"Excuse me! Pardon the intrusion!"
"Hmm? You're..."
After arriving at the Home Economics Room with Marcos, Yugo called out energetically to the students busy working inside.
A male student wearing glasses approached them from the group. Yugo bowed, greeted him politely, and began to state his business.
"You're Hugo Clay, aren't you? What brings you here?"
"Sorry to drop in so suddenly. Actually, I have a request for the Cooking Club—"
Yugo explained that he wanted to take his hard-working younger brother out for some recreation and that he was hoping to enlist the club's help in preparing lunch boxes for the trip.
The student with glasses listened in silence, nodding along before finally speaking.
"I see. So you want to borrow our expertise for your brother’s sake..."
"Exactly! I’ll make sure you're properly compensated, of course. Is there any way you could take the job?"
"Hmm... I’m sorry to say this after hearing you out, but I’m only the vice-president. I can’t make a final decision without the president's approval. She should be arriving shortly, so would you mind waiting and speaking with her then?"
"Understood! Sorry for the trouble!"
Yugo thanked the vice-president, who maintained a gentle smile throughout the exchange. While he waited for the person with the authority to grant his request, he glanced around the Home Economics Room—a place he was visiting for the first time.
"Man, you guys keep this place spotless. All the equipment is practically sparkling! It must be because everyone who uses it treats the room with such respect...!"
"Ahaha, I’m glad you noticed, but that’s not quite the reason. You see, the Home Economics Room underwent a total renovation recently. That’s why everything is brand new."
"A renovation? Really? I guess they updated a lot of things to get ready for the new school term?"
"Well, not exactly... There was an incident a little while back. That's why it was renovated."
"An incident? What kind of incident?"
Yugo tilted his head, curious about what had happened.
The vice-president’s smile remained fixed on his face as he began to recount the details of the room’s reconstruction.
"It was a little while ago, around the time of the Middle School Division Graduation Ceremony. To celebrate the club members—myself included—moving up to the High School Division, the president prepared a special meal. We were having a wonderful party when a student with a truly rotten attitude barged in."
"Whoa, really? What happened next?"
"He wasn't even invited, but he forced his way in. The second he tasted the food the president had worked so hard on, he started trashing it. He called it 'fucking swill' and 'pathetic scraps fit only for commoners.' To top it off, he claimed he was punishing us for making him eat such disgusting food. He proceeded to destroy the club’s equipment and half the Home Economics Room... We were forced to suspend our activities for a long time after that."
"What a jerk! I can't believe someone would do something so horrible. That's unforgivable!"
"It really is, isn't it? It’s hard to believe such a person even exists..."
As Yugo listened to the story, he grew genuinely indignant. He felt a surge of rage on behalf of the president. To think someone would trample over a meal made with such care for her juniors—what kind of monster was this guy?
But as he seethed with righteous anger, he noticed a sudden change in the atmosphere.
"Wait... huh?"
The moment the vice-president finished speaking, the room, which had been bustling with activity, fell into a deathly silence.
Every single member of the Cooking Club was staring at him with pure, unadulterated hatred. Seeing them exert a silent, terrifying pressure while brandishing kitchen knives and frying pans, Yugo turned to the man beside him, a cold sweat breaking out.
"H-Hey, Marcos? This is just a wild guess, but... the student in that story... the one who trashed this place..."
"...It was you, Yugo."
"I knew it! Why didn't you tell me sooner!?"
"By the time I realized what was happening, you’d already set foot in the room. Don't ask the impossible of me."
Faced with the confirmation of his worst fears, Yugo demanded to know why Marcos hadn't warned him. Marcos simply gave a cool, detached reply.
Muttering that Yugo should at least be grateful he was willing to stand there and endure these icy glares alongside him, Marcos looked away. Yugo slowly turned his head back toward the front. His neck moved with the stiff, jerky rhythm of a rusty tin doll. There, he saw the vice-president—the man who had been smiling so gently moments ago—his face now contorted with twitching, suppressed rage.
"Honestly, you’ve got some nerve...! After what you did, you have the audacity to come here and ask us for a favor...!!"
"I-I-I-I'm so sorry! I’m truly, deeply sorry! I—I have amnesia, you see! I had no idea I'd done something like that! I offer my sincerest apologies for all my past outrages!!"
"Do you really think it’s that easy?! Helping you is the last thing we’d ever do! If anything, maybe I should just grind you into mincemeat right here and feed the patties to your little brother! How does that sound, huh?!"
The vice-president's eyes were bloodshot; he clearly wasn't joking.
Yugo cowered, terrified that he might actually be turned into ground meat as the surrounding club members closed in on him. He continued to stammer out apologies to the circle of vengeful chefs until a literal goddess appeared to save him.
"Now, now! That’s enough, everyone. It’s pitiful to bully the poor boy when he's apologizing so sincerely."