novelraw Chapter 53
Chapter 53
Chapter 53
"President! Vice-President! Over here!!"
Outside the fan-creators zone, Hashimoto had already pulled his mask down to his chin. He stood at the edge of the crowd and, even from a distance, spotted the striking pair cutting through the chaos—so good-looking they looked air-brushed.
No elaborate styling, just raw genetics and presence; everyone around them might as well have been background noise. It was Yan Huan and Sakuramiya Hitomi, fresh from their detour with An Le.
This, Hashimoto thought, was the true standard of Yuanyue Academy's Student Council.
"So—what did you two just play? You both look wiped."
Only when they were closer did Hashimoto notice the hairline cracks in their smiles. Hitomi's lips still curved, but the umbrella the haunted-house staff had returned hung from her wrist like a prop in a tragedy. A sliver of darkness leaked through the fracture, raising the hairs on Hashimoto's neck.
Spencer, that idiot, had scrambled her plan and left her livid.
Yan's usual easy smile had thinned as well—anyone could see his mood had cratered.
Because of An Le.
The sweet childhood friend had morphed into a Modifier host overnight. A girl he'd once measured memories in popsicle sticks with was now, technically, an enemy combatant. For the first time, Yan felt something close to paralysis. He could lie to Ye Shiyu, Bai Yi, and Spencer without blinking, deploy every dirty trick to slow the Modifiers' advance.
But An Le?
Could he treat her the same way?
What unsettled him most was the excitement flickering in her eyes when she'd used the Modifier—like she'd enjoyed it. The image of An Le in his mind had split clean in two.
He exhaled, rubbed his face, and told Hashimoto, "We did the haunted house. Ran into Spencer from our school."
"The one who scored sixty-six on the last mock?"
"Nice memory."
"We're putting together a study group, remember? She's the only compulsory member—hard to forget."
Hitomi filed the detail away. "Where are Lady Yua and the others?"
"Over there. The two big-name artists I mentioned already sold out. They're taking a break."
"That fast?" Yan checked the time—barely two hours since doors opened.
"They're a power couple in the circle, but nobody realizes they're actually together."
Hashimoto led them past a snack stall where Ashley, in a blue magical-girl dress, sat slumped over a cup of oden like someone had siphoned her soul.
"President..." She lifted her head as though it weighed a hundred kilos.
"Whoa, Hashimoto, who's the hottie?" A new voice cut in.
Yan glanced sideways. A bespectacled woman in a frilly Lolita dress was staring at him with sparkles practically popping over her head. Behind her bounced Lady Yua—no, wait, Student-Council Secretary Yua Lina—radiating energy.
"He's our student-council president! See, I told you!"
"Hss—those proportions, that face. Kid, model for my next book? I'll pay top yen~"
"Hold on—" Hitomi started, frowning.
Before she could scold the stranger for the lack of boundaries, the woman spun toward her, eyes still star-struck.
"Wow, you're gorgeous too! Be the heroine? You two would make the hottest couple ever."
"Eh?"
Hitomi's retort died mid-breath; a faint blush crawled across her cheeks.
Do we really look that good together?
Ahh, finally—someone with taste. That Nara girl keeps raining on my parade, but an unbiased third party sees the light.
Still, drawing us into a doujin is crossing the line... I'll let her down gently.
Before she could speak, Yua threw her arms around her, giggling.
"No way! Sakuramiya swore off romance when she enrolled. Super strict family—won't allow it, right, Sakuramiya?"
Yua, you just earned yourself a one-way ticket to academic Siberia.
Hitomi's smile never slipped, but her peripheral vision tracked Yan. He'd been looking at her—until Yua's declaration made him glance away.
Hmm. Maybe Yua's talents don't include reading the room.
A chill swept through Yua; she shivered, clueless to its source.
"Honestly, Parfait-nee, stop teasing! President, Vice-President, this is Parfait-nee—Sweet Parfait's her pen name. She's a pro illustrator in the vanilla circle. She's joking!"
"Am not! Hashimoto, don't slander me. Hi, kids, I'm Sweet Parfait. Real name: Miyake Huhu."
"Nice to meet you, Miyake-sensei."
Yan lifted one brow, smiled—and the charisma-buffed beam hit Miyake like a railgun. She gave a resolute thumbs-up.
"I'm drawing you, kid. It's destiny."
