AT school the next day, I felt a barrage of stares from all sides. Some of the bolder students even spoke about me loud enough for me to overhear. The chatter was particularly pronounced among the Corporate Legacy students—maybe gossiping was part of their makeup, or they saw Sakurazaka’s misfortune as a chance to gain something for themselves. The two toadies had probably targeted these students first in spreading their rumors. But even amidst the undercurrent of gossip, I was surprised to find a non-negligible faction of individuals who rose above and chose not to engage in such pettiness.
“Shannon. Compile a report on the various reactions and send it to Lady Shizuki. She may find the information useful,” I instructed while walking.
She muttered an acknowledgement and began tapping away at her phone.
What is she doing? Probably not noting down every reaction individually. Then what? Delegating the task to fellow Sakurazaka plants or using hidden cameras to record the situation?
“I’m doing both, milady.”
“Please don’t read my mind like that.”
“I did nothing of the sort. It’s your expression that gives you away. You would have recognized the same had you seen the look on your face.”
I didn’t think so, but decided to let the matter drop. Shannon was Shizuki’s right-hand woman, a walking reminder of the caliber of person Shizuki surrounded herself with. Another reminder of the expectations I now had to live up to as her younger sister.
Such were the thoughts on my mind as we reached the classroom. As I crossed the threshold, all eyes turned toward me. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but the feeling wasn’t at all more hostile than usual. Perhaps I thought the general students would find me even less palatable after the rumors, but I felt none of that.
As I scanned the room, my gaze met Nonoka’s; she looked concerned, to my surprise. Or perhaps it shouldn’t surprise me, because she was the heroine of an otome game—she who showed empathy to even her enemies. Still, I was the villainess, and such sentimentality wasn’t afforded me. I averted my gaze with a deliberate, scornful swiftness, as if to say, “Save your sympathy,” and settled into my seat. I pulled out a book, as was routine, but Rikka approached before I could settle into it.
“Ms. Rikka,” I greeted, a veneer of politeness in my tone, “I trust the day finds you well?”
“Hello, Ms. Mio. Yes, it does, thankfully. And yourself? May I hope the same for you?” Her greeting carried the slightest hint of sympathy, eliciting a sardonic chuckle from me.
“Yes, well, I could certainly be faring better, but I won’t complain.”
“Could be faring better…” she barely mumbled. Then, her expression fell all at once. “I must assure you: I played no part in these rumors.”
“You believe me so readily?” There was genuine relief in my words, and it seemed to take Rikka aback. “In all honesty, Ms. Rikka, you were under my suspicion. But if you must know, I felt this level of work beneath you. I couldn’t envision you leaving a trail back to yourself, or stooping to use intermediaries when you could claim the victory openly.”
Most villainesses, as far as the trope went, often delegated their dirty work to their underlings. Yet such methods were inherently flawed, often traceable back to them, with predictable repercussions. Shizuki, on the other hand, was hardly “most villainesses.” She didn’t rely on her personal entourage for her schemes; she maneuvered unseen players, ensuring she remained untainted by any fallout. And on the contrary, if she wanted her handiwork to be known, she would have boldly declared her role instead of cowering behind Sayaka and Asuka. Rikka and Shizuki were cut from the same cloth, which made me believe the absence of such a declaration affirmed her innocence.
“I am already aware of the real perpetrator,” I revealed. “However, I am curious, Ms. Rikka, about your stance on the situation.” My words were loaded, the real question—Will you publicly express your disapproval?—hanging unsaid.
“As a Yukishiro, my official position is to observe,” she responded, a mask of neutrality.
“So, you won’t intervene?”
“While the method was undeniably crude, I cannot condemn the actions outright. As, in a way, I instigated it. Of course, their method deviates from my intention, but my hands are tied.”
Ah, the “deed or gesture of similar or higher merit.” I’d almost forgotten about that. So, this was Sayaka and Asuka’s motivation. Clearly, the hurdle of ranking in the top fifty had been too high and they’d opted to undermine me instead as a way of fulfilling Rikka’s proposition.
Rikka then offered me a smile. “Personally, however, you have my full support.”
“Thank you, Ms. Rikka. That means more than you might realize.”
“Curious. I assumed this would’ve been the perfect segue for you to seek my assistance.”
“Oh? And you would offer it, just like that?”
“Should the agreement we come to prove mutually advantageous,” she replied, a light giggle escaping her.
I couldn’t help but smile either. So much for being neutral, Rikka. “Thank you, but your promise of support is help enough.”
