Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious - Chapter 185 - 50

Chapter 185: Chapter 50

The morning sun had fully crested the horizon, its light sharpening the shadows of the school’s corridors as Seijirou navigated the halls.

However, instead of heading toward the familiar noise of Class 1-A, he detoured toward the wing that housed Class 1-B.

He needed answers, and he needed them before the first proctor laid the exam papers on the desks.

He reached the door and slid it open with a quiet, deliberate click.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke a casual observer, as the whole room was like a sea of hunched shoulders and frantic scribbling.

Almost every student was buried in their notes, eyes darting over formulas and historical dates with a desperation that bordered on the religious.

Seijirou scanned the room, his first impression settling into a single thought: Nerds.

Not that he looked down on academic effort, but the sheer concentration of high-scoring intensity in this room was jarring.

It was as if the administration had gathered every high-IQ, low-social-battery student and bottled them into a single pressurized container.

“Seijirou-kun?”

A gentle, female voice broke through the silence of the room.

It was Touka, who had been hunched over a thick science textbook, noticed him and immediately sat up straight, with her face was a mix of surprise and a faint, flickering hope, as if wanting him to say that she came for her. “Do you… do you need something?”

The room, which had been a haven of silent study, suddenly rippled with whispers as they all looked up, having been interrupted.

The name “Kageyama Seijirou” acted like a drop of ink in a glass of water, clouding the focus of every student present.

“Hey, that’s Kageyama Seijirou…”

“What is he doing here? He’s in Class A, right?”

“He’s not here to cause trouble, is he? I heard he broke a guy’s arm yesterday…”

Apparently, word already got out about what he did to Erina’s father. But it’s not exaggerated alright? He just broke the guys wrist!

Seijirou ignored these people whispering at him, his gaze settling on the girl sitting at the very front row. “Sorry, not you Touka. Erina. Come with me for a second.”

Touka sighed in disappointment and sat back down, looking at him like a lost puppy.

Erina blinked, her purple eyes widening in genuine surprise, but she didn’t hesitate and immediately stood up, her movements fluid despite her reliance on her cane as the rhythmic click-tap, click-tap of her steps followed him out into the hall.

The students watched them leave, but as they closed the door, they immediately returned back to their notes.

Touka, however, lost the mood study and simply lied down on her desk, sighing.

Outside, the corridor was relatively empty, with the air cooler than the crowded classroom.

Erina leaned against the wall, a playful, slightly mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “My, my, Seijirou-sama. It hasn’t even been a full day since we shared the same roof, and you already missed me so much you had to track me down before the exams?”

Seijirou didn’t smile back, he simply kept his expression neutral, his voice dropping into a low, serious tone. “I met your mother this morning.”

The playful light in Erina’s eyes vanished as if snuffed out by a sudden draft as she instantly froze, her grip on her cane tightening until her knuckles were a stark, ghostly white as a heavy silence stretched between them for a moment.

“…Is that so?” she whispered, her voice losing its melodic lilt. “Perhaps… perhaps she is here under the orders of my father. To bring me back to the family.”

Yes, that is something her father will do. After all, he knew that her mother’s influence on her was absolute; having been raised by her since childhood, she wouldn’t be able to refuse her mother.

Seijirou noticed the subtle tremor in her hands, and that alone made it clear that the influence Erina’s mother held over her daughter was not merely familial—it was structural, emgraved into her very bones.

And indeed it is.

Akane had been the one to carve Erina’s mind, to discipline her every thought and action since she was a toddler.

Erina can stand her ground and say no to her father, she will even dare to scheme against her own father if she deemed it necessary.

But her mother was different.

“I don’t think so,” Seijirou said, shaking his head. “For someone like her, it makes no sense for her to ask me for directions to Shunji High, so I believe that she’s looking for me.”

“For you?” Erina’s brow furrowed in deep confusion. “That makes no sense. My mother has never shown the slightest interest in the Kageyama family beyond the tactical advice she gave my father. Why would she seek you out personally?”

Was it a change of heart? A desperate move to bypass Kirei? Or maybe… something far more nefarious?

Just then, the heavy footsteps of an administrator echoed from the stairs.

“Students, exams are about to start. Please head to your respective classrooms immediately.”

The speaker was a man who looked every bit the respectable educator—slicked-back black hair, a sharp suit, and an air of quiet authority.

Erina immediately smoothed her expression, offering a polite, practiced bow.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, Umansi-sensei. We were just finishing up. We’ll return now,” Erina said, her voice returning to its elegant, composed state.

“We’ll talk later,” Seijirou said shortly.

He turned and headed back toward his own room, completely ignoring the teacher as if he didn’t see him, his mind still thinking of the earlier encounter.

Erina watched him go for a second before slipping back into her classroom, the door closing with a soft thud.

After awhile, Seijirou finally arrived at his classroom.

Without hesitation, he entered the Class 1-A, and the contrast with Class 1-B was like stepping from a library into a circus.

The room was a chaotic whirlwind of energy, with students were tossing erasers, shouting jokes across the aisles, and acting as if the exams were merely a suggestion rather than a requirement for their grades.

He scanned the room and noticed that Rei and Haruka were the only ones taking the situation seriously, their heads bowed over their notebooks as they conducted a lightning-fast review.

The rest were—

He stopped, his eyes nearly popped out of his head as his footsteps paused mid-stride, staring at a desk where no students dared to approach.

There sat Tadano Taro.

The protagonist, the boy who had once defined the word “unmotivated,” was actually studying.

He wasn’t just glancing at a textbook; he was hunched over, his pen flying across a piece of scrap paper as he worked through formulas.

And from how serious he looked, Seijirou can tell that this boy was certainly not faking it.

’Huh. People really do change, I guess. Still, Taro of all people actually studying? Now I’ve seen everything,’ Seijirou thought.

He felt a brief surge of startle, but it passed quickly, after all he wasn’t interested in a deep friendship with the guy, but still, he noted the change.

As long as Taro stayed focused on the Invisible Predator and kept his nose out of Seijirou’s business, they could maintain this uneasy status quo.

Seijirou walked to his seat and sat down.

Neither Haruka nor Rei even looked up; they were in the “zone,” their concentration absolute, so much so that they didn’t even notice him.

Seijirou, feeling no such pressure, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, looked at the time, and decided to spend the last five minutes of freedom navigating the menus of a horse-girl racing gacha game, his thumb tapping the screen with rhythmic indifference.

After five minutes, the bell finally rang—a sharp, shrill sound that cut through the classroom’s noise like a knife.

And just like that, Hana-sensei entered the room, her presence as bubbly and high-energy as ever, though she carried a thick stack of papers that looked like a stack of death warrants.

“Alright everyone! Sit down, sit down!” she chirped, her voice carrying over the din. “Exams are about to start! Please, for the love of my sanity, don’t cheat and do your absolute best!”

She began passing the papers down the rows, the rustle of sheets the only sound in the now-silent room.

Once the last paper was placed, she returned to the front of the class, this time, however, she wasn’t just holding a chalk, nor her notes like she usually does, now she was wielding a heavy, wooden meter stick, slapping it against her palm with a threatening thwack.

“You can begin now,” she said, her smile turning a bit sharper. “Anyone I catch trying to peek at their neighbor’s work will have a taste of my spe—er, my meter stick! And trust me, I’ve been practicing my swing!”

With that final, vaguely terrifying warning, the room descended into a symphony of scratching pens.

The exams had begun.