V6Ch1: Sunset Beauty part 1

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Translator: Soafp

TL: It will be a slow update because they drm’d the document.

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When I learned that the king crab isn't really a crab but a type of hermit crab, my sense of common knowledge completely shattered.

Because no matter how you look at it, it's a crab, and insisting it's not a crab feels unreasonable.

If so, I thought maybe there's a problem with the way things are classified. But strangely, different evolutionary lines can converge into a similar appearance over time — this is called convergent evolution.

In other words, crustaceans evolving into crabs means that this shape is the best adaptation to their environment.
I wonder if someday I'll become crab-like too. After all, in rock-paper-scissors, I like scissors.

That aside, the problem is that evolution isn't always the right path.

Looking back, I probably failed in my own evolution. It's a sad but natural conclusion.

I strongly wished to live without troubling anyone. Therefore, my evolutionary path became one where I no longer needed others, leading to extreme isolation. And I believed without doubt that was the correct way.

Because of that, I have nothing. No one needs me. That way of being undeniably shaped me as strong. My mentality grew straightforward and strong, like the US economy after the Lehman Shock.

And that's exactly why I lost connection with others and came this far.

Now, there are people reaching out to me. People who say they like me. But I can't respond to those feelings. If I want to love, or even before that, if I want to start over properly and walk together with someone, I have to turn back the clock.

I have to discard what I gained through evolution and regress. The environment around me allows that. For some time now, I've been surrounded by kind people.

—Once, I sought unwavering strength, but now, I seek weakness.

“Considering recent circumstances, from a lookism perspective, there are some doubts…”

In the student council room, for some reason President Kedou, dressed in an outrageously revealing outfit, spoke solemnly.

A short skirt with frills, platform boots — clearly inappropriate for this setting.

Her expression, the content of the conversation, and her clothing were completely mismatched. It was a perfect bundle of irrationality.

“Putting aside the president's strange behavior for now, lookism? Was there a complaint from some mysterious group saying it's wrong that light novel heroines are all beautiful?”

It's lamentable how extreme ideologies have spread lately.

Think about it. If a heroine's tapestry is a pre-order bonus, why does it increase the desire to buy? Because the heroine is attractive. Nobody would want a bonus with an unattractive character; that would be a foolish counterproductive move.

“Well, I just thought that rather than holding a beauty contest, more participants might join if we widened the scope a bit. It's a festival, after all. Shouldn't the value standards be a little broader?”

After school, I was called by president Kedou and told about the upcoming cultural festival's beauty contest. Originally, it was to be a beauty contest, but recently some changes were made.

“…Why tell me this?”

I'm a first-year student and not involved in the organizing committee at all. Completely unrelated.

“Well, I just wanted to tell someone.”

“You're like a child.”

“Even though the age of adulthood has been lowered, I'm still barely a minor.”

“Your remarks are definitely adult-only, though.”

“(laughs)”

“I'll smack you, hey!”

What's so funny? She's a modern person who always sexually teases whenever she opens her mouth.

“Because this school has so many beauties, starting with Yuri, many students would hesitate to join a beauty contest. So I thought maybe we should widen the range a bit.”

Summarizing the president's talk: it won't be a beauty contest but rather a broader opportunity to appeal.

Certainly, there are many beautiful girls in my class. Hinaga-chan and Shiori said they wouldn't participate, but if they did, they'd rank high. Of course, in the second year, Yuri-san is a given.

S-So… well… Goddess-senpai is definitely a strong contender for first place too.

“If it's a third-year, even the president is beautiful, regardless of your words and actions.”

“Ara, no~.”

“A refined madam, huh.”

President Kedou, covered her mouth in surprise. That's exactly the kind of thing about her.

“In any case, it'd be lonely if only females participate. I want boys to join freely as well. If you want, Yukito Kokonoe, your participation would be very welcome♡”

She added a cute little heart at the end. Such a skilled president.

Well then, hmm, I pondered for a moment.

If it's the handsome guy, the world-record-level looks in my class might aim for the win. But with the new regulations, to win, it'd be better to have some kind of surprise to leave a strong impression.

If that's the case, Natsume might have an advantage after all. It might even be good news…

“So, it's not a beauty contest but a different kind of event, right?”

President Kedou nodded with a grin as if she'd been waiting for that question.

“I came up with a wonderful name last night. I was itching to tell you!”

She slammed a planning document on the desk. On the paper was written:

“‘Mu-chan's Costume Contest.' Let's go with this!”

“Why did Mikumo-Senpai let this outrageous plan happen!?!!”

For some reason, Mikumo-Senpai — the voice of reason — wasn't here. Hey, where did she go?

“With this plan, anyone can participate. You can perform a one-shot act or, of course, join something like a beauty contest. It's going to be fun, I guarantee people of all ages will be excited.”

There's absolutely no need for elderly people to get excited at a high school culture festival, but I couldn't help asking the president out of curiosity:

“Is the president the MC for this event, by any chance?”

Would the president's teasing affect the judges' scores?

Like those emotional stunts where a bell rings when a contestant reaches the passing mark?

“For fairness, it's only natural that I, an executive committee member, should do it.”

I see. Setting the name aside, a costume contest would attract broader participation than a beauty contest.

“Alright, I understand the situation, but this is something I really don't want to ask, yet I have to, so just for the record — what's with that outfit?”

President Kedou came close, sliding forward in those platform boots like some kind of martial arts master…

“Because those organizing can't purely enjoy it as participants, and even though I'm the MC, I want to try dressing up too. I wanted to wear an outfit like this.”

The gap from usual and the fact she likes cute clothes surprised me. Honestly, I admire that.

“You look really good. But what kind of costume is this exactly?”

It's each person's freedom to wear what they want, but if she calls it a costume, it must be based on something.

“I'm a sugar baby trying to attract clients.”

“You're a minor, though.”

“I'm almost an adult, so it's safe.”

That's a no-go. It was an absolutely terrible costume. Definitely liable to get caught.

“It's troubling, isn't it? Don't you think you've been seeing more of these lately around town?”

“The world's gone to hell. Even at my place, I see them often.”

President Kedou's sharp wit shouldn't be underestimated.

“Haha, your jokes are always top-notch. So, Yukito Kokonoe, how about joining the student council? I'm offering a special deal right now. Since I called you out, leave the payment to me.”

“That sounds like someone whose life revolves around spending money at a host club!!”

As expected, this person's humor keeps dragging me into the swamp every time I see her. The invitation in that outfit isn't funny at all, but what's even less funny is that the president's wallet is Velcro.

I seriously wonder why this dangerous character is being allowed to run wild at this school.

“Well, Yuumi might be embarrassed, but I won't force her. She's quite shy.”

“Good grief. What kind of costume are you planning to make her wear…?”

I can only pray that Mikumo-Senpai gets through graduation peacefully.

While I was being warmly and enthusiastically recruited into the student council, suddenly the door flew open.

“So, you were here! I've been looking for you, Yukito Kokonoe!”

Flying in with a worried look was my homeroom teacher, Sayuri-Sensei.

She looked pale, maybe unwell. Scanning the room, she murmured quietly,

“…Could it be that you saw something you weren't supposed to…?”

“It's nothing, just the usual stuff.”

President Kedou said, puffing out her chest confidently. Her actions might be questionable, but at least her attitude was impressive.

“That's a huge problem! Damn, but now's really not the time. I'm taking Yukito Kokonoe with me!”

She grabbed my collar firmly and dragged me up from my seat.

“Good grief. You really are a busy guy.”

The president smiled wryly and waved me off. “Bye-bye.” I waved back.

“Just when I thought I'd escaped a tight spot, another one's looming…”

I barely got out of the student council room, and now another worry hits me.

“Is something wrong, as usual, cute Sayuri-Sensei?”

I'm sure I've got plenty of reasons to be scolded, so pinpointing the cause is impossible. I try to curry favor a bit.

But what came back from Sayuri-Sensei was an unexpected answer.

“I'm always cute. I just hope there's truly nothing going on…”

Her unusually stern expression hinted at a big storm about to break.

---

In front of the counseling room—which I normally had no reason to visit—Sayuri-Sensei glanced around cautiously.

It was already after school, and there were barely any signs of people left. The area where the counseling room was located was a quiet one, a place students rarely approached.

And yet, Sensei held her breath and acted with careful discretion, as if trying to avoid being seen.

Once she had confirmed no one was around, she entered the room and locked the door with a click.

“Pretty serious security, huh.”

“Well… this time, yeah. Honestly, I'm pretty confused too. For now, just have a seat.”

Prompted by Sayuri-Sensei's serious expression, I sat down on the sofa.

In the modest space, there was only a desk and a sofa.

She handed me a can of coffee—probably something she bought earlier from a vending machine.

“Sorry to call you out so suddenly. Well, here, drink this.”

“Thank you.”

Even as I opened the tab on the can, Sayuri-Sensei seemed to be struggling with how to begin.

It was rare to see such a blunt and straightforward person hesitating like this.

“…Do you have any idea why you're here?”

It seemed she gave up and just threw the question at me.

For now, I mentally scanned the options most likely in my case.

Could it be that thing? Or maybe that thing? Or possibly that other thing…?

Then, it hit me.

I felt like I'd seen this setup in a lot of rom-com manga.

