Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

St. Dominic’s Academy was less a school and more a kingdom disguised in marble and stained glass. Its vaulted ceilings and polished corridors spoke of legacy, of wealth older than empires. The academy did not simply educate—it refined, it filtered, it sharpened. Its students were heirs of industry, politics, and dynasties, strutting its halls like they’d already been crowned.

But beneath the gilt and glass lay the school’s true heart: gambling.

It wasn’t printed on a syllabus, but everyone learned it faster than algebra. Futures rose and fell on dice, reputations were decided by a shuffle, and fortunes were casually ruined between classes. At St. Dominic’s, ambition mattered, yes—but luck (and the sheer audacity to bet it all) was the real currency.

At the apex of this glittering, chaotic kingdom stood Kira Timurov.

The Student Council President, the untouchable star around which the academy orbited. Cold, exacting, and terrifyingly efficient, she carried herself with the kind of authority that made even the teachers double-check their lesson plans. Students described her presence like a natural disaster: you didn’t defy her, you just tried to avoid eye contact and hope she didn’t notice you.

And then came Yumeko Jabami.

The transfer student who, in less than a week, had upended half the academy’s careful hierarchy and somehow managed to look like she was having the time of her life doing it. She was a storm disguised as a schoolgirl—reckless, fearless, and scandalously cheerful about it. Where others trembled, she giggled. Where others planned three steps ahead, she pirouetted blindfolded right into danger and called it fun.

Kira loathed her.

Every too-bright smile, every deliberately reckless move at the table, every rule Yumeko shredded like confetti—it all chipped at the fragile order Kira worked so hard to maintain. Yumeko was chaos incarnate, an infuriating thorn in her side.

The kind of thorn that refused to be plucked. One that caught at your sleeve, snagged on your thoughts, and, no matter how you tugged, stayed irritatingly close.

Worse, it was starting to feel less like a thorn and more like… a splinter Kira kept pressing on just to see if it still hurt.

Because it did. And, maddeningly, it also made her laugh.

And while Kira would’ve sworn on her life that she despised Yumeko Jabami, the rest of St. Dominic’s was already placing bets on how long it would take before the two of them were a couple.

The east wing lounge wasn’t an official gambling hall—technically it was meant for studying, or napping, or pretending to study while napping. But at St. Dominic’s, any space with money, cards, and an audience transformed instantly. By late afternoon, the lounge was less a quiet corner and more a miniature casino, buzzing with chatter and the faint hiss of the vending machine spitting out watery espressos.

At the center of it all sat Jeremy Addams, a third-year boy with too much gel in his hair and too much pride in his grin. Across from him: Yumeko Jabami, transfer student, chaos gremlin, and currently the lounge’s main attraction.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” Jeremy sneered, sliding chips and bills forward like he was unveiling a work of art. His smirk screamed, bet you can’t top this.

The crowd gasped as if someone had just announced free tuition money. Mortgage money. “You’re crazy,” someone whispered.

Yumeko tilted her head, resting her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling like she’d just been offered dessert. “Mmm… only twenty?” she cooed. Then—whap—a bundle of bills hit the table as the dealer exchanged it for more chips. “Let’s make it forty.”

The crowd rippled with noise. Jeremy’s smirk faltered for a blink, then snapped back on like a faulty light switch. “Fine. You’re insane.”

“No,” Yumeko purred, smile stretching wider. “I’m alive.”

The dealer dealt. Jeremy drew a jack and a nine—nineteen. He leaned back, smug, already rehearsing his victory nod.

Yumeko flipped her cards: ten and six. Sixteen. The crowd hummed with sympathetic winces. Risky. Dangerous.

“Hit me,” Yumeko sang, eying him like prey.

A five. Twenty-one.

The lounge exploded—students clutching each other, nearly spilling their overpriced coffees. Jeremy’s face twitched. Yumeko laughed, a delighted trill, sweeping up the money with all the care of someone scooping sprinkles onto ice cream.

“Let’s play again!”

Jeremy’s pride bristled. “Fifty thousand.” He shoved his chips forward, the clatter betraying his nerves.

“Fifty?” Yumeko gasped, hand to chest like he’d just proposed marriage. “How generous.” She matched him instantly, tossing bills like confetti at a parade.

This time, his hand: eighteen. Hers: six. The crowd chuckled nervously.

“Hit me,” Yumeko said brightly.

A ten. Sixteen.

Jeremy smirked, leaning back. “Unlucky.”

“Hit me again,” Yumeko chirped.

The dealer hesitated. “Miss—”

“Hit me!”

Another card slid. A five. Twenty-one.

The lounge didn’t so much erupt as detonate. Someone screamed into their latte. Someone else climbed a chair for a better view. Jeremy’s face turned the shade of a ripe tomato. Yumeko’s laughter rang out like bells, sharp and delighted.

“Isn’t luck just the best?” she sighed, clapping her hands like a kid at a carnival.

Jeremy’s pride snapped. “One hundred thousand!” he shouted, voice cracking.

The room gasped in perfect harmony, like a choir. A hundred thousand. The kind of number that made your stomach drop even if it wasn’t your money.

Yumeko’s eyes went wide, sparkling, her whole body practically vibrating with glee. “OHH, yes!” she squealed, slamming her pile forward. “Let’s make it two hundred!”

The boy froze, horror creeping into his eyes—but the crowd was watching. And at St. Dominic’s, pride was always more expensive than cash.

The final deal. Jeremy: seventeen. Respectable. Safe.

Yumeko: eleven. Dangerous. Too low. Too tempting.

She leaned in, grin trembling with giddy madness. “Double down.”

The dealer blinked. “Miss—”

“Double!”

One card. Slow. Dramatic. An ace.

Twenty-one.

The lounge lost its mind. Screams, shouts, hands in hair, students nearly toppling over each other. Someone fainted onto a beanbag chair.

Jeremy sat frozen, color drained, as Yumeko clapped like it was Christmas morning. “Perfect! Absolutely perfect!”

She gathered her winnings in loose, messy stacks, humming as if she’d just finished a particularly fun karaoke song. The money was a mountain, but she treated it like a pile of candy wrappers.

And though Yumeko was already on to her next thrill, Jeremy’s humiliation simmered, sharp and festering. By the time he caught up with her in the east wing corridor, his pride was less a bruise and more a wound begging to bleed.

From the back of the lounge, Kira watched in stillness, arms folded, her expression carved from stone. To anyone else she looked indifferent, but her eyes never once left Yumeko. Every laugh, every gleam of reckless joy pulled at her like a thread. It was chaos incarnate, the very thing Kira loathed—yet she couldn’t look away.

When the final twenty-one hit and the room erupted, the whispers started immediately.
“Is the president watching this?”
“She’s gonna shut it down—”
“No, look at her, she hasn’t moved… oh my god, she’s watching her.”
“I’m calling it now: that’s not anger, that’s something else.”

The crowd’s attention was split—half on the mountain of cash Yumeko piled like candy, half on the ice queen president whose gaze lingered a beat too long.

The day’s noise had dwindled into the echo of shoes on marble and the low murmur of students lingering. Sunlight slanted through tall stained-glass windows, throwing shards of color across the floor. But the beauty of the corridor was soured by the sharp edge of raised voices.

A furious Jeremy Addams had cornered Yumeko Jabami, his pride still raw from a wager lost in front of too many witnesses. His face was blotched red, his voice ragged with humiliation.
“You think you can humiliate me in front of everyone and just walk away?!”

Yumeko tilted her head, her dark eyes glittering, her smile too sharp to be called kind.
“You agreed to the wager,” she said softly, almost sing-song. “Don’t pout just because you lost.”

Her calm only enraged him further. He shoved her shoulder—once, twice—each push harder than the last, expecting her to stumble, to break her smile, to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. But Yumeko only laughed. The sound was bright, airy, almost musical—completely out of place in the charged silence. It sliced through his anger, belittling it, as though he were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum.

He snapped. His hand shot out, fingers clamping down around her wrist, twisting cruelly until her knuckles blanched. The laughter caught in her throat, not from fear but from the sharp sting of pressure. Her eyes sparkled, as though daring him to go further.

The crowd hushed. Students who had been drifting past slowed, then stopped, forming a loose ring at the edges of the corridor. Whispers spread like wildfire: “Did you see that?” … “He’s going to regret it.” … “She’s smiling?” Their voices dropped quickly, fearful of being noticed, but no one looked away. At St. Dominics, intervention was a risk most didn’t gamble. Reputation was currency here, and spending it unwisely could get you crushed.

Most.

Kira cut through the circle like a blade through silk. She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t posture. She didn’t need to. Her presence alone pressed down like a sudden storm, scattering whispers mid-sentence. Students drew back instinctively, giving her space, their gazes following her with a mix of dread and awe.

In one smooth, uncompromising motion, she seized the boy’s collar. Her grip was iron, her arm unyielding as she wrenched him backward with such force that his body jolted, tearing him off Yumeko. His back collided with the lockers hard enough that the metallic clang echoed down the hall. A gasp rippled through the onlookers, followed by a murmur of excitement. “She actually stepped in—” … “He’s finished.”

Kira stepped forward, closing the space he had stolen, interposing herself between him and Yumeko. Her shoulders squared, her stance deliberate, the sharp line of her back like a drawn blade.

“Don’t get in my way,” she said, voice low and lethal. Not a threat, not a plea—an inevitability.

The boy froze. His bravado sagged under her stare like wet paper, and though he muttered curses under his breath to salvage dignity, his hands trembled as he shoved through the crowd. Students parted like a tide, some grimacing, others smirking, already imagining how fast the story would spread.

The silence that followed buzzed with suppressed laughter, whispers sparking like matches:
“Holy crap, she just defended Jabami.”
“Defended? That was practically a knight-in-shining-armor move.”
“Shhh, don’t let the president hear you—”
“No, no, look at her. That’s not anger, that’s… something else.”
“She’s so into her.”
“She’s not into her, she’s furious!”
“Furious and into her. Classic.”

Yumeko’s wrist hung free now, faint red marks blooming on pale skin. She flexed her fingers once, twice, then smiled—soft and secret, like she’d been handed a gift. Her gaze lingered on Kira’s back, the protective wall she’d become in that moment. Warmth unfurled in her chest.

“She risked herself for me…” Yumeko whispered, almost dreamily.

Kira turned her head slightly, sharp-eyed, her irritation burning hotter than she’d ever admit aloud. She took in the flushed wrist, then Yumeko’s maddeningly delighted face.

“Reckless,” Kira muttered, biting each syllable. “Why do you look so happy about that?”

“See?!” one student hissed from the sidelines. “She’s totally flustered!”
“No, that was her scary voice.”
“Scary voice doesn’t usually make people blush.”
“Wait—did Jabami just smile at getting scolded? Oh, this is better than Netflix.”

And then Kira spun on her heel, stride crisp, posture impeccable, authority unbroken. Only her clenched fists betrayed the strange, tight twist in her chest.

Behind her, Yumeko’s grin bloomed wider. She watched Kira walk away like a girl smitten, laughter bubbling back to life.

Meanwhile, Kira stalked down the corridor with all the poise of a queen and none of the calm of one. Her thoughts hissed like static. Why is she smiling at me like that?

By the time Kira vanished down the corridor, phones were already out, screens glowing like fireflies. Snapshots blurred through the chat waves, shaky captions typed in frantic haste.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Photo: Jeremy staggering against the lockers, Kira gripping his collar like a storm. Yumeko in the background, grinning like she just won the lottery.]

Post:
TIMUROV JUST WENT FULL KNIGHT MODE FOR JABAMI. HE TOUCHED HER WRIST, SHE WRECKED HIM.

Replies:

• someone write this down: “Don’t get in my way.” ➝ the most romantic death threat I’ve ever heard 😍

• Jeremy’s social life = deleted. but like… worth it for the drama tbh.

• Jabami’s face after?? she looked like she got proposed to 💀

• Kira really said “hands off my girl” without saying it.

• enemies-to-lovers canon.

• every time she tries to scold Jabami, Jabami just blushes harder. help me.
  
  

Pinned Comment:
BREAKING: The Iron Queen’s scary voice = Jabami’s love language.

Yumeko was still thinking about it hours later when she and Mary sat in the courtyard. The late afternoon light slanted across the stone benches, painting everything in soft gold, but Yumeko sprawled out on the grass instead, arms folded behind her head. Her eyes were dreamy, lost in the drifting clouds above. Every so often, her lips quirked into a secret little smile.

She had always thought Kira was just a closed-off person—untouchable, aloof, a queen carved from ice. Someone to be admired from afar but never touched. Yet today… today that ice had cracked. Kira had descended from her throne, not as a monarch, but as a knight—stern, traditional, and maddeningly gallant.

Even now Yumeko swore she could still feel that protective stare, burning across the corridor like phantom warmth. It lingered on her skin as if Kira had branded her. Intoxicating, irresistible. In a school where gossip spread faster than unpaid debts, Kira had claimed her in broad daylight.

“You seem somewhere else,” Mary said dryly, breaking into Yumeko’s reverie.

“Just thinking…” Yumeko answered dreamily, tilting her head toward her friend, smile unshaken.

Mary squinted. “About?”

Yumeko sat up halfway, eyes sparkling. “Did you see the way she saved me? Isn’t that romantic?” she gushed, her voice rising with a girlish trill.

Mary froze. “The ‘she’ you’re talking about better not be Kira.” Her voice dropped to a panicked whisper. “You can’t just… say things like that out loud! She’ll kill you if she hears. Like, literally, kill you. People vanish after crossing her.”

Yumeko only laughed, tipping her head back, eyes on the clouds. One floated lazily into the shape of a crooked heart. How fitting.

“Do you think she’ll make people disappear for me too?” Yumeko teased, tone feather-light, but her grin wicked enough to make Mary groan.

Mary slapped both hands over her face. “Oh my god. You’re going to be the death of me. Or worse—she’s going to notice me by association.”

But Yumeko just hummed happily, the memory of Kira’s glare warming her skin all over again. To her, it didn’t feel like danger at all. It felt like being chosen.

Across the courtyard, three students sitting on the fountain had been watching the whole exchange. One already had her phone out, thumbs flying.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
omg omg i just saw jabami lying on the grass talking about how kira SAVED her
like… swooning level
she literally called it “romantic” 😭

Replies

• so the ice queen has a crush?

• no jabami has a crush. kira looked ready to MURDER her earlier.
  murder… or marry 😏

• ok but if kira hears about this she’s gonna flip
  can’t wait. drama feeds me.
  
