Chapter 6: The Princess Scandal

Saori's POV

The morning started like any other, with me walking into school, head held high, and ready to tackle the day. But the moment I reached the bulletin board near the entrance, I stopped dead in my tracks.

The board was plastered with photos and bold headlines, each more ridiculous than the last.

"Runaway Princess of Spain? The Truth Behind Saori Dolorez's Lies!"

"A Royal Escape: How She Fled a War-Torn Country!"

"Fluent in Japanese? Or Just Pretending?"

My stomach twisted as I scanned the articles. The photos were old—taken before I'd even arrived in Japan—but they'd been carefully edited to make me look suspicious, like I was hiding something.

What is this garbage?!

One article claimed I was a Spanish princess, shipped off to Japan by my "desperate royal parents" to escape a war. Another claimed I'd lied about being Italian and fluent in Japanese, saying I'd only learned the language because I "spent years hiding here before returning to my Spanish roots."

It was absurd. Ridiculous. Completely false.

And yet, students were already gathering around the board, whispering and pointing.

"Wait, she's Spanish, not Italian?"

"Why would she lie about something like that?"

"Do you think the war stuff is real?"

"She doesn't even have an accent! That's so fake!"

My face burned as I clenched my fists. "This has to be a joke," I muttered under my breath.

But it wasn't.

The whispers followed me all the way to the classroom. I could feel their stares, their judgment. It was like they'd already decided I was guilty of… something.

I slammed my bag down on my desk, my thoughts racing. Whoever was behind this had gone to great lengths to humiliate me.

And I had a pretty good idea who it was.

The reporters club.

It didn't take long to track down their leader, a second-year named Miho. She was sitting in the clubroom, lazily scrolling through her phone, when I barged in.

"Miho!" I snapped, slamming the door behind me. "What is the meaning of this?"

She didn't even look up. "The meaning of what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" I said, slamming one of the flyers onto the table. "This trash! Where did it come from?"

"Oh, that," she said, finally glancing at the flyer. "Yeah, we published that this morning. Great headline, huh?"

I stared at her, my blood boiling. "You can't just make up lies about people and post them all over the school!"

"Lies?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "We didn't make up anything. All our sources are legitimate."

"Sources? What sources?"

Before she could answer, the door creaked open, and Hana stepped inside, her usual cutesy smile plastered on her face.

"Saori-chan!" she said brightly. "What are you doing here?"

My jaw tightened. "You," I hissed.

Hana blinked, feigning innocence. "Me? What did I do?"

"You're behind this, aren't you?" I said, pointing at her. "This whole smear campaign—it has your fingerprints all over it!"

Hana's eyes widened, and she clasped her hands together like a frightened child. "Saori-chan, I don't know what you're talking about! I would never do something like that!"

"Don't play dumb!" I snapped. "You're the only one who would stoop this low to sabotage me!"

By now, a small crowd had gathered outside the clubroom, drawn by the commotion.

"Whoa, is Saori yelling at Hana?"

"What's going on in there?"

"Why's she so mad? Hana didn't do anything!"

Hana sniffled, her big eyes shimmering with tears. "I-I don't know why you're accusing me, Saori-chan. I was just here to check on the club…"

The murmurs from the hallway grew louder, and I could feel the tide turning against me.

"She's bullying Hana?"

"That's so messed up."

"Why is she so angry all the time?"

"No," I said, turning to the crowd. "You don't understand! She's the one—"

"Hey," a familiar voice cut through the noise.

I turned to see Riser leaning casually against the doorframe, his red eyes scanning the room.

"What's going on here?" he asked, his tone light but firm.

...…

Riser's POV

I knew she was up to something.

The moment I woke up, with the faint sunlight peeking through my curtains, that nagging feeling crept into my mind. Hana had been suspiciously quiet the past few days, and when Hana was quiet, it was usually the calm before the storm.

I stretched lazily, letting out a long yawn. "Well, whatever she's plotting, I'll deal with it later," I muttered to myself.

That's the thing about Hana. I let her make her own choices, no matter how absurd they might be. But once those choices are made, it's my job to correct the fallout—always in the most fun way possible, of course.

Still, I had a sinking feeling this time might be different.

As I shuffled around the kitchen, pouring myself a bowl of cereal, my mind wandered back to a moment that cemented Hana's… unique personality.

It was a few years ago, back when we were both younger and still figuring out the chaotic world of school politics. Hana was in her first year, and I was in my second.

There was this older student, Kenji Arakawa, who thought it was his personal mission to enforce discipline among the "delinquent" underclassmen. One day, I caught him scolding Hana for accidentally stepping on his shoes.

"Watch where you're going, kid," he snapped, glaring down at her.

Hana froze, her big, innocent eyes filling with tears. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, clutching the hem of her skirt.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Kenji growled.

That's when I stepped in, grinning as always. "Hey, hey, no need to get worked up, Kenji. It was an accident."

He turned his glare on me. "Stay out of this, Nafutori."

"Can't do that," I said cheerfully, stepping between them. "See, she's my little sister. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's people making her cry."

Kenji crossed his arms, unimpressed. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Oh, nothing drastic," I said, holding up my hands. "Just… this."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, colorful whistle, the kind you'd see at a kid's birthday party. Then I blew into it with all my might.

The sound was shrill and obnoxious, and it immediately drew the attention of every student within a ten-foot radius.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" I announced, throwing an arm around Kenji's shoulders. "Behold, the mighty Kenji Arakawa, defender of clean shoes and sworn enemy of scuffed leather!"

The crowd erupted in laughter, and Kenji's face turned bright red.

He stormed off in a huff, muttering curses under his breath. I turned back to Hana, ruffling her hair. "See? Problem solved."

She looked up at me, her cheeks still damp with tears but her lips twitching into a small smile. "Thanks, Onii-chan."

For the next week, Hana acted like nothing had happened. She even started talking to Kenji again, laughing at his jokes and offering him snacks.

And then, one day, he just… disappeared.

No one knew where he went. All I knew was that he left school abruptly, and Hana had a very satisfied smile on her face.

That was the moment I realized my little sister was equal parts adorable and terrifying.

Back in the present, I finished my cereal and grabbed my bag, muttering to myself, "She's definitely up to something."

When I got to school, my suspicions were confirmed.

The bulletin board near the entrance was plastered with sensationalist headlines about Saori, each more ridiculous than the last.

"A runaway princess from Spain?" I said aloud, squinting at one of the articles. "Wow. She must be furious."

I could already hear murmurs in the hallway. Students were whispering, pointing, and laughing—exactly the kind of chaos Hana loved to stir up.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Hana… what have you done?"

The shouting started before I even reached the reporters club.

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!" Saori's voice rang out, loud enough to echo down the hall.

"Oh boy," I muttered, quickening my pace.

When I reached the clubroom, a small crowd had gathered outside, whispering and peeking through the doorway.

Inside, Saori was standing in the middle of the room, her face red with anger, pointing a finger at Miho, who looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"This isn't making her case any better," I said under my breath.

I pushed the door open, leaning casually against the frame. "What's going on here?"

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to me.

"Riser!" Saori snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "Finally! Maybe you can knock some sense into these people!"

Before I could respond, Miho crossed her arms, smirking. "You tell us, President. Your little sister's been busy."

I looked over at Hana, who was sitting in the corner with the most innocent expression I'd ever seen.

"Hana," I said, my voice calm. "What's this about?"

"Oh, nothing!" she chirped, clasping her hands together. "Just some harmless reporting, Onii-chan."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the flyers scattered across the table.

"You call this harmless?" Saori shouted, pointing at the bulletin board. "This is character assassination!"

The room erupted into chaos as everyone tried to talk at once.

"Wait, she's lying about being Italian?"

"Why is Saori yelling at Hana?"

"Can we all just calm down?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, holding up my hands. "One at a time."

The room quieted down, but the tension was still palpable. I turned to Hana, my expression softening for a moment.

And then, for the first time, I let my smile drop.

"Hana," I said, my voice steady but firm.

Her eyes widened, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of panic.

I didn't say anything else. I didn't need to.

Hana's shoulders slumped, and she looked down at the floor, her usual confidence shattered.