Behind her, a masked muscleman approached in silence. Tall, T-shirt stretched over sculpted arms, he stopped at Miyake's back, glanced at Yan, then at his girlfriend, and stepped between them, taking her hand.
"Who's this?" Hashimoto asked.
"Ah, Charcoal-sensei's back—he hit the restroom. Charcoal's Parfait-nee's boyfriend. Real name: Arakawa Kyoji. He draws the hard-core stuff."
"...Hello."
Kyoji's voice was soft. After a polite nod, he retreated behind his mask.
Yan studied "Charcoal." The contrast was jarring—carnivore body, herbivore demeanor.
A deliberate mismatch?
"Also," Hashimoto added, "he's a popular fitness blogger. Couple hundred-thousand followers."
Miyake pinched her boyfriend's cheek, laughing.
"Don't look so shocked. He used to draw pure vanilla—sold like ice in winter. Almost starved. Then he switched to, well, cattle-themed content and blew up."
"Gotta eat, right? Online they call him the Bull King, but offline he's just a shy guy who sulks when I glance at other dudes."
Kyoji scratched the line where mask met skin, mumbling, "I'm not what the internet thinks."
Miyake patted his shoulder.
"People only see the mask. We know who we are."
Yan glanced at her, something shifting behind his eyes, and nodded.
"True enough."
Hitomi tilted her head. "President, Hashimoto—what's 'cattle-themed'?"
"..."
Both boys went eerily quiet.
They knew Charcoal's "Innocence Series" was legend; one search pulled up terabytes. The new volume was supposedly his magnum opus.
Yan met Hashimoto's gaze, transmitting a silent message:
Let's not explain that one.
Yan Huan: "Last time I did the talking. This round, you explain it to Sakuramiya."
Hashimoto: "Gah—President, just kill me now."
The moment Sakuramiya Hitomi behind them tilted her head with that tell-tale "I'm about to cross-examine you" look, Yan Huan's mind flashed to Tong Yingying holding up one finger—
"Hey, I've got an idea!"
He turned to Sakuramiya and gave an earnest shake of his head.
"No clue, Sakuramiya."
"...Really?"
She didn't press him; instead she turned to Hashimoto.
Hashimoto jabbed a thumb at his own chest and parroted, "Yeah, yeah, no idea, Vice-President."
"You're the one who introduced those two 'teachers,' and now you both 'don't know'?"
"......"
Hashimoto opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish, finger darting between Yan Huan and himself, face reddening the way it did whenever the school made him give a speech. Sakuramiya had already guessed what sort of "teachers" they were; she could only sigh and flick a look of exasperation at Hashimoto.
The President spends every day with this otaku—of course he's being a bad influence!
Sweet Parfait clapped her hands and beamed at the Yuanyue student-council group.
"Going to any panels? They've got a ton of guests today~. But nothing starts till noon. Want to swing by my booth first?"
Yua Lina's hand shot up.
"Me! Take me! Parfait-sis just showed me her new designs on her phone—gorgeous! She says she'll design an image for me!"
"I've got Shijo Ai's autograph session," Hashimoto declared, star-struck.
Ashley had already lapsed into zen mode: all she wanted was oden and somewhere to sit. When Parfait mentioned chairs, she nodded along.
Yan Huan glanced at his watch—nearly eleven-thirty.
"I'm meeting the friend who gave me the tickets. Hashimoto and I will head over there; we'll regroup at the main stage when the program starts."
Sakuramiya started to follow, but Yua Lina threw her arms around her from behind.
"Ehe~, Sakuramiya, let's design a bestie look together—it'll be amazing!"
Yeah, amazing—like sending you back to middle school for a do-over.
Yua Lina rubbed cheeks with Sakuramiya for a moment, then bounded off to steal Ashley's oden.
Sakuramiya opened her mouth again—just as Yan Huan lifted his phone to his ear.
"Auntie? Yes, I'm on my way now."
He tugged Hashimoto's backpack strap, looked back at her.
"Sakuramiya, we'll head off with Hashimoto. See you when the show starts."
"Pre—"
The word died on her tongue. Running after him now would be way too obvious.
"Hey, do you like your President?"
"Li—"
Sakuramiya froze, then turned to find Miyake Huhu adjusting her glasses and looking every inch the gossip.
