My name is Himeko Yamamoto. My family kept me from magical girls, charming guys, and a responsibility to protect countless lives at a young age. Luckily, my doctor promised that at 17 I'd be too old to save the world, and I'd finally be a normal per...
It's been two weeks since I've turned in my contract to the Student Council.
Ever since, I've been on a training regimen to increase my endurance, from running laps around the school with Adam to learning martial arts from Feng. Paris and I made specialized diet plans for the members as well. I know I'm going to be eating a lot of eggs and kale this month.
Spending time with the boys opened my eyes to who they truly were. I always judged them based on their fangirls' remarks and rumors, but I never thought that Adam was a FPS junkie, or that Feng watched a lot of Asian dramas, or that Paris had great taste in makeup. No wonder he had so many female friends - he could speak their language.
Did Grace know any of this?
But the more I involved myself the Student Council, the more I dug myself into this mess. Whose route was I on? And what red flags did I have to avoid? Was it the right thing to stalk Aila, and to suspect Alessa without proper evidence?
Speaking of Aila, Yui finally uncovered some dirt: she wants to wreck Elodie at the Aura Gala, the Academy's annual winter ball. Traditionally, the Student Council plans it together, but with all the havoc last year, Paris worked with hundreds of third parties, including fashion designers, jewelry stores, and celebrity musicians, for its 80th anniversary. In other words, it's another huge event for rich people.
So here I was, behind another marble wall, watching my best friend chat away with Elodie Michaelis.
Yui insisted she'd spy on Aila herself. After what happened with Grace Shio, I couldn't blame her - I'd only attract more attention. Still, was this careless banter her version of espionage? The smallest bit of info could save my life, maybe from a hidden assassin, or a falling chandelier!
"Excuse me," someone tapped my shoulder. "Do you perhaps, know the way to Chairman Cheng's office?"
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I locked eyes with an elderly woman of European descent. With her calm visage and elegant voice, she captured the image of western grace. "Matilda," she curtsied, "May I ask for your name, young lady?"
"Himeko," I bowed, and explained the Chairman's policies regarding such appointments: he needed a 24-hour notice before meeting with anybody. She simply smiled and told me not to worry.
The two of us strolled past the liles and goldenrods, and after sharing my experiences at the Academy, Matilda reminisced on her days in Paris and London. "You're quite beyond your years," she grinned. "If only the girls back home were as patient as you."
The Chairman's office - the smallest, yet one of the most guarded buildings on campus. In front of it was a beautiful lion fountain, and several statues of former chairmen. A guard halted our little promenade. To my surprise, Matilda flashed her card, and he guided us inside. Who exactly was she?
Its interior reminded me of the Student Council's room: filled to the brim with countless bookshelves, gaudy couches, and glass tables. At the center was a huge circular projector displaying a holograph of thousands of stars, moons, and asteroid belts. Were they all real, in the universe we lived in?
