Rakuyoku High School—public, not elite, but a slope that makes average kids pant. Yun Shi had to push hard to get in, burning brain cells like moths to a lamp. But why does a school this ordinary keep birthing trouble, one incident after another?

About a month ago, campus order soured like milk left in rain. Rumors blew like dry leaves: outsiders slipping into the grounds. Security tightened its belt, yet the bad elements breezed in, bold as mid-summer thunder. Meetings piled up like stacked chairs; no cause found. They came like fog, left like shadows, and the law couldn’t catch smoke.

The intruders aimed straight at students. Whatever trick they used, some kids woke in the infirmary with their memories scooped clean. The case was strange as a snow lotus blooming in autumn. No one was hurt, but dignity is a blade; the school wouldn’t just swallow this. What, you think a campus is a marketplace you drift through at whim?

The Student Council ran itself ragged, patrolling the same spots till their feet felt like stone. Yet the infirmary’s “guests” didn’t thin. Parents’ worry spread like winter frost; leaves and transfers followed like geese taking flight. The principal’s headaches throbbed like temple drums.

Yun Shi knew the gist. She wasn’t worried for herself—the thought flickered cold as steel. If that pack of small-time scum laid a hand on her, they were courting a short life. She had roots in the Underworld; who’d dare test that?

And today, another victim: Mizuki. Yun Shi didn’t know her well—just that Sham had mentioned a classmate friend. She was also tied to Vice President Miyuki Kiseki. Heard they met through Sham. Maya Hanazaka probably knew her too; with a girl-lover like Maya, she wouldn’t ignore a cute face.

So, I’m the one with the worst social score, Yun Shi thought, the feeling heavy as damp fog.

Only Sham treats me warmly, and today Miyuki Kiseki manages courtesy. Today—because before this, we barely traded a word.

As for Maya Hanazaka, it’s daily sharp tongue and creative beatdowns (ahem). That doesn’t count as a bond; calling us “classmates” feels like stretching thin silk.

A silent sigh drifted through her like smoke.

Curiosity tugged at Yun Shi like a fishline when it came to Mizuki. With Miyuki Kiseki tight-faced, Maya grave as a storm front, and Sham restless like a caged sparrow, she walked with them toward the infirmary.

Just curious—don’t call it “something’s off.”

“Hey, you sissy, why are you tagging along?”

“What’s it to you? Shut your mouth.”

“Die, you sissy—believe I won’t break you?”

They reached the infirmary. Miyuki Kiseki ignored the bickering and shot to the bedside like an arrow loosed.

“Mizuki!”

“Mizuki!”

The girl on the bed turned at the call. Chestnut, shoulder-length hair spilled like soft bark; her delicate face held pure surprise.

So she’s Mizuki—first impression, a gentle, bookish type, a willow by the water, Yun Shi thought.

“Mizuki, are you okay? Anywhere hurting?”

The fun-loving Sham showed worry, warmth blooming like early spring. To be honest, it surprised Yun Shi.

And if someone showed me that look—how nice would that be…

“I’m sorry, Sham. I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

Her voice was soft, like a breeze over tea. She smiled and told her friends not to worry.

“Thank goodness. I was worried sick…” Sham let out a breath, tension melting like ice in sun. Give it a little time and he’d be back to his usual mischief.

“Um… Mizuki…” Miyuki Kiseki hesitated, tongue tying itself in a knot. Speak or not? The moment hung like a raindrop.

“Oh, Mizuki—sorry… I… can help with your investigation…” Mizuki’s words came with a shy tremor, like ripples in a pond.

“...I’m sorry, Mizuki. It’s the Student Council’s responsibility. Truly, I’m sorry…” Miyuki Kiseki’s apology fell like repeated bows.

“It’s not like that. I’m fine… I was careless; a man in black came from behind and—”

Awkward air pooled like stale water. The two girls kept bowing and apologizing, polite words stacked like folding fans. Compared to the warm friendship earlier (yuri vibes, anyone?), this was pure secondhand embarrassment. Are they really close?

“Hey, Mizuki, how long are you going to keep this up? Even the tea’s gone cold.”

“Oh—s-sorry! I, um, I…” Miyuki Kiseki’s tongue twisted like twine; no complete sentence came out.

“Uh, and this is…?” Mizuki finally noticed, besides Sham and Miyuki Kiseki, a teenage girl and a “boy” stood nearby. She tapped her chin with a pinky, cutesy as a cat.

“Hi. I’m Maya Hanazaka, Mizuki’s friend.”

“Yunshi Bianqi.”

Where Maya’s gaze sparkled like starry eyes, excited like a child finding a beloved toy, Yun Shi’s tone stayed cool, a pebble dropped in a well. That was generous for her; usually she didn’t bother with introductions.

“Mizuki’s friends, huh… how interesting. Hello. I’m Mizuki.” Mizuki’s smile was poised, like a garden under light rain—clearly raised with good manners, all debutante grace. Yun Shi’s taste leaned exactly that way; her favor rose like incense. She even wondered whether to try and “win this route.” Her face, though, stayed frost-calm.

“Hey, sissy, that’s not how you talk to a girl. Who taught you zero manners?”

“So noisy. You my mom, or just dumb?”

“What? You rotten sissy—say that again!”

“Idiot plus moron.”

“Yunshi Bianqi! I’ll kill you!”

Maya already disliked Yun Shi to the limit. One cold line lit her face blazing, reddening like a maple leaf—pure anger.

“Maya and Yunshi are pretty close, huh,” Mizuki said, teasing like sunlight through bamboo.

