever.
Her thoughts written plainly on her face, she looked up to find Nara staring at her.
"Huh?"
"Easy to read, Young Lady. Your plan's written all over you."
Nara sighed, then offered a soft, natural smile.
"But maybe the only place you drop the mask is right here in front of me, huh?"
Sakuramiya pressed her lips together and huffed.
"We're accomplices. We know each other's worst secrets, so we stick together."
"Whatever the reason, since you trust me, let your big sister give you a little tip."
"Big sister? You?"
Sakuramiya started to scoff, but Nara raised a finger and wagged it.
"You claim to know Yan Huan inside and out."
"Of course. I track his schedule to the minute."
"Leaving aside whether you can hide your real self forever, answer one question."
Nara's gaze pinned her like an arrow.
"Between classes, council work, and part-time jobs, where does Yan Huan find the time for romance?"
"..."
"And even if your parents are open-minded, they'll vet your future husband—especially on family background and status. Right?"
"..."
Two sentences, and Nara dumped brutal reality at Sakuramiya's feet.
Those hurdles looked steeper than keeping her mask on for life. President still had to work, and Mom and Dad would—
"I..."
Sakuramiya's breath hitched. She couldn't argue.
Then it struck her.
Wait. President isn't entirely without backing.
Friday, Ye Shiyu and her mother Ye Lan had visited Yan Huan's apartment—Sakuramiya had nearly lost it. So on Saturday she had Nara set today's "Yan Huan trap" in the entertainment zone, and she herself dug deeper into the Ye family.
It wasn't hard. Ye Lan was a top executive at the renowned Ye International. With her support, Yan Huan wouldn't need to slave away at part-time jobs—and the gap in his background would vanish.
At the thought, Sakuramiya Hitomi's eyes lit up a fraction.
In her mind, the photo of Ye Lan from yesterday's file suddenly sprouted an angel's halo and wings, smiling down at her with infinite tenderness.
"Young maiden, pray devoutly to the goddess Ye Lan—she will bless your love~"
Right then, Sakuramiya wished she could convert on the spot to whatever "Church of Ye Lan" might exist.
Bathed in that imaginary, benevolent gaze, her brain spun faster and faster.
Her whole family doted on her; otherwise they'd never have let her study alone in Linmen.
And she knew the president himself was excellent—no mere pretty face.
If she just worked a little harder and explained his virtues to her parents, everything Nara had warned her about would crumble like paper.
Wait—thinking it through...
Didn't that mean heaven, earth, and people were all on her side?
Didn't that prove she and the president were fated to be together?
Didn't that mean she had already—
WON?!
Under Ye Lan's merciful spotlight, Vice-President Sakuramiya seemed to levitate in holy radiance.
But the next second, behind that kindly goddess, a cold-faced girl materialized—horns on her head, bat wings on her back, a heart-tipped demon tail swishing behind her.
Expressionless, yet utterly revolting to Sakuramiya.
Ye Shiyu.
Hold on—
If she followed this logic, did that mean her sky-high compatibility with the president was thanks to the very sister named Ye Shiyu?
Calm.
Stay calm, Sakuramiya.
The president had said Ye Shiyu was only his older sister.
Nothing strange—every family had siblings. It was perfectly nor—
For an instant Sakuramiya was back in the principal's office on Tuesday, absurdly trying to believe Spencer and the president were just an innocent study group.
That look Ye Shiyu had given the president—was that how a sister looked at her brother?
And why was she even thinking—
It was all Spencer's fault!!
Nara watched Sakuramiya drift between giddy elation and icy gloom, unable to follow the mental gymnastics.
Whatever. She was only a bodyguard; she'd given the Young Lady a friendly warning.
The rest was up to the two people actually in the relationship—outsiders couldn't help.
She smiled toward the restroom entrance, patted Sakuramiya's pale cheek, and gently pulled her from her trance.
"All right, I'll wait for you in the entertainment area. Don't keep your president waiting, Young Lady Sakuramiya."
"Achoo!!"
East Hall, doujin area, Golden Lion Exhibition Center.
Inside a curtained-off space, a golden-haired girl sneezed out of nowhere. She rubbed her nose, puzzled.
"Don't tell me Santa's really that petty? Still hexing me, huh?"
It was the brilliant and majestic blonde lion herself—Aria Spencer.
She glanced at the long queues snaking toward every booth, each banner emblazoned with titles she couldn't begin to decipher. The "-" symbol meant nothing to her. Reading Chinese was hard enough without cryptic codes and acronyms.
Were they trying to keep outsiders out?
In truth, that mark was the age-restriction label: no entry under eighteen. Linmen's rating system was thorough; every niche found its audience. Yet loopholes abounded. No matter how strict the checks, something always slipped through.
Right now, for example, no one asked for ID. Unless you looked like a grade-schooler, you could lift the curtain and walk right in.
An Le, who'd tagged along, had vanished to "buy something she really wanted." Spencer, clueless, waited by the entrance.
"Whoa, the new Charcoal-sensei is insane!"
"Right? That moment when the happy, perfect cuckold loses everything—"
Spencer's ears pricked up. Her blond hair seemed to glow as she turned toward two masked otaku clutching black bags.
