Rivalries, Lies & Secrets

Two long weeks...

That’s how long it has been since "The Heiress" and I have been locked in a grueling game of wits, eager to prove the other wrong, transforming the seemingly quiet class 1-A into a battleground.

Every day we have been exchanging blow after blow, waiting for the other to concede; it's been a stalemate for both sides... until today.

"Settle down, everyone," the professor called out, dropping the stack of papers he was carrying on his desk. "I'll announce the results of our recent quiz."

This was it, my chance to prove that I could beat Reina Kujo. I made sure to study the whole scope down to the minute details, going so far as to spending the entirety of last week staying up in my cramped apartment, only going out late at night for cheap powdered coffee and instant ramen.

Whispers fill the room, all about which one of the two rivals would best the other this time.

"A hundred bucks that Kujo will still hold her throne."

"No way! If Akizuki loses, I’m treating you to lunch!"

After accidentally overhearing their conversation, I couldn’t help but get nervous, my grip tightening on my pen as the anticipation gradually increased. Meanwhile, beside me, Kujo sat perfectly, a small smile on her face, as if she already knew the results.

"What's wrong, Akizuki?" she asked. I could feel her confidence from her voice. "Feeling nervous perhaps? Don't cry when I do beat you."

"Kujo, the scores aren't out yet. Maybe save the smack talk for later?” I replied, though my voice didn’t have its usual bite to it. “Who knows? Maybe I'll win this time."

The professor then started to name the students following their scores; most of them averaged 75%-80%, which was quite high. In any other school these would be the top-tier results. But at Seiryu, they were merely the baseline considering that most of the students here have their own private tutor. 

Then the professor paused. "Akizuki, Kaito. Ninety-five percent."

95, a wave of relief washed over me; it should be enough to beat her.

I let out a small laugh. "What do you think, Kujō? Not bad, right?"

"A fine score...” she replied, her eyes finally glancing up from her tablet and meeting mine directly. “...for a scholar."

"Kujō, Reina. Ninety-nine percent," the professor announces. "Congratulations, Kujō, you've reached the top score of the class.”

Ninety-nine percent... how? I made sure to go over every single detail... There's no way.

The air left my lungs as a surge of adrenaline and frustration took over my body. Losing was unacceptable; Reina, however, saw the gap as a profound victory. "Predictable," she scoffed, dropping her tone in a mocking way. “It seems like your 'hard work' lacks the polish of true competence."

The classroom was again filled with whispers, only sharper this time.

"Damn. I really thought Akizuki stood a chance."

"Kujo is just on another higher level than Akizuki; I honestly feel bad for him."

As the last bell rang and we started to gather our books, Reina leaned over, her voice barely a whisper meant only for me.

"It would be best if you just gave up already, Akizuki; you're only going to embarrass yourself."

I forced myself to stay calm, though my hands had a slight tremor while shoving my books in the bookbag. "Sorry, Kujo, it's not going to happen. Don't worry; I'll take the top spot soon."

She scoffed, "Don't amuse Akizuki; we both know that you winning is nearly impossi—"

"Kaito Akizuki,"

The professor suddenly murmured, his voice low and apologetic. "Principal Ishida needs to see you in his office after school, administrative wing."

Reina’s smirk immediately faded, her eyes narrowing in curiosity as she glared at me.

A sudden call to the principal's office only meant two things, usually reserved for disciplinary action or extreme academic honor. Though she knows I wouldn't do anything so reckless that would warrant a visit to the principal's office.

"Looks like I must've done something to appease the principal... Well, I best be on my way now; enjoy your victory, Your Highness."

...

The administrative wing had a different... vibe to it compared to the rest of the campus. Here, the air was thicker, and the hallways were lined with portraits of Eiryu's founders and all the important figures from powerful, generational families that had a large influence on the university.

I arrived at the principal's office. He was sitting behind a mahogany desk, looking over the vast gardens of Eiryu and the perfect students that coincide within. "Ah, Akizuki," the principal said, not with warmth, but with a stiff, professional disappointment. "Please, sit. We need to discuss your Star Crest Scholarship status."

"Is this about my performance? I can assure you that I've been doing great in every class."

"No, Akizuki, it's not about your performance. If it were, then I'd have nothing to say other than praise." The principal took a deep breath. "But as you know, the scholarship is maintained by the board of trustees and several of our largest corporate shareholders."

“I’m aware; my family and I have already met some of the shareholders during one of the meetings about the scholarship.”

He sighed, the sound conveying institutional exhaustion rather than personal regret. "Then, you understand that this academy is built upon generations of excellence. It is our main mission to assure that the student body represents the utmost pinnacle of society... Recently, during a meeting with said shareholders, it concluded with a shift in the perceived value of the Starcrest Scholarship program.”

My stomach did a slow, sick flip. "A shift?"

"Yes, the narrative of the scholarship was initially designed to promote 'social mobility' and was deemed by our shareholders to be no longer beneficial to the Eiryu brand," Principal Ishida said, lowering his arms to the desk. “To simply put, the shareholders feel it is diluting the exclusive nature of the institution."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Uhh... so what does that mean for me?"

The principal pushed a single crisp white envelope towards me. "It means that... the board has unanimously decided to indefinitely terminate the program. Your status as a Star Crest recipient has been revoked."

"Revoked?" I whispered, my mind spinning. "But... I'm keeping my grades up!"

"The board had made it very clear that performance is tertiary to prestige, Akizuki. It is within the university’s best interests to ensure that Eiryu remains a place where legacy is prioritized."

He opened the folder that was in front of him, his finger landing on the bolded figure at the bottom. "The terms of enrollment require immediate payment upon revocation of full funding," he stated, his voice flat. "Your tuition and miscellaneous fees for the current semester, as well as the non-refundable portion of the remainder of the year, total precisely ¥11,500,000."

I stared at the impossible sum. "I... I can't pay that," I stammered, gripping the edge of the mahogany chair. "My family can't afford to pay that."

"You will then have to secure a weekly sum, every Monday morning, but a larger sum would be required by the end of the month," the principal said, his tone softening to a deceptive pity. "If the balance is not met even once, you will be formally withdrawn from Eiryu Academy, and the outstanding balance will be sent to collections."

“...”

”It is a regrettable situation, Kaito. You were, perhaps, our finest scholar. But the decision is final and unrevocable.” He rose from his seat and offered a practiced, detached nod. "That will be all.”

I couldn't respond. My legs feel foreign and disconnected from my body.

I then immediately rushed back to my subsidized apartment, the financial statement of ¥11,500,000 pressed into my palm. Slamming the door shut and collapsing onto the bed, the inexpensive mattress doing nothing to cushion the shock.

The anger hit first. It wasn't the fury of a lost debate but a blinding, visceral rage. Why? Why now? I had done everything right. I had been the perfect Star Crest scholar.

"The shareholders feel that the scholarship is diluting the exclusive nature of the institution."

Diluting the exclusive nature? Then why even create the scholarship in the first place?! A school of this caliber doesn’t just terminate a whole scholarship program for a reason that shallow.

There has to be someone behind this, an influential family perhaps? 

I only one person with the motive and the resources to pull this off...

Reina Kujo.

Was she really willing to involve her family's influence just to prove a point? It felt extreme, but after the lengths she went just to embarrass me on the first day, it wasn’t out of the picture.

The idea was terrifying; I looked at my phone. The only solution was to appeal, to demand an explanation, but appealing meant revealing the catastrophic debt.

Then suddenly, my phone rang.

It was my mother.

I swiped to answer, forcing my breathing to slow, scrubbing every trace of panic and rage from my voice.

"Hey, Mom, it’s rare for you to call at this time," I said, trying to sound casually exhausted.

"Kaito! Just calling to see how everything is going so far," she chirped. I could tell that she was in the office on overtime since there was a faint humming of the air conditioner in the background; she used her short precious rest period just to check up on me.

"E–everything's just fine, Mom..." the words sticking in my throat. "Though I still haven't gotten used to not being around you guys, I'm handling it."

"Don’t worry, Kaito; you’ll get used to it soon; you just need time to adjust." Her voice swelled with pride.

“There’s something that I need to tell you... about the scholarship...”

I paused, clutching the debt notice in my free hand. This was the moment. I had to tell her that the scholarship was gone. I opened my mouth to tell her the news but—

I can't.

I hear the exhaustion in her voice, the weariness that generations of hard, manual work had etched into her life. Dropping the news now would be worse than any academic failure; it would be a betrayal of her faith. It would destroy their stability.

“Kaito? What about the scholarship?”

“Uhm... They told me that I was doing incredibly well and to always keep my grades up...”

“Oh, that's wonderful, Kaito! I knew it, that scholarship was made just for you! ”

"Anyways, Mom, I'm actually heading back to the library now. Gotta get a jump on the next set of readings. I'll call you this weekend, okay?"

"Of course, honey. Don't work too hard! Just keep those scores up. We love you!"

"I love you too, Mom. Bye."

After hanging up, the sound of the artificial sound echoed throughout the small studio apartment. I leaned my head against the cool wall. I made my decision . The debt is mine. I’ll pay the amount without them knowing anything.

The panic soon returned, focused now into cold, clear necessity. I was fighting a debt of ¥11,500,000. Luckily, I didn’t have to pay the whole sum in one go.

After going through every detail the document the principal gave me: I need ¥100,000 per week for about four weeks. I could probably scrape up money for the weekly payment, but the larger hurdle was the ¥3,000,000 payment by the end of the month. 

I could apply for a loan, although most banks only gave out a maximum of ¥800,000 for emergency loans. And they would also need a lot of documents and even a co-signer to be able to apply.

Maybe... I could get multiple loans from people?

Bad idea. I'd just be hunted once I couldn’t pay for the monthly collections. If the money couldn't be borrowed or gifted, it had to be earned.

I needed jobs that paid cash, required no background check, and took place entirely off-campus, far from anyone who knew the Star Crest Scholar.

I only found one viable temporary solution.

A night shift from 7:00 PM to 5:00 AM at a konbini. The area was on the quiet side of the city, far from the academy, though the risk is still there.

The total daily work time was ten hours, not including the commute time of about thirty minutes since I don’t want anyone from the university finding out that I'm working there. Then, right after work I’ll have less than 2 hours to properly rest up and prepare for class.

The hourly rate at the konbini was only ¥1,240 per hour, but with the added 25% add per hour of work past 10:00 PM to 5:00 AM... It totals up to ¥14,570 per day. 

My salary would only amount to about ¥101,990 per week... Luckily my parents pay for my apartment every month. Though, I’d still only have ¥1,990 left for food and train fare.

It was suicidal. I was trading sleep, the most crucial resource needed for memory and synthesis for cash. But without the cash, I had nothing.

Using a throwaway account, I sent the desperate emails while crossing my fingers in hopes that, the manager would accept my application. Minutes later, while pacing around the room, a reply from the store manager came: "Show up tonight. Don't be late."

I stared at the email, thinking, Was this really a good idea?  I had no choice; it's either this or financially ruining my family.

As I headed out, I encountered Reina Kujō near the gates of the academy on an evening stroll. She looked up, her expression perfectly composed, but her sharp eyes were analyzing my hurried steps.

I kept my head down, trying to get past her without raising suspicion. But her voice cut through the eveening silence.

"Akizuki," she said, using my last name like a blade. "Where are you rushing off to? The library is already closed for the evening."

“I’m heading out to get some fresh air,” I said, letting the smirk linger just long enough to irritate her. “Not everything revolves around study groups, Kujo.”

Her eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of curiosity breaking through her mask of composure. “Strange. Most scholars cling to every minute of study time. Yet you seem eager to waste yours.”

I shrugged, adjusting the hood over my head. “Maybe I don’t need as much time studying as you do.”

The jab landed; her lips tightened, though she didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, her gaze lingered on me, dissecting every detail: the hurried steps, the weird alibi and the way I avoided eye contact.

Finally, she turned her gaze on the black sedan wating for her on the curb, dismissing me with a flick of her hand. “Do as you please. Just don’t expect excuses to save you when you fall behind.”

I walked away quickly, heart pounding. She noticed. She always notices.

The night air was cold against my face as I made my way to the train station. My mind raced faster than my feet. I can’t let her suspect. If Reina Kujo finds out I’m working, she’ll use it against me. She’ll expose me and humiliate me, and my reputation will crumble.

But the debt loomed larger than her threats. No one else could fight this battle for me.

I’ll endure the exhaustion. I’ll endure the pain. I’ll keep my grades perfect, and she’ll never know what it costs me.

~Reina’s Perspective~

I slid inside the sedan, leaning back into the red velvet leather, my fingers tracing the fine stitching of the armrest. Usually, after my evening strolls around the campus, a sense of tranquility comes, but after running into Akizuki on the way out, my mind stayed locked on our short interaction. That arrogant smile he always gives me seemed... off, like it was forced.

Just what are you hiding, Akizuki?

I smirked faintly, watching the city blur into streaks of neon on the tinted glass. He made it into the top ten in the national exams, yet he acted like he was on the run. The "fresh air" excuse was a clumsy lie, the kind of mistake a smart person only makes when they’re drowning in something they can't control.

No matter how hard you hide it, Akizuki. Whatever secret you’re protecting, I’ll uncover it. And when I do, I’ll use it to prove that your so-called merit is nothing but a fragile illusion.

As we sped into the night, my resolve hardened. This rivalry isn’t just about grades anymore. It’s about exposing the truth.