“Huh? Me and this ape? Not in eight lifetimes. What a cosmic joke!”

“No need to act shy. Girls in love never say what they mean.” Mizuki’s gossiping gaze flicked, sending out pure “I support you” energy. Clearly, a misunderstanding was blooming.

“Don’t you dare. I’m not into men at all! A sissy like him, even free, I’d chuck under Mount Fuji!”

Maya’s face didn’t know whether to be red or black. That line was her lifetime peak of fury.

“How irritating.” A vein pulsed on Yun Shi’s forehead, throbbing like a drum. She knew Maya didn’t like men and felt nothing for a girl-lover. But being insulted in front of others was another matter entirely. She was very. Not. Pleased. Damn it.

“Maya!!” Mizuki’s expression turned odd, the shock like thunder under silk. She caught the hint—Maya really was into girls. To keep it from exploding, Miyuki Kiseki brought a firm thunk down on Maya’s head.

“Ow—Mizuki, ow—” Maya clutched her crown, tears shimmering.

“Idiot. Who told you to be rude? I’m sorry, Mizuki. I’m sorry, Yunshi. Maya knows she was wrong.” Miyuki Kiseki kept bowing, apologies like falling leaves. Compared to Maya, Miyuki Kiseki was a hundred times cuter, Yun Shi judged, the thought smooth as jade.

“Hello? Am I invisible?” Sham tried to draw presence like chalk circles in a corner.

“Fine, apologizing to the adorable Mizuki is one thing, but why should I apologize to that sissy? I don’t ‘moe’ cross-dressers!”

“Zip it!”

“Uu—” Maya’s whine fluttered like a wilted petal.

Mizuki looked on, a little sweaty, at the clowning duo and the forgotten Sham scribbling circles in the corner. Are you here to clown or to visit a patient?

“Mizuki, late or not, I want to ask you something.” Yun Shi, the only one still steady, let her purpose fall like a stone into water.

“You said a man in black knocked you out, right? Any impression you can hold onto?”

Miyuki Kiseki paused her “training” of the pervy girl-lover. Not because of interest—because she finally remembered her job. Shame settled like dust. Having your work snatched from your hands stings.

“Uh… I’m not sure. I vaguely remember someone from behind covering my mouth and nose with something, and… then I woke up here.”

Just that? Yun Shi’s doubt thickened like fog over a river.

“Really that simple, Mizuki?”

“Didn’t see the culprit’s face? The method?” Sham and Mizuki asked together. Mizuki shook her head, nothing to offer.

“Damn it—who did this to a cute kid like Mizuki? If I find him, I’ll hack him into pieces, toss him to a pack of muscle bros—beep—and then—beep—” Maya’s words were knives; her expression was fire. Ignore the scary content and you might even nod.

“The path in is no big mystery. The question’s the why. What’s the gain?” Yun Shi’s voice cooled like night rain.

“Thought of anything, Yunshi?” Miyuki Kiseki asked, hope thin as mist.

“No. Tell me, Mizuki, isn’t this the Student Council’s case? You’re out of options too?” The line landed flat, a plank across a stream.

“..........” Silence pressed like snow.

“Got it. Bottom line—stay careful.” Yun Shi folded the moment like paper.

“I… I’m sorry…” Miyuki Kiseki’s apology was a wilted reed.

“You’ve said it plenty today. Too much, and it goes stale.” Yun Shi’s words were clean as a blade.

“.........” Mizuki bit her lip. She knew the truth. But beyond “I’m sorry,” what else could she do? Helpless pain seeped in like cold water. So many classmates dropped like felled bamboo, and as a member of the Student Council, she could do nothing. She resented it—the inability to save even a friend, watching her fall with empty hands, choking on comfort she couldn’t say, dodging what should be done like a shadow avoiding light.

Miyuki Kiseki had never felt so weak. In front of Yunshi Bianqi, she couldn’t muster one line of rebuttal. She couldn’t save everyone; she couldn’t save a friend. Strip it down, she was a hypocrite. The thought cut her like wind through thin silk.

Figures. Something about it’s off—like a shadow bending in still water.

Yun Shi couldn’t read Miyuki Kiseki’s heart, a locked garden after frost.

His mind stayed on his own troubles, thoughts circling like crows over a winter field.

Silence stretched thin, like frost on glass. “Yun…” Sham finally broke it, her voice a small flame.

Flustered like a sparrow, Mizuki waved both hands.

“I’m fine now; don’t worry about me,” she said, like a sparrow brushing dust from its wings.

Yun Shi stayed in his storm, face cold as stone.

“Sham,” he said, his tone flat as winter steel.

“Mm?” Her reply was a small fog of breath.

“The Underworld, right,” he asked, certainty hammered like a nail.

Though a question, his tone felt certain, like a drawn bow that won’t slack.

Sham went silent, shock rippling like cold rain.

She’d guessed it, yet truth stung like a hidden bee.

Miyuki Kiseki, Maya Hanazaka, and Mizuki didn’t know the word Underworld; to them it was a stone dropped into still water.

They only stared at the boy, eyes blank as mist, saying nothing.

But Sham and Yun Shi, born of the Underworld, knew its weight—iron in the blood.

Beneath the surface lies another world, a hidden layer, roots under earth—the true face, crowded with darkness and secret horrors.

That’s the road Yun Shi walks, a knife-edge path through a night that doesn’t end.

Every mirror has two faces; the back lies untouched, not for a reason, only because no hand needs it.

But sometimes life won’t let you steer; blood and conflict walk together, like twin shadows under a dying sun.