For some reason, the saint of our school drops her façade when she's with me (GL) - Chapter 12

The final exams were tougher than I expected.

They covered more material than the midterms and were more difficult, but thanks to the Saint’s tutoring, I was confident my scores would improve.

Even after grading my answers myself, I could tell the difference.

“Exam periods end so quickly, don’t they?”

“Yeah, I totally get that feeling.”

Since exams were split over four days and only took up the morning, we had the afternoons free.

Still, instead of going home early, we spent most of those afternoons in the clubroom like usual.

Maybe that made us a little strange.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to go home early?”

“If I stay here, I get an automatic bento made by you, Suzuki.”

Preparing lunch for the Saint had become a daily routine, though she didn’t know I’d been secretly working on expanding my recipe repertoire.

“And besides, this place is like our little secret hideout. I like it.”

“Uh-huh. And the real reason?”

“There’s also the fact that it’s easier to… let go of my restraints here compared to my house.”

It was true.

In the clubroom, I saw more of Karen Aizome, the girl behind the Saint’s mask.

“I don’t mind.”

“If I get too used to it, I might slip up and act like this in the classroom too.”

Ah, so that’s what she meant by a mask.

“Must be tough, being so popular.”

“Yes. But to keep relationships running smoothly, I have to pretend.”

“I think you’d be fine just being yourself.”

“I don’t like that idea. I prefer showing different sides of myself to different people.”

Fair enough.

“Anyway, I have something here—want to play?”

“Shogi? Since when did we have that in the clubroom?”

I didn’t remember seeing it among the club’s supplies.

“You used to play with your uncle, didn’t you?”

“You know that?”

“I looked into it.”

“Well, yeah… My uncle loved shogi.”

Since he didn’t know much about girl-related activities, he spent a lot of time playing catch or shogi with me instead.

“I envy that a little.”

“Really?”

“I never had that kind of interaction with my parents.”

The Saint’s parents were still alive, but they were busy running businesses, often overseas, so they rarely had time for her.

“I did have a guardian of sorts, though. I spent more time with them than my actual parents.”

“Hasegawa?”

“Kondo, actually. Him and his wife.”

Oh, the refined older steward.

“Kondo is an old friend of my father’s. He and his wife can’t have children, so they treated me like their own daughter.”

That was… a pretty heavy thing to drop so casually.

“For a while, I seriously thought they were my real parents.”

“That makes sense. Kids wouldn’t know any better.”

“Yes. A DNA test and some old photos convinced me otherwise.”

“Do you look like your parents?”

“I take after my mother. No resemblance to my father at all. At one point, I even wondered if I was an illegitimate child.”

I guess that’s a natural thought process.

“But that turned out not to be the case.”

“Did you confirm it with another DNA test?”

“Yes. Still, even when they come home, all they ever talk about is work. I honestly don’t know if they even care about me.”

As I finished setting up the shogi board, she suddenly asked:

“If your life was set on a predetermined track, but along the way, you found a path you truly wanted to take, what would you do?”

That was a tough question.

I didn’t have a clear future in mind. My life was uncertain even in the short term.

But there was one thing I could say.

“If there was something I really wanted, I’d do anything to change tracks for it.”

Following the path laid out for you isn’t a bad thing.

But if I had a choice, I’d rather go after what I truly wanted—no matter the outcome.

“And if your choice meant changing someone else’s path? Even if they didn’t want it?”

“Hmm… I wouldn’t want to take responsibility for someone else’s life. But if it were you, Aizome, I don’t think I’d mind getting caught up in whatever you choose.”

She looked surprised for a moment, as if about to say something—

But then her phone rang, and she closed her mouth.

“Not answering?”

“It’s fine.”

She cut the call immediately, as if she already knew who it was.

Lately, I’d noticed something.

The Saint had different ringtones for different people.

For old classmates, her phone played nostalgic songs when she was outside and construction noises at home.

For current classmates, it was trending music in public and political campaign speeches at home.

For connections from her lessons or family business, classical music played in public, while at home, it switched to farm animal noises.

