Yeah, We're Really Close
I'd never done professional accounting work like this in my life. Handling it, though, wasn't hard.
It's just like studying.
I took what I'd learned from one document and applied it straight to the next, then organized the new information that surfaced along the way into something systematic. After running through that cycle a few times, the mountain of paperwork that had looked so impossibly complicated started to feel like an exam sheet — the same rules, repeating over and over.
A light came back into Lee Sae-ah's eyes as she reviewed the finished work.
"I believe I've more than proven my ability. What's the verdict?"
"I've confirmed your capabilities thoroughly. Quite impressive."
After that, Lee Sae-ah spoke offhandedly as she organized the documents.
"I hereby appoint you as the student council's secretary and accountant. That does not, of course, mean I intend to dump every task on you. The work will be divided evenly, so you may rest easy."
Nice. I'd just pulled off something huge.
I was still celebrating on the inside when Lee Sae-ah continued in the same even tone.
"However. Should you commit any act that diminishes the dignity of the student council, you will be expelled immediately. Is that understood?"
On the surface, it sounded like something she was saying for the student council's sake. Having read the original story, though, I could see straight through to what she really meant.
This was her driving a stake into the ground ahead of time — making sure I couldn't get away with any delinquent behavior.
She despised delinquents with a passion. The reason why had remained an unresolved plot hook right to the very end, so I had no way of knowing.
Not that it mattered. I wouldn't do anything like that even if I died and came back to life.
"Sounds good. I look forward to working with you."
I held out my hand and offered a handshake.
Lee Sae-ah stared at my outstretched hand in silence for a moment.
"Yes. I look forward to working with you as well."
Then she carefully took my hand.
"Though I have no idea how long this will last."
The bell chimed through the classroom.
"That's it for class. Don't go slacking off just because midterms are over."
The greatest wall any student faces — fourth period — had finally conceded defeat.
Alice let out a long breath. Even for someone they called a genius, the wall of fourth period always loomed high. Well — she was hungry.
The more she used her brain, the more calories she burned, so Alice was always hungry. At least, that was what she told herself.
She stretched her arms out in a little reach, a tiny groan slipping out of her.
What was on the menu today?
Unlike schools in other regions, most of the schools in Academy City ran their own cafeterias. The quality varied from campus to campus, but overall it stayed decent — and the prices were low enough that an ordinary student could eat without thinking twice.
"Alice-cchi~! Let's go eat. I heard Course A has yakisoba bread today!"
"For real?! Let's go right now!"
"Alice's voice always gets louder the second anyone mentions food."
Heading to the cafeteria with her usual friends was always something she looked forward to — a little joy she never got tired of. Alice stood up with a wry smile.
And then a boy moving across the room caught her eye. Ryuzaki. He was carrying what looked like a lunchbox and a textbook, walking toward the classroom's back door.
Huh. Didn't he usually eat in the classroom?
The bathroom? No — why would anyone take a lunchbox and a textbook to the bathroom?
"Ryuzaki, where are you going?"
"Me? To eat. Enjoy your lunch."
That was all he said before he started walking again. She wanted to press him — eat where, exactly — but she never got the chance.
"Alice-cchi! What are you doing? If we don't hurry we'll be standing in line forever."
"Ah, yeah! Coming."
Her friends were calling. She had no choice but to swallow the question.
They were walking down the hallway together when one of them suddenly spoke up.
"Still, Alice-cchi, you've got guts. I can't believe you just talked to that guy."
"Huh?"
"I mean, honestly, he scares me. Unlike the other delinquents, he just gives off this... genuinely dangerous vibe, you know?"
Another friend clapped her hands in agreement.
"Oh, I get that. People say he's gotten a little nicer lately, but I honestly don't buy it. Feels like he's got some ulterior motive."
The conversation drifted, as these things do, toward tearing Ryuzaki down.
It soured her mood, just a little. She didn't let it show, of course.
"Alice-cchi, are you close with him? That could be dangerous, so maybe you should stop around here..."
Were they close? The Alice of a few days ago would have shut that down without hesitation. They'd only met recently, after all. And coldly speaking, getting close to him was a serious risk to her image.
The old Alice would have said exactly that.
But...
"Right now... I just like studying."
After hearing a confession that honest — how could she possibly say otherwise?
"We're only saying this because we're worried about you, Alice-cchi—"
"Yeah."
"...What?"
Her friends' faces went stiff all at once.
Even so. Right now, that was what she wanted to say.
Lunch period. The place I headed for was the student council room — the very place I'd earned yesterday by proving myself.
It's quiet here.
Eating in the classroom always made me uncomfortable. The other students kept stealing glances. Now I could enjoy lunch without anyone watching. That was the idea, anyway.
