I knew Mikasa wouldn't break easily.
She wasn't like Airi, whose affection came like spring rain—sudden, soft, and warm. Or Hina, whose confusion became quiet trust. Mikasa Kurono was a fortress. And she was perfectly fine watching me slam myself into her gates until I bled.
And yet... I kept trying.
Maybe it was arrogance.
Or maybe it was because every time she pushed me away, she gave me just enough of a reaction to keep going.
Curiosity. Subtle disdain. Unspoken challenge.
I wasn't chasing love with her.
I was fighting for recognition.
And today, I planned my next move.
I waited until late afternoon.
Mikasa always visited the rooftop garden before sunset. It was her private sanctuary, high above the school chaos, where only the wind and the dying sun kept her company.
No one else dared interrupt her there.
But I wasn't "no one" anymore.
I arrived before her. Set the scene. A quiet folding table, a small white tablecloth, and two porcelain teacups I borrowed from the faculty lounge. I even stole some earl grey leaves from the home ec club.
I waited, seated, hands folded.
At exactly 5:27 PM, the door clicked open.
She stepped out—and froze.
Her eyes narrowed as she saw the setup.
I stood, bowed slightly. "Vice President Kurono. Care for some tea?"
Mikasa didn't answer. She closed the door behind her, walked forward slowly, heels clicking against the stone tiles. Her arms crossed behind her back, like a general surveying an enemy camp.
"Bribery," she said coolly. "Classy."
"Hardly bribery," I said. "It's a peace offering."
"I didn't declare war."
"You threatened me in a library book."
"I warned you," she corrected. "There's a difference."
She reached the table, eyed the tea, then sat.
Just like that.
I poured.
She watched me.
"You planned this," she said.
"I did."
"And if I had ignored you?"
"I would've drunk both cups alone and wrote bad poetry about rejection."
She blinked. That almost drew a smile.
Almost.
We sipped tea in silence for a few moments. The wind picked up, rustling her perfectly combed hair. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear with mechanical grace.
"You're wasting your time," she said finally.
"Maybe," I replied. "But if time is a loop, I've got plenty."
She looked at me, eyes narrowing. "Loop?"
Slip.
I covered it fast. "Figure of speech."
"Hm."
Another pause.
Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
"Let's get to the point, librarian."
"Alright."
"You've been pursuing me."
"Yes."
"But you know I'm not interested."
"For now."
"You don't even know who I am."
I met her gaze. "You're Mikasa Kurono. You sleep exactly four and a half hours a night. You read four books a week—two classics, one politics, one romance you never admit to. You avoid spicy food, wear contacts even though no one knows, and keep a blade hidden in your school bag. You don't trust people, but you do watch them—closely."
She stared at me.
I leaned forward. "And your favorite flower is the red camellia. You planted six on the east side of the campus last year. You thought no one noticed."
Her breath caught. Just barely.
Then she spoke, voice sharper.
"What do you want from me?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Then: "I want to see what you're like when you're not playing Queen."
Wrong answer.
She stood up.
Just like that. Cold. Done.
"You think I'm pretending?" she said quietly. "That I play a role for fun?"
"I think you wear armor. And I want to know what's underneath."
"I wear armor because this world is made of knives," she snapped. "You think you're being clever, charming—like you're some sort of anomaly. But all I see is a bored boy poking holes in people he doesn't understand."
That... actually hurt.
She wasn't wrong.
But she wasn't entirely right either.
She turned, her ponytail swinging like a whip.
"Next time you try to impress me," she said without looking back, "try listening instead."
Then she left.
I stayed on the rooftop until long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.
She didn't come back.
And for the first time since I'd awakened in this world, I felt something unexpected:
Defeat.
[Route Update: Mikasa Kurono - Affection -2]
[System Log: Resistance Increased. Emotional Trigger Failed.]
[Note: Heroine has entered 'Closed State.' Recovery requires novel action.]
I leaned back, staring up at the stars.
A normal player would reload the save. Choose a different dialogue option. Try again with chocolates or charm.
But I wasn't playing a game.
I was breaking it.
And to do that, I had to learn. To adapt.
Not just push flags—but actually understand these girls.
The next day, I didn't go after Mikasa.
I didn't leave her flowers. I didn't show up outside her classroom or the fencing hall.
Instead, I did something I never thought I would:
I watched her.
I observed.
From a distance.
How she spoke to her classmates.
How she handled a discipline report.
How she smiled politely at a teacher's bad joke—and then winced when no one saw.
And slowly, I saw the cracks.
She wasn't cold because she wanted to be.
She was cold because she had to be.
Because being soft in a world of code and expectations meant death.
The Queen's crown wasn't a trophy—it was a shield.
So I waited.
Three days passed.
On the fourth, I left something on her desk in the council room.
A simple envelope.
Inside it: a photo.
Black-and-white. A camellia, in bloom. Shot through the fencing hall window where the light hit it just right.
Nothing else.
No note. No message.
Just that.
That night, I checked my system feed:
[Heroine Mikasa Kurono – Affection: -2 → 0]
[Status: Neutral. Emotional Stirring Detected.]
I smiled.
The Queen had looked at the pawn.