Another day, another silent war of pride waged in the student council room. To the casual observer, Shirogane and Kaguya seemed like the ideal pair: equal parts charisma, intellect, and elegance. But beneath that perfect facade lay a fierce, unspoken rivalry.

Neither would dare confess their feelings for each other.

Kaguya sat primly at the council table, the picture of composed grace. But her mind was racing. He must confess first. To her, love wasn’t a simple emotion; it was a battle. Whoever uttered the words “I like you” first would lose their footing, relinquish their control, and become vulnerable. And Kaguya Shinomiya would not lose.

Across the room, Shirogane adjusted his tie, pretending to review a stack of documents. His sharp eyes occasionally darted toward Kaguya before snapping back to his work. His pride echoed hers: I’ll make her admit it. There’s no way I’ll back down first.

The tension between them hung in the air, thick and almost suffocating, though no one else seemed to notice. Or so they thought.