The Case When I Attempted To Break The Heroine's Chastity But It Seems To Have an Opposite Effect - 4 - Raising the Heroine’s Trust

The next day, the Art Club meeting wrapped up as usual. Haruto had been as enthusiastic as ever, guiding us through a new project idea, while Miyuki remained quietly focused on her work. I kept my interactions minimal, observing the two of them more than participating. The dynamic between them was easy to read—Haruto’s lighthearted energy complementing Miyuki’s calm demeanor. Yet, I could sense that her patience ran thin at times.

As the day stretched into late afternoon, Haruto glanced at his watch and suddenly jumped up from his seat. “Oh no! I completely forgot! My shift starts in ten minutes!”

Miyuki looked up from her sketchbook, her brow furrowing. “Haruto-kun, you always do this. Can’t you manage your schedule better?”

He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I know, I know. I’ll make it up next time, I promise!”

Before she could say more, Haruto grabbed his bag and bolted out of the room, leaving behind a mess of supplies and papers scattered across his desk.

Miyuki sighed, her gaze sweeping over the chaos. “He’s hopeless,” she muttered under her breath before standing up to begin tidying the room.

I lingered in my seat, pretending to finish up my sketch, but my attention was fixed on her. She moved with quiet efficiency, gathering brushes, stacking papers, and carefully placing supplies back where they belonged. Even in something as mundane as cleaning, there was a certain grace to her movements.

By the time she reached the corner of the room, two large garbage bags were already piled up, bulging with discarded materials. I watched as she struggled to lift one, her slender arms barely managing the weight.

“You know,” I said, breaking the silence, “it wouldn’t kill you to ask for help.”

Miyuki froze, turning to look at me with a mixture of surprise and irritation. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Wow, am I some sort of ghost or something?” I said, standing up and stretching. “And do you really think you can haul those on your own?”

“I’ve done it before,” she replied curtly, gripping the bag tighter. “I don’t need your help.”

“Sure, but just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” I crossed the room, stopping in front of her. “Come on, let me give you a hand.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I can handle it.”

“All right,” I responded, gesturing to the trash bag. “Because you’re obviously doing a great job.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t respond. I leaned down, grabbing one of the bags before she could protest further. “Look, we’re in the same club now. It’s only fair that we help each other out.”

Miyuki hesitated, her gaze flicking between me and the bag I held. Finally, she let out a small sigh. “Fine. Just this once.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” I said with a grin, lifting the bag onto my shoulder. “Lead the way, Kishimoto-san.”

She muttered something under her breath that I couldn’t quite catch but turned toward the door, the other bag in her hand.

The late afternoon air was crisp, with a soft breeze carrying the faint scent of freshly mowed grass. The school grounds were mostly deserted, save for a few students lingering by the main building. I adjusted the garbage bag on my shoulder, the weight digging into my arm as I fell into step beside Miyuki.

The silence between us stretched, punctuated only by the crunch of gravel underfoot. Miyuki kept her gaze forward, her steps deliberate and quick, as though she was eager to get this over with.

“You know,” I said, breaking the quiet, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so dedicated to cleaning up after a club meeting.”

“It’s not dedication,” she replied without looking at me. “Someone has to do it, and Haruto-kun always leaves in a rush.”

“He does seem to have a knack for disappearing at just the right moment.”

She sighed, shifting the bag in her hand. “He’s not irresponsible, just… forgetful. He tries his best.”

“Sounds like you’re always covering for him,” I remarked, glancing at her. “That must be really tiring.”

“It’s not like that,” she said quickly, her voice firm. “Haruto-kun has his own responsibilities. I don’t mind helping out when I can.”

Her response was automatic, almost defensive. I stored that detail away for later.

We turned a corner and came up to the outdoor trash cans toward the school’s rear. The lids of the tall green containers were slightly open as they stood in a row. I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief and dropped the garbage bag on the floor.

“Man, you weren’t kidding. These things are heavy. What do you guys even throw out?” I asked, rubbing my shoulder for effect.

Miyuki placed her bag down gently, brushing off her hands. “Old sketches, used paintbrushes, scraps of paper… it adds up.”

“Seems like you’re doing all the heavy lifting for this club,” I said, leaning casually against the nearest bin.

She turned to me, her expression neutral but her tone pointed. “Are you always this talkative, or is today special?”

“Just making conversation,” I replied with a grin. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Miyuki blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?”

“For helping,” I said, gesturing to the trash bags. “You know, teamwork and all that. You could at least say thank you.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but after a moment, she sighed. “Fine. Thank you, Ishibara-san.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, my grin widening. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

She crossed her arms, watching me with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “The whole ‘helpful clubmate’ act. You’re not exactly the type to do this kind of thing.”

I chuckled, pushing off the bin and standing a little closer. “Well, we’re in the same club now. Isn’t it natural to help each other out?”

“Natural,” she repeated, skepticism dripping from her tone.

“Yeah. And we’re a team, right? And teams work together. Besides…” I paused, letting my gaze drift to the horizon before returning to her. “It’s not so bad spending time with you.”

Miyuki’s eyes narrowed slightly, though I caught the faintest flicker of something in her expression—curiosity, maybe? Or annoyance? It was hard to tell with her.

“Is that so?” she said, her tone cool but not dismissive. “And let me guess—you’re doing this to get closer to me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s up to your imagination.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re honest, at least.” she said, finally turning away and starting back toward the building.

Falling into step beside her, I noticed her shoulders were slightly less tense than before. “So, are you going to let me in on the real reason you work so hard to keep this club going?” I asked casually.

The silence has surround us as I’ve mentioned it. Then, she glanced at me, her expression softening slightly. “Art. Art has always been important to me. Whether it’s dancing, or singing, or painting—it’s a way to clear my head, to express things I can’t put into words.”

Her voice had become softer. A brief glimpse of the girl who took comfort in drawing by the window, the person behind the guarded exterior, was briefly visible to me. But as fast as it had appeared, the vulnerability was gone, and her typical composure took its place.

“I already have my reasons for being here,” she said firmly. “So whatever it is you’re trying to do, don’t waste your time.”

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“And you’re persistent,” she shot back, though her tone was less sharp than before.

The hallway in front of us, empty and glowing with the last of the sun’s rays, spread out as we got closer to the school building. I allowed the silence to fall between us for a time, and the calm was almost peaceful.

Miyuki was an enigma—sharp and guarded, yet undeniably captivating. The more time I spent with her, the clearer it became that unraveling her would be no easy task. But that only made the game more interesting.

“Hey, Miyuki-san,” I said, breaking the quiet as we reached the entrance. “You’re pretty interesting, you know that?”

She gave me a sideways glance, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk. “And you’re annoying. You know that?”

I laughed, holding the door open for her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She shook her head, stepping inside without another word. I watched her walk away, my smile lingering. The walls were cracking—slowly, but surely.

And I couldn’t wait to see what lay behind them.