“Application forms are handled first come, first served.”
The yellow-haired girl was currently bent over the table, filling out her form with smooth, fluid strokes. At those words, the tip of her pen paused for the slightest moment.
She lifted her head and looked toward Qiu Mian, who stood blocking her and Shimizu Yuzu. Her face wore exactly the right shade of apology.
“Ah, I’m sorry about that, Qiu Mian.”
She set the pen down and brought her palms together lightly in front of her chin, striking a cute, slightly apologetic pose.
“I got a little too excited. Seeing someone with the same interests joining made me so happy that I forgot about the proper order. We should have let Qiu Mian and Qiu Kui fill theirs out first.”
As she spoke, she proactively slid the partially completed form she and her companions had been writing on to the side, clearing space for the blank sheet still in Shimizu Yuzu’s hands.
“Shimizu, why don’t you process Qiu Mian and the others first?” she said softly to the still-flustered Shimizu Yuzu.
“Don’t be nervous. Take your time.”
Her reasonable, voluntarily yielding demeanor, paired with that gentle smiling face, left absolutely no room for criticism.
The two girls she had brought along stood quietly to one side as well, smiling politely with none of yesterday’s arrogance.
Yet Qiu Mian only felt more stifled.
Damn it! It’s like punching cotton!
The more she acts gentle and proper, the more it makes me look petty and unreasonable!
She could feel the muscles in her cheeks twitching faintly with rage. Only by clenching her teeth could she keep the cold mask on her face intact.
Sparks practically flew from her eyes as she glared at the yellow-haired girl’s flawless gentle expression, itching to rip that fake mask right off.
“Hmph.”
She let out a cold snort through her nose as a reply, then snatched the blank application form straight from Shimizu Yuzu’s hand.
She turned and slapped the form onto a nearby empty table, speaking stiffly to Qiu Kui.
“Fill it out.”
Qiu Kui obediently hummed an “Mm,” took the form, picked up the pen, and began writing her name and class with careful, deliberate strokes.
Her handwriting was neat, yet the faint tremble in the pen tip betrayed the unrest in her heart.
Her gaze flicked once toward the yellow-haired girl, but she kept her focus on the form. The hand hanging at her side, however, kept nervously picking at the hem of her uniform skirt, pinching the smooth fabric into tiny wrinkles.
Qiu Mian caught the small action from the corner of her eye and felt her chest grow even tighter.
Seeing Qiu Mian start filling out the form, Shimizu Yuzu breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Yet when she faced the smiling, patiently waiting yellow-haired trio, her nerves returned. She spoke softly.
“U-um… everyone, please wait a moment…”
“It’s fine, Shimizu,” the yellow-haired girl said, her eyes curving into a warm smile, her voice gentle.
“We’re not in a hurry. Oh, I noticed the activity room is a little messy. Would you like some help tidying up? These prop boxes look a bit dusty.”
As she spoke, she walked naturally toward the corner where the prop boxes were stacked, pulled out a clean handkerchief, and lightly wiped the dust from the lid of one box.
Her movements were practiced and familiar, as though she did this sort of thing often.
Her two companions immediately followed her lead. One began organizing the scattered script booklets while the other picked up a broom and started sweeping the corners of the room with light, quiet strokes.
The three worked together with perfect coordination, their actions brisk yet gentle. In moments the previously dim and lifeless activity room gained a touch of vitality.
At the same time, it made the Qiu Mian sisters—who stood coldly filling out forms and ignoring everything around them—seem somewhat… out of place.
Shimizu Yuzu watched them, confusion deepening on her face. It was clear she had never encountered newcomers who were this “proactive” and “gentle and friendly.” She stammered, unsure what to say.
“N-no need to trouble yourselves… I-I can handle it myself…”
“It’s no trouble at all,” the yellow-haired girl replied, turning back with another smile.
“Once you decide to join the club, you’re part of it. Helping clean and organize is only natural. Right, Qiu Mian?”
She suddenly tossed the question straight to Qiu Mian, her gaze bright and full of the warm smile that said we’re all companions here.
Qiu Mian had been biting the end of her pen, wrestling with the “Reason for Joining” blank on the form.
I can’t exactly write “investigating the fox mask and the potential killer,” can I?
When the yellow-haired girl suddenly called her name, Qiu Mian’s hand jerked. The pen left a small scratch across the paper. She looked up and met those smiling eyes.
“…” Qiu Mian pressed her lips into a tight line. A cold glint flashed in her gaze as she forced out two stiff words.
“Whatever.”
“Qiu Mian is still as cold as ever.”
Far from getting angry, the yellow-haired girl seemed amused. She let out a soft, clear laugh that carried a hint of affectionate teasing.
“But that’s just like you, Qiu Mian. As long as… you don’t use that attitude on people you actually care about.”
As she spoke, her gaze swept quickly across Qiu Kui, who was quietly filling out her own form.
Qiu Mian’s eyes darkened.
What is she implying?
What exactly was the relationship between the original host and her?! Does she know the “original host” treated Qiu Kui badly? Is she suggesting that my current coldness and protectiveness toward Qiu Kui is just another form of “bad treatment”?
The yellow-haired girl’s words sounded like concern, like a kind reminder from Qiu Kui’s side. Yet when paired with her vicious insults from yesterday and the gentle mask she wore now, every syllable felt like a sugar-coated needle laced with poison, pricking straight into Qiu Mian’s heart.
“My business is none of your concern.”
Qiu Mian’s voice grew even colder.