I opened the door with a lighter heart.
And then I stopped.
Lee Sae-ah was there. Our president, staring at me with a look of complete shock. She had been in the middle of her meal.
"Hic."
She startled so hard she hiccuped, then hurriedly tried to hide her lunchbox. It was a little funny.
I did not laugh, of course. Laugh, and I might get thrown out.
"Sorry. I thought no one was here, so I didn't knock."
"...Please be more careful next, hic."
"Please don't force yourself to talk."
I gave a small bow and moved to sit. Not right beside her, but not too far away either. Sit too far and she might take it the wrong way. Sit too close and — well, we weren't that kind of close.
This felt about right. Not so near it was familiar, not so distant it was awkward.
I slid my water bottle toward her. It glided across the desk and came to a stop right in front of her.
Watching her hiccup had been a little pitiful. And technically, I was the one who'd caused it.
She dipped her head slightly and took a few small sips.
So she eats here too.
The fact that Lee Sae-ah ate alone didn't surprise me. In the original story, she'd been written as someone with almost no friends — quietly discriminated against for being the only Korean, or something to that effect.
A petty, contextless reason. And yet it made a strange kind of sense. In my previous life, people had been ignored and shut out over reasons just as stupid. I knew because I'd lived it. This place wouldn't be any different.
The bottle slid back.
"Thank you."
The hiccups seemed to have stopped. The bottle, on the other hand, was a lot lighter than before.
That was fine. I was never much of a water-with-meals person anyway.
"I should explain the internal student council rules I was unable to cover yesterday."
She launched into the regulations out of nowhere, clearly eager to change the subject. I had no intention of making her any more uncomfortable. I just nodded and listened.
"Cleaning is handled on rotation."
"Yes."
"In particular, the leaking of students' personal information is strictly prohibited. And..."
I unpacked my lunch while I listened.
Shredded cabbage. Chicken breast. White bread on the verge of expiring. A smear of ketchup.
A familiar meal. One I'd eaten often in my previous life, back when I had absolutely nothing to my name. I wasn't broke now, but I needed to save whenever I could. It wouldn't be strange if I got kicked out of the house today. I needed a nest egg.
"And this is work due tomorrow. Please have it on my desk by tomorrow morning."
"Yes."
I took the stack of documents from her, and my eyes drifted, without meaning to, toward her lunchbox.
Steamed rice. Stir-fried sausage and vegetables. Pan-fried tofu. Furikake seasoning and a pickled umeboshi plum.
Filling, but not exactly lavish. As far as I knew, Lee Sae-ah's circumstances weren't that comfortable either. There had been a setting about her working a part-time job — though what she actually did was never revealed.
"Would you like some?"
"Pardon?"
Lee Sae-ah was looking straight at me.
"You've been staring at my lunch for some time. I assumed you wanted it. Was I mistaken?"
Ah. So she'd noticed. I hadn't even been coveting it.
I scratched the back of my head and mumbled something noncommittal.
"I was just, well... it looked good, that's all."
Something slid across the desk toward me.
A side-dish container. A little sausage, a little pan-fried tofu.
"Do not misunderstand. This is merely repayment for the water you offered. And if you keep staring like that, I cannot eat in peace. I am reasonably full as it is, so you may have it."
I hadn't said a word, and she still rattled off a machine-gun burst of reasons.
Whatever else she was, I could tell she hated being in anyone's debt.
My kind of person.
"Thank you. I'll enjoy it."
"Yes."
Thanks to that, my bleak little lunch got a bit of life in it. I bowed my head slightly in thanks, glanced over the documents, and started eating.
There was no conversation, of course. Just the quiet sound of utensils and, now and then, the rustle of a turning page.
A strangely comfortable silence. The way it always was.
"President."
"Yes. Go ahead."
"I finished the work you assigned. I'll leave it here."
"..."
"The third page is short one supporting document. Just so you know."
I set the organized papers down quietly beside her. Lee Sae-ah blinked once or twice, then nodded as if nothing unusual had happened. She couldn't quite hide the way her eyes trembled, though.
"...I'll review it later."
"Also — this. The tofu's a little salty."
"If you intend to complain about the side dishes, return them at once."
"I'm kidding. Kidding. It's good."
I chuckled under my breath and took a bite of the pan-fried tofu she'd shared.
"And I can feel the care that went into this lunch, too."
I said it to smooth over any offense the joke might have caused. And to put into words something genuine I'd been feeling in a corner of my heart.
For a moment, a crack I'd never seen before flickered across the expressionless mask she always wore. The hand that had been reaching for her lunchbox with her chopsticks went still — just for a second.
But only for a second.
She moved her chopsticks again, as if nothing had happened.
...What was that.
Did I say something wrong?