If I had to describe Blue Sea Academy right now in a single sentence.
It would probably be—
“A place that’s clearly a school, yet today is working hard to disguise itself as a theme park.”
It was campus open day.
The school entrance was far livelier than I had imagined.
Visitors in casual clothing, parents holding cameras, and enthusiastic players obviously here for BHAO packed the already narrow paths completely full.
I stood at the edge of the crowd and subconsciously shifted half a step behind Haori.
Not because he was reliable.
But because in crowds, I had always been accustomed to making myself “look less conspicuous.”
“Wow—there are so many people!”
Haori’s voice carried a completely unguarded excitement.
He looked around left and right while naturally waving his hand, already starting to greet people he didn’t even know.
Impressive.
I silently evaluated in my heart.
This kind of ability to quickly insert “yourself” into a crowd in an unfamiliar environment was a high-difficulty skill tree for me.
I basically couldn’t unlock it.
“This is the main cultural festival area.”
Haori pointed ahead.
Colorful flags, display boards, temporary stalls, and AR projections floating in mid-air.
Almost every few steps, the words “BHAO KNOCKOUT” could be seen.
“After all, it coincides perfectly with the BHAO KNOCKOUT.”
Haori’s tone was light.
“Blue Sea Academy’s biggest selling point to the outside world is ‘letting you experience frontline BHAO battle culture up close.'”
I nodded.
From a business perspective, it was indeed very reasonable.
Combining inherently stimulating elements like “competition,” “rankings,” and “victory and defeat” with a cultural festival that naturally attracts large crowds of outsiders.
The result was—
Popularity, traffic, and points could all be quantified, exchanged, and reused.
This school was truly skilled at turning everything into a “system.”
And now.
We were standing in front of the noisiest and most dangerous branch of this system.
“Moe-ify Your Heart ♡ Maid Café.”
“…”
I stopped walking and stared at the sign that was so pink it nearly glowed.
“Haori.”
“Hmm?”
“Does our school have a somewhat too liberal understanding of the concept of ‘moe’?”
“Ah, this.”
Haori smiled without a care.
“After all, it’s campus open day.”
“The more extreme, the more memorable it is.”
I looked at the café’s exterior.
Pink lace, heart-shaped lights, and a massive signboard hanging at the entrance.
The most eye-catching feature was the entire wall.
The Player Support Wall.
Every participant in the BHAO KNOCKOUT preliminary round had a corresponding display section.
Avatar, ID, support rate progress bar.
And—
A corresponding “maid.”
Among that row of names, I quickly spotted several familiar ones.
“WATER FENCER (Chiyo Haori)”
Support rate: Clearly in first place.
Beside it was his promotional photo, with text written below:
“Today’s On-Duty Maid: Haori-chan ♡”
…I suddenly understood why this shop was called a “popular section.”
And in the corner.
I saw a name I was somewhat reluctant to face.
“UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR”
The support rate bar… didn’t seem to be at the absolute bottom.
Although still quite low, it had clearly risen a section higher than the almost negligible state I had expected.
“Huh?”
Haori noticed it too.
“Yoruichi, look.”
“Your support rate has gone up.”
“…Probably the influence of that match earlier.”
My tone was flat.
After all, in this system, “winning” itself was the most direct form of publicity.
However.
Below the “UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR” section.
It was completely empty.
No maid name.
No recommended menu.
And no slogans like “Please support him.”
“I see.”
I reached a conclusion in my heart.
Without a bound character, there was naturally no entry point for consumption.
No matter what, this was ultimately a cultural festival.
A place where points, support rates, and cheers could all be converted into “money.”
“Yoruichi.”
Haori suddenly said in a low voice.
“Don’t you think… something over there looks a bit dangerous?”
I followed his line of sight.
On one side inside the shop, several customers who were clearly hardcore players—wearing shirts printed with Haori’s image—were already waiting at their seats.
Their expressions were expectant, almost devout.
…Honestly, this scene delivered a certain mental shock to me.
“Our school’s tastes are really strange.”
I couldn’t help complaining.
“To show such high enthusiasm for a trap maid.”
“Eh?”
“But I think it’s okay.”
Haori’s tone was natural.
“They like the character image, not the gender itself.”
…This guy’s mental fortitude is really strong.
Just then.
A woman wearing a maid outfit, whose aura was clearly different from the others, walked over.
A name tag hung on her chest.
Kuroha Aoi.
“Haori-chan, you’re finally here.”
Her tone clearly carried a sense of relief.
“Thank goodness.”
“There are really way too many people today.”
“Sorry about that.”
Haori scratched his head.
“I just finished my match, so I got delayed a bit.”
Aoi nodded, then lowered her voice.
“Ame-chan isn’t feeling well today, and we’re completely short-staffed now.”
“Even with you here, we’re still a little short.”
She paused, then added.
“And you have a handshake event later, right?”
Haori showed a somewhat troubled expression.
“Yeah… I do.”
Aoi sighed.
Then, her gaze suddenly landed on me.
More precisely, it landed on my height, build, and face.
It was the kind of evaluative look unique to professionals.
As if quickly assessing “feasibility.”
“This is…?”
“Ah, he’s Yoruichi.”
Haori introduced him naturally.
“My friend.”
Aoi’s eyes brightened.
“…Yoruichi-chan?”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Wait a second.”
“With your figure, if you put on a little makeup…”
She had already entered a state where she had no intention of stopping.
“The effect might not be any worse than Haori’s.”
“…”
“?”
Haori was stunned for a moment.
Then—
As if suddenly realizing something, his eyes slowly lit up.
“Right, Yoruichi.”
His tone was serious.
“You actually suit it really well.”
“I refuse.”
It was almost a reflexive response.
“Please abandon this idea immediately.”
But Aoi did not back down.
“If you’re willing to help out,”
She spoke rapidly.
“You can directly take 5% of today’s subsequent sales revenue.”
I paused.
“Moreover.”
She revealed a meaningful smile.
“I know you’re ‘UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR.'”
I looked up.
“If you agree, I can put ‘Yorumi-chan’ under your contestant section.”
“Once your popularity rises, you’ll earn double points.”
“…”
This condition.
Was extremely dangerous.
Dangerous enough that I could clearly hear the sound of my rationality crumbling.
I was in desperate need of points right now.
Not only for leveling up, but also because of my parents’ meager wages and our subpar low-rent housing.
I really needed the points to improve our living situation.
“I agree… but the name has to be changed.”
I finally spoke.
After all, my current setup was perfect—as long as I turned off the AR device, I wouldn’t even need makeup.
The Night Witch’s charm was no joke.
“Don’t use Yoruichi.”
“Change it to—Yorumi.”
I needed at least a fake identity to save some face.
Aoi was stunned for a moment.
Then, she showed a victorious smile.
“Deal.”