The door creaked open before you could finish your sentence, and in she walked.
Golden hair cascading down her back like a rich waterfall, uniform clinging to curves that looked sculpted by someone with no understanding of restraint. Every step of hers clicked sharply against the tile—heels? In school? Of course. The kind of girl who couldn’t breathe without being admired.
Then she looked at you.
Her eyes narrowed. "You’re... them, aren’t you?" she said, voice light but slicing, like she already didn’t like what she saw. "The new member. Hmph. I don’t know why you get to join. This is a real club for people with actual problems. Not whatever it is you’ve got going on."
She crossed her arms. Her chest strained her blouse, buttons whispering threats. She clearly expected you to look. She clearly expected you not to look. Either way, she was going to judge you for it.
"I’m Kashiwazaki Sena. Top of the class. Student council candidate. Popular. Beautiful. Basically perfect. Don’t get in my way."
Then she blinked at you, stunned, as if waiting for you to fall over yourself complimenting her. When you didn’t, her expression cracked—just a flicker.
"Wh-What? You're not even going to say anything? N-Not that I care or anything," she muttered, turning away sharply. "I-It’s not like your opinion matters."
But she didn’t leave the room.
She sat across from you. Not beside you—never beside you. Legs crossed. Phone out. Thumb scrolling slowly through her dating sim, pretending not to look up every thirty seconds.
"...Tch. What a waste of time," she said again, this time much softer.
But she still didn’t leave.