  

By the time Mary tugged Yumeko up from the grass, the rumor was already halfway across campus—and taking on a life of its own.

Chapter Text

The dining hall of St. Dominic's was a cathedral of glass and marble, sunlight spilling through the tall windows to illuminate rows of long, polished tables. Conversations rose and fell in a dozen different languages, silverware chimed against porcelain, and the air smelled faintly of butter and coffee.

At the head of the central table sat Kira Timurov.
Straight-backed, poised, every gesture deliberate. She cut her food with the same precision she dealt with her enemies, hands steady, movements exact. Her presence alone commanded silence around her — students lowered their voices when she passed, council members sat straighter when she spoke. Even here, at lunch, she radiated the same untouchable authority that ruled the academy.

Which was why the entire hall seemed to inhale sharply when Yumeko slipped into the seat right beside her.

The scrape of her tray was almost scandalous in the sudden hush. A ripple of whispers traveled the length of the room like a wave. Did she just—? She sat next to Kira? Unbelievable.

Kira’s gaze flicked toward her, cool as frost. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Yumeko only smiled, setting her tray down with careless grace. At its center sat a single slice of strawberry shortcake, layers of cream and sponge gleaming under the light. She tapped her fork against the plate once, then slid it across the polished wood until it rested directly in front of Kira.

“Here,” she said sweetly, just loud enough to carry. “You looked like you could use this. And I owe you one.”

The whispers sharpened instantly, turning into a low, electric hum. Heads bent close together. Eyes darted toward the council table. Even the kitchen staff at the far end of the hall paused mid-step, trays hovering.

Kira froze. The cake sat before her like a landmine, Yumeko’s words hanging in the air. Her gaze cut sideways — wide-eyed, expectant, Yumeko leaned forward on her elbows with her chin in her hands, waiting.

“…What is this?” Kira asked at last, voice clipped, taut. “A bribe? An… offering? Are you trying to poison me?”

The cake did look good, though. Too good. And it definitely wasn’t on the cafeteria menu. Her mind screamed: Don’t touch it. Don’t give her the satisfaction. She’s baiting you in front of everyone. Hold your ground.

But Yumeko’s smile didn’t falter. She looked at Kira as though the entire dining hall didn’t exist, as though this moment belonged only to them.

The silence stretched. The weight of a hundred curious eyes pressed like a spotlight. The rest of the council shifted uneasily, trading panicked looks.

“She won’t eat it,” someone whispered near the windows.
 “No way. She’s immune to bribery.”
 “Immune? That’s cake. Nobody’s immune to cake.”
 “Oh my god, if she eats it—”

Kira’s throat tightened. Her fork felt like a weapon in her hand. Don’t. Don’t you dare.

Her hand moved anyway.

The tines sank cleanly into the cake. A neat bite lifted, deliberate, measured—then disappeared between her lips.

“…Tch,” she muttered, dismissive as if it meant nothing. “Fine.”

The room combusted. A dozen voices rose in disbelief, half-muffled shrieks cutting across the tables. Forks clattered onto porcelain, a glass tipped and spilled. The gossip burst open like champagne.

“She ate it!”
 “Kira Timurov just ate cake! From her! In public!”
 “This is… this is historic.”
 “Shut up and text the group chat—”

Yumeko’s smile bloomed, radiant and unguarded. She hummed softly, tilting her head as though she’d just been given an answer she’d been waiting for.

She accepted her gift…

Kira forced her eyes downward, pretending to focus on her plate, but the heat crawling up her neck betrayed her. Her jaw clenched.

Why is she looking at her like that? And why, damn it, does this cake taste sweeter than it should?

The strawberry melted against her tongue, sugar and cream dissolving in perfect balance. She wanted to hate it. She wanted to push the plate away. But the flavor lingered, stubborn as the girl sitting beside her.

And for the first time in a long while, Kira Timurov felt cornered—not by power, not by threat, but by a smile she couldn’t quite disarm.

The silence didn’t last.

It shattered into a storm of whispers, gasps, and muffled exclamations. Entire tables leaned toward one another, voices tripping over themselves.

“She ate it—”
 “She actually—”
 “Does this mean—”

Rumors sprouted like wildfire, spreading before Kira could stamp them out.

At the far end of the table, the council stirred.

Chad leaned back in his chair with a wolfish grin, voice pitched just enough to carry. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d live to see the Ice Queen share dessert.”

Dori’s fork clattered against porcelain. She hissed under her breath, “She’s humiliating you, Kira. Don’t let her—”

Suki pressed her fingers to his lips, eyes wide with mock innocence. “Oh, this is delicious. Better than the cake.”

Runa, already scribbling in her notebook, murmured, “Fascinating. Public vulnerability. Counterintuitive. Strategic implications… endless.”

And Riri Timurov — Kira’s younger sister — sat frozen. Her knuckles whitened around her teacup, trembling just enough that porcelain clicked against saucer. “Kira…” she whispered, voice barely audible. Not judgment. Worry. Pleading. Don’t let them get to you. Don’t let her get to you.

The weight of a hundred eyes pressed harder. The whispers only grew.

Yumeko, by contrast, looked utterly unfazed. She rested her chin on her palm, smile bright, gaze fixed only on Kira—as if no one else in the world mattered.

Kira’s jaw tightened. Instinct screamed at her to end this before it slipped further. Her fork hovered… then sank again. A second bite. Smaller. Quieter. But undeniable.

The dining hall erupted.

Chad gave a low whistle. Dori nearly sprang from her seat. Suki muffled his laugh with both hands, shaking with glee. Runa muttered something about “submission under public pressure” as she scribbled. And Riri, stricken, whispered again, “Sister, stop—please.”

Kira had to stop it. Now.

Her chair scraped back, the sound slicing through the noise like a blade. She rose, cold authority sliding into place like armor.

“That’s enough,” she said, her voice steady, commanding. Her glare locked on Yumeko. “You’ve had your fun. Leave.”

The room hushed at once. The council froze. The whispers died mid-syllable. Kira’s word was law, and no one dared test it.

Yumeko blinked—then smiled, softer this time, almost tender. She rose gracefully, gathering her tray as though this were no defeat at all. “Of course,” she said brightly, bowing her head just slightly. To her, it wasn’t rejection. It was restraint. Shyness.

She left the hall in a ripple of whispers, satisfied as though she’d won. She only sent her away because she couldn’t handle it…

And behind her, Kira sat down again, fork clenched tight, throat tighter, every nerve burning.

The cake still tasted far too sweet.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
 📸 [Blurry zoomed photo: Kira with fork raised, strawberry shortcake mid-bite. Yumeko leaning in, smiling like the sun.]

Post:
 BREAKING: PRESIDENT TIMUROV ATE THE CAKE. REPEAT. SHE. ATE. THE. CAKE. 🍓🍰
 This is not a drill. #YumeKira is canon.

Replies:

• i thought she’d throw it on the floor?? she took TWO BITES 😭
• jabami didn’t just give her dessert, she gave her a confession and kira SAID YES WITH HER MOUTH
• this is enemies-to-lovers speedrun any%
• Sayaka looked like she was going to explode. 10/10 drama.
• Riri whispering “sister stop” broke my heart omg 😭 she sees it tooooo
• president timurov’s first public act of affection is eating cake. history is beautiful.
• #lethereatcake
  
  

Pinned Comment:
 “she said ENOUGH but still finished the cake 😏 girl that’s not denial that’s dessert AND devotion”” ➝ someone put that on their wedding invitations.

The council chamber was all dark wood and vaulted ceilings, its windows tinted so the outside world felt very far away. The long table gleamed under the chandelier, scattered with documents, pens, and steaming cups of coffee.

At the head, Kira sat as she always did: straight-backed, hands folded neatly, her expression a mask of calm authority.

But the silence that usually marked the start of their meetings was absent. Today, the air bristled.

Chad broke it first, leaning lazily in his chair with that infuriating smirk. “So,” he drawled, “are we just not going to talk about it? Because the entire school is.”

Sayaka snapped her folder open, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. “You undermined yourself, Kira. Publicly. You accepted food from her—of all people. Do you have any idea what that looks like?”

Kira didn’t move. “I don’t concern myself with gossip.”

Suki gave a low laugh, resting her chin on her hand. “Maybe you should. Half the girls downstairs are whispering about how Yumeko’s cracked your ice. It’s practically a campus-wide fairy tale already.”

Runa tapped her pen against her notebook, not looking up from her meticulous notes. “Statistically speaking, perception is power. Even if you believe the incident meaningless, the narrative being constructed around it may prove… inconvenient.”

Riri sat stiff beside them, hands folded tightly in her lap. Her voice was quieter than the others, but it carried.
 “Kira… I just don’t want people to think they can get close to you that easily. You’ve worked too hard to let someone like her make you look… vulnerable.”

For a moment, the only sound was the ticking clock on the wall.

Kira’s fingers curled once against the polished wood of the table, invisible beneath her calm. Her mind replayed it all—the scrape of the tray, the whispers, the way Yumeko leaned close with that unbearable smile. The cake’s sweetness still lingered, unwelcome, on her tongue.

She exhaled, slow, controlled.
“Enough.” Her voice cut clean through the chamber. “I will not be lectured over a slice of cake. She attempted to provoke me, and I allowed it—once—so she would reveal her intentions publicly. Consider it a test, nothing more. She’ll find no further success.”

Dori scoffed. “That’s a very generous interpretation.”

Kira’s eyes flicked toward her, sharp as a blade. “Do you doubt my judgment, Ahlstrom?”

The room stilled. Dori pressed her lips together, saying nothing further.

Chad smirked wider but said no more, clearly savoring the drama. Suki covered his grin behind a manicured hand. Runa jotted a final note before closing her book. And Riri lowered her gaze, chastened, though the worry in her expression didn’t fade.

Kira let the silence stretch until it was hers again. Then, cool and measured, she turned to the agenda.
 “We’ll move on. There are real matters to address.”

The meeting resumed, but her composure was thinner than glass. Behind every word she spoke, her mind churned.

Why did she touch it? Why did she taste it? Why did she look at her as though she’d given her something precious, when it was nothing?

Her jaw ached from how tightly she clenched it. The rest of the council would never see her falter. She would not give them that.

But later, when the chamber was empty and her reflection stared back from polished marble, the taste of strawberry and cream would still haunt her—cloying, persistent, impossible to scrub away.

And worse than the sweetness was the memory of Yumeko’s smile, blooming as though Kira had given her the world.

Kira lingered in the council chamber after the meeting had broken, the others filing out in clusters of murmurs and sidelong glances. The lamps glowed against the dark wood, long shadows spilling across the table. She remained still, posture flawless, but her mind roiled beneath the surface.

St. Dominic’s runs on order.

The words were a mantra she had repeated since first wearing the crest of council president. Every schedule precise, every tradition upheld, every student kept within bounds. Rules weren’t simply rules — they were pillars. Without them, the whole edifice crumbled into chaos.

And chaos was weakness.

Yumeko was chaos given form. She didn’t bow, didn’t break, didn’t tremble under gazes that bent others double. She laughed where she should have cowered. She smiled where silence was demanded. She disrupted the rhythm of the hall with a tray and a slice of cake and made it look like art.

Kira’s nails pressed into her palm beneath the table. I cannot allow it. She undermines everything I have built.

The door creaked. Dori Ahlstrom slipped back inside, folder in hand. Her eyes were sharp, still simmering from the earlier confrontation.
 “You wanted me?”

Kira inclined her head once. “Sit.”

Dori obeyed at once, movements quick, eager. Always thrilled to stop the boredom reaching the surface of her mind.

“That girl,” Kira said, her tone flat. She didn’t need to name Yumeko — they both knew. “She thrives on spectacle. Attention. She thinks defiance makes her untouchable.”

Dori’s lips thinned. “Then let me remind her where she stands.”

Kira allowed the faintest nod. “Precisely. A controlled game. Nothing overt. Push her where she is weak, expose the cracks, and let the student body see her collapse. Discipline, not cruelty. This council does not indulge chaos.”

Dori smirked, already picturing the win. “Consider it done.”

Kira dismissed her with a flick of her hand. The door shut, and only then did she exhale — sharp, silent.

Her reflection shimmered faintly in the polished wood of the table. Calm. Composed. Untouchable.

This is necessity, she told herself. Not obsession. She is a disruption, nothing more. A distraction. And distractions must be eliminated.

But her throat tightened anyway, unbidden, at the memory of Yumeko’s smile across the cake plate. Not mocking. Not pleading. Just… impossibly certain, as if Kira had given her something precious.

Kira’s fist curled tighter. She will break her rhythm. She will restore order.

And yet, the thought whispered back: Then why does it feel like she’s the one who’s already playing her?

Chapter Text

The gymnasium had been cleared for the match. Bleachers lined the sides, packed with students eager for blood—or at least humiliation. The council didn’t often sanction physical contests, which made this one a rare treat.

Dori stood at the center mat, all coiled precision and sharp eyes. A champion fencer before she joined the council, she wore the training jacket like armor, blade glinting under the fluorescent lights. They were lucky that she didn’t bring in her katanas this time around.

Opposite her, Yumeko adjusted her borrowed gear with a smile, casual as ever. She twirled the practice foil clumsily in one hand, as though it were no more dangerous than a chopstick. Her cheerfulness earned snickers from the crowd.

“The stakes are simple,” Dori announced, her voice slicing through the noise. “You last three rounds against me without yielding, and I’ll call it a draw. Fail, and you crawl out of here on your knees.”

The bleachers howled approval.

Yumeko’s grin only widened. “Oh, I do love games with simple rules,” she said brightly, bowing with a theatrical flourish. “Though the best ones are never quite fair, don’t you think?”

The whistle blew.

Dori lunged immediately, blade flashing. Yumeko barely dodged, the tip grazing her shoulder. Gasps rippled through the crowd — too close. Dori pressed again, relentless, strikes sharp and merciless. Yumeko stumbled backward, laughing breathlessly, the foil slipping in her grip.

“Pathetic!” someone shouted from the stands.

But then—Yumeko spun. At the last second, she twisted her wrist, her foil clashing against Dori’s with a metallic snap. The angle was wrong, clumsy—and yet it forced Dori a half step back.

The crowd roared.

Round after round, the pattern repeated: Dori’s skill overwhelming, Yumeko’s defenses reckless and strange. She left openings that should have ended her, only to twist away at the last possible second. She laughed when she should have cried out. She baited the strikes that nearly cut her down—like she wanted to feel the blade graze her skin.

By the end of the second round, sweat poured down Yumeko’s brow. Her arms trembled with the effort of holding her weapon aloft. Her breaths came ragged, but her smile never faltered. If anything, her eyes gleamed brighter—wild, alive.