Sakuramiya took a wary step back and cleared her throat.
"N-no."
"Hmm. Too bad. Yua Lina asked me to draw an illustration of the student council—said you two looked like a perfect couple. I was going to slip you a private copy, but if you're not into him..."
Sakuramiya's hand shot out and caught the artist's sleeve.
Under Miyake's gaze, Sakuramiya's cheeks flushed and her eyes slid away.
"A—A small sketch wouldn't... hurt."
"Relax. I won't tell the loud-mouthed Yua Lina."
They'd only just met, yet Miyake already had the girl's number.
So the President was answering an invitation from "Auntie," the same "ticket friend."
Conclusion: the woman on the phone was Bai Yi's mother.
Why does every outing turn into a tug-of-war over the President—first one girl, then the next, then some aunt?
Still, the council would regroup once the program began.
Surely nothing could go wrong in the next hour.
Sakuramiya told herself that.
"Yan—right?"
"Yep, that's me."
At the main-stage entrance a young woman spotted Yan Huan the moment he left Hashimoto. Tall and striking, he stood out even in a crowd.
She adjusted her glasses and ushered him inside.
"I'm Ji Lin, Bai Yi's agent. I'll take you backstage—Yiyi and her mom are waiting."
"Got it."
The stage spread out before them: a circular plaza capable of holding thousands already buzzing with early attendees, the outdoor photo space repurposed for the event.
Ji Lin led Yan Huan past the red tape marking "outer ring," through the seated "inner ring," then around the flank to backstage. Staff bustled everywhere.
They passed the media room—professional soundboard, one tech sipping coffee—then rows of prep rooms labeled with guest names and numbers.
"Ms. Ji, we need your signature on this form, and the director wants to double-check your schedule—over here a sec."
Ji Lin glanced back, then gave Yan Huan an apologetic smile.
"Head straight down—Room 113 is Yiyi and her mom. Name's on the door. Please don't wander into any other rooms. I'll be right back."
"Sure, thanks, sis."
"No worries."
As Ji Lin walked away, a black cat materialized on Yan Huan's shoulder.
"Yan Huan, did you hear that, meow?"
He looked down the corridor lined with doors and nodded.
"Yeah. Same ticking we heard before."
Tick-tock.
A phantom, water-drop rhythm echoed along the passage, draping the air in quiet pressure. Yan Huan exhaled and rolled his tired shoulder.
These Modifier hosts never rest.
He walked on. Room 113 sat at the far end; the neighboring doors no longer bore guest labels.
Before he reached it, a middle-aged woman's voice sliced the air.
"Ugh, I told you—this outfit is way too flirty! Change it, now!"
Bai Yi's unmistakable, honey-smooth voice answered.
"Mom! It's an anime expo. Ji-sis said the theme calls for something bolder. They showed you the promo poster and the director's notes—why won't you listen?"
"I don't care about your 'two-D, three-D' nonsense. No means no! Sharing the stage with those influencers is already a downgrade. You want to blend in with them? After everything we did to raise you up? Fine, then I'll have them give us a private room for nothing!"
"You don't understand anything, yet you keep barking orders. That's not what we meant at all."
"Then what do you mean? Still sulking because I wouldn't let you sing this morning?"
"I'm not sulking!"
"Oh, really?"
Silence. Then soft sobs—Bai Yi struggling for breath, crying in small, broken gasps.
Amid the tears, the steady tick-tock of phantom clocks.
Yan Huan leaned against the wall, eyes on nothing, listening.
Meow-chan stirred. "Meow?"
Only then did Yan Huan rouse himself.
He lifted his hand and, gently, knocked.
Knock-knock-knock.
"Who is it?"
Mrs. Zuo's voice still carried a trace of irritation.
Outside the door, Yan Huan's face betrayed no emotion, yet his voice curled with warmth. "It's me, Auntie."
"Xiao Huan?"
Silence stretched for a moment, then her tone softened. Footsteps approached, and the door swung open to reveal a spacious room with a makeup mirror at the far end.
Mrs. Zuo stood in the doorway, facing Yan Huan wearing his mask of Perfect Expression Management. His smile was bright, his gaze seeming to rest on her while instantly locking onto the girl seated at the makeup mirror across the room.
He withdrew his eyes at once and addressed the middle-aged woman before him. "It's me, Auntie. I've come for Bai Yi."