Chapter 130: Operation: Dig Up the Past (and the Accidental Sleepover?)

Rina and Haruka, united by their shared goal of derailing Aiwa's increasingly effective Rui-centric campaign, launch their own investigation. Operation: Who Is Aiwa Matsuki, Really? is initiated with the subtlety of a bulldozer. Their methods, however, are significantly more sophisticated (and ethically dubious) than Aiwa's clumsy attempts to interrogate me.

Haruka, leveraging her family's extensive social connections and her own considerable online research skills (honed by years of stalking rival cosplayers), attempts to build a comprehensive dossier on the Matsuki family. She delves into business directories, international school records, obscure Korean social media platforms, and anything else she can access, looking for inconsistencies, hidden connections, or embarrassing childhood photos.

Rina employs a more direct, boots-on-the-ground approach. She activates her "friendly little sister" persona and starts subtly questioning Aiwa's classmates, attempting to piece together Aiwa's routine, her habits, her social interactions outside our group. She even tries befriending girls Aiwa talks to in other classes, fishing for information under the guise of innocent curiosity.

Their joint investigation yields frustratingly little. The Matsuki family appears determinedly private, their online presence scrubbed clean. Aiwa's school records are impeccable but sparse on personal details. Her social media presence (as Aiwa, not LUNA) is practically non-existent, consisting mainly of pictures of cats and aesthetically pleasing desserts. She is a digital ghost.

"It is like she did not exist before she transferred here," Rina complains during a clandestine meeting in the student council room, slamming a fist on the table. "There is nothing! No embarrassing middle school photos! No questionable blog posts! It is infuriatingly clean!"

"Her parents work for 'OmniCorp,' a massive multinational tech corporation with notoriously strict employee privacy policies," Haruka reports, scrolling through her tablet with a frustrated frown. "Lots of international transfers, high-level security clearance. Very discreet. No easily searchable scandals, financial irregularities, or secret second families." She sighs dramatically. "It is almost disappointingly normal."

Their inability to find any dirt only fuels their suspicion. Nobody is this clean. What is Aiwa hiding? Their imaginations run wild, concocting increasingly elaborate and unlikely theories involving secret identities, espionage, or possibly alien origins.

Meanwhile, Aiwa and I are scheduled for our final, intensive work session on the literature project presentation. The deadline looms, and thanks to previous sabotage efforts, we are desperately behind schedule. Given the constant surveillance at school and the potential for ambushes at my place, Aiwa makes a bold, strategically necessary suggestion via text.

Aiwa: R-Rui-kun… The presentation is next week. We absolutely have to finish the outline. Library is compromised. Your apartment is… a high-risk zone. My apartment… my parents are unexpectedly back for a few days, so that is impossible too.

Me: So we are doomed? Prepare for F-minus?

Aiwa: No! I have an idea. It is… unconventional. But maybe necessary? My family keeps a small, secondary apartment closer to the city center. It is mostly empty, just used for storage and occasional overnight stays when my parents work late. It is completely private. No one knows about it. We could… work there? Tonight?

My brain immediately flashes DANGER signals brighter than a supernova. Aiwa. In a private, secondary apartment. Alone. This sounds less like a study session and more like the opening scene of a potentially disastrous romantic comedy OVA. Rina would achieve nuclear fusion if she ever found out.

Me: Are you sure? Is that… allowed?

Aiwa: It is fine! Completely safe. And quiet. We can actually focus. Please, Rui-kun? For the sake of Lady Murasaki?

Using Heian-period literature to guilt-trip me. A bold move. And, annoyingly, an effective one.

"Okay," I text back, sealing my doom. "Fine. Your secret lair. But we work for exactly two hours, finish the outline, and then I am out. Deal?"

Aiwa: Deal! I will send you the address. Meet me there at 7? I will bring snacks! (The non-weaponized, purely studious kind!)

The plan is set. It feels incredibly risky, like sneaking into a dragon's hoard. But the thought of a few hours free from Rina and Haruka's constant monitoring, combined with the undeniable need to actually finish this project, overrides my sense of self-preservation. What could possibly go wrong?

(Narrator: Everything.)