[MashUp] Ch 17: Kirisu-sensei & Princess Alisa

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"Bózhe moy..." (Oh my god)

This woman had just walked out of 501. Out of his apartment.

Alisa's mind went blank for a sec.

Her breath caught. Instinctively, she overlapped the woman before her with Takuma's ever-lazy mischievous smile.

What exactly… was their relationship?

The hallway was suffocatingly silent.

At last, Alisa broke it first.

Forcing down the storm in her chest, she lifted her chin with aristocratic composure, bowed just so, and offered a greeting as precise as a textbook.

"Good morning. A pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Alisa Kujou, just moved into 502 yesterday. Please take care of me."

Her voice was cool, her manner graceful.

It sounded like nothing more than neighborly politeness.

"..."

Mafuyu's instinct was to reply, 'Mafuyu Kirisu… pleased to meet you.'

Introduce herself properly.

But the moment her gaze brushed over that Ichinose Academy uniform, the words died in her throat.

Giving her real name now would be the same as handing over a confession on the spot.

She cut herself off abruptly and gave only a stiff nod, a gesture so curt it bordered on rude.

That tiny hesitation, that swallowed response, only fed Alisa's suspicions.

Tsk! What is she hiding? 

Next, they stepped into the elevator one after the other. The air inside turned heavy, almost unbreathable.

The glossy doors reflected their figures back at them.

One mature, elegant, and brimming with allure.

The other youthful, striking as the moon.

Alisa's gaze lingered on the reflection, and her chest ached with an odd, bitter sting.

A mysterious woman who lived in a luxury apartment, impeccably dressed, yet cagey about her identity.

And a boy with no school, no job, living freely as if the world owed him comfort.

And then yesterday's half-joking line came back to her— "I'm being kept."

An absurd thought, and yet… it fit too perfectly.

Her cheeks burned before she could stop them.

Could it be…

He really was being kept by this older woman?

Why?

He was silver-haired, special, like her. And yet instead of shining in the open, he was being hidden away like some shameful treasure, tucked in this woman's apartment.

That heat wasn't just embarrassment.

It was a searing mix of anger, humiliation, and something she refused to name.

"Kirisu-senpai."

Alisa's voice cut through the tension.

In the reflection, Mafuyu's shoulders gave the slightest tremor.

"Do you work nearby? Heading out so early?"

S-Senpai?

To be called that by one of her own students instead of "sensei" was such a bizarre dissonance that Mafuyu almost laughed.

It was a relief—small, fleeting—but still made her panic more.

She couldn't lie outright. So she hedged.

"…Something like that."

Alisa's brow twitched into a faint frown.

Then Mafuyu drew in a shaky breath and forced herself to speak.

"Kujou-san."

Alisa inclined her head politely, waiting.

Mafuyu searched for words, trying to sound like nothing more than a kind, neighborly adult.

"You only moved in yesterday, right? Settling in okay?"

"The neighborhood can get a little noisy at night sometimes. I hope it didn't disturb your sleep."

A cautious probe, one she thought was clever.

But Alisa's heart skipped hard in her chest.

Noisy at night?

What kind of neighborly greeting was that?

Normal people asked if moving went smoothly, or if you needed anything. They didn't ask about your sleep.

That kind of question was far too personal.

Like she was… checking.

Her eyes lingered on this beautiful woman's forced composure. And Takuma's smirking face flashed in her mind.

A bold, unbidden image hit her.

Heat colored her cheeks, though her expression stayed cool as ever.

She inclined her head faintly, voice calm.

"No."

"501 was completely quiet all night. Not a sound."

Her icy blue gaze swept over Mafuyu's shifting eyes.

And then she smiled. Sweet, harmless… deadly.

"But you, senpai."

Her voice was smooth, like glass.

"You look radiant today. Positively glowing. Did something… make you especially happy last night?"

It was a question far sharper than any direct accusation.

A trap with no escape.

Admit she was happy, and she'd have to explain why.

Deny it, and how to explain the flushed cheeks, the luminous skin, the softness in her eyes?

Mafuyu's breath locked in her throat. Her polite smile froze like porcelain.

"…You're imagining things."

She forced each brittle word out.

"I just… happened to sleep well last night."

Oh? Sleep well?

Alisa's gaze flicked over her dewy skin, the softened glow in her eyes.

And a devil in her mind whispered: "Of course. A whole night with a young handsome boy… who wouldn't sleep well afterward?"

Her fingers trembled cold with a mix of shame, anger, and an envy she didn't recognize in herself.

"Kakóy razvrát..." (How shameless…)

A Russian whisper slipped between her lips.

Ding—

The elevator chimed.

Next, they walked out side by side, each wrapped in their own storm.

Both heading the same direction.

The short walk to school felt like a march to execution.

Mafuyu's heels clicked against the pavement, each tap a countdown to her guilt.

Alisa's eyes wandered, always drifting back to those legs—long, perfect, wrapped in black stockings.

Every detail, every curve, felt like evidence to be gathered.

At last, Ichinose Academy's gates rose ahead.

Relief crashed over Mafuyu.

Once she stepped inside, she'd be Kirisu-sensei again. The girl beside her would be nothing more than a transfer student.

Their connection would end here.

She quickened her pace, crossing the threshold.

And Alisa followed her in.

Her step faltered.

Wait.

She's… here too?

Not headed to an office tower.

She's… coming to this school?

And then, passing students bowed low, their voices respectful, wary.

"Good morning, Kirisu-sensei!"

S-S-Sensei?

The word hit Alisa like a muted explosion.

What?

She… she was a teacher here?!

At the same moment, Mafuyu felt a gaze sharpen into a blade at her side.

Her only defense was to cling to dignity.

She turned and walked toward the faculty building. But her heels clattered too fast, and her grip on the briefcase strap whitened her knuckles.

Every step betrayed her unraveling composure.

Alisa didn't chase.

She only stood still, watching that perfect back retreat—watching her cracks show one by one.

Her shock cooled into something calmer.

Neighbor.

Teacher.

And the boy she kept hidden away, who looked so much like herself.

Alisa lifted a hand, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear.

Her lips curved into a smile—sweet, dangerous.

"Khoroshó…" (Perfect...)

"So you're Kirisu-sensei. I'll uncover every last secret you're hiding."

Just after one second, Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou had already stolen the spotlight at the school gates.

"Whoa… is that silver-haired girl a new transfer? She's like a Princess!"

"She looks so beautiful, like she's from an anime…"

The whispers swirled around her.

Alisa ignored them all.

Her chin tilted high, her steps unhurried.

She left behind only the proud, solitary figure of a girl who had already chosen her battlefield.

.

.

.

Trivia:

- Kakóy razvrát → Какой разврат

- Khoroshó → Хорошо