Chapter 24: The Beauty Full of Resentment

The two of them emerged from the swimming pool, walking together as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

As they neared the classroom, Chikawa suddenly slowed her pace, letting Kitahara enter the room just ahead of her.

Kitahara glanced back with a strange look, then snickered quietly. Chikawa turned her face away, remaining silent.

What was so funny about that?

"Hey, Kitahara!"

Yoshimizu approached him and patted him on the shoulder. "Did you take care of that thing from this morning?"

"What thing?"

"Don't tell me you forgot?" Yoshimizu’s expression shifted dramatically. "The head teacher told you to go to the office to reflect on your conduct..."

Right, that did happen.

But Kitahara had forgotten all about it.

He could imagine what expression Sato Sayuri would be wearing after being stood up, but it didn't matter. Sato Sayuri was different from the others.

That woman had long since been conditioned by "PUA" tactics.

So he’d stood her up—so what?

"I'll go check it out after the first period ends."

Yoshimizu tugged at him.

"Hurry up and move aside..." he whispered, casting a look of slight awe toward Chikawa Ryoka. "You're blocking her path."

"Oh, sorry."

Kitahara stepped to the side to let Chikawa pass. She didn't say a word, returning to her seat with a cold face before dropping her head and falling straight asleep.

"I couldn't tell by looking at you, but you've got some guts..."

"How so?"

Kitahara asked, puzzled, and Yoshimizu lowered his voice again. "That girl—she’s part of our school’s delinquent 'gal' clique."

What on earth?

It had that juvenile, biker-gang feel to it. How did his little girlfriend end up mixed up in that?

Kitahara was left speechless and asked, "What is that?"

"The school's 'big sisters.' A group of idlers who hang around after school. None of them are people you want to mess with; they’re all 'landmine' girls... You provoke one, and the whole lot will come looking for trouble." Yoshimizu’s voice carried a hint of fear.

He tugged at Kitahara’s sleeve. "Anyway, just don't go provoking her..."

Sorry, but not only had he provoked her, he’d also made her his girlfriend.

However, Kitahara also wore a thoughtful expression. It seemed that the "friends" Chikawa had mentioned were among those delinquents.

As for why a school like Fuboku Daifeng had such people, the reason was simple.

Every school has its share of bottom-tier students.

By relying on family connections or making donations, they could get into Fuboku Daifeng. The goal of this group was merely to scrape by with a diploma before graduating to inherit their family businesses.

The delinquent girls were born from this.

Because their families were wealthy and influential, the other students at Fuboku Daifeng generally didn't dare to provoke them, maintaining a state of peaceful coexistence.

Kitahara looked into it briefly but didn't intend to dig deeper. After all, most of these people were promiscuous, and there was nothing worth knowing about that.

...

After class, Kitahara stopped in front of the door marked with Sato Sayuri’s office nameplate and knocked.

"Come in."

A cold voice emanated from within, and Kitahara pushed the door open.

The office was minimalist and carried a strong personal touch. A kettle on the windowsill was bubbling, having already come to a boil.

Not far away, the female teacher, who had changed her clothes, was hunched over, writing something.

The office heater was on, so Sato Sayuri had taken off her coat, revealing the white shirt underneath. The top button was undone, exposing a glimpse of smooth, pale skin. Her lower half was clad in a professional skirt that tightly hugged her hips.

Judging by her figure alone, Sato Sayuri was exquisite. She was a woman who clearly took care of herself; she was shapely, with curves in all the right places, and her blouse was stretched taut. When she worked, she possessed a unique charm—a swaying, mature allure.

"Busy?"

Kitahara walked up to her and leaned against the desk, looking down at her lesson plan.

The neat, graceful handwriting was a pleasure to behold. Paired with Sato Sayuri’s ice-cold expression, it was a work of art worth admiring.

Sato Sayuri ignored him, as if she hadn't heard a thing, continuing to write her lesson plan in silence.

Playing hard to get?

Seeing that she wouldn't speak, Kitahara whispered, "Are you angry? I'm sorry. I had some things to take care of at noon, so I forgot to look for you. I didn't do it on purpose..."

Sato Sayuri’s pen faltered. She bit her lip, a surge of resentment welling up inside her.

She had thought that after being so clear this morning, he would have understood her intentions. She never expected that after waiting in the office for an hour and a half, Kitahara would simply stand her up!

This was past the point of tolerance!

In all her years, she had never been stood up by a man! By what right was Kitahara being so arrogant?

"I am not angry, Kitahara-kun," Sato Sayuri said stiffly.

"Then why are you ignoring me?"

