When Kotomi Izumi asked that question, Hibiki Naegi looked slightly surprised. She silently wondered if her face had been so easy to read.

But then, thinking it over, it wasn’t that big of a deal, so she told Kotomi honestly:

“I was originally standing here waiting for you and Mashiro. While I was waiting, I was messing around on my phone, and suddenly that girl, Mei Yamazaki, came up to talk to me. She asked: What high school are you from? What type of art do you specialize in? What are your hobbies? Who’s your favorite artist?”

“To be honest, besides you and Mashiro, I don’t know any of the other middle school students who were selected for the first round of the exhibition.”

“So when this girl with heavy makeup suddenly approached me, I felt a bit flustered. Since she came right up to me, it felt awkward to turn her down, so I forced myself to chat with her.”

“Strangely, Mei Yamazaki seemed really good at making conversation. Maybe she could tell I wasn’t good at talking to new people, so she kept bringing up topics I was interested in…”

At this point, Hibiki shrugged and added, “I don’t really know what kind of person Mei Yamazaki is, but while we were chatting just now, I genuinely had fun.”

Kotomi simply gave her a glance and didn’t say anything more.

After the short delay, they reached the shuttle pickup spot and learned that one shuttle had just left with the selected students. Fortunately, the next shuttle would arrive in no more than seven minutes.

After sending a few text messages to Seiko Kirigiri, Hibiki seemed visibly displeased when she put down her phone—as if they had just argued.

“Naegi-senpai, are you feeling unwell?”

Kotomi had naturally picked up on the fact that Hibiki might’ve just had a disagreement with whoever she was texting, but she wasn’t about to bluntly ask if they had a fight.

That was Naegi’s personal matter. As an outsider, the best course of action was not to pry—or to act unaware.

By pretending not to notice and instead asking if Naegi was feeling unwell, Kotomi expressed concern on the surface while giving Naegi plenty of room to choose how to respond.

If Naegi wanted her to know it wasn’t about feeling unwell but rather a fight, and wanted to share the reason, she could deny the question and tell the truth.

If she didn’t want Kotomi to know, she could just go along with it.

Leaving room for the other person to choose how to respond was one of Kotomi’s habits in how she interacted with others.

“Mm… maybe it’s because I didn’t dry my hair properly after washing it last night,” Hibiki said with a faint smile, clearly unwilling to reveal that she had just had an argument.

Since she didn’t want her to know, and it had nothing to do with her anyway, Kotomi very tactfully continued pretending not to know.

Because she had just told a lie and wasn’t very good at it, Hibiki felt a little guilty. She tried to shift the topic and noticed Kotomi’s outfit.

Today was the first day the selected students were visiting the National Museum of Modern Art in Kyoto, and according to the rules, everyone was required to wear their school uniforms.

Kotomi’s jacket was unbuttoned, her shirt was half-tucked and loosely worn, her tie hung casually, and because the shirt was form-fitting, her chest area looked tightly strained and about to burst. A delicate necklace rested quietly on her chest—a chest admired by countless girls, who couldn’t even bring themselves to be jealous because the gap was just too large.

From the way she wore her school uniform, Kotomi was clearly a gyaru. Even her well-manicured nails painted with pretty polish didn’t look out of place.

Hibiki had once served as a disciplinary committee member, though she later quit because the student council was too much of a hassle. Not to mention the president and vice president—two extremely handsome guys—ignored their fangirls and instead both fell for her…

… showering her with affection and pursuing her.

A domineering and scheming student council president, and a sweet puppy-like rich boy vice president—both falling for the same girl.

Isn’t that straight out of a school-setting Mary Sue novel?!

Unfortunately, Hibiki wasn’t into that at all. Her heart belonged to Seiko. It always had and always would.

Faced with the affections of both the president and the vice president, Hibiki promptly chose to resign from the student council, afraid that Kirigiri—who was especially sensitive—might get the wrong idea.

Although in the end, Kirigiri still found out, and it took Naegi ten days of tireless effort to coax her back to normal.

That said, if Hibiki were still serving as a disciplinary committee member and saw Kotomi dressed like that at the school gate, she definitely would’ve called her over and given her a proper lecture.

Back then, Hibiki was famous at Sobu High School for how strict she was…

“Kotomi, your uniform’s a bit off,” Naegi said, pointing to the tie, indicating she should tidy up a bit.

“Oh,” Kotomi replied casually, not making a move. She said indifferently, “It’s fine. I usually wear it like this. I treated the disciplinary committee members at the school gate to bubble tea, and they don’t bother me anymore.”

And what about the strict teachers who monitored attire alongside the committee?

Any teacher at Sobu High School knew that Kotomi once ranked first not just in her year, but in all of Tokyo, on the monthly exams.

Top students often enjoy unspoken privileges at school. And someone like Kotomi? She was beyond just “outstanding.”

Her approach to answering exam questions would often leave even seasoned educators gasping in amazement, muttering, “This girl is terrifying.”

Naturally, the school granted her plenty of hidden perks. To put it bluntly, if Kotomi decided to cook hotpot in class, the teacher might not even say a word of criticism. They’d probably even help her cook and ask whether she preferred sesame sauce or raw egg as dipping.

The privileges offered to Kotomi by the school, just to keep her enrolled, were so generous that even one of them, given to a regular student, would make their high school years a breeze.

With so many exceptions made for her, even the strictest teachers who normally nitpicked students’ attire would turn a blind eye when it came to Kotomi. At most, they’d gently remind her once in a while.

And how often was “once in a while”? About once a year.

This year’s reminder had already been given.

Soon, the shuttle bus arrived and took Kotomi and the others to the National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto.

