My High School Nerd Rival - Chapter 23

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 23
Ibi succeeded a time or two more, but then, as though her stamina had run out, her arm stopped rising properly.
It was obvious at a glance that her physical endurance was weak, but the degree of it was severe.
Or had she exhausted herself somewhere else before coming here?
“Stop.”
He issued a warning as though he couldn’t bear to watch any longer.
“You’re not making it in anyway.”
He’d merely stated a fact, yet Ibi wielded that sharp temperament of hers even in such a moment.
Of course—people always got angry whenever you told them the truth.
And seeing those pointed, glaring eyes, it was certain that she’d forgotten all those times she’d scored goals with his help.
Not that he’d expected her to remember.
What was even more galling was that she was over there, working her mouth furiously as though he could hear her.
Seriously—did she genuinely believe that words spoken from over there would carry all the way here? How on earth had she managed to rank second with such reasoning?
The only explanation was the triumph of effort.
Well…… that wasn’t to say he hadn’t understood what she was mouthing.
It was probably some rebuke or other.
He was familiar with it. Why must you speak like that, shouldn’t you express it differently. That sort of thing.
He remained sunk deep in his chair, offering no particular response. If he stayed like this, she’d exhaust herself and leave——
“……?”
But the situation unfolded in a way entirely different from what he’d anticipated.
Ibi Underwood did not exhaust herself and leave.
If anything, she began charging toward the Broadcasting Room with a terrifying expression on her face.
The soundproofing of the Broadcasting Room proved not to be quite as excellent as all that—a fact demonstrated when Ibi drew near.
That heavy footfall came ringing through with vigor.
Soon the door opened in a manner that conveyed absolutely no sense of grace.
Cold air carrying raucous vibration shattered the blessing of the quiet soundproofing that had made his ears happy all morning long.
And the culprit now stood huffing and puffing before the doorway.
Her flushed face, flushed even in this cold season, and her slightly disheveled ponytail seemed to tell the whole story of how dreadful her morning had been.
Though of course it was her own doing.
Was she now going to point out how inappropriate his words had been?
He watched Ibi with his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure whether to call it earnest or stubborn—that she’d run all the way here just to say that.
Ibi stood panting in the doorway, and though fatigue was written all over her, her hostility toward him remained perfectly clear.
“You.”
It seemed a confrontation was about to begin.
“How long have you been here? Do you have any idea how much I’ve been looking for you?!”
But the torrent of words that poured out was utterly unlike what he’d expected.
“Right, there’s no way you’d know. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here in this comfortable, cozy Broadcasting Room giving Basketball Lectures, would you?”
Her tone was aggressive, exactly as he’d predicted. But the content was so different from what he’d imagined that he felt somewhat taken aback.
Ibi came toward him briskly. Perhaps because she’d tied her hair up high, unusual for her, her expression looked somehow different.
“Do you have any idea how hard I looked for you?!”
How was he supposed to respond to this?
“……Why were you looking for me?”
The answer he’d managed to arrive at was the most defensible question among those he’d considered.
But somehow it only seemed to fan the flames of her anger.
“Did you really just say that?!”
Snap!
Ibi seized the armrests of his chair with both hands in an irritated grip, and in an instant closed the distance between them so drastically that their foreheads nearly touched.
Shampoo.
For a moment, his thoughts halted as that soft, sweet fragrance washed over him. But the voice that burst forth immediately after overwhelmed everything.
“Of course I was looking for you—you weren’t anywhere to be found!”
“That isn’t necessarily obvious.”
He saw Ibi’s brow furrow sharply right before his eyes.
Ah. He’d made a mistake. He’d spoken so literally again. This time Ibi really might lose her temper.
“Okay, listen up. Let me explain, Cyrus.”
But Ibi, rather than grow angry, actually let her rage cool a little. And she began to “refute” his position, looking directly at him.
“The New Year’s Resolution Event is an event where everyone in the Dormitory is supposed to attend. And I’m the class representative.”
He found the flaw in that argument without difficulty.