"Especially the fall from grace—"
"Yes! When she still loves him but gives in to instinct, that slow crumble until she's completely broken..."
A sudden chill cut their chatter—like something precious was about to be stolen. Both men looked up and froze.
A stunning blonde girl stood with arms crossed, smiling sweetly.
"Hey, what are you two talking about? Sounds interesting~"
Beautiful, yet instinctively repulsive. One opened his mouth; the other shook his head and dragged his friend away.
"Tch, cowards."
Spencer yawned, watching their fleeing backs.
"Um... Spencer, I'm back."
Arms still folded in her power-pose, Spencer turned to find An Le—masked—holding seven black bags.
"My online friend helped me buy them. Took some doing, but I snagged every new release I wanted."
Even through the mask Spencer caught the flush that matched An Le's breathless excitement.
On her shoulder, the phantom Xiao Muzi rolled its eyes.
"Games and manga kinkier by the minute, but you go deer-in-headlights in real life—what's the point?"
An Le glanced at Xiao Muzi, reality creeping back in. She ducked her head and clutched the bags tighter.
"So what's in those black bags anyway? Everyone seems thrilled to get them."
"Ah—this?"
An Le tried to explain, words failing. How could she describe these niche works to an outsider—especially ones she'd had to commission on the sly?
Spencer's patience thinned.
"Fine, I'll go see for myself!"
"W-wait, Spencer!"
But timid An Le was no match for unstoppable Spencer. She watched, horrified, as Spencer sauntered toward a booth.
A sign read:
"Pure Ballet~"
"Charcoal-sensei's latest plunder masterpiece—hot off the press!"
Spencer marched straight to the front of a fifty-person line. Queue? Please. Her family practically owned this con.
We're doomed!!
An Le clapped a hand over her mouth, too late.
Spencer stopped at the table and addressed the masked, muscular vendor inside.
"One copy, please."
The artist—bagging books—froze, rebooting at the sight of a girl cutting in as if it were her birthright.
Behind her, a queuer frowned and reached for her shoulder—until Spencer turned around. One look at her face sent a wave of dread and revulsion through him; he actually stepped back.
"Huh?"
A second passed before he finally found the courage to speak up.
"We're in line, you know?"
"Yeah!"
"How can you just cut in?!"
Spencer didn't answer. She simply pulled out a bulging wallet, peeled off a thick wad of high-denomination bills, and slapped them into the hand of the man behind her. Head high, she declared her conquest of first place.
"Spot's mine now."
The man behind her had started to refuse—he wasn't the sort to sell his dignity for cash. He had backbone!
But... she was offering way too much.
His protest died in his throat. The rest of the queue realized this newcomer wasn't to be trifled with and fell silent.
Only then did Spencer turn to the masked artist inside the booth.
"Give me one copy—what's this manga called, anyway?"
The artist was built like a bouncer, yet painfully shy. He frowned, clearly unhappy with Spencer's stunt, and took a moment before answering.
"Did you queue?"
Spencer blinked, then shook her head honestly.
"Nope."
Silence. Not just from the artist, but from the bewildered man still clutching the money behind her.
Seriously—she's that blunt?!
"...If you didn't queue, I can't sell to you."
The artist stared at her for several stunned seconds before remembering his own rule.
Spencer opened her mouth, glanced up at the R-16 sign, rubbed her chin, and seemed to reach an epiphany.
Oh.
So that's what the label means.
She gave a quick blink and looked back at the artist.
"Then I'll queue now. Sell me one."
"..."
"..."
Front and back, the entire line sank into an awkward, heavy quiet.
The next second, An Le—face scarlet—couldn't bear the shame any longer. She rushed over, grabbed Spencer's arm, and bowed frantically.
"Sorry! I'm so sorry, everyone! Excuse us—Spencer, let's go!"
"Huh?! But I haven't bought it yet!"
"Please—I'm begging you, Spencer..."
An Le looked ready to cry, cheeks as red as apples.
This was mortifying. If they stayed any longer, she'd lose every last scrap of dignity.
Spencer grumbled but, seeing An Le on the verge of tears, let herself be tugged away. (If she hadn't wanted to move, ten An Les couldn't have budged her.)
"Oh, right—"
Just before leaving, Spencer spun back toward the man who'd been first in line, snatched the wad of cash from his hand, and stuffed it back into her pocket.
"Fair's fair. I didn't get the book, so the deal's off."
"..."
Apologizing to everyone in sight, An Le dragged Spencer out of the inner-circle doujin hall, face so red it might have steamed.
"Hey, quit pulling."
"Snf—sorry, let's just go. I'll follow you anywhere else, just please don't stay here..."
"You said it."
Watching An Le try to bury her face in her own chest, Spencer flashed a wicked grin and produced the map the staff had handed them on entry. With a crisp snap, she pressed one pale finger against a spot on the page and slid the map under An Le's nose.
"Then I want to go here!"
"T-this is—"
An Le glanced up and saw the label Spencer was tapping:
Entertainment Zone: Murderous Vine Haunted School~
It was... a haunted house.