076. President, You’re About to Get Played!

"Have you rested enough? If so, hurry up and get out. I'll do a final check before locking up," Natsukawa Kanade said with a sharp edge to his tone, his brows twitching as he noticed Fujiwara Chika casually stuffing his handkerchief into her pocket.

It was just a handkerchief, sure, but something about her taking it without so much as a word felt... off.

You'd better not be planning to use it for some weird curse ritual, he thought, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Alright, alright! Geez, President, you're such a nag..." Fujiwara pouted dramatically, standing up with deliberate slowness as she brushed nonexistent dust from her skirt. "Ah, what a fulfilling day of hard labor this has been!"

Kanade raised an eyebrow but said nothing, returning to his task of counting the equipment on the inventory list.

Moments later, Fujiwara appeared at his side, her expression mischievous as she leaned in close. "President! I've got good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"

Kanade didn't even look up. "The good news."

"The good news is... I brought my phone with me today! And it still has battery life!"

"Uh-huh. And what's the bad news?"

"You idiot! You're supposed to be impressed by the good news first!" Fujiwara huffed, snatching up a roll of paper and giving him a series of light whacks on the head.

Kanade sighed, utterly unfazed. "So, what's the bad news?"

With a smug grin, she crossed her arms and declared, "The bad news is... we're trapped in the warehouse! The door's locked!"

Kanade finally turned to face her, narrowing his eyes as he studied her demeanor. She stood with puffed-up cheeks, arms akimbo, and her mouth twisted into an exaggerated pout. There wasn't an ounce of panic in her, nor the gleeful satisfaction that might accompany a prank gone right.

"...You're serious?"

"Of course, I'm serious!"

Kanade set his clipboard aside and walked over to the door. Sure enough, it was locked tight. After several attempts to push, pull, and even pry it open with random tools, he had no choice but to accept the reality: they were trapped.

"Looks like the wind must've shut the door, or maybe some 'helpful' passerby accidentally locked us in," Kanade muttered.

Thankfully, Fujiwara wasn't entirely useless—she had her phone. All they needed to do was call someone to let them out. Simple.

"Fujiwara, contact someone. Anyone will do. Just ask them to come unlock the door."

She hesitated, grinning mischievously. "Hehehe... I could do that, President, but where's the fun in that? How about this? Shout 'Long live Lord Fujiwara!' a few times, and I might consider it."

Kanade gave her a flat look. "Great idea. I've decided to spend the night here. Do as you please."

He turned back to the equipment list, wholly uninterested in entertaining her antics. Fujiwara stomped her foot in frustration.

"Damn it! Shouldn't you be groveling at a time like this?! You've changed, President! You're such a pig-headed jerk!"

"Fujiwara, do you not feel how unbearably hot it is in here?" Kanade sighed, gesturing to the stiflingly stuffy room. The warehouse felt like an oven, with thick layers of dust swirling through the air and attacking his sinuses.

"Fine, fine! I'll do it!" Fujiwara grumbled, pulling out her phone and fiddling with it.

But after a few moments of poking at the screen, her triumphant expression fell.

"Uh... President?"

"What now?"

"There's no signal."

Kanade frowned. "What?"

"No signal!" she repeated, holding the phone up as proof.

Kanade stared at the screen, utterly speechless. Of all the things that could've gone wrong, the lack of cell reception wasn't even on his radar.

"Well, that's inconvenient," he muttered. But it wasn't insurmountable. "Give me the phone. I'll see if I can find a spot with signal."

He took the phone and walked the length of the warehouse, holding it up at various angles. Nothing. No bars, no hope.

Kanade's eyes shifted to the window, an idea forming in his mind. He turned to Fujiwara, who was eyeing him warily.

"See that window?" he said, pointing toward it. "There's a chance you might get a signal if you stand on a chair and raise the phone higher."

Fujiwara immediately folded her arms across her chest, her cheeks flushing. "President, w-what are you planning? Don't get any weird ideas! This kind of dirty place is absolutely off-limits!"

Kanade groaned, rolling his eyes. "What nonsense are you thinking? I'll hold the chair steady so you don't fall, you idiot."

Fujiwara hesitated, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Why don't you just do it yourself? Are you planning to peek or something?"

"I don't trust you not to topple over. And if you're going to keep spewing nonsense, I'll let you handle it alone!"

"Fine, fine!" Fujiwara stuck her tongue out at him before climbing onto the chair.

Kanade steadied it, muttering under his breath, "Infuriating..."

Natsukawa Kanade's patience was wearing thin. Fujiwara Chika's antics were as endless as the summer heat that clung to the air like an oppressive blanket.

"Mom said boys shouldn't move too fast," she teased, her grin mischievous as she hopped onto the chair without waiting for his response.

Kanade groaned inwardly. Infuriating. He swore this girl existed solely to test the limits of his sanity. If he survived this ordeal, he'd bury her in so much work she wouldn't have the energy to pull another stunt for the rest of her life.

"Eh… um… hold on a sec…" Chika wobbled precariously on the chair, her phone raised high in search of a signal.

"How is it? Can you get anything?" Kanade asked, trying to suppress his mounting frustration.

"Not yet. Maybe if I tiptoe…" she murmured, teetering dangerously.

"Don't push yourself! If you're going to fall, let me—" Before he could finish, the inevitable happened. Chika lost her balance and tumbled backward.

"Fujiwara!"