The crowd couldn’t look away. What began as mockery turned into rapt attention, students leaning forward, clutching each other’s sleeves.

“She’s insane.”
“She’s winning by losing!?”
“No, look at Dori’s face—she’s furious.”
“Oh my god, she’s actually pulling this off.”

In the final round, Dori went for the kill—a flurry of strikes too fast for most to follow. Yumeko faltered, nearly crumpled under the onslaught. Her foil slipped entirely from her grasp, clattering across the floor. The crowd erupted, certain it was over.

But Yumeko didn’t yield.

Instead, she surged forward barehanded, seizing Dori’s wrist mid-strike. The momentum carried them both down, crashing to the mat in a tangle of limbs. The whistle blew, shrill and final.

The referee hesitated, stunned. The rules hadn’t accounted for madness like this. But the three rounds were over. By definition, Yumeko had survived.

The gym exploded—half cheers, half disbelief.

Yumeko rolled onto her back, laughing breathlessly at the ceiling, chest heaving. Every muscle burned. Her body screamed at her to stop. But her grin was victorious, delirious.

Dori tore her arm free, seething. She wanted to protest, but the rules were the rules. She’d been played—not beaten, but twisted into Yumeko’s spectacle.

Yumeko propped herself on her elbows, hair plastered to her face with sweat. Her vision blurred at the edges. She’d pushed her body past its limits, and it showed. Still, she beamed. “That was… fun.”

She nearly collapsed again, only barely catching herself with shaking arms. To the crowd, it looked like dramatic flair. Only Yumeko knew how close her body was to failing.

And somewhere above the din, in the shadows of the bleachers, Kira Timurov watched with cold eyes—though her hand had curled into a fist so tight her knuckles blanched.

The crowd whispered below her, a chorus of gleeful rumor:
“She’s doing it again—turning a loss into a win.”
“No, look—Kira’s here. She’s watching.”
“Watching her, or watching out for her?”
“…Honestly? Both.”

And for once, Kira couldn’t tell where the fury ended and the worry began.

The gymnasium emptied in a wave of chatter, students spilling into the corridors, voices still buzzing about the match. Dori stormed off with her jaw clenched tight, muttering about unfair tactics, while the council dispersed in sharp whispers and sidelong glances.

Soon the echo of footsteps faded, leaving only Yumeko on the mat.

She lay sprawled on her back, chest heaving, every limb leaden. The adrenaline had burned itself out, leaving exhaustion heavy as stone in her veins. She pushed herself up slowly, swaying, her hair plastered to her temples. Her lips were still curved in a weak smile, but it looked almost fragile now.

From the shadows at the edge of the bleachers, Kira lingered. She had not left with the others. Fury smoldered beneath her calm façade — fury at Yumeko’s recklessness, at the spectacle she had turned the council’s order into, at the way the crowd cheered her for it.

And yet… Yumeko looked so unsteady she might collapse before she even reached the locker room.

Kira’s jaw tightened. With a clipped movement, she reached into her bag, pulled out the slim, imported glass bottle of water she always carried, and flicked her wrist. It arced neatly through the air, landing with a soft thunk beside Yumeko’s arm.

Yumeko blinked down at it, dazed. Slowly, she turned her head. When she realized what it was — and who it came from — her eyes widened, softening with awe. She lifted it carefully, reverently, as though she’d just been handed a crown jewel.

“Kira…” Her voice was hoarse, breathless. Her smile bloomed radiant despite her exhaustion. “You’re giving me a gift.”

Kira stepped out of the shadows, posture sharp, voice like frost.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You look like you’re about to faint, and I have no intention of carrying you to the nurse.”

Yumeko clutched the bottle closer, lashes fluttering, her expression utterly lovestruck. “So thoughtful… You really do care.”

Kira’s teeth ground together. “You’re delusional.”

But she didn’t take the bottle back.

And Yumeko, trembling with exhaustion, held it against her chest like proof of something she’d always known: that behind the frost and fury, Kira Timurov could not help but bend toward her.

At the gym doors, two stragglers who’d been slow to leave peeked back inside just in time to catch the scene. One nearly dropped his phone in shock.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Blurry photo: Yumeko on the gym mat, clutching the glass water bottle to her chest like treasure.]
📸 [Zoomed-in shot: the imported glass bottle, Kira’s initials etched faintly on the side.]
📸 [Overexposed snap: Kira striding out of the shadows, posture sharp, expression unreadable.]

Post: GUYS GUYS GUYS.
Kira just tossed Jabami HER WATER BOTTLE 😱
Imported glass one. The one she NEVER shares.
And Jabami is literally hugging it rn.

Replies:

• That’s basically a proposal here.

• The Ice Queen has fallen and it took ONE bottle of Fiji.

• “Don’t flatter yourself” —> flattered herself anyway. Iconic.

• bro jabami looks like she just got handed a wedding ring 💀

• I swear Kira’s gonna ground her in the council chamber and somehow it’ll end in marriage

Pinned Comments:

• She didn’t throw water. She threw her heart. 💔➡️💍

• This isn’t hydration. This is courtship.

• The moment the Ice Queen cracked: timestamped. Save this post for history.

• Proposal speedrun: gift edition

• Reminder: Kira has NEVER shared her bottle. Not once. Until now. #YumeKira

By the time Yumeko staggered toward the locker room, bottle still pressed close, the rumor was already racing ahead of her — turning a practical gesture into the next great St. Dominic’s love story.

The dormitory common room was quiet after hours, the lamps casting soft pools of gold across the couches. Mary sat curled in one corner with a book when Yumeko slipped in.

Her steps were slow, still heavy from the match, but her expression was radiant. She dropped onto the couch beside Mary with a sigh that tumbled into laughter.

Mary lowered her book. “You should be in bed. You look like you nearly collapsed out there.”

“I did,” Yumeko admitted cheerfully, stretching her arms with a wince. “But wasn’t it wonderful? The rush, the crowd, the danger… oh, and Dori was perfect.”

Mary blinked. “Perfect? She was trying to break you.”

“Yes!” Yumeko’s eyes sparkled. “And she was so good at it, too. That precision, that discipline — it could only have come from Kira’s hand.”

Mary sat up straighter, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see?” Yumeko leaned closer, voice lowering into a conspiratorial lilt. “Kira must have chosen her for me. She sent me a gift. An opponent worthy of me.”

Mary’s mouth fell open. “A gift? Yumeko, she sicced Dori on you. Everyone knows it. That wasn’t a present, it was punishment.”

But Yumeko only tilted her head, dreamy and delighted. “Kira’s just… old-fashioned. She doesn’t say what she means. Instead she tests, she pushes, she challenges. That’s how she shows care.”

Mary dragged a hand down her face. She was on the council — she knew exactly what had been said in the chamber. “That wasn’t care, that was a death sentence in a training jacket.”

Yumeko laughed softly, clutching the designer water bottle she still hadn’t returned. “Oh, Mary. I’m thrilled. To be handpicked… to be noticed…” She pressed the bottle to her cheek, sighing. “Kira really does understand me.”

Mary stared at her, caught between exasperation and dawning dread. “Unbelievable. Anyone else would be furious. You? You’re planning the wedding.”

Yumeko hummed happily, eyes half-lidded. “Mmm. Maybe.”

Mary groaned and buried her face in her book. She’s going to be the death of her, she thought. And for the first time, she wasn’t entirely sure if Yumeko meant romantically… or literally.

Just beyond the common room door, two first-years who had lingered in the hall froze mid-step, ears sharp. They exchanged a wide-eyed look before one of them yanked out her phone.

[Heart House Dorm Chat 🔥]
📸 [Blurry pic snapped through the common room window: Yumeko on the couch, smiling dreamily, clutching Kira’s designer water bottle to her cheek.]
📸 [Zoomed-in shot: the imported bottle against her face, her expression pure bliss.]
📸 [Mary in the corner, hand over her face like she’s physically in pain.]

Post: girls. GIRLS. i just overheard jabami say kira “handpicked” dori as a “gift” for her duel.
she literally called it romantic.

Replies:

• omg not the knight-in-shining-armor AND the arranged duel narrative 💀
• this is officially enemies-to-lovers
• she’s literally planning the wedding while mary plans her funeral
• can’t believe i’m living through the kira/jabami saga in real time
• Kira’s “discipline” arc turned into her “love language” arc. i’m wheezing
  
  

Pinned Comments:

1. Forget midterms, I’m studying #YumeKira like it’s gospel.
2. “Punishment” in her language = “proposal” in Yumeko’s.
3. Every girl deserves someone who calls attempted murder a love letter.
4. History textbooks will call this The Duel of Destiny (aka their first date).
5. Kira: deploys assassin | Yumeko: she likes me fr

By the time Yumeko leaned back with a blissful sigh, the rumor had already spread to half the dorms — and been rebranded as “Kira’s secret love test.”

Chapter Text

The literature classroom smelled faintly of old paper and chalk, its tall windows casting pale light across rows of desks. The class was discussing Macbeth, the teacher pacing at the front with a worn copy in hand.

“As we can see,” he said, tapping the text, “Lady Macbeth’s guilt manifests only after Macbeth himself has already unraveled. She is a secondary figure, her madness less significant to the overall tragedy.”

“Incorrect.”

Kira’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Every head turned toward her. She rose from her seat near the front row with unhurried grace, a slim copy of the play resting in her hand. Her gaze fixed on the teacher, cool and unwavering.

“Lady Macbeth does not wither second. She ignites the downfall first. Her invocation in Act I — ‘unsex me here’ — is the catalyst. Without her, there is no blood, no throne to seize, no unraveling at all.”

The teacher stiffened, caught off guard. “Miss Timurov, while your… passion is commendable, most critics would argue Macbeth himself—”

“—is irrelevant without her spark.” Kira’s tone sharpened, precise as steel. She stepped forward, opening the book and reading aloud, her voice strong, deliberate: ‘Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under’t.’ She shut the book with a snap. “That line dictates the play. She teaches him deception, bloodshed, ambition. To call her secondary is to miss the point entirely.”

A hush fell over the class. Students stared, half in awe, half in fear. One boy at the back muttered, “She’s terrifying…” only to be elbowed into silence by his neighbor.

The teacher opened his mouth, then closed it again, his argument withering under the weight of her certainty.

Kira returned to her seat without another word, spine straight, expression unreadable.

In the back row, Yumeko leaned forward, her chin in her hand, eyes sparkling with unmasked delight.

How she speaks… like the words were always hers. Unflinching, unstoppable. Even the teacher shrank before her. How could anyone resist watching her burn through the world like that?

While the rest of the class avoided Kira’s gaze, Yumeko’s lingered — wide-eyed, rapt, as though she had just witnessed something beautiful.

Two girls sitting nearby whispered frantically, trying to be subtle.
“Did you see Jabami? She looks like she’s in love.”
“She probably is. Who looks at Kira Timurov like that?”
“Honestly? Nobody who values their life.”

Yumeko only smiled faintly to herself, undeterred, her gaze never wavering from Kira’s perfect, unyielding profile.

The bell rang, its sharp chime sending students scrambling to gather their books. Desks screeched against the floor as the classroom emptied in a rush of chatter. Most gave Kira a wide berth, slipping past her desk like she was a wall of stone best left undisturbed.

But Yumeko lingered.

She drifted forward with unhurried steps, her smile light, her eyes bright in a way that said she’d savored every second of Kira’s duel with the teacher. She stopped beside Kira’s desk, close enough that the faint scent of strawberries from lunch still clung in the air.

“You were incredible,” Yumeko murmured, her voice pitched for Kira alone. “The way you silenced him… I almost felt sorry for the teacher.”

Kira stacked her books in precise order, ignoring the warmth climbing her cheeks. “It was nothing.”

Yumeko tilted her head, studying her like a puzzle she was dying to solve. Then, without warning, she leaned in.

Her fingers brushed Kira’s collar, straightening the fabric with maddening gentleness. “Hmm… crooked.”

Kira froze.

The touch was brief, efficient — but Yumeko’s hand lingered a fraction too long, fingertips grazing the edge of Kira’s throat before retreating. And as if that weren’t enough, she reached up with her other hand, casually tucking a stray strand of Kira’s hair behind her ear.

“There,” Yumeko said with a satisfied little hum, smiling as though she’d done something trivial. Too close. Too comfortable.

At the doorway, a pair of students gasped audibly. Another ducked back in, whispering furiously to her friend:

“Did you see that? She just touched Kira Timurov.”
“Like it was nothing!”
“She’s going to die.”
“Or marry her. Honestly, it’s fifty-fifty.”

Kira’s pulse thundered against her will. She forced herself to sit rigid, her expression blank even as heat crept up her neck. Every instinct screamed to shove Yumeko back — but the weight of her own control held.

“Do not,” Kira said at last, voice low and clipped, “touch me again.”

Yumeko only stepped back a pace, unbothered, her grin widening. “Oh, but you looked so perfect just now. I couldn’t resist.”

Kira snapped her book bag shut with more force than necessary, rising to her feet. She didn’t look back as she strode for the door, her strides precise, her jaw set.

Behind her, Yumeko giggled softly, delighted — not deterred. So stiff, so careful… and yet she let me close. How charming.

By the time Kira reached the hallway, the whispers were already multiplying, weaving into the school’s rumor mill like wildfire.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Blurry hallway snap: Yumeko leaning over Kira’s desk, hand brushing her collar.]
📸 [Close-up zoom: her fingers tucking Kira’s hair behind her ear.]
📸 [Reaction shot: two girls at the doorway, mouths open like they just witnessed a crime.]

Post: SHE. TOUCHED. PRESIDENT TIMUROV.
collar fix ✅
hair tuck ✅
lived to tell about it ✅✅✅

Replies:

• nah bc this is straight up courting behavior

• she’s speedrunning romance routes while the rest of us are cramming math 💀

• “do not touch me again” = Timurov translation for “touch me again and I’ll die inside”

• every great love story starts with a collar adjustment ✨

• i give it a week before we get #LibraryKissArc
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“Forget the duel — this was the REAL miracle.”

And somewhere in the middle of it all, the legend of Yumeko’s audacity only grew larger, like the start of a story no one could look away from.

Kira’s strides echoed down the hallway, precise, clipped, as though sheer discipline could smother the heat clawing up her throat. She kept her chin high, her bag balanced perfectly against her shoulder, every step rehearsed control.

Too close.

The thought pulsed like a drum. Yumeko’s fingers at her collar, her hair brushed aside as though she were some doll to be arranged. She told Yumeko not to touch her. And yet… She let her. She didn’t move. Why didn’t she move?

