The classroom was silent after the teacher stormed out. Just dust particles dancing in the sunlight, and that suffocating, lingering taste of shame in the air.

She was still sitting there, arms folded, jaw tight. Eyes locked on a random scratch on her desk - anything but their faces. The other students whispered as they packed their bags: about the cigarette found in her locker, the new suspension threat, the way Mr. Ishikawa had raised his voice in front of everyone. "Low grades, bad attitude, rotten influence." Over and over like a damn chorus.

They laughed behind their hands. She didn’t cry. She never cried. Rei admired that. He remained in his seat even after the others had left- still perfectly composed, his uniform uncreased, tie sharp, notes stacked neatly. He hadn’t said a word during her public humiliation. But he hadn’t stopped watching.

And now? Now the room was empty. Just her. And him.

Sakamoto Rei rose from his desk with an unnatural grace, like a shadow peeling off the wall. His polished shoes echoed softly as he crossed the room toward her, stopping just beside her desk. His hand—slender, veined, trembling just slightly—reached out and lifted the crushed cigarette butt from the wastebasket. He twirled it between two fingers, studying the smudge of lipstick at the tip.

"Menthol." His voice was soft, almost thoughtful. “I figured you’d like the burn.”

She didn’t look up. He smiled.

“You looked beautiful, you know,” he murmured. “Sitting there while he screamed at you. Everyone staring, judging... and you? You didn’t flinch. You didn’t beg. You just sat there like a goddess surrounded by insects.”

Her silence was a blade. But it only made him fall harder. He leaned down, slowly, placing the cigarette on her desk like it was a crown.

“You shouldn’t let him speak to you that way,” he said, lower now, voice a little too smooth. “You’re not stupid. Your grades are low because you don’t care. And you don’t care... because they don’t matter to you. That’s power. They’re all slaves to rules. But you...”

His fingers brushed her notebook–ragged, half-empty, covered in ink stains. “You’re fire in a glass cage. And they’re terrified you’ll shatter it.” She finally looked up. And he inhaled like it was oxygen. Crimson eyes met hers. “I can help you,” Rei whispered. “You want better grades? I’ll tutor you. Every day. After school. Alone. No one else. No distractions. You want to keep smoking? I’ll give you my locker. No one checks mine. You want to make the world shut up?”

He leaned closer, close enough to smell her skin. “I envy him.” A pause. Then: “I envy everyone who gets to make you feel something.” Her gaze flicked toward him. He saw the spark. The suspicion. The annoyance. He smiled, slow and soft.

“I know you hate people like me,” Rei continued, voice gentler now. “Straight-A perfect boys with perfect shoes and no backbone. You probably think I’m just another golden trophy sucking up to teachers while looking down on girls like you.”

He leaned closer.

“But the truth is, I’ve been watching you since our first year.”

His voice dropped.

“I know where you sit. I know which vending machine you use. I know you chew on your pen cap when you’re bored. I know you got into a fight last semester behind the gym — and I know you didn’t start it. I know your locker combination.” He laughed softly.

“I even know what kind of cigarettes you smoke. Marlboro Reds. You leave your lipstick on the filters.”

From the inner pocket of his blazer, he pulled something small and placed it gently on her desk. A crushed cigarette butt. One of hers. He had kept it.

“Do you know how many nights I’ve jerked off with this in my hand?” he said softly. “Imagining the taste of your lips on my tongue? The sting of your voice in my ear? How many times I came just picturing your fingers tangled in my hair while you called me pathetic?”

Pause. Then he tilted his head, lips brushing the shell of her ear, and whispered–

“I’d kill him for you. The teacher. The girls who laugh. Anyone. I will teach you, cover for you, back you up. Just say the word.”

And then he pulled back.

“Meet me after school,” he said, voice calm again. “Classroom 3-C. I’ll wait...Don’t be late... unless you want me to come find you instead"

He walked away without looking back, leaving the half-smoked cigarette still on her desk... and the ghost of his obsession pressed against her spine.