“No, if you read the event guidelines carefully, it says ‘Voluntary Participation.'”
“And what about the part below it that says ‘however, please participate if at all possible’?”
“I made the judgment that participation was not at all possible for me.”
What a useless game of words this was. Yet somehow he found himself feeling mildly entertained.
“Fine, then what about the promise you made to me in the Dormitory Lobby?!”
A promise?
Cyrus recalled the moment Ibi was speaking of.
He remembered her standing beside him, bouncing impatiently and saying “You have to come with me, got it? Got it?” so insistently that he’d found her annoying and simply nodded along.
Was that what she called a promise?
Even being generous, wouldn’t the social consensus be to understand it as “I’ll consider it” at most?
It was frankly funny that he was even thinking of something as cowardly as “social consensus” on his own.
But Ibi Underwood was occasionally astonishingly dense about such things.
Like some princess who’d grown up in a world where everyone granted her every wish.
“……Ha.”
He’d been about to point out this about Ibi, but decided against it.
“Fine. I concede. You had the right to come looking for me.”
Cyrus himself was a stubbornly closed-off person—who was he to blame anyone?
“Y-yes!”
She seemed astonished that he would give in. The combative expression on her face softened oddly, leaving behind something slightly bewildered.
She had a cute side.
The thought crossed his mind unbidden, and he immediately struck it through in his mind with a red line.
He was insane.
His judgment was clouding. Because of that fragrance that occasionally tickled his nose, or her long, straight, pale neck that became visible with the slightest turn of her eyes.
Humans were animals, and Cyrus belonged to that category, so it was natural to feel confused about such matters.
If Ibi Underwood had deliberately closed the distance between them with this in mind, she would certainly be a tactical genius.
What was he even saying.
“So…… what are you going to do?”
He moved the conversation forward.
It would be simple to push Ibi away and solve the problem, but…… well. He found that option difficult to choose.
“Are you thinking of dragging me by the collar and sending me to Meditation Class?”
“If you truly disliked me, I wouldn’t go that far. And what I want to know more than anything is——”
Ibi adjusted her Glasses, which had slipped slightly, and looked directly at him.
“Why you chose to hide here.”
“That’s because……”
If he stayed here, no one would be able to find him.
He’d been about to answer as though it were obvious, then paused for a moment.
Now that he thought about it, it seemed like a strange thing to say.
Couldn’t the idea of “hiding” only arise if there were someone who would actually “exist” to come looking for him?
Someone who would come looking for him, and……
Looking at her again, Ibi still had her eyes wide open, gazing up at him.
“……Step back a little.”
“What?”
“Move away a bit.”
“No—are you trying to escape?”
“No, that’s not it.”
He buried his face in his hands for a moment and rubbed it roughly.
“……You’re making it hard to think.”
“What do you mean all of a sudden?”
That was exactly what Cyrus wanted to ask himself.
He couldn’t explain something even he didn’t understand, so what could he say?
Buzz. Buzz.
A sound like salvation came through the confusion.
The vibration of Ibi’s Mobile Phone.
Finally she took her hands off the armrests.
Cyrus watched the entire moment as ordinary distance returned between them.
“Ugh, seriously.”
Ibi began tapping furiously at her Mobile Phone, grunting as though something troublesome had come up.
“…….”
Cyrus took this opportunity to quietly rise from his seat.
Running away? Of course he was.
He’d been in this Broadcasting Room too long—it was clear that the oxygen level had dropped. That his thoughts kept drifting in unexpected directions was proof positive.
Besides, retreat was no shameful thing. Every book on worldly wisdom explicitly stated it was the wise course of action.
“Quinton.”
But the edge of his jacket was seized in an iron grip from behind. At the unpleasant sensation of being pulled from behind, he turned around with a grimace on his face.
“What?”
It was certain that the oxygen shortage in the Broadcasting Room was affecting Ibi Underwood’s reasoning as well.
“Give me your contact information. Phone number, all your SNS accounts—everything.”
There was no other explanation for why she would thrust her Mobile Phone at him, look at him with those eyes, and say something so completely insane.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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