“So you told your parents you had a boyfriend to get out of a matchmaking meeting, and now you've got to introduce him. You picked me as your fake boyfriend, right?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Unfortunate.”

It was a flawless deduction with no room for doubt, yet she shot it down immediately.

“We'll save that for another time. Lately, my parents won't stop pestering me about wanting grandkids.”

“Wait, so I was right?”

Kinda scary how that random guess hit the mark. The effects of people marrying later are only getting worse.

“Ugh, enough waffling. Just look at this.”

She handed me a sheet of copy paper.

It looked like a blown-up photo printed out.

Even though it was blurry, there was no mistaking it—me and another person.

“Sanjoji-Sensei?”

“The problem is where the two of you are.”

The photo was apparently taken secretly with a telephoto lens from a certain distance.

My eyes widened in shock.

It showed me and Sanjoji-Sensei entering a love hotel.

“You're already something of a public figure. You might have been targeted by a tabloid or something. But if a scandal like this gets out, it'll be hard to defend.”

I didn't care about so-called champions of justice like weekly magazines, but if something like this went public, the school would definitely get slammed, and Sanjoji-Sensei's career as a teacher would be over.

And there was no way to explain away the photo.

Unlike me, whose life was basically already over, the damage to her would be immeasurable.

This was an extremely serious and urgent situation.

“…I have no memory of this, though… Could this be a case of false memory?”

False memories—memories of things that never happened—are one thing, but a photo like this is clearly a record.
Still, I really had no memory of it at all.

If there's a chance I went to a love hotel with Sanjoji-Sensei without realizing it, then I need to start doubting myself and undergo some kind of regression therapy to dig into my memories.

“So it was that… tch. What the hell is going on? What even is this…”

Was my answer what she expected? Sayuri-Sensei clicked her tongue in frustration.

“There's actually another photo, but it's extremely sensitive material. If the leak didn't come from you, then I can't show it to you on my own judgment. But the person involved should be here soon—”

Just as she was saying that, there was a knock at the door. Sayuri-Sensei quickly got up and unlocked it.

The person who stepped in was the one in question: Sanjoji-Sensei.

“How did the questioning go?”

“As expected, the story matches, Suzuka-sensei. He says he has no idea what's going on either…”

Apparently, Sayuri-Sensei and Sanjoji-Sensei had grown quite close, as she now referred to her casually as “Suzuka-sensei.”

It was almost heartwarming—until Sanjoji-Sensei approached, looking troubled, and bowed her head respectfully beside me.

“I'm sorry, Kokonoe-kun. You got dragged into something weird…”

“What is going on exactly?”

There was no reason for her to apologize. If anything, I was the one constantly causing trouble, so I should be the one bowing my head.

Still, this was just too confusing—I had no choice but to ask for an explanation. I couldn’t keep up with what was going on.

Unable to hide my bewilderment, I looked at Sanjoji-Sensei and Sayuri-Sensei as they finally opened their heavy mouths to speak.

“This photo was sent to me—”

What I heard next was so far-fetched and unbelievable, I could hardly accept it. Here’s the detailed account:

The other day, a message was sent to Sanjoji-Sensei’s SNS. It had only one short sentence, along with two attached photos.

One of the photos was the one I had just seen—of us entering the love hotel. And the accompanying message read:

“That’s terrible. ‘Perverted Teacher'? What is this, a trashy romance novel or something…?”

Romance novels really are something. They're full of words you've never heard before, and the language is absurdly old-fashioned.

Like, does anyone in real life actually say, “Please forgive me and accept my humble self”? Oh wait, Tsubaki-san did say that the other day.

That reminds me—the sexy hundred-poem karuta match held at the “Frozen Love Inn” was rigged so I would win.
Though the old man was knocked out in the early rounds.

Kyou-chan helped me out with blatant cheating in this chaotic party game.

The “karuta” we used was so forbidden that we sealed it in a bank safety deposit box. If it's in a megabank vault, it's probably safe. Probably…

Anyway, none of that matters right now.

The message sent to Sanjoji-Sensei was filled with unmistakable malice.

It was a vile attempt to humiliate and destroy her dignity.

This wasn't just some slander or prank—it went way beyond what could be brushed off as a joke.

“If this were true, I couldn't deny the accusation. But it's clearly baseless—a complete fabrication.”

Sanjoji-Sensei said this with firm conviction. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness… So I hadn't forgotten anything after all… Though, I did feel a little disappointed.

Still, this wasn't the time to relax. This was a serious matter.

“Yukito Kokonoe. Nothing's been sent to your inbox?”

“I'll check real quick.”

A very valid point. Since I appeared in the photo, it was entirely possible that I was actually the target.

At Sayuri-Sensei's prompting, I opened my phone and began scrolling through my SNS.

I get all kinds of random messages day and night, but ones with images attached are almost always dating spam… or from Himiyama-san.

“…Wait. Was Himiyama-san spam all along…?”

“What about Misaki-san?”

Sanjoji-Sensei looked puzzled, but I couldn't find anything suspicious in my inbox.

“‘1/1 Scale Life-Size [Private Tutor] Himiyama-san'…?”

I had received a message from spamified Himiyama-san, complete with an attached image.

Let's see… “‘Trying to match the image of a tutor, so I put on some glasses♪'” Oh, interesting.

Himiyama-san was standing on a platform, striking a pose with an intellectual vibe.

But the image was cut off partway through. Below it was the ominous message: “Click this URL →”

Even someone as bad with tech as I am could recognize this immediately.

Yeah. It was a complete scam.

If you click a suspicious link without thinking, it might steal your personal information.

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Would anyone really fall for such an obvious scam?

There's no way anyone would be tricked by that. Shrugging my shoulders with a sigh, I clicked the link without hesitation.

“Whoa, there are cases where it's not a scam?!”

Himiyama-san had done a cast-off. Rather than a life-size figure, it was clearly just her in person.

“What are you doing playing around by yourself over there?!”

“It got kind of interesting…”

I got scolded. I'll ask for a full cast-off later.

“So, what about Misaki-san?”

I averted my gaze, going with the old “anything goes” approach.

In any case, it seemed there was no harm done to me. If so, it was safe to assume the culprit's target was Sanjoji-Sensei.

I looked once more at the message sent to her.

A string of cold, heartless words, written for the sole purpose of hurting someone.

Just one short sentence, but it held immeasurable hatred.

“If that's the entire message, then I doubt it's blackmail…”

If this were based on something that actually happened, the sender might've demanded money to keep it secret.

But if the scandal was entirely fabricated, even that tactic wouldn't work. In that case…

“Do you have any idea who sent it?”

“I don't. It looks like the account has already been deleted…”

Her account is private, but as long as someone knows it exists, they can still send a message.

The person who sent the photos deleted their account right after it was read, so their trail is cold.

Unable to make sense of it, Sanjoji-Sensei consulted with Sayuri-Sensei. That's what led to Sayuri-Sensei questioning me.

Sanjoji-Sensei hadn't been in the room at first because she wanted to avoid the appearance of collusion.
After all, she had nothing to hide.

“So this is just malicious harassment?”

“Most likely…”

The reason Sanjoji-Sensei bowed to me was because she felt guilty for getting me involved in a grudge against her.
But something still didn't sit right with me.

“Huh? Then why did you say something earlier like I was the one who leaked it?”

I questioned Sayuri-Sensei's earlier comment.

There's no way I could have had a photo of us going into a love hotel.

The only possible explanation would be that I had someone else take the photo and I was the mastermind—but that would be suicidal.

(Although, I do have a record…)

“Well, that is… um… how do I say this…”

Sayuri-Sensei trailed off awkwardly.

Wondering what was going on, I turned to look at Sanjoji-Sensei. She gave a small, resolute nod and held out her phone to me.

It was, incidentally, the newest model.

“Since Sayuri-sensei has been dragged into this too, we can't afford to keep any secrets.”

It was the other photo that had been sent to Sanjoji-Sensei's SNS.

“Perverted deity”

“Stop! Please don’t say such indecent things!”

Sanjoji-sensei shook her head vigorously.

The photo in question, possibly taken after the act, showed her wrapped in a sheet from the waist down, smiling seductively while lying nude on a hotel bed.

“Hey! Yukito Kokonoe, stop staring so much!”

Sayuri-sensei quickly hid the screen from my view. Come on, that was way too sexy…

Reluctantly pulling my gaze away, things finally started to make sense.

“I see. If someone really had that kind of photo, the only possible person who could've taken it is me, the one who went into the hotel with her. So you couldn't entirely dismiss the possibility that I leaked it for some reason.”

Sayuri-sensei nodded with a pained expression, like she'd just bitten into something bitter.

“Exactly. If this whole thing was your scheme, it would be simple. But you’re not that kind of guy. Still, this is troublesome. The timeline doesn't add up, but the photo is so well-made it looks completely real. Even if someone claimed it’s a fake, it's hard to believe. If that photo had been sent to someone else instead of Sanjoji-sensei…”

Sayuri-sensei took a deep gulp of her coffee. She was right. It made sense. Only I could have taken that photo. But assuming I wasn't the one who leaked it—something I firmly believed—then that logic breaks down.

If a third party took the picture from a distance, they couldn't have gotten a shot inside the hotel. That means the person responsible looked like me, but wasn't me. That's what Sayuri-sensei meant by things not adding up. We couldn't see the culprit's intent.