“Is that so? Then, I shall eagerly watch how you navigate this predicament and reclaim your standing.”
“Then I’m afraid I may disappoint already, for I don’t think I ever said I was in a predicament? In fact, I’m rather grateful to them.”
Rikka’s expression faltered into confusion. “But… What?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” Right on cue, the student guidance counselor entered. “Perhaps sooner than you expect.
I looked in Asuka’s direction, catching her smirk as she mistook the counselor’s arrival as my downfall. Little did she know…
“Azumaji, Saionji. See me in the student guidance office, immediately.”
Sayaka and Asuka blinked in surprise. A wave of whispers surged through the classroom, a collective murmur of disbelief: “Not Mio?”
Sayaka shook herself free from her stupor first. “Wh-Why us?”
Asuka followed suit. “Exactly! What grounds do you have to call upon us?”
The counselor responded with icy detachment, “Does inappropriate behavior—maligning a fellow student with baseless claims, ring a bell?”
A fresh ripple of murmurs washed over the class. Embedded within these whispers was a prevailing theory—a conjecture that I, somehow, manipulated the school’s authority to quash the rumors. Sayaka was quick to protest.
“Baseless? I’ve spoken nothing but the truth!”
“Exactly!” followed Asuka. “We verified everything about Mio’s background!”
In their loud, unequivocal outbursts, Sayaka and Asuka unwittingly confessed to their deeds—exactly as Shizuki had predicted. It was almost eery how the situation played out exactly as she’d described, to the letter. Now, if the script continued to hold true, it was my time to act.
With a flamboyant sweep of my hand through my hair, I let out a measured chuckle.
Sayaka bristled immediately. “Wh-What’s so amusing?”
Feigning an air of aristocratic nonchalance, I replied, “Oh, my apologies. It’s just that your attempts to unearth dirt on me were so crudely executed, I couldn’t help but find humor in it.”
“Excuse me?!” Asuka squeaked in indignation. She and Sayaka glared at me as if trying to pierce my soul with their stares.
Shrugging them off, I turned to the counselor. “Would it be too much to ask to explain their misdeeds to them, right here, right now?”
“I don’t mind if you don’t, revealing your family’s secrets,” he responded.
“Not at all. I’ve sought and received permission beforehand.”
“Then by all means.”
I thanked the counselor, bobbed a curtsy, and turned back to face Sayaka and Asuka. “Let’s clarify the matter from its conclusion. My mother is the daughter of a disowned Sakurazaka male. In other words, true Sakurazaka blood runs in my veins.”
“She’s lying!” Sayaka’s screech pierced the air, her predictability like music to my ears. “You falsified your identity! Your last name is Sato, we made sure to find out!”
“Ms. Sayaka,” I replied with feigned indignation, “you misunderstand. I have never once fabricated my identity.”
“Then what about the name Sato?!”
“Simply the surname I bore prior to my adoption.”
“There! She admits it! Sakurazaka isn’t even her true last name!”
I shook my head theatrically, as if to say, just what does this girl think she’s saying? Seeing this, the counselor interjected. “Saionji. Her mother married a Sato. She’s a Sakurazaka by birth.”
Sayaka’s jaw hinged open. “What?”
Seeing her confusion, I realized she needed the answer spelled out for her. “My mother married a commoner and took his name to avoid any potential complications. What, I ask, is so implausible about that?”
“What? No! That can’t be true!” Sayaka’s denial was feeble, betraying her dawning realization of her error.
“The facts stand as Sakurazaka has stated,” the counselor added, lending his authority to my claim. “The school can attest it obliged to a request to maintain privacy regarding her family situation.”
With the counselor’s support, public opinion visibly shifted in my favor. Seizing the moment, I continued—it was time to put Sayaka and Asuka out of their misery. “Indeed. While my records had never been tampered with, my grandfather’s had. But that is the sort of minor detail that gets overlooked in hasty investigations, isn’t it?”
I drove my closing statement home with another dramatic sweep of my hair. A portion of the class—they who recognized this as the inevitable fate of all those who dared challenge a Sakurazaka—looked on in blank horror. Approaching Sayaka and Asuka, now mute and visibly defeated, I leaned in close. “Don’t look so downtrodden,” I whispered, my voice a venomous hiss. “Admirable effort on your part, truly. Pity, though, that you tangled with a girl just a tad more devious than yourselves.”
They crumbled under the weight of my smile, a practiced blend of triumph and disdain.