Yukinoshita’s Method of Correction [15]

Grr... Yukinoshita Yukino glared at Higashigumo Sugi, as if sheer eye contact could amplify her intimidation.

Higashigumo was walking toward the changing corner of the clubroom.

Wait—Yukinoshita’s eyes widened in sudden realization.

The maid outfit.

He was going to make her put on that maid outfit.

Just imagining herself in the very outfit she had once categorically rejected brought an overwhelming sense of humiliation.

And that humiliation—was exactly what Higashigumo was after.

I absolutely won’t let him get away with this—the second the thought flashed across her mind, she realized something chilling:

He already had.

The command to wear a maid outfit was calculated with uncanny precision.

Any further, and Yukinoshita could’ve flatly refused without repercussion.

Any less, and it wouldn’t have felt this deeply degrading.

But more than that—

In their earlier exchange, she had clearly stated her stance.

“I can handle losing, just as I can handle winning.”

Which meant that now, in this moment, she had no wiggle room.

She couldn’t claim, “You didn’t say when,” or “You didn’t say where,” or any other loophole.

Those would all fall under sore loser excuses.

Did I trap myself?

The realization hit hard, and Yukinoshita bit her lip, a new wave of humiliation rising in her chest.

Two subtly different flavors of shame collided and mingled inside her—forming a soft, telltale blush across her porcelain cheeks.

Her hand released her collar, pressing lightly to her chest.

She took a long, steady breath, forcing herself to calm down.

It worked. She successfully pushed back the humiliation, and her thoughts became clear.

And then another, more dreadful realization struck her:

Was this all part of Higashigumo’s plan?

Not someone who couldn’t handle winning or losing—

But someone who knew she could handle both.

So he deliberately provoked her with those infuriating words, forcing her to cut off her own retreat.

And in the instant that third wave of shame swept through her, the other two she’d barely restrained surged up again—three tangled emotions crashing into each other, making her delicate frame tremble almost imperceptibly.

No... this won’t do.

Yukinoshita forced herself to still. Her face froze into an elegant mask of composure.

They hadn’t known each other long, but she had already seen enough to know—Higashigumo took genuine delight in other people’s awkwardness, frustration, resistance, suffering…

He would laugh at it. Openly.

So she reminded herself, again and again:

I cannot let this man see even the tiniest crack.

I have to act like I don’t care at all.

Tap.

The soft sound of a footstep made her tense instantly.

He’s coming...

The footsteps stopped just in front of her. Then came his voice:

“My command… is this.”

Just the maid outfit, Yukinoshita braced herself.

She opened her eyes.

And for a moment—her mind went blank.

Standing before her, Higashigumo wasn’t holding a maid outfit.

He held a simple headband.

“…A hairband?” Yukinoshita blinked. She stared at the accessory in his hand, then looked up at his face. “Where’s the maid outfit?”

“Well, I was going to make you change into the whole outfit, but changing in the clubroom isn’t exactly ideal. This is part of a cat-maid costume, so I figured we could use the cat-ear headband as a symbolic gesture.” Higashigumo studied her with a tilted head.

“Why do you look… disappointed?”

“I’m surprised,” she replied coolly, taking the headband.

“By the extent of your childishness.”

She reached up and placed the black cat-ear headband on her head, adjusting it slightly. Then she looked up and offered a faint, serene smile.

Victory.

She may have lost the earlier match, but in this moment—this so-called command—she was the one who had won.

Higashigumo, with his petty love of schadenfreude, had likely imagined her blushing and flustered, perhaps even indignant, as she reluctantly obeyed.

But—

Yukinoshita had already prepared herself for something far worse.

She had steeled herself for a full maid outfit.

So when it turned out to be just a simple headband, there wasn’t even a flicker of embarrassment. She even smiled.

Higashigumo’s plan had failed to deliver its intended impact.

That was her win.
A win born of resolve.
A comeback after defeat.
A quiet, graceful reversal.

Her smile grew more confident. Though she had to look up to meet his eyes, the icy blue gaze she leveled at him held the poise of someone looking down.

He may have won twice.

But she had triumphed three times.

Wait...

Two victories meant—

Two commands.

Her recently relaxed posture tensed once again. Her breath caught ever so slightly.

Don’t tell me…

Higashigumo silently raised his phone.

The girl who had been so composed a moment ago seemed to instantly lose all strength.

Her ice-blue eyes shimmered, dazed and unfocused. She knew what was coming—and yet made no attempt to run or hide. She simply glared at him with a kind of quiet, stubborn defiance.

But the deepening pink on her pale cheeks betrayed the truth of her heart.

Anxious.
Humiliated.
Helpless.
Flustered.
Ashamed…

Or maybe emotions even more tangled and complicated, all tangled in her slightly quickened breath, trembling between her parted lips.

As if trying to halt it all, she bit down firmly on her lower lip, desperate to recapture her earlier calm.

But her long, waterfall-like hair only accentuated the subtle tremble of her slender frame. The red ribbon tied at the side of her head fluttered gently, like a butterfly in midair.

Her collar was still slightly disheveled from clutching it in frustration. Her chin tilted defiantly, her glare tinged with refusal—and atop her silky black hair, the soft cat ears twitched.

A vision of pride wrapped in fragility, cold elegance tinged with something heartbreakingly delicate.

In that instant, Higashigumo even began to suspect:

Did that cat-ear headband have some kind of magical power?

It had been less than a minute since she put it on—and the once-imperious, ice-queen Yukinoshita Yukino now looked like the most pitiful little kitten.

A sight like this—

Was worth remembering for a lifetime.

But it didn’t need a photo.

Some moments are meant to be captured with a camera—to keep from forgetting.

And some moments—

Burn themselves into memory on their own.

Forever.

---

This is a fan translation of 雪之下的矫正方式 by 微凉温热 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!