Upon arriving at the National Museum of Modern Art in Kyoto, Kotomi and the others noticed that there were far more people than usual gathered at the entrance—likely because of the influx of selected participants arriving throughout the day.

Although the museum is world-renowned, fame alone doesn’t mean there are visitors every day driven by passion alone. After all, even if one had the heart for it, who could realistically visit an art museum every single day, putting aside work and studies? Unless they had a gold mine at home, most people couldn’t even afford the tickets.

Who doesn’t want to live for their passions? Unfortunately, the pressures of life constantly push us forward, forcing us to bury those dreams deeper and deeper inside.

Some people still hold onto a faint sense of their passion—though not as enthusiastically as before. Others bury it so deeply that they eventually forget it altogether. That once-bright spark of passion ends up like a piece of white paper, burned to ash by the fire of “real life,” drifting away into the air, never to return.

As soon as they got off the bus, Hibiki received a call from Seiko. Her expression changed slightly before she let out a helpless sigh. She knew that if she ignored the call, Kirigiri would keep calling until she picked up.

“Kotomi, Mashiro, I’ve got an urgent call I need to take somewhere private. You two go ahead inside—I’ll find you once I’m done.”

With her phone held between her palms and a slightly embarrassed expression, Hibiki explained herself.

“It’s okay, Naegi-senpai. Go ahead,” Kotomi said.

Hibiki quickly walked away. That morning, she and Kirigiri had gotten into an argument over text.

When two people are in love, no one would believe they never argue. It’s precisely because they love each other and want to stay together forever that they end up spending so much time together—inevitably leading to occasional friction. A few small fights now and then are perfectly normal.

But… the argument between Hibiki and Seiko this time had escalated far more than expected.

To the point where Hibiki found herself wondering—just how far could she and Kirigiri really go? More specifically… was there even a clear future for the two of them?

Kotomi hadn’t seen who was on the other end of Hibiki’s call, but judging by how flustered she looked when leaving, Kotomi could already guess—Naegi-senpai most likely had a fight with her girlfriend.

And it wasn’t just a little spat.

Still, that was Naegi’s private business. Even if Kotomi could guess, she chose to pretend she didn’t know. It wasn’t a matter of kindness or apathy—relationship matters like this were best left alone by outsiders.

Trying to help but making things worse would only backfire.

Well, since Naegi-senpai isn’t here, maybe now’s the perfect time to give this to her…

With that thought, Kotomi turned to Mashiro and said,

“Mashiro, are you almost out of pencils for drawing? I remember when you were sketching before, your pencil was already pretty short and you didn’t seem to have any spares left.”

Mashiro Shiina wasn’t in a situation where she couldn’t afford a new box of pencils. Anyone pursuing art needs significant financial investment—no matter how talented, without the proper tools, excellence is nearly impossible.

It was just that Mashiro had the kind of personality where, once she started drawing, she became so immersed that she’d lose track of her supplies. She wouldn’t think to buy new pencils until she had completely worn down the last one in the box.

Kotomi, on the other hand, could make one pencil last an entire semester. Mashiro, constantly picking up her pencil to sketch, always burned through her supplies at a much faster rate.

Of course, if we’re talking about the fastest pencil consumer, that title went to Hibiki. Once, when she focused solely on sketching for a month, she managed to go through an entire box of pencils in just 30 days.

“Oh, right. It’s not like I can’t still use them. They’re just getting noticeably shorter when I hold them,” Mashiro replied.

“I see. Well, if you don’t mind, you can use this.”

Kotomi spoke as she pulled something out from her coat pocket and handed over a small box of pencils.

From the logo on the box, the pencils were from a long-established German brand, quite well-known in the world of art supplies. Many art students had completed countless drawings using these pencils.

“Eh—?!”

Mashiro looked genuinely surprised by Kotomi’s unexpected gift. She looked up at her silently.

“What’s wrong?”

Kotomi wondered if Mashiro normally used pencils that were way more high-end than this. Maybe she was hesitating over whether or not to accept this “low-tier” pencil set?

…But this brand was actually the highest grade available at the best art supply store in Kyoto.

Kotomi’s guess couldn’t have been more off. What Mashiro felt was a mixture of joy and uncertainty. She looked at Kotomi with a little nervousness and asked,

“Really? Are you really giving me this box of pencils, Kotomi? Is it really okay if I accept it?”

“Of course. Use them however you want. I happened to pass by an art supply store while shopping yesterday. I suddenly remembered your sketch pencils were almost used up, so I bought a box for you. There are twelve in here—it should last you a while.”

“Thank you, Kotomi! I’ll treasure them!” Mashiro said, nodding happily.

Because they had participant badges, they didn’t need to buy tickets and were allowed direct entry into the National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto.

After handing over their phones at the entrance to the dedicated exhibition hall, they were finally able to take in the scene inside. That’s when they noticed that the National Art Exhibition had undergone some changes this year.

Previously, for the first two exhibitions, participants were only allowed to view their own submitted artwork. But this time, that rule had been completely removed. Paintings in elegant frames were now displayed all along the walls.

In other words, participants could now view not only their own works but also those of the other selected artists.

The two sponsoring universities had likely made this change in hopes that the more prideful participants would realize, even in this first exhibition, that there’s always someone better out there.

Some of the selected students had such terrible personalities—they didn’t know how to talk to others, were quick-tempered, and acted like they were the best in the world. Honestly, the fact that no one shouted, “Let’s be real, all of you here are trash!” during yesterday’s hotel lobby gathering was already a miracle.

If someone had, a fight would’ve definitely broken out.

Compared to those people, anyone with basic manners was practically a rare find. Someone like Kotomi, who not only had good social skills but also spoke kindly, could only be described as ultra-rare.

In a video game, she’d at least be an SSR—maybe even a UR.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep