“What’s Under Her Skirt?”

Objective:
“Panties.”

⭐︎ Mission Name:
“What’s Under Her Skirt?”

“This is the one.”

Mio set down the marker in front of the whiteboard, looking thoroughly satisfied with herself.

Lunch break.

Second floor of the old school building.

Student Council Records Storage Room.

Also known as—

the Paranormal Research Club room.

Documents were scattered messily across the floor.

A battered map of the school hung on the wall.

A brand-new laptop sat on the desk.

Flashlights. Recorders. A thermal camera. Paper talismans.

And a bug-catching net.

Itsuki stood there in silence for a moment.

He looked at the words written across the whiteboard.

Then looked again.

“You’re an impostor.”

“Hm?”

“Bring me the real president.”

“How rude. I am unquestionably the genuine article.”

“What’s one plus one?”

“Three.”

Instant answer.

“Whoa. It really is you, President.”

That level of stupidity left no room for doubt.

Case closed.

“Officer, she’s right over here.”

“You appear to be laboring under a grave misunderstanding.”

What other interpretation was there supposed to be…?

Still, Itsuki said,

“…Fine. I’ll hear you out.”

Listen carefully to what the other person has to say.

The most basic of the student council basics.

Something Mio had drilled into him over and over again.

“We watch its reaction.”

Reaction.

Mio emphasized the word.

“If we try to look, and it doesn’t want to be seen, it’ll hide. If it hides, that means it has intent. And if it has intent, then it isn’t just some image. Which means—”

Mio tapped the whiteboard with the tip of her marker.

“—it’s actually there.”

“I see.”

Surprisingly, the logic held up.

But—

“…Do we really need this mission name?”

“Good question.”

Apparently, it was a good question.

“Kusunoki. When you saw that operation name, what was your honest first thought?”

“Uh… that it was creepy?”

“Exactly.”

Mio snapped her fingers.

“Fight madness with madness. That’s the key phrase this time.”

Crystal-clear creepiness.

One hundred percent pure impurity.

A degree of political incorrectness so extreme it felt almost anachronistic.

That was the heart of Mio’s strategy.

“I’m sick of doing things the normal way.”

Mio Kirishima.

The girl who loved ghosts more than anyone—

and hated them more than anyone.

Itsuki had once asked her,

“Why do you care so much about proving they exist?”

Mio had answered him.

In a low voice.

A voice filled with resolve.

“Because things that can’t be proven get treated like they never existed.”

At the time, Itsuki had thought—

This isn’t a game to her.

And he’d decided,

I’ll stick with her until she’s satisfied.

And now here they were.

Second floor of the old school building.

Inside the club room.

A forgotten relic left standing at the edge of the school grounds.

A hazardous structure, officially off-limits due to age and deterioration.

The whiteboard displayed the worst operation name imaginable.

And standing before him was the proud embodiment of pure insanity.

That should have been the end of the conversation.

It should have been.

But just as she put her hand on the door, Mio turned around as though she had suddenly remembered something.

“—Oh, by the way. Kusunoki, you’re the one who’s going to lift her skirt. Thanks.”

…What?