hen, Seira's eyes glinted with a mischievous, almost imperious light. Her smug smile stretched wider, a direct challenge presented without a shred of hesitation. "So, Saionji-kun," she continued, her voice still a soft purr, but now with the sharp edge of an ultimatum, "let us see just how far your composure extends. Give me a kiss. Right here, right now." She gestured subtly towards her own lips, her posture inviting, yet undeniably commanding. "Or," she added, her tone dropping to a dangerously sweet whisper that nonetheless carried across the hushed air, "I shall share with our assembled audience every single one of your 'precise measurements' and 'thorough assessments' of everyone present. Including, of course, your fascinating insights into... physical optimization."
A collective gasp ripped through the quiet evening. The murmurs that had permeated the air vanished, replaced by an immediate, shocked uproar. Eyes widened, some in disbelief, others in nascent fury. This was no subtle taunt; it was a brazen, public dare that threatened to expose not just Kyouya's peculiar habits, but potentially compromising details about every woman within earshot.
"What did she say?!"
"A kiss? And what measurements?"
"Is she serious?!"
The clamor rose, fueled by a mixture of shock and burgeoning jealousy. Among the furious faces, none burned brighter than Ayaka Kurose's. Having retreated to the cabana, she had been observing, but Seira's direct challenge and veiled threat yanked her back into the fray. Her previous indignation at Kyouya seemed to triple, now directed at both him for being put in such a situation and at Seira for her audaciousness. Her hands clenched, her jaw tight, a fresh, raw wave of fury washing over her. Kyouya, however, remained utterly still, his sunglasses betraying nothing as he processed Seira's bold, calculated move. The ball, it seemed, was now unequivocally in his court.
"Fufufu~ So well... Kyouya Saionji-san, how would you answer this challenge?" Seira's voice, sweet and melodic, stretched the silence, letting the weight of her demand settle upon the agitated gathering.
Kyouya remained unmoving, his posture as relaxed as ever, though the air around them crackled with the sudden tension. The myriad of shocked and furious faces of the other candidates, including Ayaka's incandescent glare, confirmed the effectiveness of Seira's gambit. He processed the data: the audacity, the public nature, the implicit threat. It was a well-crafted trap, designed to force a visceral, emotional reaction.
"A challenge, you call it, Kagurazaka-san?" Kyouya's voice was low, perfectly calm, carrying just enough to be heard over the rising whispers. He slowly reached up and, with deliberate slowness, pushed his sunglasses further up his nose, revealing his cool, analytical eyes. They held no fear, no embarrassment, only a profound, almost surgical detachment. "A kiss, as you define it, is an emotional exchange, a confluence of intent. And a 'revelation' implies information previously hidden that carries significant weight."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the agitated crowd, then back to Seira. Her smug smile had tightened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in her single visible eye.
"Firstly," Kyouya continued, his voice picking up a subtle, almost condescending edge, "I have no need for such simplistic displays to prove a point. My actions, or lack thereof, are not dictated by external coercion. Secondly, the information you possess, while perhaps precisely 'measured,' is ultimately qualitative and subjective. A numerical value, a physical description, is merely data. Its interpretation, and its impact, depend entirely on the context and the audience's perception." He leaned ever so slightly closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that only Seira could hear, yet maintaining its calm, confident tone. "And I assure you, Kagurazaka-san, the perceived 'perversity' of a genius's analytical mind is far less impactful than the sheer tedium of listening to it. You would bore them long before you enlightened them."
His smile, a rare, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, was not one of amusement, but of cold, intellectual superiority. "So, no. I will not kiss you. And you are, of course, free to 'reveal' whatever irrelevant data you wish. The outcome, I assure you, will be entirely unremarkable."
Seira's smile, though still smug, softened into a more playful, almost triumphant curve. Kyouya's defiance, far from deterring her, seemed to amuse her further. He had refused her direct challenge, but in doing so, had subtly confirmed his peculiar nature. She didn't press the kiss. Instead, she seemed to pivot, deciding on a different test of the waters.
"Oh, Saionji-kun," she purred, her voice carrying easily across the now-tense silence of the poolside. "You say such things, but I assure you, your... unique talents are quite remarkable. For example, did you know our esteemed Saionji-kun has a fascinating, almost compulsive, habit of observing every single one of us in painstaking detail? Far beyond what one might consider polite or even, shall we say, necessary appearances."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the other women, inviting their reactions. "He doesn't just see a beautiful dress or a charming smile. Oh no, he's taking notes on, shall we say, the intricate specifications of our very beings."
A beat of confused silence, then a ripple of titters and disbelieving murmurs spread through the crowd.
"What is she talking about?" a blonde girl whispered, giggling nervously.
"Detailed observations? Like what?" another chimed in, looking bewildered.
"She must be joking," a third scoffed, dismissing the idea as too outlandish.
"He's just standing there."
No one seemed to truly believe her. Kyouya's detached, almost inert demeanor offered no corroboration, making Seira's claim sound like an abstract, perhaps even eccentric, accusation rather than a literal truth. They were more likely to believe she was trying to provoke him, or perhaps was simply odd herself.
However, one person reacted differently. Ayaka Kurose, who had been retreating to the cabana, stopped dead in her tracks. Her head snapped back, her eyes narrowing as she processed Seira's vague yet pointed accusation. Though she clearly loathed Kyouya, the idea of his reputation, and by extension, the reputation of anyone associated with him from their former school, being tarnished by such an outlandish and vaguely perverted claim was unacceptable. It was an affront to the carefully constructed image of competence and normalcy that she, and perhaps he too, had always maintained.