Feeling thirsty, Masao and Yukinoshita decided to walk to the school's vending machine for a drink, seizing the chance to stretch their stiff limbs.
It was a little past two in the afternoon. The school grounds were still dotted with some students enjoying their free time.
Masao gazed at the familiar scenery and couldn't help but muse aloud.
"Walking around the campus at this hour feels a little strange, doesn't it?"
"Strange? In what way?" Yukinoshita asked, curious about his meaning.
"Think about it. At this time of day, we're usually stuck in class or already gone for the day. We never get to just… wander. Seeing it like this is a whole new experience. It's like we're seeing the school's hidden side—the one it has when everyone thinks no one's watching."
Hearing this, Yukinoshita took a small step away from him.
"For some reason, the way you phrased that, Masao-kun, sounds rather suspicious."
It reminded her of when Jahy had first visited, and she had let her usual cool facade slip, revealing an unguarded gentleness.
Back then, Masao had worn a foolish grin and said to her in a low creepy voice, "So Yukinoshita can make an expression like that too. You look like a mother."
(Masao: Is that really the impression I give? Yukinoshita-san, please don't just imagine things like that.)
After a contemplative pause, as if carefully tasting the atmosphere, Yukinoshita continued. "Even if your wording was odd, you aren't wrong. The campus does feel more relaxed and free right now."
Masao seized the opportunity.
"Then, should we take a proper tour? We might discover corners of the school we've never seen before."
Yukinoshita was intrigued. She, too, was curious about what hidden details they might find.
Though a spark of anticipation flickered within, her exterior remained as composed as ever.
"We are rather tired from cleaning. We can treat this as a form of relaxation," she conceded, her tone neutral.
After buying a bottle of water each from the vending machine, they embarked on their impromptu campus exploration.
They started with the building that housed the Service Club, adhering to a principle of starting close to home.
The first three floors were a domain of controlled chaos: the teachers' offices.
In stark contrast to the carefree students, this was the most hectic time for the faculty—save for perhaps the P.E. or art teachers—immediately following exams.
Nearly every desk was buried under a small mountain of test papers.
Within the offices, the teachers were all "calmly" grading away.
"Damn it! I explained this problem at least three times! It's a copy of the example I gave, and they still got it wrong! Let me see which genius this is!"
"What kind of chicken scratch is this? My dog writes more legibly! Mark it all wrong!"
"All that reviewing, and for what? Did it all leak out of their ears? Straight to makeup exams, the lot of them!"
"Did this test paper dig its way out of a landfill? It's filthy!!"
The office was simply too… chaotic.
Considering themselves people who appreciated the quiet, Masao and Yukinoshita wisely kept their distance.
As they passed Hiratsuka Shizuka's office, they caught a glimpse of her scratching her head in frustration, grading papers with a visible effort to restrain her irritation.
A closer look at her desk revealed an ashtray already overflowing with cigarette butts.
The two exchanged a glance and, with a silent, mutual understanding, quickened their pace without a word.
In the middle of grading, Hiratsuka Shizuka seemed to sense something and glanced toward the hallway, but found nothing there.
"I feel like I missed something just now," she muttered, turning back to the tests with a heavy sigh. "This would be so much easier with a couple of lackeys around."
Their discretion had successfully saved them from being press-ganged into unpaid labor.
They finally reached the fourth floor, and the world grew quiet again.
Masao let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "The teachers' office after the exams is a special kind of hell."
Yukinoshita nodded in agreement.
"I can imagine the headache of facing so many disappointing papers."
"Though the students are the ones who'll truly suffer next," Masao said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"You mean when the results are posted?"
"Exactly. That's when all the frustration the teachers built up while grading will find its perfect outlet. If they're lucky, some students might even get a personal tour of the campus… with their parents in tow."
Yukinoshita considered this. It did seem to be the natural order of things, though it was a ritual she had never personally experienced.
"Aren't you worried about yourself?"
"Of course not," Masao replied, brimming with confidence. "I'm confident I did well this time. I'm sure I've made significant progress."
"Well, I suppose for you, Masao-kun, there isn't much room to go any further down, is there?"
They continued their exploration of the fourth floor as they bantered.
"All these locked rooms have such a mysterious aura. It's a shame we can only peek through the windows," Masao mused, his face practically pressed against the glass of one classroom door. "Hey, Yukinoshita, what do you think is in that cabinet over there?"
Yukinoshita followed his gaze.
These rooms weren't empty; they served as storage, cluttered with old desks and cabinets. The Service Clubroom had once been the same.
After a cursory glance, she lost interest.
"The most likely scenarios are that it's empty, filled with useless junk, or holding forgotten teaching materials that a teacher might one day remember."
Hearing her logical and undoubtedly correct analysis, Masao wagged his finger.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Yukinoshita, you have no sense of dreams."
"Dreams? What dreams?"
"Like, what if this room, unused for so long, has been turned into a secret alien observation post, monitoring humanity's every move? Or maybe it holds a legendary sword, and whoever finds it can become a hero or summon a magic staff!"
Yukinoshita blinked, then let out a soft, exasperated sigh.
"Masao-kun, that's not a 'dream.' That's a 'delusion.'"
"But doesn't thinking that way make this boring, ordinary classroom more fascinating?"
"I find it no more fascinating than before. I'd much prefer it to remain a normal storage room."
Finding nothing of particular novelty on the fourth floor, and seeing no need to visit the fifth—which was far too familiar to them both—they soon made their way back outside.
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