Kanade's reflexes kicked in, and he darted forward, catching her just in time. Unfortunately, the force sent him sprawling backward, landing hard on the dusty warehouse floor with Chika securely in his arms.

"Ah…" Kanade hissed as pain shot through his back. The rough, scorching floor felt like sandpaper against his skin, but he clenched his jaw to keep from yelling.

"President?! Are you okay?" Chika scrambled to her senses, realizing she wasn't sprawled out on the floor as she had expected. Instead, she was nestled in Kanade's arms, his face twisted in discomfort.

"I'm fine," he lied, his teeth gritted. The dull ache in his back begged to differ.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… It's my fault," Chika said hurriedly, guilt evident in her wide, teary eyes.

"You…" Kanade started, but the weight of her body pressing against him made it difficult to concentrate. "Get off me first."

Chika's cheeks turned crimson as she registered their position. "Oh! Sorry!" She leaped up and quickly helped him sit up, her movements jittery with embarrassment.

"Let me see if you're hurt!" she demanded, concern overriding her usual playful demeanor.

"It's nothing serious…" Kanade muttered, but Chika wasn't having it.

"Don't be stubborn!" she scolded, hands on her hips. "Turn around and lift your shirt. Now!"

Kanade hesitated, then complied, wincing slightly as he pulled his shirt up to reveal his back.

"Ah! You're bleeding!" Chika exclaimed, her voice tinged with panic.

Kanade glanced over his shoulder. The skin on his back was scratched and raw, the result of sliding against the gritty floor. It wasn't severe, but it was enough to make him regret not letting Chika fall on her own.

"It's just a scrape…"

"Scrape or not, it needs to be cleaned and treated!" Chika declared with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Stay here. I'll find something to help!"

Before Kanade could protest, she darted off, rummaging through the storage shelves. Moments later, she returned triumphantly, her arms laden with a bottle of iodine, cotton swabs, and an absurdly large roll of gauze.

"Where did you even find this stuff?" Kanade asked incredulously.

"Shh! Don't question my methods. Now hold still!" Chika ordered as she knelt behind him.

Kanade let out a sigh, resigning himself to his fate.

"I'll wipe the blood off first. It might sting a bit, so try not to cry," Chika added, a teasing glint in her eye.

"Where did you come from, an overzealous school nurse?" Kanade muttered, shaking his head. Her sudden burst of maternal energy was both unexpected and mildly unsettling.

Chika ignored his jab, focusing intently on her task. She dabbed the cotton swab against his back with surprising care, her movements precise and deliberate.

Kanade winced as the iodine stung his scraped skin, but he couldn't help but notice her unusual seriousness. For once, Fujiwara Chika wasn't treating this like a game.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally finished cleaning the bloodstains. "Alright, now for the wrapping!" she announced with enthusiasm, picking up the gauze and beginning her masterpiece.

"I'm not an ancient pharaoh," Kanade deadpanned, watching as she wrapped him layer after layer. "Is all of this really necessary?"

"Of course! What if the bandages come loose and your wound gets infected?" Chika said with exaggerated concern. "I can't let my dear president suffer, can I?"

Kanade sighed. "At this rate, you're going to turn me into a mummy."

"Better safe than sorry!" Chika replied with a grin. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, her expression brightened mischievously.

"Oh, right! You won't be able to bathe properly like this…" she mused, her tone laced with faux innocence. "How about I come over tonight and help wash your back?"

"Nope. Absolutely not," Kanade shot back immediately, his voice firm.

"But why not? It's the least I can do!" Chika pouted, tilting her head like a disappointed puppy.

Kanade resisted the urge to groan. She's relentless. "Because it's just a scratch. I'll manage on my own."

Chika stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing. Then, as if giving up, she heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fine, but don't come crying to me if you mess it up!"

Kanade barely suppressed a shiver of relief. But as the air in the warehouse grew more stifling, and his school uniform lay discarded nearby, he noticed Chika's gaze had shifted.

She was staring. No, more like inspecting.

Her eyes fixated on his exposed torso—specifically his abs. A spark of mischief danced in her eyes.

Uh-oh.

Before he could react, Chika's icy-cold hands darted forward, pressing against his stomach.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Kanade yelped, recoiling from the sudden chill.

"Oh, don't be shy, President!" Chika teased, her grin widening as she climbed onto his lap, pinning him in place. "You've got great abs, by the way. It'd be a shame not to appreciate them up close."

Kanade's face burned with a mix of embarrassment and exasperation. "Get off me! This isn't—"

"Kukuku!" Chika interrupted, leaning in closer with a maniacal laugh. "You're mine now, President. Offer your body to me as my precious research material!"

Kanade froze, staring at her in utter disbelief. "What kind of ridiculous villain monologue is this?!"

She ignored him, her playful grin bordering on diabolical as she leaned in even closer.

Someone save me from this madness! Kanade thought, his mind racing for an escape. But Chika was unrelenting, her presence overwhelming as she pressed him against the wall.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Kanade stammered, trying to squirm free.

Just when it seemed like Chika's antics would escalate further, salvation arrived in the form of approaching footsteps.

The warehouse door creaked open, revealing a stunned visitor who froze at the sight before them.

There they were: Chika on top, Kanade pinned beneath her, both flushed and disheveled, sweat trickling down their faces.

The silence was deafening.

"…This isn't what it looks like," Kanade finally managed, his voice weak.

But the damage was already done.