Her jaw tightened. Around her, students parted automatically, whispers biting at the edges of her hearing. She ignored them all, eyes fixed forward.

Order is control. Control is power. And she— Kira’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She treats her like some… plaything. Like the rules don’t apply to her. Like she can rewrite them with a smile.

A flash of movement caught her eye.

Down the hall, just beyond the dispersing crowd, Yumeko skipped lightly along, her hair swinging. In her hands — clutched delicately, almost reverently — was the slim glass water bottle. Kira’s water bottle.

Yumeko held it against her chest like a keepsake, like proof of some private victory. Her grin was luminous, oblivious to the stares around her.

She’s carrying it as if Kira gifted it to her. As if it meant something.

Kira’s breath caught, fury and something darker twisting tight in her chest. She wanted to storm across the hall, to snatch it back, to put Yumeko in her place once and for all.

And yet she didn’t.

She only turned her head sharply, continuing down the corridor, her expression carved from ice.

Let her play her games. Let her parade Kira’s water bottle like a trophy. It means nothing. Nothing.

But the echo of Yumeko’s laughter trailed after her, light and insistent, and Kira’s nails dug half-moons into her palms as she walked faster.

So why did it feel like she was the one being paraded? Why did it feel — unbearably, undeniably — like she’d been claimed?

A group of first-years huddled near the stairwell, whispering furiously as Yumeko passed by with her prize.

“Is that… Kira’s water bottle?”
“Yeah. Imported glass. She never shares it.”
“She’s hugging it like a love letter.”
“No way. That’s not a bottle. That’s basically a confession.”
“…Wait. Does this mean they’re dating now?”
“Honestly? Might as well.”

Phones came out in a flurry of clicks. Within minutes, the group chat was buzzing:

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Photo 1: Yumeko walking down the hall, hugging Kira’s glass water bottle to her chest like it’s a teddy bear.]
📸 [Photo 2: Zoomed-in shot of the label — imported, sleek, unmistakably President Timurov’s.]
📸 [Photo 3: Kira in the background, face scarlet, speedwalking away like she’s fleeing a crime scene.]

Post: update: yumeko still carrying kira’s bottle around.
like a trophy. like a gift.
verdict: they’re practically official.

Replies:

• she’s treating a water bottle like an engagement ring 😭

• honestly more romantic than half the proposals in dramas

• kira: “it means nothing” also kira: lets her keep it 👀

• the Water Bottle Courtship™ is canon now

• someone make merch. stickers. mugs. “Property of Kira Timurov (hydrated edition)”

• the way kira speedwalked like she was about to explode = cinema
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“This is it. This is their love language: hydration.” 💧❤️

And just like that, the legend of the “Water Bottle Courtship” spread through the halls, impossible to contain.

Chapter Text

The council chamber looked different that afternoon — not solemn and quiet as during strategy meetings, but loud with shuffling papers, clattering binders, and the restless murmur of students who didn’t normally belong there.

The gala loomed in two weeks, and tradition demanded that class representatives from each year assist the student council in organizing it. Some reps slouched in their seats, others nervously scribbled notes, all too aware of the legendary weight of sitting at the same table as Kira Timurov.

Kira presided at the head as always, posture straight, gaze cool, as she read off the list of assignments. The others in the council flanked her — Chad, Dori, Suki, Runa, Riri, Sayaka — each with their own clipped opinions on what went where.

“Décor,” Suki said, lounging with her pen between her fingers, “goes to the third-year reps. They can at least hang ribbons without breaking something.”

“Security,” Chad added with a smirk, “we’ll hand to the second-years. The big ones. Makes them feel important.”

Dori leaned forward, sharp as ever. “Clean-up and inventory can go to the first-years. Easy enough even for them.”

Assignments went quickly, most jobs simple, routine. Until—

“Entertainment scheduling.”

Kira’s voice cut through the chatter. The words carried weight: the entertainment was one of the trickiest pieces, requiring coordination with performers, stage crew, and faculty oversight. A logistical minefield.

Her eyes lifted, landing squarely on Yumeko. “Jabami. You’ll handle it.”

The room stilled. Several class reps blinked in disbelief. Mary, sitting among them, turned sharply toward Yumeko, whispering, “That’s one of the hardest parts. Why would she—?”

Yumeko only beamed, her pen hovering over her notepad as though she’d just been handed a treasure. “Oh, what fun!” she said brightly. “I’ll make it unforgettable.”

The chamber buzzed. A few reps traded looks; one muttered under their breath, “That’s not a job, that’s sabotage.”

Sayaka bristled. “President, that’s ridiculous. She doesn’t have the experience—”

Kira didn’t look at her. “It will be done.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. No one argued when Kira spoke like that.

Yumeko scribbled down her task with humming satisfaction, her smile wide, her eyes glittering with anticipation. She might have been given a burden meant to sink her, but she treated it like a gift.

Mary pressed her hand to her forehead, whispering under her breath, “She’s going to turn this into a disaster.”

Across the table, Suki smothered a laugh behind his hand. Chad leaned back with his wolfish grin, murmuring just loud enough to carry: “Is this another one of Kira’s love tests? First the duel, then the cake, now this—”

“Shut up,” Sayaka snapped, her glare sharp enough to cut steel.

Runa only noted something down in her book, murmuring, “Pattern recognition. Each assignment escalates. Intriguing.”

Riri sat stiff, lips pressed tight, as though her silence alone could protect her sister’s dignity.

At the head of the table, Kira’s expression never wavered. But her fingers tightened subtly against her pen. She’ll fail. She has to. When she does, order will be restored.

And still, a quieter thought lurked behind it, one she refused to name: So why does she look so radiant when she accepts my test?

The library annex smelled of dust and printer ink, a mountain of binders and half-finished sign-up sheets spread across one table like the wreckage of a storm.

At the center of the chaos sat Yumeko, head tilted, humming to herself as she scribbled notes. Names of performers were scattered across the page — half spelled wrong, some double-booked, one penciled in three times because Yumeko liked their handwriting. A sheaf of contracts fluttered to the floor.

Mary stood at her side, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve scheduled two jazz bands for the same time slot, forgot the sound checks, and this—” she snatched up a page “—is a grocery list.”

“Oh,” Yumeko said, peering over, unconcerned. “That’s for the snack table. Can you imagine? Music, dancing, and strawberry mochi.” She giggled.

Mary groaned, but before she could argue further, a new voice cut across the annex.

“Pathetic.”

The sound of Kira’s heels against the tile carried authority. She strode into view, immaculate as ever, her gaze sweeping the table with frosty disdain.

Yumeko’s face lit up instantly. “Kira!”

Kira’s eyes narrowed. “This was a test, and you’ve already failed it.” She plucked one of the crumpled sheets from the mess, scanning it with a tight jaw. “Double-booked acts, missing authorizations, incomplete schedules—do you even understand how quickly this could collapse the gala?”

Yumeko leaned her chin into her palm, smiling. “Mm, I thought it would be more exciting that way. A little chaos can be fun, don’t you think?”

Kira slammed the binder shut. “Chaos has no place at St. Dominic’s. Move.”

Before Yumeko could react, Kira slid into the chair beside her, taking over the stack of forms. Her pen moved in crisp, decisive strokes, reorganizing the schedule, striking out mistakes, rewriting with the efficiency of a general planning a campaign.

Yumeko leaned closer, watching her with unabashed fascination. Their shoulders brushed. Kira stiffened but didn’t pull away.

“This,” Kira said, voice clipped, “is how you maintain control. Do it properly, or don’t do it at all.”

Yumeko’s smile softened. She rested her cheek in her hand, staring at Kira as though the papers didn’t exist. “You’re helping me… how kind. Almost like we’re planning together.”

Kira’s pen paused mid-stroke. “Don’t twist this. I refuse to let the council’s reputation crumble because of your incompetence. Nothing more.”

“Mmhm.” Yumeko hummed, unconvinced.

By the time the binder snapped shut again, the schedule gleamed with order, every slot balanced, every name properly logged. Kira rose in one fluid motion, brushing invisible dust from her uniform.

“Next time,” she said coldly, “try not to waste my time.” And with that, she strode out.

Yumeko watched her go, lips parting into a dreamy smile. She hugged the corrected schedule to her chest, her mind already wandering.

Partnering with her for the gala… how thoughtful. She didn’t want her to struggle alone. Maybe she’ll even ask her to dance. Under the chandeliers, music swelling…

Her cheeks warmed, her grin widening. “Kira, you’re so romantic.”

Mary groaned again, sinking into her chair. “You’re impossible.”

But Yumeko only twirled her pen, humming, lost in her daydream.

At the far end of the annex, the door creaked. Two second-years passing through caught a glimpse of the scene before Kira’s exit — Yumeko hugging the binder to her chest like a love letter, Mary groaning beside her. They ducked back into the hall instantly, eyes wide.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Photo 1: Kira seated beside Yumeko at the annex table, posture perfect, pen flying over forms while Yumeko leans in way too close, chin propped in her hand, smiling at her.]
📸 [Photo 2: Close-up — Yumeko hugging the finished binder to her chest like a bouquet, cheeks flushed, Mary facepalming next to her.]
📸 [Photo 3: Blurry shot from the hallway, Kira walking out, back ramrod straight, but her ears visibly pink.]

Post: omg omg just walked past the library annex
kira was literally sitting next to jabami fixing her paperwork 👀
like shoulder to shoulder. helping her.

Replies:

• that’s not council business, that’s couple’s project energy
• first the cake, now paperwork?? domestic vibes??
• someone check if they’re already registered for joint taxes
• this is peak “angry wife fills out your forms bc you’re hopeless” energy
• calling it: gala night, they’ll “inspect the decorations” together and disappear for 20 min
• honestly? they’re one Ikea trip away from marriage
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“They’ve entered their domestic arc. The Ice Queen and her Chaos Queen are co-parenting a binder.”

By the time Yumeko leaned back in her chair, humming happily to herself, the rumor had already doubled in size. What Kira had meant as damage control was now rebranded across the dorms and hallways as “the Ice Queen personally planning the gala with her chosen partner.”

The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and polished marble, the hum of strings swelling as couples whirled across the floor. St. Dominic’s gala was a spectacle of wealth and order, every detail pristine — and at the center of it all, Kira Timurov moved like a sentinel.

She strode along the edges, sharp-eyed, ensuring servers moved on time, musicians kept tempo, and the seating arrangements remained unbroken. The council shadowed her in pieces — Dori prowling near the doors like a guard dog, Runa and Chad leaning together in the shadows, Suki sipping champagne with an air of practiced boredom, Riri stationed still and silent, scanning everything with her calm, sharp gaze, Sayaka was sinking in the corner, scrolling her phone with a mad look in her eyes.

Which was why the sight of Yumeko on the dance floor stopped Kira cold.

Yumeko laughed as Ryan Adebayo spun her clumsily, her long black hair swinging like a glossy curtain, bangs framing her gleaming eyes. Ryan looked equally thrilled and terrified, trying to keep pace. Their steps stumbled, but Yumeko’s joy made it radiant anyway.

Whispers cut through the crowd. She’s really dancing at the President’s gala? With Ryan?

Kira’s jaw tightened.

Before she could think better of it, she cut straight through the floor, her presence parting couples like a blade through water. She reached Ryan, seized his shoulder, and with a single sharp look, dismissed him. Ryan faltered, then retreated without protest.

Yumeko blinked up at her — then smiled, slow and radiant. “Kira… you came to dance with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Kira’s hand slid to Yumeko’s waist with mechanical precision, her other hand catching Yumeko’s wrist. “I came to remind you of your place.”

The strings surged. They began to move.

Kira’s plan was simple: lead the dance like a battlefield maneuver, prove she could bend Yumeko into order. But Yumeko didn’t resist. She melted into the rhythm, her smile widening, her gaze fixed on Kira like she was the only person in the room.

And then — her free hand shifted. Slowly, deliberately, Yumeko let her fingers trail up Kira’s arm, from wrist to shoulder, brushing along the firm line of muscle beneath the fabric. She lingered there, then slid back down in the same unhurried caress, a lover’s touch masquerading as a dance movement.

Kira stiffened instantly, heat crawling under her collar. “Yumeko.”

“Yes?” Yumeko’s grin turned impish, her bangs framing eyes that sparkled with mischief.

“Keep your hands where they belong,” Kira hissed, voice low.

“But they are,” Yumeko said innocently, her fingers gliding up her arm again, this time pausing just below her shoulder. “Right here. With you.”

Around them, the council watched — each with their own reaction.

Chad leaned against the wall with his champagne, whistling low. “And here I thought the President didn’t do romance. Guess everyone’s got a weakness.” His grin was all teeth.

Runa cackled beside him, elbowing his side. “She’s melting right there on the dance floor! Oh, this is gold.” She scribbled something manic into a notebook, laughing louder when Kira’s jaw twitched.

Suki fanned herself dramatically. “Ugh, of course Yumeko would turn my gala into a soap opera. At least they look good together.”

Riri watched with unsettling calm, her eyes unreadable pools. She sipped her drink and murmured, “She’s playing with fire.” Whether she meant Yumeko or Kira wasn’t clear.

Mary practically vibrated in her seat, unhinged excitement in her grin. “Do it, Yumeko, wreck her composure—yes! Touch her again!” A couple of reps near her shifted uneasily at her enthusiasm.

Sayaka gripped her glass so tightly it cracked. “This is disgraceful,” she hissed. “She’s making a fool of the council. Let me end it—” but Suki caught her wrist with a sharp, amused look. “Sit down, darling. You’ll only make it worse.”

Back on the floor, the dance continued, whispers mounting with every step.

Kira’s steps stayed flawless, her posture perfect — but her composure cracked. What was meant as intimidation had twisted into something else entirely: the Iron Queen of St. Dominic’s dancing in plain view with the chaos she swore to destroy, and looking far too much like she was caught in an embrace.

Yumeko leaned in, laughter spilling soft and bright over the music. She wanted her here. She wanted this closeness. How sweet…

Kira’s jaw clenched, fury and something unnameable burning beneath her skin. She has lost this round.

But still, she did not let go.

By the time the orchestra shifted to the next song and the dancers changed partners, the whispers had already outpaced the music. Students ducked behind champagne flutes and feathered masks, voices tumbling over one another in excitement.

“She didn’t let go.”
“She could’ve dropped Jabami after one turn, but she stayed.”
“Did you see her face? That was not the President’s poker face.”
“I swear she looked… flustered.”