"Please watch your language, Kitahara-kun," Sato Sayuri said coldly. "Is this the respect due to a teacher? No honorifics, no polite speech at all?"

"And why are you standing so close to me? Are we that familiar?"

She tilted her head back, looking at him indifferently.

"..."

The barrage of words caught Kitahara off guard.

The shift in this woman’s attitude was far too fast. Just yesterday, they were indulging in expensive, flirtatious ambiguity, and today she wore a completely different face.

However, Kitahara didn't take it to heart; after all, he was the one who had stood her up. Even a clay bodhisattva has a temper, let alone a mature woman like Sato Sayuri.

She was beautiful and usually treated like a treasure by men; there was no way she would accept being stood up. With that mindset, she was naturally full of fire.

"At noon, I was studying so intently that I didn't realize until it was past lunchtime. By the time I finished eating in a rush, I went back to the classroom to study... I apologize for breaking our promise," Kitahara said softly.

Sato Sayuri coldly turned her face away.

What kind of bull-crap studying? A student with failing grades like him could be that focused? He couldn't even come up with a better excuse for lying!

Kitahara casually grabbed a teapot and poured a cup of tea for her. "Have a drink and cool off. I can explain everything to you slowly."

She shot him a glare and took the tea, but as soon as she took a sip, she couldn't help but choke, tears streaming down her face.

"So hot..."

It was fresh, boiling water that had just finished bubbling. As Sato Sayuri drank, she was naturally scalded.

"Are you doing this on purpose just to annoy me?!"

The teacher shed tears, gritting her teeth and glaring fiercely at Kitahara. The latter was still laughing heartlessly, which only made Sato Sayuri feel more aggrieved. She bit her lip, buried her face in the desk, and began to sob softly.

Deep down, there was still a child who hadn't grown up, a child wrapped in the layers of time.

Far away in Tokyo, in this place where she had no family, the walls around Sato Sayuri’s heart had grown thicker and thicker. Yet, at the same time, that inner child had grown lonelier. Now, having encountered her "white moonlight" from the past, she felt as if she had returned to her junior high school days—that crybaby, the Sato Sayuri who would tear up at the slightest agitation.

The resentment in Sato Sayuri’s heart gradually overflowed, turning into tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes.

At this moment, she wanted to cast everything aside and cry out loud, but her remaining rationality restrained her.

Still, the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. The more she thought about it, the more wronged she felt.

He wouldn't comfort me, and he even ran over here specifically to irritate me! Kitahara, you are truly the worst!

Until...

Gentle arms pulled Sato Sayuri into an embrace, and a soft whisper murmured in her ear: "I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose."

"Go away!"

"I hate you!"

Sato Sayuri pushed at him, feeling wronged, but no matter how hard she pushed, the boy’s strength seemed endless as he held her tight.

The resentment in Sato Sayuri’s heart erupted at that moment.

"You didn't come over sooner! You only come to comfort me after you've made me angry!"

"You really are hopelessly wicked!"

She continued to pour out her frustration until Kitahara’s constant acceptance finally calmed her down.

As if longing for this warmth, Sato Sayuri’s strength began to fade.

She buried her face in his chest, whispering to herself, "I was already having such a hard time, and you specifically came over to make me angry..."

"I thought Sayuri was a strong adult," Kitahara said.

"I am!"

"Then why were you ignoring me just now?"

The woman in his arms began to stir restlessly again, looking both shy and annoyed. "Who told you to stand me up? Do you know how much I wanted to see you?"

Sato Sayuri paused suddenly after speaking, lifting her face to see the boy’s smile growing even brighter.

"...Forget I said anything."

"I didn't hear a thing."

"Then why are you smiling!"

"Sayuri is very cute."

"Ugh..."

She was embarrassed and angry, and acting like someone who had given up on decorum, she slammed her head into Kitahara’s neck, causing him to grunt in pain, before finally stopping.

Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly as she rested her head on his chest, an unstoppable sense of peace washing over her.

Ever since last night, a large piece of her heart had felt missing. That vanished part was hard to describe or explain, but it had a faint, lingering ache. Only when she saw Kitahara and his smile did Sato Sayuri understand that the fragment had been taken by this very person. The heart of a girl who had hidden her feelings for twenty-nine years had fallen just like that.

Kitahara gently patted Sato Sayuri’s back. Although this teacher was twelve years his senior in biological age, her wounded heart had remained stuck at fifteen—back in those youthful, bygone days.

"Does your tongue still hurt? Do you want me to blow on it for you?" he whispered.

"..."

The teacher closed her eyes, remaining silent as if she had fallen asleep.

Kitahara thought she had no intention of answering, until a voice as thin as a mosquito’s hum reached his ears.

"It hurts..."