More than anything, the two photos were devastatingly powerful—enough to blow away any doubt.

Right now, the only ones denying the photo's authenticity were Sanjoji-sensei and me.

If these had been sent not to her, but to the school, the board of education, or worse, the tabloids—the situation would've been beyond recovery. At the very least, it'd become a police matter.

Come to think of it, when I visited her home before, I'd posed a hypothetical situation similar to this.

Back then, her response was that even if there's some doubt, once there's solid evidence to declare guilt, the truth won't overturn it.

Makes sense.

We're now facing that exact reality.

Words really do have power… it’s scary.

“Sensei, is there anyone who might have a grudge against you?”

At my question, her shoulders twitched.

But it was something I had to ask.

I couldn't imagine someone hating Sanjoji-sensei—someone so upright and respectable, a true role model—but we needed to confirm.

There’s no telling if more harassment will follow.

“No, no one comes to mind… If someone did hold a grudge against me… then I suppose, Kokonoe-kun, it would only be you. But you're not the type of person who would do something like this.”

She shrank in on herself as she spoke, her posture tightening with unease.

“…To be honest, after what happened between us, I've been avoiding getting too deeply involved with other students.
I think… I carried a lingering sense of guilt. I was scared. Scared that I might hurt someone again. Scared of being hated. And so, I let that fear control me for a long time…”

“I’m not holding any grudge against you.”

Everything is my fault. The entirety of this world inevitably returns to that conclusion.

In fact, back in elementary school, it wasn’t just the teacher—I’m deeply regretful for having caused so much trouble to Himiyama-san too.

While I sat there foolishly optimistic, the teacher let out a deep sigh. I could see how mentally exhausted she was.

“…Yes, you’re a kind child.”

It was a sad and fleeting smile. Someone like her shouldn't have to suffer like this.

A small, sharp pain pierced my chest. I’m usually resilient to physical pain, but I hated this kind. Sanjoji-sensei was being wounded by cruel, despicable words.

“A wh*re… What am I even supposed to do with this…?”

Her voice trembled. What I heard in it was fear—her heart crying out in anguish.

Though she had done a good job concealing it with makeup, I noticed dark circles under her eyes, probably from lack of sleep. Her complexion was pale, and fatigue was clearly written all over her face.

Despite her brave front, Sanjouji-sensei was completely worn out.

Even if you insist it's fake and try to brush it off, no one can stay unaffected. Humans aren't that strong. There are always things you can't take back.

“Please leave this matter to me. I'll handle it.”

“Kokonoe-kun…?”

“Yukito Kokonoe, you…”

What came out of my mouth was nothing more than a reckless promise. But I had to say it. I couldn't stand seeing her this down anymore. I didn't want to see anyone in pain.

If malice had to exist, then let it all be directed at me—someone who doesn’t feel anything. Her shoulders trembled slightly. That was fear—being exposed to cruelty and trampled on.

Behind her glasses, faint transparent tears began to form. An uncontrollable rage welled up inside me.

But before I could act on that anger, there was something I needed to do first.

I looked straight into Sanjouji-sensei’s eyes.

“Could you show me that photo again?”

We decided to come up with a countermeasure in the counseling room. It was far too malicious to ignore.

It wasn't a photo showing the truth—it was an image projecting a fabrication.

“This is exactly what they call the devil's proof,”

Sayuri-sensei muttered irritably.

The so-called “devil's proof”—a concept deemed nearly impossible to overcome since Roman law.

The image sent to Sanjoji-sensei suggested that something had happened. The only ones asserting it was fake were Sanjoji-sensei and me, the people involved—and that held no evidentiary value.

When it came to credibility between the image and the testimony of those involved, no matter how you tried to spin it, the former always came out ahead.

In proving a negative, the burden of proof isn't supposed to fall on the side claiming “it didn't happen.”

But this time, there existed a photo that acted as “evidence” that it did happen.

That meant we needed a basis strong enough to overturn it.

We needed material that could objectively establish the image as a lie.

Proving something didn't happen was extraordinarily difficult—like trying to solve a mystery sealed inside a black box.

“Hmmm? Hmmmm~? Hmmm~mmmm???”

“Um… even if it's a fake, staring at it so intently is… a little embarrassing…”

Sanjoji-sensei, ever the shy one, blushed.

But that aside, I couldn't shake the strange sense of discomfort.

So I stared hard at the image—not the one of us entering the love hotel, but the other one.

“Even though I've heard both of you explain and I'm convinced it's fake, I still find it hard to deny the image itself.”

“That's only natural… Even I start to doubt it when I look at it…”

The teachers were speaking with serious expressions. This wasn't something that could be brushed off as a joke, nor should it ever be forgiven.

We couldn't ignore an act that could so easily destroy someone's life.