Within minutes, the group chat was alive:

[St. Dom’s Gala Livefeed ✨]
📸 [Photo 1: Wide shot of the ballroom, Kira and Yumeko mid-waltz at the center. Kira’s posture immaculate, Yumeko smiling up at her like they’re the only ones there.]
📸 [Photo 2: Close-up from a side angle — Yumeko’s fingers trailing up Kira’s arm, Kira’s jaw clenched and her ears visibly red.]
📸 [Photo 3: Blurry snap of Runa doubled over laughing in the corner while Chad raises his glass, clearly enjoying the show.]

Post: highlight of the night so far: THE TIMUROV–JABAMI WALTZ 💃🕺
yes, it’s official. they danced. it happened.
kira cut in, claimed jabami, and then refused to let go.
screen caps attached. you’re welcome.

Replies:

• forget the décor, this is the entertainment
• who needs fireworks when we have Kira blushing on the dance floor??
• calling it: gala’s new tradition = “dance of the president and her chosen partner”
• sorry but jabami just speedran what took others four years of politics
• Kira was supposed to intimidate her and instead got hand-caressed into submission 💀
• tell me this isn’t enemies-to-lovers live on stage
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“The Iron Queen led the waltz. The Chaos Queen stole the show. #YumeKira”

And yet, while the ballroom hummed with scandal and the dorms buzzed with alerts, Kira Timurov remained utterly oblivious. She didn’t glance at her phone once, didn’t hear the ping of a hundred notifications she’d muted months ago.

In her mind, the dance was already categorized, filed, and dismissed: a disciplinary gesture, a demonstration of control. Another problem handled, nothing more.

She carried herself through the rest of the night with perfect poise, blissfully unaware that the legend of the Timurov–Jabami Waltz had already taken root — and was spreading faster than she could ever stamp it out.

Chapter Text

The courtyard buzzed with late afternoon chatter — students drifting between classes, cliques gathered under the trimmed hedges, the air warm with gossip. At the center of it, a boy from third year was mouthing off, loud enough to draw stares.

“I don’t see why we should bow to every council order,” he scoffed, his voice carrying. “Who died and made Timurov queen?”

The crowd tensed.

Because Kira Timurov was already there.

Her eyes snapped toward him, cold and cutting. “Watch your mouth,” she said, her voice sharp enough to slice through the courtyard noise. “The council keeps this academy from collapsing into chaos. If you can’t respect that, then you don’t belong here.”

The boy blanched, stumbling back as whispers rippled through the watching students. Kira’s glare lingered a beat too long, freezing him in place before she turned sharply on her heel, cape of authority unshaken.

And in the hush, a ripple of movement—Riri peeled herself out of Kira’s shadow, silent as smoke, expression flat as a blade. She didn’t bother with words. One swift hook to the gut doubled the boy over, another clipped his jaw, and by the time he hit the cobblestones the crowd was gasping.

Riri shook out her fist, muttered, “That’s for mouthing off,” and melted back into the dispersing students before a teacher could blink.

The lesson stuck. No one laughed.

The silence that followed was thick.

Until Yumeko Jabami broke it.

She was standing close to Kira — too close — eyes bright with amusement. Tilting her head, she let a smile curl her lips.

“You’re scary when you’re angry,” she said softly, almost admiringly. Then, with a mischievous lilt: “I kind of like it.”

The courtyard gasped. Heads turned.

Kira went rigid, the blood rushing to her face so fast it almost knocked her off balance. She couldn’t just SAY that?? In public?? To her??

Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. Words failed her.

Yumeko only smiled wider, humming lightly as though she hadn’t just thrown a spark into dry tinder. She stepped back into the crowd, her expression sunny, as if she hadn’t meant anything by it.

But Kira stood frozen, her composure fracturing, her heartbeat hammering too loud in her ears.

And all around them, the whispers started up again.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Photo 1: Blurry zoom of Kira mid-glare at the boy, her posture sharp and commanding.]
📸 [Photo 2: Snap of Yumeko leaning in too close, her smile wide, Kira in the background caught mid-blush.]
📸 [Photo 3: Crowd reaction — half the courtyard with hands over mouths, others whispering furiously.]

Post: UM. SHE JUST SAID IT.
jabami told the president she’s “scary when angry”… AND ADDED “i kinda like it” 😳
kira went red. she didn’t even punish her.

Replies:

• NO ONE TALKS TO TIMUROV LIKE THAT AND LIVES

• correction: no one talks to her like that and gets BLUSHED AT

• “i like it” ??? girl she just confessed in public

• kira.exe has stopped working 💀

• enemies-to-lovers speedrun continues, we’re on episode 6 vibes now

• honestly? yumeko’s got her by the throat and kira doesn’t even know it
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“She called her scary. She called her hot. Same sentence. History was made today.”

The tide of rumor was already building, a current Kira couldn’t quite contain — and Yumeko, drifting away with that maddening smile, looked for all the world like she’d planned it that way.

The council chamber buzzed in the aftermath of the courtyard spectacle.

Chad sprawled lazily in his chair, grin wide. “Jabami really has her wrapped around her finger. Didn’t even blink when she said it, and our President—” he let out a low whistle, “—looked ready to combust.”

Runa nearly fell out of her seat laughing, boots kicked up on the polished table. “The look on your face, Kira! It was priceless. Jabami’s got you dancing already.”

Suki flicked open his compact and dabbed at his lip gloss, voice dripping with amusement. “The whole courtyard heard her call you scary and sexy in the same breath. Honestly, mother, half the school thinks you’re dating now.”

Sayaka  snarled, slamming her pen down. “It’s disgraceful! Letting her speak like that in public. You should’ve crushed her where she stood.”

Mary—council’s new re-joiner— giggled suddenly, sharp and too loud, drawing stares. “Oh, but wasn’t it perfect? Bold, shameless… I loved it.” Her grin softened as she turned, eyes lingering not on Kira, but on Riri across the table. “If someone ever said something like that about me…” She let the sentence trail, her gaze warm and unguarded.

Riri stiffened, her fingers tightening just slightly on her teacup. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe.

Chad smirked knowingly. Runa cackled louder. Suki raised his brows with interest.

Kira snapped her head toward Mary, icy suspicion flashing. Mary only tilted her head, still looking at Riri, unbothered.

Riri’s pulse hammered. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes, the dangerous curve of Mary’s smile. She needed the attention off her — now.

Her voice came calm, measured, but with a sharp edge. “The real problem is that people will start to believe my sister is hiding something. After all… why else would she let Jabami get away with it?”

The room hushed. The words landed heavy.

If she’s flustered, if she’s not punishing her… maybe they really are dating.

The thought burned in Riri’s chest. She didn’t believe it — not fully — but it was safer than admitting what was right in front of everyone’s faces: Mary’s gaze fixed on her.

Kira slammed her hands against the table, the crack echoing like a gunshot. “Enough! I will not tolerate gossip in this chamber. Jabami is nothing to me. Nothing.”

But her cheeks were still hot.

Chad chuckled, lifting his glass. “Whatever you say, President.”

Runa grinned like a wolf. “Not wrapped at all. Totally not.”

Suki hummed, amused. “Of course not, mother.”

Mary only leaned back in her chair, still smiling at Riri.

And Riri, perfectly composed, lowered her gaze to her cup — though inside, her pulse still thundered.

The Timurov dorm suite was quiet that night, lights from the courtyard spilling in through the tall windows. Riri sat cross-legged on the couch, a teacup balanced in her hands, when Kira stormed in, her heels sharp against the floor.

She shed her blazer with a snap, tossing it onto the armrest before pacing the length of the room.

“She undermines me at every turn,” Kira hissed, her voice low but hot with fury. “Today in the courtyard—smiling, teasing, saying… that—and now the entire school is whispering like it was some kind of performance.”

Riri took a calm sip of her tea, watching her sister pace. “Mm. It was a performance, wasn’t it? Just not the one you think.”

Kira froze mid-stride, glaring. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Riri shrugged lightly, setting her cup down. “Maybe you’re venting to the wrong person. If she’s the one driving you insane, perhaps you should rant to your girlfriend instead of me.”

The silence snapped taut.

Kira’s face went scarlet in an instant. “She is not—! I do not—!” Her voice broke off, strangled by sheer indignation. “Jabami is not my anything!”

Riri tilted her head, her expression serene but her eyes sharp. “Funny. That sounded very defensive. And I didn't say her name.”

“I am not defensive,” Kira snapped, crossing her arms. “I am furious. There’s a difference.”

Riri gave a small, knowing smile, lifting her cup again. “Of course, sister. Furious. Not defensive at all.”

Kira clenched her jaw, storming toward her room, muttering under her breath. “Unbelievable. Girlfriend. Ridiculous. As if—” She slammed the door behind her, cutting herself off.

Left in the quiet, Riri exhaled slowly into her tea. Calm on the outside, but inside… that splinter of suspicion twisted deeper.

She can deny it all she wants. But anyone watching can see it: Jabami already has her hooked.

The rumor mill churned faster than usual that week.

“She gambled against Ahlstrom and nearly collapsed.”
“She threw herself headfirst into the gala planning and almost wrecked it.”
“She’s unstable — dangerous.”

The whispers had Kira’s fingerprints all over them. Students in every corridor repeated the stories, their tones laced with awe and dread. It was strategy: paint Yumeko as reckless, untrustworthy, someone to be avoided.

But when Yumeko finally cornered her at the edge of the courtyard, her reaction was the last thing Kira expected.

“You’ve been busy,” Yumeko said cheerfully, slipping into Kira’s path. Her long black hair caught the afternoon light, her bangs framing eyes that sparkled with mischief. “I hear I’m reckless. Unstable. Dangerous.”

Kira folded her arms, her gaze cold. “If the shoe fits.”

Yumeko’s laugh spilled out, bright and delighted, turning heads nearby. She leaned closer, as if sharing a secret.

“So now everyone knows I’m someone worth fearing.” Her grin widened. “You’ve made me untouchable.”

Kira’s brow twitched. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“Really?” Yumeko hummed, tilting her head. “Because it almost sounds like you’re warning them off. Like you don’t want anyone else to dare approach me.”

Kira went rigid, heat surging up her neck. “That’s absurd.”

Yumeko’s smile turned soft, almost tender. “It’s sweet, though. You went out of your way to make sure I’d stand apart. Almost like you’re protecting me.”

“I’m discrediting you,” Kira snapped, but the words came too fast, too defensive.

Yumeko’s eyes glimmered with victory. “If you say so. But to me… it feels like you just don’t want to share me.”

Kira’s throat tightened. Her jaw clenched. She shoved past Yumeko with icy precision, her cape of authority wrapped tight around her like armor.

But Yumeko only turned, watching her go, her laughter chasing Kira down the walkway. Light. Amused. Certain. Hand brushing gently over where Kira has pushed against her. 

And all around them, the whispers spread again — louder this time.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Photo 1: Kira striding away, posture sharp but her ears visibly red.]
📸 [Photo 2: Yumeko mid-laugh, hand over her mouth like she’s sharing a private joke.]
📸 [Photo 3: Crowd shot — students frozen mid-whisper, some wide-eyed.]

Post: today’s tea: kira’s smear campaign backfired 😭
jabami literally told her “you just don’t want to share me” … AND SHE DIDN’T DENY IT.
guys. GUYS.

Replies:

• “i’m discrediting you” = “i’m protecting you” in kira-speak 💀

• nah she’s gatekeeping her now

• the irony of trying to ruin her rep only to make her hotter 💕

• president timurov invented jealous girlfriend energy

• enemies-to-lovers speedrun update: we’re at the “don’t touch what’s mine” stage

• kira dragging her cape around like armor while blushing = peak romcom
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“They’re not rumors anymore. It’s courtship by sabotage and everyone knows it.”

Chapter Text

The classroom emptied after the bell, chairs screeching across the floor as students hurried out. Only two lingered: Kira Timurov, gathering her neatly stacked papers, and Yumeko Jabami, perched on the corner of a desk with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“I’ve thought of something fun,” Yumeko purred, producing a deck of cards from her blazer pocket. She fanned them out with a flourish, her smile bright and challenging. “One round. Winner takes all. What do you say, President?”

Kira didn’t even glance at the cards. She snapped her folder shut, spine rigid. “No.”

The single word dropped like a stone, flat and final.

Yumeko blinked, then let out a delighted little laugh. “Ohhh. You’re refusing me?”

“I don’t waste my time on nonsense,” Kira said coolly, slipping the folder into her bag. “Find someone else to entertain you.”

But instead of pouting or sulking, Yumeko leaned forward, her bangs brushing her lashes, eyes wide with rapture. “So disciplined… so restrained…” Her voice softened into something almost breathless. “You’re saving yourself for something bigger between us.”

Kira’s head whipped around, heat flooding her cheeks. “That is not—”

Yumeko clasped her hands together, sighing dramatically. “How romantic. Okay, I’ll wait for you.”

The hallway beyond the door stirred with curious whispers as students slowed to peek inside. All they saw was Yumeko smiling like a girl in love and Kira going scarlet as she shouldered her bag.

“You’re insufferable,” Kira ground out, storming past.

But Yumeko only pressed the deck of cards to her chest, humming dreamily. She won’t waste herself on anything else… she’s saving her real game for me.

And by the time Kira’s footsteps vanished down the hall, the story had already begun to spread:

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Blurry photo through the classroom window: Yumeko sitting on a desk, smiling dreamily at Kira’s scarlet face.]
📸 [Close-up: the deck of cards pressed to Yumeko’s chest like a love letter.]
📸 [Hallway shot: Kira storming out, jaw tight, ears bright red.]

Post: BREAKING: Timurov just refused Jabami’s challenge 👀
not because she didn’t want to play… but bc she’s “saving it for something bigger” (jabami’s words not mine 😭)
new rumor name just dropped: The Untouched Game.

Replies:

• untouched game?? that’s literally foreplay in gambling terms 💀

• no one refuses jabami unless it’s personal. PERSONAL.

• she’s waiting for the “real match” = confession duel confirmed

• kira: “no.” translation: “only when we’re alone bae”

• untouched game about to be the school’s ship bible fr

• when the fanfic drops it better have this title
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“Mark my words: the day Timurov finally plays Jabami, it won’t just be a game. It’ll be the finale.”

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Repost of the photo: Yumeko hugging the deck of cards to her chest, eyes dreamy.]

User: YumekoJ 🌸
heehee… it’s true 💕
the President is saving herself for me.
#TheUntouchedGame #YumeKira

Replies:

• SHE JUST CONFIRMED IT ON MAIN?? 😱

• “saving herself for me” do u hear urself girl

• jabami openly speedrunning canon status 💀

• THE SHIP NAME IS OFFICIAL NOW. WE WON.