She set the pen down, pushed the half-filled form toward Qiu Kui to indicate she should continue, then stood up and faced the yellow-haired girl directly. She tried to hold her ground in presence, even if her height still left her at a disadvantage.
“Mind your own business.”
The yellow-haired girl studied her—clearly furious yet stubbornly maintaining that cold, domineering front—and the amusement in her eyes deepened.
She let out a soft sigh and shook her head. Her voice was gentle, as though soothing a sulky child.
“Sigh, still exactly the same. Not a single thing has changed.”
“You’re always like this—pushing away other people’s concern and treating both yourself and… the people around you in the worst possible way.”
As she spoke, she set the handkerchief aside and took a step closer to Qiu Mian.
Her gaze settled on the strand of long hair that had fallen messily across Qiu Mian’s face from her earlier emotional outburst.
“Your hair is a little messy,” she said softly, then reached out quite naturally, as if to tuck the strand gently behind Qiu Mian’s ear.
The gesture was tender, carrying the easy intimacy of a close friend.
“—Don’t touch me!”
The instant her fingertips were about to brush the hair, Qiu Mian swung her hand fiercely. Smack! She slapped the yellow-haired girl’s outstretched hand away with force!
The crisp sound rang out sharply in the quiet activity room.
Everyone froze.
Shimizu Yuzu clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.
The two girls the yellow-haired girl had brought also stopped what they were doing and looked over.
Qiu Kui’s pen tip stabbed hard into the paper, punching a small hole.
She lifted her head, staring fixedly at the reddened hand that had been slapped away, then at Qiu Mian. Complex emotions surged in her eyes—her nails, still picking at her skirt hem, dug in so hard they nearly pierced the fabric.
The yellow-haired girl herself was stunned for a second.
She glanced down at the faint red mark on the back of her hand, then looked back up at Qiu Mian.
Qiu Mian regretted the action the moment it happened.
It had been too big, too impulsive.
It completely contradicted her goal of staying calm and investigating, and instead made her look guilty, irritable, and completely unreasonable.
But she couldn’t control it.
The way the yellow-haired girl pretended to be gentle and considerate while every word hinted that she “would hurt Qiu Kui,” combined with that attempt to touch her, filled Qiu Mian with extreme discomfort and revulsion. Her body’s reaction had been faster than her brain.
The yellow-haired girl stared at her quietly for two seconds.
Just when Qiu Mian thought she would drop the act and reveal some vicious expression—
She suddenly let out a soft “pfft” and laughed again.
She rubbed the reddened back of her hand, her tone carrying a trace of grievance yet mostly that same soft, teasing warmth.
“That hurt, Qiu Mian. You really didn’t hold back.”
She blinked, looking at the flush of embarrassment and anger on Qiu Mian’s cheeks, and lowered her voice even further, as though sharing a secret.
“Still, seeing you this lively is much better than the cold version.”
“At least… it doesn’t look like you’ll hurt yourself and everyone around you again the way you used to.”
“Used to? Hurt?”
Qiu Mian’s heart gave a heavy thud.
The yellow-haired girl’s words pointed straight at the “past” and at things the “original host” might have done.
What is she hinting at? Who is “everyone”?
Questions churned inside her, but Qiu Mian knew this was not the time to ask. She forcefully suppressed her doubts, kept her icy expression in place, and deliberately looked away from the yellow-haired girl toward Qiu Kui.
“Are you done?”
Qiu Kui nodded, carefully handed her completed form to Shimizu Yuzu, then took Qiu Mian’s half-filled sheet. She asked softly, “Jie-jie… the motivation section…”
“Write whatever.”
Qiu Mian was too distracted to care.
Qiu Kui answered with an “Oh,” thought for a moment, and neatly wrote the three characters for “interested” in the motivation blank on Qiu Mian’s form.
The handwriting was completely different from Qiu Mian’s—clearly written on her behalf.
Shimizu Yuzu accepted the two forms with flustered hands and turned toward the yellow-haired trio.
The yellow-haired girl had already recovered her smile. She presented her own and her companions’ completed forms with both hands, her attitude respectful.
“Thank you for the trouble, Shimizu. Please take care of us from now on.”
Halfway through handing them over, a breeze slipped in through the slightly open window and lifted the corner of the topmost form.
Qiu Mian’s gaze followed it instinctively.
In the name field, she caught two clear, elegant characters—
Misaki.
The surname was partially hidden by the paper, but the name “Misaki” stood out plainly.
Misaki…
It sounded gentle.
It matched the gentle image she was currently projecting.
Yet as Qiu Mian stared at that name and then at the smiling “Misaki” before her, only a deeper chill of wariness settled in her chest.
Misaki… who exactly are you?
“Qiu Mian’s” past…
Joining the drama club—did you really come just to act? Or… do you have another purpose?
“The wind picked up,” Misaki murmured.
She gently pressed down the lifted corner of the form, smiled apologetically at Shimizu Yuzu, then turned and closed the window with natural ease.
Inside the activity room, the new and old club members had gathered, each lost in their own thoughts.
Shimizu Yuzu clutched the application forms that still carried the faint scent of fresh ink.
Misaki and her companions stood quietly to one side.
After finishing her form, Qiu Kui pressed close to Qiu Mian, head lowered, fingers still unconsciously picking at her skirt hem, visibly anxious.
And Qiu Mian stood in place, her heart heavy as lead.
She had thought joining the drama club would give her an entry point to the clues.
Instead, the moment the door opened, she was greeted not only by the timid Shimizu Yuzu and the mysterious fox mask, but also by this “Misaki”—wrapped in a gentle exterior yet seemingly aware of far too many secrets.