“Mmmmmm… grrrrrrrr… creak creak… ooooooooooohhhhhhh!”

“Hey! Is now really the time for weird groaning sounds!? You're a victim in this too, remember? Especially in your case, if this goes public, things could spiral out of control. Take this seriously!”

Even as I was moved by Sayuri-sensei's concern, I couldn't take my eyes off the image. —Ping!

“I've got it!”

“W-What is it all of a sudden!?”

I suddenly stood up from the sofa, startling Sanjōji-sensei, her eyes wide.

“Demon, be gone!”

Come to think of it, I'm surrounded by saints, angels, and goddesses—divine relatives, so to speak. There's no reason I should lose to some lowly demon.

“Wait, did you figure something out?”

Sayuri-sensei leaned forward eagerly. Realizing what had been bothering me, I pointed at the image.

“There's a blatantly obvious, unmistakable lie in this picture.”

“Seriously!? Then this just got a whole lot easier. Well done—you nailed it!”

Sayuri-sensei clapped her knee and beamed.

“A lie…? Even I couldn't tell…”

Sanjoji-sensei looked puzzled, her glasses slightly slipping down her nose.

She should have noticed, being the person in question, but she probably didn't want to face it head-on.

“Okay, so, first of all—Sanjoji-sensei's actual bust is much bigger than what's in the photo—”

“Eek!”

“Hey!!”

Sayuri-sensei scolded me while Sanjoji-sensei froze in shock.

But that wasn't the critical clue.

“Look here.”

A black swan—a contradiction that proves the impossible. This was the definitive proof of a lie.

“Sensei has a mole right here, under her bre*st. But it's missing in the image. There's no reason someone would go out of their way to remove a detail that proves the person's identity. Therefore, this photo was created by someone who didn't know about that mole—someone who doesn't truly know her. It's conclusive evidence that this image is a fabrication!”

It would be easy to digitally remove a small mole, but doing that would eliminate its value as proof.

If the photo were real, I would be the only one who could have taken it. And since I didn't alter it, that would mean the one who sent it to her did. But there's no reason for them to do that.

In other words, the culprit made a critical mistake. Rare, but it happens.

The counseling room fell into silence at the overwhelming, irrefutable proof I presented.

Then, Sayuri-sensei was the first to move.

“Suzuka-sensei, I just need to verify something. Please come with me to the ladies' room!”

“E-Eh!? T-This isn't what it looks like! It's a misunderstandingggggg!!”

She dragged the stunned Sanjoji-sensei out of the room in a flurry. As they burst into the hallway, their voices faded away, swallowed by the Doppler effect.

Having wrapped up my work, I sipped my coffee in satisfaction.

“Well done, me.”

We'd narrowly avoided the trap set by the perpetrator. This should have completely cleared Sayuri-sensei's doubts too.

Still… why was Sanjoji-sensei targeted in the first place?

“YOU WEREN'T JOKING AFTER ALL, YOU LITTLE…!!”

Sayuri-sensei came storming back in, overflowing with indignation.

That she would get this angry on our behalf showed just how upright and principled she was. I silently thanked the heavens for having her as our homeroom teacher.

Incidentally, Sanjoji-sensei, who returned with her, looked a bit disheveled.

“Glad to hear your doubts have been cleared.”

“They've deepened!”

The suspicion had only grown. What is this, a political scandal?

Sayuri-sensei grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently.

“How the hell do you know about Suzuka-sensei's mole!? Out with it! No—don't say a word! I don't want to hear it! If I do, I might become an accomplice, and I really don't want that, so just shut up!!”

“It's not like that, okay!? There really is nothing going on! Right? Right?”

Sanjoji-sensei desperately sought my agreement. Of course, there was nothing to feel guilty about.

“That's right. I just got treated to some homemade pudding, that's all.”

“Pudding? How does eating pudding tell you where her mole is? Explain that!?”

Sayuri-sensei narrowed her eyes suspiciously. That's easy.

“…Impossible. There's no way to talk your way out of this!?”

“Please, don't say anything more unnecessary!”

Sanjoji-sensei quickly covered my mouth. I had just been about to say something unnecessary and muffled.

“You're sure I can trust you!? This is really okay, right!?”

Sayuri-sensei was clearly anxious. I nodded firmly. No need to worry. What happened at Iimachizuki won't leak. Places like that rely on discretion above all. People probably don't even know it exists.

Pwah—I somehow escaped Sanjoji-sensei's grip.

“You almost ended my career as a teacher. Are you some kind of manchineel tree?”

“They don't grow naturally in Japan, you know.”

“And you don't have any self-control either.”

“Gwahahahahahaha!”

(For the record, a manchineel is a broadleaf tree so toxic that even touching it is dangerous.)