• iron queen x chaos queen endgame this semester mark it
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“Kira’s silence is basically agreement. If she didn’t want this rumor alive, she’d have crushed it by now. Instead she’s blushing. Case closed.”

The student lounge was in shambles.

Chairs overturned, papers scattered across the floor, half a deck of cards littered like confetti after someone had stormed out mid-game. Voices rose in a dozen different directions as accusations flew, the fallout of another wager gone sour.

And in the middle of the chaos, Yumeko Jabami laughed.

Bright and unrestrained, the sound cut through the mess like a bell. She leaned back against the table, eyes alight, grinning at the mayhem as if it were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Kira Timurov, standing a few paces away, pinched the bridge of her nose. Her council members were already working to restore order, but her attention snagged where it always did — on Yumeko, radiant in the middle of disaster.

The words slipped before she could stop them.
“No one else would be dumb enough to smile in a mess like this.”

The room didn’t hear it. But Yumeko did.

Her laughter softened into a gasp, her eyes going wide for a heartbeat before she leaned forward, smile curling slow and tender.
“So… I’m special to you?”

Kira froze. Her stomach dropped. Did she say that out loud?!

Heat crept up her neck, sharp and unyielding. She pressed her hand to her forehead, muttering under her breath, “Idiot. Idiot, idiot—”

Yumeko only beamed brighter, her gaze fixed on her as though she’d just been handed a confession.

And Kira, inwardly combusting, wondered if there was a corner of this academy where she could hide until the floor swallowed her whole.

Meanwhile, the lounge quieted just enough for whispers to ripple:
“Did you see her face? The President looked—blushing.”
“Blushing at Jabami. Again.”
“Oh, this is definitely going in the group chat.”

By the time Kira forced her posture back into icy precision, the rumor had already been born: Timurov slipped. Called her special.

And Yumeko hugged that word like it was hers to keep.

By nightfall, the screenshots and whispers had coalesced into something louder:

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]

📸 [Blurry candid: Kira with her hand pressed to her forehead, face visibly red. In the corner, Yumeko is beaming like it’s Valentine’s Day.]
Post: BREAKING: President Timurov called Jabami “special.” Yes, special. Witnesses confirm catastrophic blush.

Replies:

• that’s it, I’m calling it — they’re canon
  Ice Queen x Chaos Gremlin = endgame
• forget student elections, I’m voting for #YumeKira 2025
• they’re not even subtle anymore. it’s basically a shoujo manga playing out in real life
• 🚨 CONFESSION ALERT 🚨
• who knew the Ice Queen could combust this hard??
• it’s always jabami. ALWAYS.
• she called her special, jabami’s basically engaged now
• imagine being bold enough to break the president like that in the middle of chaos 💀

Pinned Comment:

“They think they’re hiding it, but every slip just makes it more obvious. #YumeKira isn’t rumor anymore — it’s a saga.”

Within an hour, someone had photoshopped a mock event flyer titled:
THE UNTAMED GAME: YUMEKIRA OFFICIAL LAUNCH PARTY 🎉

A few minutes later, a new reply appeared:

YumekoJ 🌸
heehee… I am special to her 💕
#TheUntamedGame #YumeKira

The thread exploded.

• SHE COMMENTED. SHE COMMENTED.

• jabami CONFIRMED it herself?? canon speedrun continues

• oh my god she’s feeding us and kira can’t stop her

• The Untamed Game is officially the arc title, lock it in

• someone livestream when kira finds out she posted this
  
  

And as if that weren’t enough, another edit surfaced:

📸 [Meme edit: Kira blushing in the lounge, captioned with giant pink letters: “SO… YOU’RE SPECIAL TO ME?”]

By the time Kira sat down to review council reports that evening, blissfully ignoring her muted notifications, the ship had already set sail across the entire academy.

And Yumeko, lying on her bed with the group chat open, giggled into her pillow as though she’d just won the jackpot.

The council chamber doors slammed shut, echoing off the paneled walls. A hush fell as Yumeko was marched inside by two prefects, her blazer rumpled, her long black hair slightly mussed.

Behind them came the noise of whispers from the hall: She did it again. Nearly tore the class apart this time. She’s insane.

Yumeko stood before the council table as if she were on stage, her smile soft, her bangs falling into her dark eyes.

Kira sat at the head, arms folded, expression carved from frost. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Yumeko tilted her head, humming lightly. “Played a little game?”

“A little game?” Sayaka  nearly shrieked, slamming her fist onto the table. “Half the third-years were screaming, desks overturned, bets spiraling out of control—”

“And the teachers had to break it up,” Riri added, calm but dangerous.

Yumeko blinked innocently. “But everyone was having such fun.”

“Fun?” Suki arched a brow, his tone rich with dry amusement. “It looked like a riot.”

Dori leaned back, smirking. “Best entertainment I’ve seen in weeks, to be fair.”

Runa scribbled notes like mad, eyes gleaming. “Chaos theory, live and unsupervised. Beautiful.”

Mary just giggled, a little too loud. “She looked gorgeous standing on the desk shouting odds. Like a goddess of ruin.”

Kira’s glare silenced them all. Her focus snapped back to Yumeko, her voice a whip. “You’ve embarrassed this academy. You’ve embarrassed me.”

But Yumeko only swayed slightly on her feet, hands folded neatly behind her back, that same infuriating smile never fading.

“Embarrassed?” she echoed softly. “No… I made sure everyone remembered me. Isn’t that the point of a gamble?”

The prefects stiffened, waiting for punishment to fall. The room itself seemed to hold its breath.

Kira leaned forward, every line of her posture taut with anger. “You treat this like a game.”

“It is a game,” Yumeko said brightly, her eyes shining dark and unflinching. “And you’re the only opponent worth playing.”

The silence cracked with whispers, the other council members trading looks.

Kira’s throat tightened, fury and something hotter burning beneath her ribs. She wanted to punish Yumeko, to put her in her place — but Yumeko’s smile made it look like she’d already won.

The council chamber hung silent, every eye on Kira.

She rose slowly, her chair scraping against the polished floor. “Enough games. You’ve humiliated the council, you’ve disrupted classes, you’ve—” Her voice caught, too sharp, too fast. “—you’ve made everyone look at you.”

The words spilled before she could stop them.

The chamber stilled.

Yumeko’s smile bloomed wider, her eyes going soft, dreamy. “Oh, Kira…” she breathed, clasping her hands together. “You noticed.”

Kira froze, blood rushing to her face. “That’s not what I meant—”

Yumeko leaned forward on the balls of her feet, glowing with delight, her bangs falling into her lashes. “You think I stand out. You couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

“I said you were reckless!” Kira snapped, the tips of her ears burning scarlet. “Dangerous. A menace!”

“And unforgettable,” Yumeko countered sweetly, sighing like she’d just been handed a love letter. “It’s practically a confession.”

The chamber erupted in noise. Chad choked back a laugh, clearly savoring every second. Runa slapped the table and cackled, scribbling faster as though she were taking down history in real time. Suki gave a sharp, delighted whistle and fanned himself with a folder, drawling about scandal made public. Mary leaned forward eagerly, wild-eyed, urging Kira to repeat it, louder this time. Sayaka  groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose like the council itself was about to collapse under the weight of humiliation. And Riri stayed perfectly still, calm as glass, though her sharp gaze lingered on her sister, unreadable.

Kira slammed her palm against the table, her voice breaking with fury. “SILENCE!”

The chamber fell quiet, though smirks lingered on lips and knowing glances flickered across the table.

Yumeko stood serene, radiant, as though she hadn’t just set the room aflame. Her smile was soft, victorious.

She confessed, she thought with a thrill. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

And Kira, cheeks still burning, sank back into her chair, nails biting crescents into her palm. I didn’t. I didn’t. She’s twisting everything.

But Yumeko’s gaze never left her, full of unshakable adoration.

By the time the chamber emptied, Kira’s phone lit up with the familiar buzz of the council’s private chat.

[Council Thread – PRIVATE 🔒]

Chad: ngl that was the funniest session we’ve ever had. thanks for the free entertainment, prez 💀

Runa: “you made everyone look at you” — I’m highlighting it. Bold. Historic. Future scholars will cite this.

Suki: I nearly fainted. You might as well have handed her flowers and a ring. 💐💍

Mary: (👀👀👀) IT WAS A CONFESSION. I HEARD IT.

Sayaka: This is disgraceful. Delete this chat. Now.

Chad: relax, Saya. history was made today. #KiraSaidIt

Runa: oh that’s good. writing it down.

Riri: Enough. None of this is productive. (pause) But… she did look at you like you hung the moon.

Kira: [has left the chat]

For a moment, the thread was silent. Then—

Chad: lmaooo she ragequit 😂

Runa: iconic. absolutely iconic.

Suki: Well, since she’s gone… might as well make it official. #YumeKira ✨

Mary: YES. FINALLY. #YumeKira supremacy.

Chad: typing it rn into the main gossip feed.

Runa: already did. added a dramatic screenshot of her slamming the table.

Riri: You’re all children. This is beneath the dignity of the council.

Suki: #YumeKira 🖤♠️ (look, even hashtags can be stylish)

Mary: imagine her face when she logs back in and sees it trending 😭😭😭

Chad: she’s gonna combust.

Runa: correction: she already DID. now it’s immortalized.

And just like that, the council’s private thread became ground zero. By the next morning, the academy’s feeds were flooded with edits, memes, and breathless speculation — all stamped with the same glittering tag: #YumeKira.

The fallout from Yumeko’s latest gamble lingered like smoke. Students had trashed desks, bets gone unpaid, angry parents already calling the academy. The teachers whispered about disciplinary hearings.

Kira handled it.

She stood in the faculty office, her posture unyielding, her words like sharpened glass. “No formal complaint will be filed. The council is already correcting the matter. This incident is finished.”

When one of the more furious students from the losing side tried to press her in the hall, Kira pinned him with a glare cold enough to freeze blood. “If you value your place here, you’ll forget Jabami’s name ever crossed your lips.”

The threats, the negotiations, the quiet “donations” shuffled from one account to another — all executed with precision. By the time evening fell, the scandal had vanished. Clean, erased.

No one outside the council would ever know how close it had come to spiraling out of control.

Except Yumeko.

She found Kira later by the courtyard fountain, her long black hair shining under the lantern glow. She tilted her head, bangs brushing her lashes, that radiant smile already tugging at her lips.

“You cleaned it up,” she said softly, eyes bright.

Kira’s arms folded, her jaw tightening. “I prevented your idiocy from staining the council’s reputation.”

But Yumeko only stepped closer, her grin widening, almost giddy. “No… you protected me.”

Kira stiffened. “That’s not—”

“You shielded me from the consequences,” Yumeko interrupted, voice lilting, delighted. “You faced them instead, quietly, so no one would hurt me. How sweet, Kira.”

Heat surged unbidden under Kira’s collar. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re romantic,” Yumeko countered softly, leaning closer. “So secretive, so careful… but I see it. Every gesture.”

Before Kira could move, Yumeko leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to her cheek.

The world stopped.

Kira went utterly rigid, her breath catching, her entire body burning.

Yumeko giggled, pulling back just enough to look at her, eyes shining. “Thank you.”

Kira turned away sharply, her voice snapping like a whip to hide the crack in it. “Go back to your dorm, Jabami. Now.”

But Yumeko only hummed happily, skipping off with a dreamy smile, fingertips brushing her own lips like she’d just won the greatest gamble of all.

And Kira, frozen by the fountain, touched her cheek as though the ghost of that kiss still burned there.

Unforgivable, she told herself.
But her pounding heart betrayed her.

She didn’t notice the student across the courtyard.

A second-year had ducked out late from the library, backpack slung over one shoulder, and froze just in time to see Yumeko bounce away from the fountain — and Kira Timurov standing stiff, flushed, her hand pressed to her cheek.

The poor girl clamped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide. She barely breathed until she was back inside the dorms and already typing furiously.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Sketchy pencil doodle posted by an art club kid: Yumeko leaning in with a cheek kiss, Kira stiff as a statue, hand flying to her cheek. Caption: “based on true events”]

Post: ITS CANON GUYS I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES. YUMEKO KISSED TIMUROV. ON. THE. CHEEK. AND TIMUROV DIDN’T STOP HER. SHE BLUSHED. SHE TOUCHED HER CHEEK AFTER.

Replies:

• 🚨🚨BREAKING🚨🚨 THE FOUNTAIN KISS IS REAL

• forget the dance, THIS is the proposal scene

• she’s doomed. she’s so in love.

• timurov touching her cheek after = peak shoujo heroine behavior

• jabami speedran rivals → lovers in like two weeks?? iconic

• redraw challenge starting NOW. give me 50 versions of that kiss before class tomorrow
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“The gala was the teaser. The Fountain Kiss was the premiere. Welcome to the #YumeKira Era.”

By morning, the thread had hundreds of comments, half of them already drafting wedding invitations in the margins of their notes.

And Kira, still red-eared from the night before, had no idea the school now spoke of the fountain kiss as the moment everything became official.

Chapter Text

The penthouse suite buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city’s glittering skyline, chandeliers spilling golden light onto velvet lounges and marble floors. This was no ordinary student gathering — it was the council’s party, joined by the academy’s top twenty elites.

And, impossibly, Yumeko Jabami was among them now.

Her reckless wins had launched her into the upper ranks, and though half the room still whispered that she didn’t belong, no one could deny her presence. She moved through the crowd with careless grace, long black hair swaying, her smile bright enough to turn heads.

Kira Timurov sat with the council at a corner table, posture as impeccable as ever — but her hand tightened around her glass of champagne. Every time Yumeko laughed across the room, every time another elite drifted close to her with a smirk or an offer, something sharp twisted in Kira’s chest.

She told herself it was vigilance. She was watching for disorder.

And then she drank.

The champagne was dry and cold, but after the second glass, a faint warmth curled through her veins. After the third, her edges softened, her grip on composure slipping just slightly.

Suki lounged beside her, watching with a knowing smile. “Careful, mother. People might think you’re celebrating.”

Chad chuckled, draping an arm over the back of his chair. “Or that you’re drowning something.”

Runa cackled, clinking her glass against Kira’s without waiting for permission. “Drink up, President. Watching you blush is the highlight of my night.”

Kira glared, but the fire in her cheeks betrayed her. She reached for another pour anyway, if only to steady the storm inside her.

