Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Childish Brat

“Young Mistress, I…”  

Kazuichi Akiyama—a man with a chest as broad as a mountain, who wouldn’t even flinch if slashed dozens of times in the back—now trembled uncontrollably, his dark face flushing crimson with nervousness.  

Though seated lower, Ayase Aoi’s gaze held a distinct, domineering arrogance as she looked down at Kazuichi.  

“I don’t like pointless chatter.”  

Her posture, legs crossed, accentuated the curve of her hips, giving her an air of authority—though her still-developing figure made it more of an awkward, youthful attempt at grandeur.  

“As you wish, Young Mistress.”  

Kazuichi’s inherent loyalty quickly steadied him. He responded stiffly, like an unyielding block of wood, then turned sharply and pressed the black wireless earpiece at his ear, relaying orders in a low voice:  

“The Young Mistress wishes to dine in the classroom today. All teams, relocate inside immediately… Tableware? Two sets.”  

“Kazuichi, I want a bento.”  

Aoi added this casually, though her words came out slightly muffled and soft—almost like a whimper—due to her cheek resting against the back of her hand.  

“Understood, Young Mistress.” He relayed the new command. “Additional orders, the Young Mistress desires a bento.”  

When the luxurious bento—prepared by a top-tier chef, filled with wagyu beef and seafood—was placed before her, Aoi suddenly lost her appetite. She picked up a slice of A5 wagyu with her chopsticks, chewing mechanically. It tasted like nothing.  

Why do they look like they’re enjoying their food so much?  

Even the simplest homemade bento seemed to delight them. Was their food that much better?  

Aoi glanced over. Their bento boxes were already empty, yet the two of them chatted excitedly about club activities, never once letting the conversation lag.  

The only interruption had been when Kazuichi brought in the oversized bento. Other than that, they’d been in a constant state of animated chatter.  

Do they really have that much to talk about? Ugh.  

Annoyed, she picked up a piece of shrimp with her chopsticks and eyed the fidgeting Kazuichi. “Kazuichi, open your mouth.”  

To Aoi, this was just a passing whim.  

But for Kazuichi, it was a moment he would never forget.  

The Young Mistress was cold by nature. In sixteen years, this was the first time she had shown him such intimacy.  

Men in his line of work had long abandoned fear of death. He had severed all ties with his blood relatives to avoid dragging them into danger.  

He had watched the Young Mistress grow from a wailing infant to the graceful young woman before him.  

In his heart, she was his family—even if the sentiment was one-sided. Protecting her had been his greatest joy.  

As the shrimp touched his tongue, the hardened yakuza enforcer—undefeated in the back alleys of Kobe—felt his vision blur. Silent tears fell.  

When reserved men break, their emotions hit harder.  

Wiping his eyes, he rose and performed a deep Dogeza, pressing his forehead to the floor. His rough voice trembled with sincerity:  

“Young Mistress, this humble servant will protect you for the rest of his life.”  

Aoi stared down at the prostrate Kazuichi, her heart as unmoved as frozen frost. She pulled two tissues from her desk and tossed them dismissively in his direction.  

“Understood. Dry your tears.”  

Kazuichi’s dramatic display drew the attention of the entire class—including Amami Saori.  

Watching the grown man kneel before Aoi, Saori’s brow furrowed in discomfort. She leaned close to Sakuya, whispering.

“I don’t like that.”  

Then, as if realizing something, she scrutinized Sakuya with concern. “She hasn’t been… bullying you, has she?”  

The word “bullying” was spoken so softly even Sakuya barely caught it. Yet she could feel the sudden weight of a predator’s gaze—cold, serpentine—locking onto her.  

Instinct warned her: Say the wrong thing, and the puppy will bite.  

So she answered plainly: “No.”  

But the stare didn’t relent. Sakuya added.

“Someone that cute wouldn’t bully anyone.”  

It wasn’t bullying, really. Just the antics of a childish brat trying to get her attention.  

The brat in question finally looked away, but Saori’s frown remained.  

She gripped Sakuya’s hand tightly, as if trying to transfer her own strength.  

“Sakuya, don’t be afraid. If… if there’s ever anything you can’t handle alone, tell me. We’ll face it together.”  

Wow… what a good kid.  

Lately, all these youngsters were unbearably sweet, saying things that warmed the heart.  

Smiling, Sakuya patted her head. “Relax. No one can bully me. I can handle trivial things like this.”  

“That’s not the point,” Saori insisted, her deep amethyst eyes burning with determination. “No matter what, you have to tell me. I’m your knight, remember? I swore to protect you forever.”  

This tender scene grated on Aoi’s nerves.  

What’s so great about having friends anyway?  

She stabbed her chopsticks into a slice of tender eel, watching Kazuichi—now composed—and then at the barely touched luxury bento before her. She sighed.  

I’m… being too fixated.  

Even if she despised the girl at first sight, losing composure like this was unacceptable.  

She should have mastered her emotions. Instead, she’d teetered on the edge of losing control.  

Why couldn’t I keep my feelings hidden, my face unreadable?  

Remembering her father’s teachings, Aoi’s mood gradually settled. Finally, she extracted herself from this childish rivalry.  

Pointing at Sakuya, she crooked a finger at Kazuichi, signaling him to crouch down. In a hushed tone, she ordered:  

“Kazuichi, once that white-haired girl leaves, move her desk and chair to the back.”  

“Understood, Young Mistress.”  

“And…” For some reason, she couldn’t meet his eyes. She stared out the window, her voice flat. “Kazuichi, next time we eat together… don’t cry.”  

—  

In the end, Sakuya’s seat was moved to the back.  

The boy originally sitting there had protested at first—until Aoi leaned in and whispered a single sentence in his ear.  

He cleared out instantly, even wiping the floor on his way out.  

Well, when you parade around with a 190cm bodyguard, people tend to know not to mess with you.  

Aoi sat upright, her violet hair cascading under the sunlight, taking on a mesmerizing indigo hue.  

It reminded Sakuya of the world’s rarest purple beaches—wondering if even Pfeiffer Beach in far-off California could rival her radiance.  

Just as Sakuya found herself admiring Aoi’s silhouette, its owner suddenly turned around.  

Their eyes met.  

Aoi’s widened slightly, caught off guard.  

But she recovered quickly, tucking a loose strand behind her ear to showcase her flawless profile, then bent down to tie the laces of her black leather shoes.  

Even though her shoes don’t have laces.  

Watching this clumsy act, Sakuya couldn’t help but laugh.  

Still so immature. A brat pretending to be grown-up.