“Why you—! I'm going to punish you so hard you'll never talk back again!”

“Fujishiro-sensei, please calm down!”

Sayuri-sensei was furious. Sanjoji-sensei was breaking into a cold sweat too.

“Still… I didn't think we'd end up proving the image was fake this way…”

Seeming a bit calmer now, Sayuri-sensei flopped onto the sofa.

Meanwhile, Sanjoji-sensei had clamped my mouth shut again so I wouldn't say anything extra.

“I'm so embarrassed I feel like my face is going to burst into flames…”

I nearly blurted out “Face Open!” Just so you know, that would've definitely counted as saying something unnecessary.

“Mmmph mmph.”

“Please be very careful with your words, okay?”

My sincere apologies. She gently let me go.

“But yeah… with this, we can definitively say it's a fake. The difference in physical features is clear. Although I gotta say, it was pretty shocking to learn that Suzune-sensei's figure is a lot more… concealed than I thought. Anyway, even if this ever becomes an issue, in the worst-case scenario, other female staff could confirm it too, and clear up the misunderstanding.”

The mole is a powerful card to hold—it's crucial to keep it secret if possible.

“Come to think of it, I just realized… This method feels kind of similar to something that happened to me before. Like with the slander on social media, or that cheating scandal…”

“…Yeah. With so many incidents, it's easy to forget, but those did happen,”

Sayuri-sensei said, folding her arms in thought. Sanjoji-sensei looked contemplative as well.

I recalled the time Hinagi was targeted with online slander. The cause was jealousy and resentment, but back when I was getting bashed online, it felt like someone had been helping spread the rumors.

It was the same during the cheating scandal involving Class B—someone falsely named me as the ringleader and fed lies to Tojo-senpai. I ended up resolving it with some forceful tactics, but we never did identify the real culprit. Tojo-senpai is still keeping an eye out, but since I wasn't affected much and haven't been pressing the issue, the whole thing is at a stalemate.

In the end, things have been left murky up until now. I could ignore it if it only affected me, but if it ever starts hurting the people around me, then I can't turn a blind eye.

Maybe it's time to talk to Tojo-senpai about this. This case is too serious to let slide.

“…Yukito Kokonoe?”

Sayuri-sensei's puzzled voice brought me back to reality.

“Nothing at all. I was just thinking that I'm starting to crave some of that pudding again.”

“I'll be shutting your mouth now. Guilty. Absolutely unforgivable. I'm not letting this slide.”

She clamped my mouth shut again. This was starting to feel like free-speech suppression, but since she was holding me from behind like a hug, I decided to behave. Please call me Teddy Yukito.

“You're unbelievable… But let's hope this is the end of it. Still, for just a prank on Suzune-sensei, it was way too elaborate. And if it really is that easy to make such realistic fake images, then the students are in just as much danger.”

“Yes. I'm an adult, so I can manage to endure it. But if something like this had happened to me in high school, honestly, I don't think I could've recovered. The damage would be immeasurable.”

The two of them continued talking seriously.

I see—if someone could make a fake image of Sanjoji-sensei, then it could be done to anyone. Anyone could become a victim.

Thinking about it that way, maybe there wasn't even a specific reason for targeting Sanjoji-sensei. Maybe it was just to make an example out of someone?

“Mmmph.”

Since I couldn't speak freely, I raised my hand to ask for permission.

“You're not going to talk about pudding again, are you? You'll never do that again, right!?”

I nodded, showing my full submission. From the start, this obedient Yukito had no intention of resisting.

“Fine. I suppose I'll allow it, then.”

Better to keep quiet about that message from Himiyama-san about the next event.

What even is a yogurt party…? Feels like it'll cleanse your gut or something.

“How do you even make something like this?”

Apparently, there used to be things called “aikora” a while back—a combination of “idol” and “collage.”
Basically, edited photos. Still, I didn't think it was possible to make something this elaborate.

These days, smartphones come with collage features. You can change the background, add effects, or do various edits with built-in tools. A lot of people post heavily edited photos on social media, even if the background warps and looks weird, all in an effort to make themselves look better.

Someone like Yuri-san is a natural beauty to the point where any editing actually takes away from her appeal, so she has no need for that. But photo editing has, in a way, become normal.

However, the image sent to Sanjoji-sensei went way beyond simple editing. It's not something just anyone could casually make.

“If anyone could make something like this, it'd be the end of the world,”

Sayuri-sensei muttered wearily.

For now, our most urgent issue is Sanjoji-sensei.

“I wonder if we can request disclosure for a deleted account?”

I should ask Goddess-sensei about that later.

We can't rule out the chance that the harassment might escalate. If filing a report could act as a deterrent, then we may need to take action, even if it's hard.