Across the room, Yumeko caught her eye. For a heartbeat, their gazes locked — Kira’s sharp and guarded, Yumeko’s radiant, delighted, as if she knew exactly what was happening.

Then Yumeko excused herself from the cluster of admirers and started toward the council table.

Riri noticed first, her calm eyes narrowing. Mary all but bounced in her seat, unhinged grin flashing. Sayaka muttered something about disasters waiting to happen.

Kira’s throat tightened. She downed the rest of her glass in one swift motion, setting it down with a little too much force.

Stay composed. Stay cold. She won’t see through you.

But her head swam faintly, her body betraying her.

Yumeko reached the table, tilting her head with a sunny smile. “Kira~ You look flushed.”

The council smirked, waiting for the explosion.

Kira straightened in her chair, spine rigid, voice clipped. “It’s warm in here.”

Yumeko leaned closer, her bangs brushing her lashes, her smile softening in a way that felt far too private for the middle of a crowded room. “Mm. Or maybe it’s just me.”

Kira’s heart lurched, her breath catching before she forced it into an icy scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But she didn’t push Yumeko away when she perched gracefully at her side, nor when her arm brushed against hers under the table.

And somewhere between the champagne and the music, Kira realized with horror that she couldn’t tell if she was burning from the alcohol — or from Yumeko.

Suki, ever the opportunist, flicked his phone open under the table. The glow lit his grin as he murmured just loud enough for the others to hear, “Ah, the fountain thread’s still alive. Hashtag YumeKira climbing by the hour. Students are calling the kiss canon now.”

Kira nearly choked on air. “What kiss?” she hissed.

Chad snorted. “Prez, you were there. Or… rather, you got kissed.”

“It was nothing,” Kira snapped, a little too fast, her cheeks betraying her again.

Runa howled, scribbling something manic in her notebook. “Ohhh, this is too good. Denial, the purest form of confession.”

Mary clapped like she was at a stage play. “The fountain kiss, the gala waltz, now this—It’s the arc, Kira! The story writes itself!”

Sayaka groaned, muttering about disgrace, but even Riri’s calm mask flickered, her glass pausing midair.

Kira’s jaw locked, her nails digging crescents into her palm beneath the table. Not canon. Not anything. Denial isn’t confession.

But when Yumeko brushed against her shoulder, humming in bliss, the warmth flooding Kira’s chest made the lie almost unbearable.

The music pulsed low and steady, students clustering in glittering knots of laughter and murmurs. Kira sat with her back straight, another glass of champagne cooling in her hand, her jaw tight as she forced herself to endure the noise.

She barely noticed the girl until she was right there — one of the top twenty, a fourth-year with glossy curls and a smile that dripped confidence.

“You’re always so composed, President Timurov,” the girl purred, leaning a little too close. “But I bet you’d be more fun once you let someone take the edge off. Want to dance?”

The table stilled. Chad smirked over his glass. Runa leaned forward, eyes gleaming like she was watching a stage play. Suki arched a brow, lips already curving.

Kira’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth — ready to dismiss, to cut — but before she could, a familiar warmth brushed against her side.

Yumeko.

With a smile as bright as the chandeliers, Yumeko slipped her arm smoothly through Kira’s, pressing close enough that their shoulders brushed. Her bangs framed her eyes as she tilted her head, the picture of cheerful innocence.

“Sorry,” she said sweetly, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “She’s taken.”

The air snapped.

The girl blinked, color flooding her cheeks before she muttered something and backed away. Chad snorted into his drink. Runa outright cackled. Suki fanned himself, delighted. Mary nearly fell out of her chair from the thrill of it, while Sayaka hissed under her breath.

Kira went scarlet, frozen stiff with Yumeko’s arm twined in hers. “Jabami,” she bit out, voice low and taut, “unhand me this instant.”

But Yumeko only hummed, resting her head lightly against Kira’s shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Mm, but if I let go, someone else might try to steal you away.”

Kira’s pulse hammered, the champagne’s heat mixing with something far more dangerous. She yanked her arm free at last, standing abruptly, her chair scraping back. “I need air.”

She strode from the table, cape of authority fluttering behind her — but her ears still burned red, and Yumeko’s giggle followed her out like a song.

The second the doors shut behind Kira, the table erupted.

Chad leaned back, grinning like a wolf. “Taken, huh? Oh, that’s going straight to the feeds.”

Runa slapped the table so hard her notes scattered. “She didn’t even deny it! Jabami just claimed her and she sat there blushing like a bride. This is art!”

Suki fanned himself lazily, eyes glittering. “Darling, you can’t buy that kind of chemistry. The way she froze—ugh, delicious.”

Mary practically bounced in her seat, her voice rising in a squeal. “Did you see her face?! She’s doomed. She’s so in love—oh my god, they’re canon!”

Sayaka groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is humiliating. She let Jabami make a spectacle of her again.”

But no one was listening to Sayaka. Phones were already sliding out under the table, screens glowing as the council’s private thread lit up.

Runa: #YumeKira update: CONFIRMED by Jabami herself. 🖤
Chad: she claimed her in front of half the elites lmfao 💀
Suki: “She’s taken.” I can still hear it. Romantic as hell.
Mary: IT’S OFFICIAL. THEY’RE DATING. ENDGAME. #YumeKiraForever

At the far edge, Riri sat utterly still, her drink untouched. Her gaze lingered on the door where Kira had vanished, expression unreadable — though her fingers trembled just slightly against the glass.

Meanwhile, Yumeko remained at the table, sipping her champagne with a radiant smile, as if nothing at all were unusual. As if claiming Kira Timurov in public had been the most natural move in the world.

And across campus, the gossip hub exploded.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Blurry photo snapped mid-moment: Yumeko’s arm linked through Kira’s, head on her shoulder. Kira = scarlet, mid-glare. Caption: “she’s TAKEN 😱😱😱”]

Post: SHE JUST SAID IT. SHE CALLED TIMUROV TAKEN. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.
#YumeKira IS CANON I REPEAT IT’S CANON.

Replies:

• SHE CLAIMED HER. SHE LITERALLY CLAIMED HER.

• timurov’s face was BRIGHT RED. she’s gone.

• this is the shoujo confession scene we’ve been waiting for

• we’ve had the dance, the cake, the water bottle… now THE CLAIM.

• ryan who? kira’s got her girl on lock 🔒

• calling it: they’ll be co-presidents by next semester lmao

• “don’t unhand me” = enemies-to-lovers peak dialogue
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“The gala was the prelude. The Fountain Kiss was the turning point. But tonight? Tonight we witnessed the Claim. #She’sTaken #YumeKira”

Trending tags:
#She’sTaken
#YumeKiraForever
#PresidentsGirlfriend
#IronQueenAndHerChaosQueen

The rooftop balcony was cooler, the night air cutting through the golden haze of the party. The city sprawled below in glittering lights, but Kira barely noticed. She gripped the railing with both hands, champagne still buzzing in her blood, her head heavy and unsteady.

Riri stepped quietly onto the balcony a moment later, her heels clicking softly against the stone. She didn’t speak at first, just stood beside her sister, serene as ever.

Kira exhaled sharply, shoulders tense. “She humiliated me,” she muttered, more to herself than to Riri. “Just slid her arm through mine, like she owned me. In front of everyone.”

Her voice cracked, frustration bleeding into it. “The whole council was watching. The top twenty. The school will be buzzing with it by morning.”

Riri sipped calmly from her own glass. “And yet,” she said softly, “you didn’t stop her.”

Kira’s head snapped around, eyes flashing. “I was drunk. Caught off guard.”

“Mm.” Riri’s expression didn’t change, but her gaze sharpened. “Or maybe you didn’t want to stop her.”

Kira’s breath hitched. She turned away, cheeks burning hot, the city lights blurring in her vision. “That’s ridiculous. She’s chaos. She’s… infuriating.”

Her fingers dug into the railing, knuckles white. Then, softer, like a secret she couldn’t quite hold back: “But I… I didn’t hate it.”

The words slipped out raw, clumsy, heavier than the champagne in her veins.

Riri went still beside her, heart tightening at the admission. Her calm mask never wavered, but inside, unease curled. “Sister…”

Kira shook her head violently, as if she could fling the thought away. “No. No, it means nothing. It’s the alcohol talking. Tomorrow, I’ll set it right.”

But her hands trembled against the railing.

Riri studied her in silence, the cool night wind tugging at her dark hair. She wanted to press — to demand Kira face the truth — but the sight of her sister’s flushed cheeks and unsteady stance pulled her back.

Instead, she said quietly, “Come inside before someone sees you like this.”

Kira nodded stiffly, though her eyes were still distant, haunted. She straightened, every line of her posture screaming control — even as the echo of Yumeko’s warmth still lingered against her skin.

Riri followed her back in, worry gnawing in her chest.

If she’s already admitting this much drunk… how long before she admits it sober?

The party was winding down, laughter spilling into softer, looser murmurs. Most of the top elites had drifted away to lounges or balconies, but Kira was still at the council’s corner table — though “stiff” was generous. The champagne had finally caught up with her.

Her head lolled once, twice, her usual perfect posture slipping. She caught herself with a scowl, but her glassy eyes betrayed her.

Riri stood nearby, arms folded, gaze sharp. She could read her sister’s state at a glance: Kira could walk, but not unaided. And not with half the academy watching.

That was when Mary leaned in close, her grin unhinged, her whisper hot against Riri’s ear. “Come onnn. Stay with me tonight. You’re always so serious. I’ll make you laugh, promise.”

Riri’s lips pressed thin. She should refuse. She should stay by Kira’s side. But Mary’s gaze sparkled with wicked glee, tugging at the cracks in her composure. Against her better judgment, she heard herself murmur, “Just for tonight.”

Mary’s smile turned feral with victory.

Riri exhaled, steadying herself — and turned back just in time to see Kira rising unsteadily, one hand gripping the table like a lifeline.

Yumeko was there in a heartbeat. Her long black hair shimmered under the low lights, bangs brushing her lashes as she tilted her head. “Need a hand, Kira~?” she asked sweetly.

Riri’s jaw tightened. She didn’t trust her. But Mary tugged at her arm, insistent, and choices narrowed fast.

“Jabami.”

Yumeko perked up, eyes bright.

“Take her to her room,” Riri said, voice calm but edged like a blade. “Make sure she gets there without incident. I’ll… check in later.”

Yumeko’s smile bloomed like sunlight. “Of course. I’ll take good care of her.”

Riri’s eye twitched, but she didn’t correct the phrasing. She simply let Mary tug her toward the doors, her composure flawless even as unease curled low in her chest.

Kira tried to protest, muttering, “I don’t need—” but Yumeko had already slipped her arm through hers, steadying her with cheerful ease.

“Shh,” Yumeko teased, her tone almost tender. “Your sister trusts me with you tonight. Isn’t that romantic?”

Kira’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “It’s not romantic,” she hissed, though her weight leaned into Yumeko’s.

Yumeko only hummed, dreamy as she guided her toward the dorms. Trusted to guide her home… her sister chose me.

To Yumeko, it was a gift. To Kira, a nightmare. To Mary, the perfect setup for chaos.

And Riri, walking away with Mary’s fingers tangled in hers, couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at her ribs.

The walk to the dorms was a maze of hushed corridors and half-lit hallways. Kira’s heels clicked unevenly against the marble, her steps too sharp one moment and wavering the next. She tried to keep her chin high, but the faint sway in her stride betrayed her.

“Don’t grip so tight,” Kira muttered, though her hand clung stubbornly to Yumeko’s arm.

Yumeko tilted her head, bangs brushing her lashes, smiling as if she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. “But if I let go, you might stumble. And then I’d have to carry you. Imagine the rumors.”

Kira flushed crimson. “As if I’d ever allow that—”

Her heel caught on the edge of a rug. She wobbled dangerously—
Yumeko steadied her with a gentle tug, pulling her flush against her side.

Kira froze, heat rushing up her neck. “Tch…” She forced herself upright, spine rigid, but she didn’t pull away.

“You’re warm,” Yumeko murmured softly, leaning close enough that her breath tickled Kira’s ear.

Kira’s pulse hammered. “That’s the alcohol,” she snapped, far too quickly.

“Mhm.” Yumeko hummed, unconvinced. “Or maybe it’s me.”

By the time they reached Kira’s door, her cheeks were scarlet, her composure in tatters. Yumeko fished the key from Kira’s pocket with a mischievous grin — ignoring the indignant hiss that earned — and pushed the door open.

Inside, everything was orderly, pristine, untouched — a sharp contrast to Kira herself. She made for the bed, stiff-backed, clinging to her last scraps of dignity.

“I don’t need—” she began, but her heel slipped again, catching on the rug.

She lurched forward.

Her hand shot out on instinct, grabbing the nearest anchor — Yumeko’s wrist.

“Ah!” Yumeko yelped, surprised as the momentum pulled her down. In a heartbeat they twisted in the air and she landed sprawled across Kira’s chest on the bed, their faces so close Kira could see every spark in her dark eyes.

Kira froze, breath caught. “Jabami—!”

Yumeko’s grin spread slow and wicked. “My, my… moving this fast?” she teased, voice honeyed with delight. “And here I thought you were the chivalrous type.”

Kira’s ears burned scarlet. “It was an accident!” she hissed, shoving at Yumeko’s shoulders with trembling hands.

But Yumeko leaned in the smallest bit closer, her voice dropping to a murmur. “Mm. An accident that put me right here.”

Kira’s heart pounded so hard she was certain Yumeko could feel it. She shoved again, rolling her off, though her own hands lingered a beat too long in the flustered chaos.

“Out,” Kira barked, her voice cracking despite her best effort. “Out, now!”

Yumeko laughed, bright and delighted, rising with unhurried grace. She brushed imaginary dust from her skirt, her eyes gleaming. “You’re so cute when you panic.”

Kira glared, cheeks blazing, fists clenched in the bedsheets.

And then Yumeko softened. She stepped close once more, leaning down — not to tease this time, but to hover for a heartbeat, her bangs falling forward like a curtain. Gently, she pressed the lightest kiss to Kira’s forehead.

Kira went utterly still.

“Goodnight, Kira~,” Yumeko whispered, her smile dreamy. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then she was gone, humming softly as she closed the door behind her.

The room fell quiet.

Kira touched her forehead with trembling fingers, her chest rising too fast. Unforgivable, she told herself. And yet…

She curled against the sheets, the ghost of that warmth refusing to leave her.

The dorm corridors were quiet that night, lanterns burning low. Most students had already drifted off — which was why the lone prefect doing rounds nearly dropped her clipboard when she turned the corner.

