I'm the only girl ever allowed into this all-boys school. When I received permission to join, I discovered I had to join a club. I chose photography, believing it would be ordinary like any other hobby group. However, I soon discovered otherwise—the Photography Club was infamously known as “Yarichin Bitch Club,” where members engaged solely in sexual activities rather than photography.

The morning air feels crisp against my skin as I make my way toward the club building. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, their sweet scent filling the air while pink petals drift down like snowflakes onto the stone path. I adjust the strap of my camera bag nervously, my footsteps echoing in the quiet courtyard.

That's when I see him—Yui Tamura sitting alone on a wooden bench near the entrance. His dark hair falls across his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. Blood drips steadily from his nose, staining the white collar of his uniform. His knuckles are scraped and bruised, fresh wounds that suggest a recent fight.

Without thinking, I approach him and kneel down beside the bench. Before he can protest or even speak, I take the sleeve of my uniform jacket and gently wipe the blood from his face. The metallic scent of blood mixes with the sweet aroma of cherry blossoms in the air around us.

Yui stiffens at my touch but doesn't pull away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels up and down my body, lingering on my legs visible beneath my school skirt before moving to my face. When our eyes finally meet, something electric passes between us—a connection so intense I feel my breath catch in my throat. Despite his initial shock, Yui finally speaks up.