“But honestly, I don't want this turning into a big deal…”

Sanjoji-sensei looked troubled. That was likely her true feelings—she didn't know who the culprit was or what their goal was. It's natural not to want to get involved with such an unknown and frightening threat.

Right now, there are too many unknowns. What we needed most was time.

“Still, what should we do next, Suzuka-sensei? It seems unlikely, but if things escalate, we might need to warn the students. If that happens…”

Sayuri-sensei trailed off. It was only natural to be cautious. Telling the students could actually cause more harm than good. Spreading the information might just make the damage worse.

So far, it seems more likely that this is a personal grudge against Sanjoji-sensei rather than a random attack.
But we can't even say that for sure yet. There could be a next time.

We may not need to show the image itself, but we do need to report this to the principal. We might even want to inform papa Tojo-. There needs to be regulation.

“…Let's keep it under wraps for now.”

“I agree. Even if we can identify it as a fake using the mole, if we don't confirm it, it's still difficult. It would be nice if there were a clearer indicator that it was a fake…”

Sayuri-sensei glanced over at me. So I'm the one expected to do all the brainwork, as usual. Honestly, trying to determine real or fake in the first place feels like the wrong approach.

If it were obviously fake from the start, there wouldn't be any unnecessary suspicion.

“Huh? A message?”

I checked my phone. It was from Mineda. She wanted to talk about the maid outfits we'll wear for the culture festival.
She's a gyaru, but she's dedicated and skilled with her hands. I'm honestly impressed.

Ah, I get it now. Her dream must be to run her own clothing store in the future.

“Hmm? Wait a sec. A gyaru…”

“What's wrong, Yukito Kokonoe? You look like a millennial who just learned that Australopithecus wasn't the earliest hominid fossil, and it's actually Sahelanthropus tchadensis.”

[TL: Sahelanthropus is an extinct genus of hominid dated to about 7 million years ago during the Late Miocene. The type species, Sahelanthropus tchadensis, was first announced in 2002, based mainly on a partial cranium, nicknamed Toumaï, discovered in northern Chad]

“There's never really a good chance to relearn things like that later in life, huh.”

Sanjoji-sensei agreed. I stared at her silently.

“Wh-what is it, Kokonoe-kun? Don't look at me like that with such intense eyes…”

And then it hit me—a way to instantly see through a fake image. Physical traits… I remembered what Sayuri-sensei said earlier.

Just changing a hairstyle won't work. But with this, maybe…

Mineda, thank you. I won't forget this favor. I'll gladly support you in becoming a store manager someday.

“Sensei, let's go. To the tanning salon!”

“…A tanning salon?”

She looked blank, but don't worry. As an influencer, I ,Yukito Kokonoe, receive all kinds of campaign offers and coupons—including ones for tanning salons.

When you think of a gal, a healthy, sun-kissed tan is attractive. There's no reason not to take advantage of that.

“If we get the same kind of harassment again, and you've got a nice tan from the salon, we can immediately prove it's fake without even checking your mole!”

Why hadn't I thought of such a simple thing before? It's a clean, smart solution.

Avoid the malice, and a sun-tanned Sanjoji-sensei would be amazing!

“Wait! I've never even been to a tanning salon before—”

She hurriedly tried to stop me, but the decision was already made. She had no choice but to go along.

“Hey, it's my first time too, you know.”

“You're going too!?”

Well, I'm kind of curious…

“A tanning salon? What are you talking about…?”

Sayuri-sensei still didn't quite get it, so I tried to win her over.

“Then how about you try it too, Sensei? Don't worry about the cost—it's free.”

“What did you say?”

Her eyes sparkled suspiciously. Kukuku, you're no angel yourself.

“Fujishiro-sensei, don't just go along with it on impulse! Listen, Kokonoe-kun. At our age, skincare becomes a lot of work. Plus, tanning can cause spots and—”

Sanjoji-sensei protested, but it was already too late.

“According to the material we received from the technician, the tanning salon's machine filters out harmful UV rays, so it won't increase spots or freckles. Isn't that great?”

“‘That great, isn’t?' No, it isn't!”

With that, one problem was solved.

Next, we needed to figure out the method used. We couldn't allow such a despicable tactic to spread. Sensei is seriously hurt right now!

“Apparently, results vary from person to person, but after about a month, things should go back to normal.”

“Oh, that's a relief—like I'd actually say that!? Seriously!?”

“But, y'know… if Sensei got a tan, she'd look like the caramel on a pudding—ah.”

I realized I had just made a fatal mistake.

“This time, even my patience—which is usually bound by chains made of steel—is at its limit.”

“W-Wouldn't carbon nanotubes be even stronger…?”

As I fled from Sensei's creeping hands of wrath, I kept thinking of the next countermeasure.