See, lies are not as utterly worthless as people claim.

Inside the cooking classroom, Tsukiyomi Jinguuji wore an apron as he skillfully cracked eggs, separating yolks from whites.

Standing beside him was Sakura Sakuza from the Sakurakouji family, who was deeply pondering whether to use animal-shaped or plant-shaped molds. To Tsukiyomi Jinguuji, such choices seemed inconsequential.

More than the molds, what struck him was how youthful it felt to be paired as boy and girl for a baking lesson in cooking class.

He was almost overwhelmed by this dazzling sense of youth; if he let his guard down, he might just collapse from the stomachache it caused.

When Tsukiyomi Jinguuji first entered the classroom, not a single classmate, not even the teacher, seemed to know how to react to him.

When asked if anyone wanted to be his partner, the sixteen- or seventeen-year-old students fell into a silence as if they were watching a stage play.

At last, as the goodwill ambassador of Class 2-A, Sakura Sakuza volunteered, using the self-sacrificing phrase, “If no one else will…”

After that, she very naturally brought up, “I’ve done class duties with Jinguuji before, so I can handle him,” leaving the surrounding students at a loss for words.

And so, Sakura Sakuza and Tsukiyomi Jinguuji were officially paired together.

From the girls’ side, a tanned gyaru suddenly laughed and called out, “Hey, Jinguuji, watch out! Sakurakouji’s a scatterbrain, don’t let her cooking poison you~~”

“Tsuchiya, don’t say things like that!” Sakura Sakuza hurriedly waved her hands, then, putting on an exaggeratedly careful face, added, “I’ll do my best!”

Her adorable manner made the other students burst out laughing, easing the atmosphere in the cooking classroom at last.

“Jinguuji, you’re really good at cracking eggs!”

Jinguuji, silent as he worked, wondered at her way of complimenting him—she stood by without doing anything, just offering praise.

Whenever she spoke, she wore a polite, friendly smile. Seeing her so invested in her act, Jinguuji sighed inwardly and responded with a perfunctory “Mm.”

They stood at the rearmost cooking station, with the spots on either side empty.

After glancing around, Sakura Sakuza mischievously reached out and lightly traced a finger up and down Jinguuji’s back, right along his spine.

Though he felt her touch through his school uniform, Jinguuji’s expression didn’t change. He simply turned his head and glared at her.

She giggled foolishly and withdrew her hand.

Curiously, aside from Sakura Sakuza at his side, Jinguuji could clearly sense the gazes of others.

For instance, at a nearby station, a girl with a high ponytail—whom Jinguuji remembered as Sakura Sakuza’s clubmate—kept sneaking glances at them.

Jinguuji could only quietly remind Sakura Sakuza to behave herself, using a tone that only the two of them could hear.

Though it was supposed to be a two-person assignment, Sakura Sakuza didn’t lift a finger, leaving everything to Jinguuji.

He wondered if she was overacting just to put on a show for their classmates.

This was like a comic book villainess bullying the frail protagonist—if the protagonist ever got a hypnosis app, she would be the first to fall victim.

He shook off the thought.

Drawing his mind back to the present, Jinguuji saw Sakura Sakuza take out a set of cookie cutters.

“Hey, Jinguuji, which shape do you like?”

He gave her a cool glance, saw through her intentions, and simply took the cherry blossom–shaped cutter from her hand.

“Oh my… how shy.”

She spoke in a suppressed, laughing whisper.

After arranging the cookies on the baking tray and placing them in the preheated oven, Jinguuji stood silently aside as Sakura Sakuza went to chat with other girls.

Nearby, a boy seemed to be teasing a girl he liked and, while dodging her playful chase, accidentally bumped into the counter in front of Jinguuji, sending a whisk rolling to the floor.

Jinguuji bent to pick it up, and by chance, his head tilted so he spotted a star-shaped mold hidden deep on the shelf.

Whether it had always been there or not, Jinguuji decided not to dwell on it.

After class, Jinguuji didn’t get to keep any of the cookies he’d baked; Sakura Sakuza had taken them all.

It didn’t matter—he’d intended them for her anyway.

Sakura Sakuza seemed delighted. Seeing her beaming smile, Jinguuji’s own mood lifted.

Yet, something unexpected was quietly brewing, ready to step onto the stage after a long gestation.

...

...

After school, in the connecting corridor between the old and new school buildings.

At this hour, usually only student council members would be here.

Such as Tsukiyomi Jinguuji.

But now, there was another girl—one who was not a council member—standing before him, blushing and fidgeting.

Jinguuji watched as the girl held out the cookies she’d made in cooking class, packed in a clear bag tied with a pink ribbon, shaped like hearts.

For a moment, his mind couldn’t quite keep up.

“If you don’t mind, Jinguuji, would you accept these?”

Hmm, today wasn’t Valentine’s Day, was it?

Still, a girl giving handmade cookies from class said more than words ever could.

The girl bowed slightly, her high ponytail falling forward. Jinguuji finally understood why she’d kept looking at him during class.

Once, before his reputation soured, scenes like this were commonplace.

Still, he couldn’t help but admire a girl who could ignore the rumors and boldly corner him in the corridor between buildings.

That alone was enough to earn his respect.

But.

He looked at her with an indifferent face, as if pondering: “Your name was Sasaki, wasn’t it?”

“…Sasami,” she replied.

“Sorry, I’m not good with names, and no one in class really talks to me, so it never seemed necessary,” Jinguuji said bluntly.

“It’s all right.”

She looked a bit embarrassed, but met his gaze earnestly.

He was handsome, but there were many good-looking faces in the world.

For this girl, it was something else that set Jinguuji apart from ordinary high school boys—something that made him utterly different.

“These are the cookies you made in class, Sasami?” he asked.

“…Yes.”

“For me?”

He stared at her, his look no longer indifferent but almost aggressive, so much so that the words she meant to say got stuck in her throat.

“…Yes, would you be willing to accept them, Jinguuji?” she managed.

“Sasami, to be honest, I’m allergic to eggs, so I always avoid foods that contain them.”

“Eh? Really?” She looked at him, wide-eyed, with no suspicion it might be a lie.

“Oh, so that’s why you gave all your cookies to Sakuza…”

She thoughtfully found an excuse for him, making his lie even more believable.

“Yeah, sorry, so I can’t accept your cookies.”

“No, no, I should apologize for not knowing and just assuming…”

Seeing her crestfallen face, he stepped back a little. “If there’s nothing else, I have student council work, so I’ll be going.”

Normally, a girl would retreat at this point, reassuring herself that she’d tried and would do better next time.

But while that was usual, there were always exceptions.

“Jinguuji, do you like someone?”

A fastball straight to the heart, delivered with unexpected force.

He’d seen that bashful look in many girls’ eyes before, so he answered smoothly:

“Yes.”

Instantly, without a flicker of hesitation.

The girl froze in astonishment, thrown off by his directness, unable to say a word.

Her fastball confession was knocked right back at her.

“Every guy has a girl or two he likes, right?” Jinguuji added, offhandedly.

“Don’t tell me… is it Sakuza—Sakurakouji you like?”

Jinguuji knew the girl before him was part of Sakura Sakuza’s close-knit group; he couldn’t let this become a problem that would affect Sakuza’s relationships.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

“Lately, you two seem really close. You were even paired up in class today.”

He shook his head. “I only talked to her because we were on class duty last week. Besides, Sakuza treats everyone like that—aren’t you friends?”

“That’s true, Sakuza’s always like that. Ahaha, what am I even saying.” She scratched her head, a habit to defuse awkwardness.

Luckily, she hadn’t said anything about love or dating—otherwise, it would have made things difficult between them in the future.

“Anyway, thank you for being honest with me. I’ll be rooting for you, Jinguuji!”

“Rooting for me?”

“Mm-hmm!”

She forced a smile and mustered her spirits.

“I should get to club activities. See you, Jinguuji.”

“Sure.”

As he watched her walk away, Jinguuji thought that today could count as a victory. He’d used a lie to refuse her cookies, and another to cool her affections.

See, lies aren’t as useless as people say.

He quietly headed for the stairs to the fourth floor and, on the landing between the first and second floors, saw a beautiful girl sitting on the steps, looking down at him.

Jinguuji paused, then said, “Eavesdropping isn’t a very nice habit, President.”

“I just happened to be coming down from upstairs. Who’d have thought someone would get confessed to here?”

She stood, flicked her hair back, and walked down the steps.

“You could have spoken up sooner, maybe come help me out,” Jinguuji said.

“Oh? Do I have the right? If I had, you’d probably blame me for ruining your moment.”

“You heard everything—does that sound like a good thing?”

Hoshinosato Hoshino, hands behind her back, glanced at his neatly tied necktie before averting her gaze.

“Why did you turn her down?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard that Jinguuji never refuses a girl’s feelings. Of course, I never really believed those rumors, but after what I just saw, I thought I’d ask.”

“Is that necessary?”

“It’s just the curiosity of a seventeen-year-old girl. If you don’t want to say, I won’t press you.

“But I could tell at least one thing.

“You lied to that girl, didn’t you?”

He blinked quietly and replied, “Is that what you think?”

Hoshinosato Hoshino smiled lightly. “Because you’re dating Sakurakouji, aren’t you?”

“That’s not true,” he denied.

“Another lie.”

“It really isn’t.”

Seeing his certainty, Hoshinosato Hoshino glanced at him sidelong, suddenly unsure what to make of him—whether he was telling the truth or not.

After all, she didn’t really have the power to see through lies.

But in the end, it wasn’t important. She knew she didn’t like him, and she had no right to demand answers.

Still, pretending not to care didn’t suit her nature either.

She cared, certainly, but she couldn’t be forthright about it.

Adolescence, she thought, was truly a troublesome age, and she found herself wishing to grow up sooner.

“So, are you really allergic to eggs?”

“Egg rolls are a staple in my lunch every day.”

“I don’t think you ever even bring lunch to school.”

“You really can’t fool the president.”

Hoshinosato Hoshino sighed softly, easily seeing through his feigned ignorance.

“I don’t think it’s right to use lies to turn someone down.”

Jinguuji’s frivolous smile faded; he spoke slowly: “Sometimes, lies are more touching than the truth.”

“How infuriating.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I know, that’s why it’s even more infuriating.”

Today, there were still four thousand words left to write.

(End of chapter)