Most of them were just annoying sounds.

It seemed like a hassle, but apparently, she had an app custom-made to automatically switch ringtones, so it wasn’t much effort.

Maybe it helped her mentally separate her public persona from her private one.

Considering that, it was strange how she acted so openly around me.

Among all those ringtones, there was one that stood out—just the default, standard one.

She used that tone for both outside and home.

I hadn’t checked her call log, but from the way she reacted, I suspected it belonged to one of her parents.

I hadn’t confirmed it, but once, after declining a call at home, I caught a glimpse of the screen before it turned off.

It seemed to be from one of them.

“There’s no point worrying about spam calls.”

With that, she moved a shogi piece.

Wait—she just started the match without saying anything?!

I did set up the board, but—

“At least let me go first.”

“Did you know, Suzuki? The rising young shogi champion has a high win rate regardless of whether they go first or second.”

“That has nothing to do with me, though.”

According to my uncle, shogi gives a slight advantage to the first player.

I wasn’t sure if that was true, but his reasoning—”It’s always better to take control first”—made sense.

“Besides, I think defense suits you better, Suzuki.”

“Is that… a compliment?”

“The highest kind. Though, I’d love to see you on the offensive too.”

I wonder what exactly she meant by that.

“You hungry?”

“Yes, please.”

“The Saint in the Clubroom”

As I took out the salami I had bought earlier while shopping for dinner, the Saint picked up a piece, ate it, and casually licked the oil off her fingers.

…Why does she have to make everything look so sensual?

“I suddenly want some juice.”

“I already bought some.”

I knew she’d say that, so I came prepared.

“Suzuki, you’re very convenient.”

“You make me sound like an object.”

“Does that excite you?”

“It does not.”

…Not that I mind hearing it from her.

When I said that, the Saint smiled.

“Doesn’t seem like something a noble lady should be eating, though.”

“As long as it’s delicious, that’s all that matters. Besides, a little break from routine makes life feel more real.”

I didn’t fully get what she meant, but looking at her confidently well-endowed figure, I couldn’t help feeling annoyed.

Still, I could understand the appeal of sneaking in a little snack.

“Right now, this is just an ordinary kind of ‘extraordinary.’”

She looked at me with an expectant gaze before adding,

“If this special moment could turn into something even more special, that would be perfect.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what do you think? Let me know when you figure it out.”

She spoke as if I already knew the answer—like she was waiting for me to say it.

Even someone as dense as me had a vague idea of what she was hinting at.

“I’d prefer if you figured it out soon. Time isn’t unlimited, after all.”

“That sounds pretty ominous.”

“Whether we want it to or not, time keeps moving forward.”

She wasn’t wrong—time was finite and merciless.

Even the scars my mother left on me had mostly faded, with only the deepest ones remaining.

I wasn’t a masochist, so I never found joy in them, but…

Watching them disappear felt strange—almost like all traces of my mother’s existence were vanishing.

I didn’t feel sad about it.

Did that make me an ungrateful daughter?

“By the way, it’s pretty lively outside today.”

“Well, everyone just got released from their trials.”

With today marking the end of exams, the school grounds were bustling again.

Sports clubs were practicing. The band was playing.

Normally, silence would be preferable, but sitting here with her, even the background noise felt oddly pleasant.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?”

“Hmm… Soboro sounds nice.”

“Soboro, huh? Got it.”

I liked moments like this—simple, everyday conversations.

The Saint seemed to enjoy them too, as a soft smile formed on her lips.

“Suzuki, this feels a little like a newlywed couple’s routine, doesn’t it?”

“Trying to make me flustered won’t work.”

My facial muscles are unbeatable.

“Then, can I call you ‘Darling’?”

“So I’m the husband?”

“Would you rather I take that role?”

“That sounds way more dangerous.”

“Aw, too bad.”

Even the smallest movements she made were effortlessly cute—it felt unfair.

And the fact that I didn’t dislike her antics probably meant I was just as bad.

Oh, and as for the shogi match?

I lost three times in a row without even standing a chance.

Seriously, Saint, you’re way too strong.