Chapter 13: Library Lock-In

The after-school bell rang, echoing through Kamizawa High’s empty hallways. Students poured out like a tide of laughter and chatter—except for one girl.

Minami Agatsuma walked in the opposite direction, her polished shoes clicking softly against the wooden floor. Her long black hair shimmered under the fading sunlight, and the expression on her face was… serene. Almost too serene.

In her hand was a neatly folded request slip:

“Volunteer for after-school library cataloging.”

She opened the library door quietly. The scent of old paper and faint dust greeted her, along with the sound of a lazy sigh.

Takeshi Zakaki sat slouched behind the counter, tie loosened, one hand buried in his pocket while the other held a cigarette he clearly wasn’t supposed to light indoors.

“Sensei,” Minami said softly.

He looked up, one brow arched. “Agatsuma? Everyone else bolted for freedom. Why are you here?”

She held up the slip with a faint smile. “I thought you could use… help.”

“…Right.” He crushed the cigarette in an ashtray and stood. “Fine. Make it quick.”

Inside her mind, Minami smiled wider. Perfect.

--

As the last rays of sun slipped below the horizon, the library grew quiet. Shadows stretched between the tall bookshelves like fingers.

Zakaki was focused on a dusty catalog list, muttering under his breath. “Who the hell needs thirty copies of… ‘Psychology of Forbidden Desires’? Who orders this crap?”

Behind him, Minami’s voice floated like silk. “It’s a… stimulating title.”

He turned slightly—and blinked. She was close. Too close.

“What are you—”

“Re-shelving,” she said, slipping past him with a faint brush of fabric. Her perfume was subtle—vanilla with a hint of jasmine. Not overpowering. Just… distracting.

Zakaki frowned, shoving his hands into his pockets. Stay calm. She’s just a student. A very manipulative… unnervingly calm student.

-

Thirty minutes passed. The library lights flickered overhead. Minami walked toward the switchboard near the entrance… and flicked one set off.

The fluorescent brightness softened into amber gloom. Long shadows now ruled the aisles.

“Why’d you do that?” Zakaki called, voice flat.

Minami glanced back, her glasses catching the faint glow. “The light was harsh. This is… more comfortable, don’t you think?”

“…Not if I trip over a chair,” he muttered, but didn’t turn them back on.

Good, Minami thought, lips curving faintly. Now the stage is set.

--

Zakaki stretched an arm toward the top shelf, grabbing a worn copy of Modern Japanese Ethics.

Just as his fingers touched the spine—

Soft pressure grazed his arm. Warm. Supple. Feminine.

His head snapped sideways. Minami stood next to him, chest brushing lightly against his bicep as she reached for a book just above his hand.

“Sensei,” she whispered, voice like velvet, “you always look so calm. So detached.”

Zakaki froze. The faint sound of her breath tickled his ear.

Her next words slid into the air like a blade.

“I want to be the first… to make you panic.”

For a split second, the world narrowed—dust motes swirling in golden gloom, the faint hum of the AC, her perfume curling around his senses.

Zakaki’s jaw tightened. His brain screamed a thousand alarms. Danger. Abort. Abort now.

--

Zakaki stepped back sharply, breaking the contact. “You—”

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Without even checking the screen, he yanked it out like a lifeline.

“Hello? Yeah, what? Emergency? Be right there.”

He hung up instantly, shoving the phone away. “Faculty thing. Gotta go.”

Before Minami could speak, he was already striding toward the door.

She didn’t follow. Didn’t need to. Instead, she stood among the shelves, head tilted slightly, a faint smile curving her lips as her glasses caught the last sliver of dying light.

“…Sensei,” she whispered, fingers brushing the spot on her arm where he’d pulled away.

Her reflection in the darkened library window showed something new—a spark in her eyes. Not of frustration. Not of defeat.

Anticipation.

--

That night, in her pristine bedroom, Minami opened a velvet-bound journal and wrote in neat, delicate letters:

> “Observation: Direct provocation induces withdrawal response.

Conclusion: He’s cautious.

Next step: Corner him where escape is impossible.”

She closed the book with a soft thud, the faintest hum escaping her lips.

“…I’ll make you mine, Sensei. Even if I have to break your calm… piece by piece.”

---