Shuchiin Private Academy.
Located in the heart of Minato, Tokyo, this prestigious integrated institution spanned from kindergarten to university—a seamless academic pipeline, reserved for the children of Japan’s most elite families.
Even long after the formal abolition of the aristocracy, Shuchiin remained the quiet bastion of political bloodlines, corporate heirs, and social bluebloods. It wasn’t just a school—it was the cradle of Japan’s next generation of rulers.
"By the way," said Hayasaka Ai, her tone light and casual despite the weight of the information,
"For the past thirty years, ninety percent of Shuchiin’s funding has co directly from the Shinomiya Group."
"The current chairman of the board is the Shinomiya family’s eldest son—Shinomiya Oka-sama."
It was a simple explanation. Too simple.
In truth, the details behind Shuchiin’s foundation and power structure were far more intricate and deeply rooted in post-iji political maneuvering. But today wasn’t about that.
Today was about appearances.
Hayasaka Ai walked ahead, but not as the cold, calculating maid of the Shinomiya estate.
Nor as the sweet, soft-spoken noble lady she often posed as in the girls’ academy.
Today, she wore the skin of a gyaru.
A casual ponytail, shimring light makeup, glossy pink nail polish, and just a hint of attitude.
To the outside world, she was simply an ordinary student at Shuchiin—one with no official ties to Shinomiya Kaguya.
But Yukima Azuma knew the truth.
This gyaru persona?
Just another expertly-crafted mask.
Hayasaka Ai was still the most capable personal maid of the Shinomiya household.
Today, she’d been asked to help the student council welco an incoming exchange student—naly, Yukima Azuma himself.
How convenient.
He walked beside her, clearly amused.
"Yukima... -san... what are you smiling about?"
(.V o)?
She noticed imdiately, her expression tightening with guarded curiosity.
Ever since that night—the one where she’d pretended to sleep and been struck straight through the heart by his unfiltered confession—Hayasaka Ai had beco far more attuned to Yukima Azuma’s presence.
Perhaps he’s the only person...
Who can see through all my masks.
And still... likes what’s underneath.
No amount of training, no number of personas, could stop her heart from skipping in monts like this.
"Hayasaka, watching you is quite interesting," Yukima said with a relaxed smile.
(་་ ཡང་་་)
Hayasaka’s brow twitched.
She pursed her lips into a mild pout.
(0%)
If soone else had said that, she’d have rolled her eyes and walked away.
But when he said it...
It stung a little. In a strange way.
"So that’s it? Yukima-san likes gyaru girls now?"
"Not at all," Yukima replied smoothly. "It’s interesting because gyaru is Hayasaka Ai."
✩ (~ - ~ :)
"This is just a disguise. A persona to blend into Shuchiin. What’s so fascinating about that?"
Yukima stopped walking for a second.
He raised a single finger and wagged it lightly, as if lecturing a child.
"Hayasaka, people can’t pretend to be sothing they don’t understand."
"Every disguise cos from within.
The mask is painted by Hayasaka Ai herself."
"And if you look carefully—if you’re not blinded by the mask—you can catch glimpses of the one who painted it."
"Even if soone has a thousand masks—when you piece them together, you start to see the truth behind them."
"Don’t you find that... fascinating?"
Hayasaka looked away, cheeks slightly flushed.
(>
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