"Haha... two little friends have upset stomachs and urgently need the restroom, could everyone please wait a moment?"

Seeing the awkward scene unfold, the host quickly walked to the front of the stage and came up with a random excuse, pointing subtly toward the red curtain and signaling the backstage staff.

The staff member understood the gesture and quickly lowered the curtain again.

The Principal, seated next to President Miyamura Daiki, leaned over and awkwardly echoed the excuse:

"Hehe... President Miyamura, the weather's turned chilly lately. If the children aren't careful, they could catch a cold and end up with stomachaches... I hope you understand."

Daiki simply waved his hand, signaling that it wasn't a big deal.

Just as the Principal let out a silent sigh of relief, Daiki calmly asked:

"Was the person speaking backstage just now a staff member or a teacher?"

The Principal's expression stiffened slightly, but he immediately nodded. "A backstage staff member. After the performance, I'll speak with him directly. You can rest assured."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Daiki gave him a dry, amused glance for a few seconds, then turned away to chat with his wife. The Principal leaned back in his chair, pale and tense, glaring at the backstage area, wishing he could march over and slap someone senseless.

"Let them come down for now. Get the next class up there. Who knows if those two kids are even coming back."

Backstage, the host relayed this to the grim-faced Mr. Takeuchi, who silently nodded and strode toward the stage.

The backstage lighting was dim, casting shadows over everyone's expressions.

"Alright, everyone come down. Go back to the waiting area and stay put. Kawai, help organize everyone," Takeuchi muttered, making sure all the mics were off before walking away without another word.

His mind was a storm of regret. He knew he'd messed up badly. Right now, all he wanted was to smoke a cigarette and calm himself down.

"What the hell are Ishida and Shimada doing?"

"Seriously! We worked our butts off for a whole month."

"This isn't just a joke anymore."

"We usually let it slide, but this time? No way."

"That grand prize is gone thanks to them."

"Those two jerks! A whole month wasted!"

"Idiots!"

Once Takeuchi left, the students started venting their frustrations freely. Before, his dark expression had kept them quiet, but now the dam had burst.

"Hirose, why aren't you with them? You three are usually inseparable."

The voice cut through the noise, and silence fell instantly.

Hirose Keisuke, who had been trying to fade into the background, looked up and saw everyone staring at him. He glared toward the voice's source—Akira Miyamura.

And just like that, Hirose's bravado cracked. Akira wasn't someone you crossed.

Still, Hirose gritted his teeth. "What's it to me? They didn't tell me anything!" he snapped, then looked down and avoided everyone's eyes.

Clap clap clap.

Kawai Miki clapped her hands to regain control.

"Alright, everyone. Let's return to our designated area. Class D is next to perform."

Everyone fell quiet and slowly filed off the stage.

Back in their original waiting area, students split into small groups to chat with family or friends.

Shouko, her head lowered and gaze on the concrete floor, leaned toward the person beside her. She asked softly, her voice hesitant:

"Akira... what if I get nervous again when we go back up?"

Akira, watching the tips of her ears turn red, couldn't help but smirk. He knew exactly what she meant. So he teasingly mimicked her earlier words:

"No, no, Akira, you can't do that—Mama will scold you. How about we kiss when we're alone tonight?"

As he spoke, he deliberately finished the sentence she hadn't been able to earlier.

Shouko's face lit up bright red. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then whispered:

"Then... then... when we go back... can we try it out?"

Akira grinned and flicked her forehead gently. "What are you even thinking, you little weirdo? You're way too young to be talking like that."

He sighed internally. Sometimes he really couldn't guess what went on in her quiet little head.

"I'm going to tell your mom you bullied me," she huffed.

Seeing his teasing grin, she gave his arm a light punch and ran off toward Sahara Miyoko.

About thirty minutes passed. Still no sign of Ishida or Shimada.

Mr. Takeuchi had already sent students to search every restroom and classroom in the school. Nothing.

Even the security guard at the front gate hadn't seen them. Out of options, Takeuchi finally reviewed the security footage—only to discover that the two had climbed over the school wall and left twenty minutes earlier.

With no other choice, the students had to perform their piece with only a background instrumental.

If Ishida and Shimada had just come back, everything would've been fine. First place would have been guaranteed for Class B. But there was no "if."

Daiki leaned toward the Principal and casually remarked that they could just pick another class for first place.

After all, other classes had piano players, dancers—real effort. With parents watching live, giving the prize to a group whose students ditched the show would've been ridiculous.

When the competition ended, the Principal gave a short speech on stage. Then the students left with their parents. Rewards would be announced the next day.

"Don't you think it's a pity?" Miyamura Daiki, driving, asked without looking away from the road.

"It is, but... we had so many accidents this time, right?" Shouko, resting her head on Akira's shoulder in the backseat, replied softly.

"Yeah," Akira murmured.

"Slap!"

The sound echoed through the Principal's office.

"Is this the joke you spent a month planning?" the Principal roared, standing up and grabbing Mr. Takeuchi by the collar.

"I—"

Slap!

Before Takeuchi could even finish, another slap landed hard across his cheek.

"I want you gone. Do you hear me?" The Principal didn't care about Takeuchi's glare. He delivered a few more slaps without pause.

"Get out."

The Principal finally stepped back, having vented his anger. He didn't want to hear another word.

Takeuchi wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, nodded without a word, and clenched his fists tightly as he left the room.

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POWER STONE!!!

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