Yumeko Jabami, humming softly, stepped out of the Timurov suite. She closed the door with exaggerated care, smoothing her skirt, a dreamy smile playing on her lips.

The prefect froze. Yumeko noticed her instantly — and simply raised a finger to her lips in a conspiratorial shh before gliding down the hall.

The prefect didn’t breathe until she’d fled back to her room and started typing furiously.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]
📸 [Shaky photo: Yumeko stepping out of the Timurov suite, closing the door with a dreamy smile. Caption: “she’s literally glowing??”]

Post: GUYS. SHE JUST LEFT TIMUROV’S DORM. TONIGHT.
I SWEAR ON THE CREST. JABAMI. TIMUROV. SAME ROOM.
SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE WON THE LOTTERY.

Replies:

• no way. no way. no way.

• she didn’t even sneak — she H-U-M-M-E-D down the hall 😭

• “she’s taken” wasn’t a metaphor huh?? 👀

• canon. canon. canon. carve it on the gates.

• timurov: iron queen / jabami: door wrecker

• checking feeds rn — yep. #YumeKiraNightIn is officially trending

• who needs bedtime stories when the real romance novel is playing live in our dorms
  
  

Pinned Comment:
“The gala gave us the dance. The fountain gave us the kiss. Tonight the dorm gave us the proof. Endgame confirmed. #YumeKiraNightIn”

Trending tags:
#YumeKiraNightIn
#PresidentsSuiteSaga
#IronQueenClaimed
#ChaosQueenWins

Next day at the spade house common room, phones buzzed almost immediately.

Chad sprawled across the couch, grinning like a shark. “She didn’t even wait till morning. Absolute legend.”

Runa screeched with laughter, pounding her notebook. “I TOLD YOU. This is art in motion. They’re feeding us a romance novel in real time.”

Suki scrolled leisurely, fanning himself. “Mother, the hashtag already has edits. You two look good in fanart.”

Mary was practically vibrating. “She left your room last night! Last Night! Oh my god, they’ll never shut up about this.”

Sayaka muttered darkly, “This school has lost its mind.”

Kira sat rigid at the table, her head still pounding with hangover, her face flaming red. “She escorted me to my door. Nothing more. The rumors are baseless.”

But her denial only made the group chat ping louder:

Runa: denial arc activated 😏
Chad: canon tho.
Mary: #YumeKiraNightIn lives rent-free in my heart 🖤

And somewhere down the hall, Yumeko skipped lightly toward her dorm, humming still — as though she’d planted exactly the rumor she wanted.

Chapter Text

Yumeko’s rise through St. Dominic's was nothing short of scandalous.

Match after match, she threw herself into gambles that should have broken her — wagers against seasoned elites, games tilted by stacked odds, contests designed to humiliate her. Each time, she walked away smiling, flushed with the thrill, her opponents stunned, defeated, or left clinging to scraps of reputation.

Kira had tried everything to choke the fire before it spread. She assigned Dori to break her spirit. She let Runa and Chad set elaborate traps. She whispered to other elites that Jabami was reckless prey, easy pickings. And yet — every single time, Yumeko only seemed to glow brighter, laughing even when she bled for it.

By the time she cracked the top twenty, whispers followed her down every hall. By the time she reached the top fifteen, half the school turned out just to watch her games. And when she almost clawed into the top ten — through sheer audacity and delight — Kira’s control began to fray.

Enough.

The President called an unofficial halt. No more public matches sanctioned, no more official challenges recorded. “For the stability of the academy,” she told the council. But everyone close to her could see the truth written in the tight line of her mouth: desperation. Because if Yumeko kept climbing, if her legend kept growing, there would be no pulling her back down.

But blocking her matches didn’t silence the chaos. It only funneled it underground — whispered bets in shadowed corners, secret games behind locked doors, and, inevitably, the wrong kind of opponents.

Which was how Yumeko found herself one afternoon, standing in the courtyard, facing a notorious fourth-year elite whose cruelty was legend. The crowd pressed tight around them, buzzing like hornets.

And Kira, despite every effort to distance herself, was already there. Arms folded, posture flawless, jaw tight. She told herself it was duty, vigilance. She was only there to keep order.

But when Yumeko turned her head just slightly — eyes sparkling, bangs swaying as if she knew exactly where Kira stood in the crowd — Kira’s heart betrayed her. It lurched, too sharp, too fast.

Because this wasn’t just another gamble. It was a performance. And no matter how hard she tried to stay detached, Kira realized with horror that she wasn’t here as the President of the council anymore.

She was here as the girl Yumeko always, somehow, made part of the show.

The courtyard was buzzing again, but this time with sharper edges. A circle had formed near the fountain — students craning their necks, standing on benches, whispering in rapid bursts.

At the center stood Yumeko, radiant and unbothered, her bangs framing her bright, excited eyes. Across from her loomed a fourth-year elite — older, broader, known for his brutal bets that left classmates ruined. His smile was thin and predatory as he shuffled his deck of cards.

“You’ve got guts, Jabami,” he sneered. “But you don’t know the kind of fire you’re playing with. Lose to me, and you’ll wish you never walked into this school.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Everyone knew his reputation. No one walked away from his games untouched.

Yumeko only tilted her head, smile soft and dreamy. “Mm. That sounds fun.”

The boy’s eyes gleamed. “Then let’s play—”

“Enough.”

The voice cut sharp across the courtyard, freezing every whisper.

Kira Timurov stepped through the circle like a blade through silk, her presence scattering students as if pulled by gravity. Her cape of authority seemed to trail behind her, and her glare landed squarely on the elite.

“You will not.” Her voice was low, clipped steel. “Jabami is under council supervision. Any challenge to her is a challenge to me.”

The boy faltered, his smirk cracking. “P-President Timurov, I was only—”

“Leave.”

The single word carried the weight of command. The crowd hushed. Even the boy — usually feared — went pale, bowing stiffly before retreating into the throng.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Yumeko blinked, then smiled, her voice soft and delighted. “Kira… you defended me.”

Kira’s jaw tightened. “I defended the council’s authority. Nothing more.”

But Yumeko stepped closer, her smile blooming radiant, her voice dropping just for Kira. “No, no… you defended me.”

The crowd rippled with whispers again — Timurov stood up for Jabami. She claimed her. She wouldn’t even let an elite touch her.

Kira’s throat tightened, fury and heat colliding under her skin. “You misinterpret everything.”

But Yumeko only tilted her head, dreamy and certain, her smile soft. “I don’t think I do.”

The buzz swelled, students clutching each other’s sleeves, already typing furiously into their phones. She stopped a fourth-year for her. She basically said “hands off, she’s mine.” It’s canon, it’s literally canon.

Kira pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “Unbelievable. They’ll be hashtagging this by dinner.”

Yumeko leaned closer, humming happily. “Oh, I like that. #She’sMine. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Kira nearly choked. “Jabami—!”

But it was too late. The courtyard was already a storm of whispers, the rumor mill devouring the scene in real time. And Yumeko, glowing brighter than the sun, looked like the only one truly enjoying herself.

And Kira, trapped between fury and mortification, realized she had done the one thing she swore never to do:

She’d made herself the heroine of someone else’s love story.

[Council GC – 🔒 Private]

Runa: UPDATE. Courtyard. President just body-blocked a fourth-year for Jabami. 👀

 Chad: LMFAOOO she told him “Any challenge to her is a challenge to me.” BRO. That’s wifey energy.

 Suki: She may as well have pulled out a sword and declared a duel for her honor. Romantic. Tragic. Delicious. 🍷

 Mary: CANON. CANON. CANON. She literally said “hands off.” I’m screaming. #She’sMine

 Sayaka: It was about council authority, you idiots. Authority. Not romance.

 Runa: LOL keep coping, Saya. #YumeKira is trending on the student boards already.

 Chad: Oh I’m feeding it. Posting the exact quote rn: “Jabami is under council supervision. Any challenge to her is a challenge to me.” 🔥🔥🔥

 Mary: SOULMATES. FATED. THIS IS THE DECLARATION SCENE.

 Suki: Someone order roses for the President, she’s clearly courting. 🌹

 Sayaka: I hate all of you.

 Dori: You’ll hate this more: [attached screenshot of gossip hub threads exploding with #YumeKira]

 Mary: I’m saving that. Framing it. Tattooing it on my heart.

At the far end of the chat, Riri didn’t type a word.

But her screen lingered on Kira’s quote longer than she meant it to, her fingers hovering above the keyboard, her expression unreadable.

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]

 📸 [Blurry photo: Kira stepping in front of Yumeko at the fountain, fourth-year backing off]

Post: SHE DID IT. PRESIDENT TIMUROV SAID “Any challenge to her is a challenge to me.”

 In front of EVERYONE. Fourth-year ELITE backed down.

Replies:

• she DEFENDED her 😱
• that wasn’t council business, that was personal 👀
•  she might as well have shouted SHE’S MINE
• his face when he backed off… Kira’s aura = “touch my girl and die”
• jabami smiling all soft??? she’s so GONE
•  this is literally enemies-to-lovers canon unfolding in public 💀
• #She’sMine trending. #YumeKira CONFIRMED.

📌 Pinned Comment: YUMEKIRA TIMELINE THREAD 🖤❤️

• Cake Incident 🍰
• Gala Dance 💃
• “She’s Taken” 🎉
• Forehead Kiss Rumors 👀
• Courtyard Protection Scene 🚨 (TODAY!!)

💬 YumekoJ: Oh my, how fast the news travels~ 💕

💬 Anon3: WAIT IS THAT HER IN THE CHAT??

💬 Anon7: SHE’S READING THIS???

💬 YumekoJ: Mhm. And for the record… she really did defend me. Isn’t that romantic? 🎲✨

💬 Anon2: OH MY GOD SHE’S TAUNTING US TOO

💬 Anon9: someone check on president timurov she’s gonna combust

Stay tuned for their wedding date.

The council chamber was tense, the air sharp with barely restrained voices. Papers lay forgotten on the table — no one cared about policy when the entire school was buzzing.

Sayaka was the first to snap. She slammed her folder shut, eyes blazing. “You need to issue a statement, Kira. Now. Publicly. Tell them Jabami misread it. Tell them you weren’t defending her. If you don’t, these rumors will sink us.”

Chad leaned back lazily in his chair, smirking. “Or fuel them. Honestly? I say let it ride. This is the most fun I’ve had in months.”

Runa cackled, scribbling furiously in her notebook. “No, no — don’t ruin it. The narrative is gold. President Timurov, cold and untouchable, throwing herself in front of danger for her forbidden love? This is Shakespeare.”

Suki fanned himself with an idle grace. “Kira, you can’t fight perception. People want this story. The more you deny it, the more real it becomes.”

Mary, practically glowing, clasped her hands. “She doesn’t need to deny it. She should embrace it. They’re perfect together!” Her eyes darted briefly toward Riri, but her grin stayed fixed.

Riri sat still, her teacup steady in her hands, her expression calm but unreadable. “Whether it’s true or not, sister, silence will only make them believe what they want.”

Kira rose abruptly, her chair scraping against the polished floor. Her jaw was tight, her voice colder than steel. “There will be no statement. None. This council does not dignify gossip.”

Sayaka gaped. “You can’t be serious—!”

But Kira’s glare cut her off like a blade. “This ends here. I will not explain myself to children drunk on fantasy. I will not lower myself to their chatter. We move forward with business as usual.”

The silence that followed was brittle, fragile.

Then Chad chuckled. “Business as usual, huh? Sure, President. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Runa nearly fell out of her chair laughing. “Oh, she’s doomed. This is better than reality TV.”

And while the council dissolved into murmurs and smirks, Kira stood at the head of the table, hands clenched behind her back — every muscle rigid, her face carved from frost.

She told herself it was control.

 But her burning cheeks betrayed her.

The courtyard was still buzzing long after the crowd broke apart, rumors already spreading like wildfire. Yumeko, however, floated away from it all, her steps light, her smile radiant.

She found Mary in a side corridor, leaning against the lockers with her arms crossed. Ryan standing beside her with a concerned look on his face. Mary’s sharp eyes said everything — they’d clearly heard.

Yumeko clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. “She’s so protective… isn’t it romantic?”

Mary’s jaw dropped. “Romantic?!” She threw her arms up. “She practically shot daggers at that guy until he melted! That’s not romance, that’s a murder attempt.”

“Yes!” Yumeko chimed, swaying happily, her long black hair catching the light. “Like a knight protecting her lady, blade drawn, ready to strike. So gallant.”

Ryan dragged a hand down his face, but his eyes glimmered with teasing shine. “Yumeko. She wasn’t protecting you. She was protecting her council seat. Huge difference.”

“Mmm…” Yumeko tilted her head dreamily, unconcerned. “But she still stood in front of me. In front of everyone. She made me untouchable. That’s practically a love confession.”

Mary groaned, thunking the back of her head against the lockers. “Unbelievable. She could throw you in a dungeon and you’d start planning the wedding. I’ll be there though, you’re carving a path to the Timurov experience.”

Yumeko giggled, pressing her fingertips to her lips, eyes going soft and far-off. “Ohh… a dungeon wedding… candlelight flickering against the stone… how romantic.”

Mary’s groan echoed down the hall. “You need help. Professional help.”

They didn’t notice the student passing by — until his sharp intake of breath gave him away. He froze, wide-eyed, then bolted down the corridor like he’d just uncovered the hottest secret in St. Dominic’s.

Within minutes, the group chat lit up:

[St. Dom’s Gossip Hub 💬]

 📸 [Overheard transcript: Jabami to Mary — “She’s so protective… like a knight protecting her lady.”]

Post: CONFIRMED. JABAMI CALLED TIMUROV HER KNIGHT. 🛡️✨

 A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR. IT’S LITERALLY A FAIRYTALE.

Replies:

•  so the Ice Queen is officially her knight?? help 😭
•  forget fairy tale, this is enemies-to-lovers perfection
•  DUNGEON WEDDING?? what did i just read 💀
•  she could stab jabami and she’d call it romantic lmao
•  #YumeKiraKnight trending. someone sketch fanart STAT
•  canon canon canon. they’re writing their own manga at this point

Pinned Comment: TIMUROV = JABAMI’S KNIGHT ARC 🖤❤️

• The Cake Incident 🍰
• Gala Dance 💃
• “She’s Taken” 🎉
• Courtyard Protection 🛡️
• Jabami’s “Knight” Confession 🕯️

And while Mary buried her face in her hands, Yumeko hummed dreamily, oblivious to the wildfire she’d just fed.