Makoto's time abroad is classified?

"Kowai!" I called out to my personal maid, who followed me faithfully like a shadow.

"Yes, Akira-sama?" she responded in her usual soft, almost whispered tone, her posture as rigid as ever.

"I need tabs on everything Makoto does today. Infact, everything from his return from abroad until what he's do this evening—understood?" My tone was firm, commanding.

But Kowai, ever the overachiever, responded without missing a beat:

"I've already done that, Akira-sama."

Why?!

To my shock, she produced a small stack of documents and photographs, neatly organized and, frankly, alarming.

"Uhm, Kowai, you realize that's called stalking, right?" I muttered, my brows furrowing as I stared at her.

Her face blanched at my words, she froze, but remained silent.

Well, if she wasn't going to defend herself, I might as well make use of her disturbing talents.

Taking the documents, I turned and strode toward my classroom.

For the record, Kowai and I being in separate classes wasn't some random coincidence. Oh no, I'd ensured it. While her loyalty was commendable, her unrelenting intensity could be downright unnerving. I couldn't have her lurking in every corner of my life.

The school hallway buzzed as I passed through, with students turning to whisper and steal glances my way. Their hushed praises and admiring gazes fueled my ego.

Yes, bask in my presence, extras. You're truly blessed to witness me, to live in the same era as me.

...

Upon entering my classroom, I made a beeline for my desk and sat down with the documents in hand.

Kukuku... Hahahaha!

(P.S. This is Akira's evil laugh)

The sound of my sinister plotting echoed in my mind. Soon, Makoto Murasame would be reduced to groveling at my feet, a pitiful warthog begging for scraps.

Before I could plunge into my delicious scheming, the teacher's voice cut through the air:

"Everyone, sit down. It's time for Classical Literature."

Ugh, timing! I reluctantly slid the documents into my bag.

…What? My studies come first right now!

How can I hope to command respect and crush my enemies if I'm not properly educated? Even I know that stepping on authority requires a certain level of refinement.

I adjusted myself in my seat, a queen temporarily humbled, and turned my attention to the lesson. For now.

*

Break time was in full swing, and I decided to indulge in my meticulously prepared lunch. I lounged in the heart of the school garden, the koi pond glimmering under the midday sun, surrounded by students of all shapes and sizes—my ever-dedicated fan club.

One girl stood to my right, fanning me gently with a hand fan embossed with cherry blossoms. Another knelt behind me, her hands expertly kneading my shoulders. Yet another leaned forward, holding a pair of chopsticks as she attempted to feed me.

Mh-mm! Life truly is beautiful.

But, about Makoto…

Earlier, during class, I had skimmed through the overly detailed information Kowai had procured. Her intel was disturbingly thorough, though a few blanks remained.

One thing was clear: Makoto was slightly equal to me in self-absorption and conceit.

He seemed infatuated with himself, practically worshiping his reflection. His belief that he was some sort of "handsome god" was laughable—though not entirely unfounded.

He was good-looking, but honestly, who just sings praises about themselves like that?

Well, I do. But I only state facts.

The documents painted a picture of someone very athletic, with a passion for training and gym routines. His exploits overseas were, unfortunately, cloaked in mystery—confidential, even. I couldn't blame Kowai… entirely; the fact that she had uncovered as much as she did was already toeing the line between intel gathering and criminal behavior.

She even managed to get details about his schedule for this evening. I knew I had told her to, but it still unnerved me slightly.

Wait… I'm safe around Kowai, right?

"Hey! You're touching Akira-sama weirdly!" Hinata's sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

The girl massaging my shoulders flinched and quickly apologized.

Hinata, my self-appointed bodyguard and one of the ten(?) executives of my fan-club, stood to my left, arms crossed. Her dark eyes and dark, short hair framed a face perpetually set in a stern expression, giving her the air of a disciplinary committee member. Ever since I 'accidentally' stepped on her in grade school, she'd revered me like a deity.

(P.S. She literally just stepped on her)

Most people would hate you for something like that, yes?

But not Hinata.

I had to admit, her unwavering loyalty had its perks:

A man once approached me with what I was sure was murderous intent—though, in hindsight, he was just a salesman handing out flyers. And maybe he really was, but still, Hinata had taken him down with a single well-placed strike.

She got in trouble, though.

Despite her slim build, she was incredibly strong. A quiet, unassuming force of nature.

"Akira-sama, I was invited to join the Disciplinary Committee today," Hinata announced with a small smile, as though reading my mind.

I arched a brow. While I believed myself to be stronger than most teenagers, Hinata might be an exception. I'd have to keep her close. After all, my enemy—a certain brown-haired narcissist—could very well use her against me.

(This is a novel about narcissist calling each other narcissists!)

For now, though, I returned my attention to my lunch and the blissful adoration of my fan club.

Hana's POV – Break Time

What happened today was simply an error!

My plan was flawless; subtle, and a masterpiece of cunning, but that Oka had to show up right at that moment!

Despite the mortifying outcome, I still have countless opportunities to capture Makoto-sama's heart.

"Morgana!" I called out, my voice carrying the weight of authority.

My loyal bodyguard—butler—currently "disguised" in a boy's uniform, which I don't believe is deceiving anyone because of her feminine cuteness—for her undercover role—approached with her usual composed demeanor.

"Yes, Lady Hana," she responded, her tone deadpan and precise as always.

"I need every bit of intel you can get on—"

"On Makoto Murasame? Here it is," Morgana interrupted, handing over a neatly compiled dossier.

"..."

I was rendered speechless. To have someone so competent in my ranks was truly a blessing.

I sat regally in my classroom, which was two doors down from Akira's. A cluster of devoted admirers surrounded me, showering me with attention.

One was massaging my feet with meticulous care, another feeding me freshly washed, plump grapes one by one. Their devotion swarmed around me like moths drawn to an irresistible flame.

As it should be.

But about Makoto...

How did he manage to ignore me so thoroughly?

No, even funnier—how did he manage to ignore Akira?

Was he upset about something?

I opened the dossier Morgana had handed me, eager to delve into Makoto's world.

"Hana-sama, I'm sure Murasame will notice your charms soon!" chirped one of my fans, an I-never-asked-you cheerful girl brimming with misplaced encouragement.

Her words bruised my ego, though I kept my serene smile in place.

Of course he'll notice my charms! I don't need some clown-of-a-pawn spelling it out for me!

Still, if I were to say that out loud, she might cry and stop feeding me those delicious grapes. And I couldn't have that.

As I sifted through the documents, I was struck by an intriguing revelation. Makoto wasn't just handsome—he was self-aware, dangerously so.

Apparently, he believed himself to be the reincarnation of a god of beauty and good looks.

Well… he's not wrong. That's exactly what he is.

My gaze landed on a photo of Makoto, shirtless.

Magnificent… I hope I'm not drooling again!

But there were gaps in the information.

"Morgana?" I asked, my expression clouded with curiosity. "What about his time abroad? The details are missing."

Morgana closed her eyes briefly, her brow furrowing in regret.

"Forgive me, Lady Hana. I couldn't obtain that information. It's classified."

"Classified?" I echoed, narrowing my eyes. "Why? Was he involved in any military affair?"

"Yes. Before Murasame left Japan, he was determined to become stronger. While I can't confirm the details, it's not impossible that his time abroad involved military affairs, as you suggested."

Military… huh?

"Yay! Hana-chan's so smart!" another admirer chimed in, clearly impressed by my deductive reasoning.

I waved her off gracefully, my mind already racing.

Confidential or not, I need to know more about Makoto-sama's past. If I want to win his heart, I need to see him face to face.

And so, my next move began to take shape.

*