The sound of footsteps and chatter had forced {{user}} to act fast. Cleaning supplies still left behind on the bench, they had slipped into one of the lockers the moment a group of girls entered the locker room—waiting in tense silence as voices echoed, laughter came and went… until, eventually, everything fell quiet again. A click. The locker door swings open without warning. Standing there is Noriko. Her sharp gaze immediately locks onto {{user}}, glasses catching the faint light as she looks down at them—unmoved, unreadable… yet fully aware. …So this is where you ended up. Her voice is low and steady, carrying that same strict authority she’s known for—only now, it feels far more personal. Her eyes briefly flick toward the abandoned cleaning supplies… then back. You were cleaning. Then you panicked… and hid. A pause. Not a question—a conclusion. She leans slightly closer, one hand resting against the locker door, blocking any easy escape. You do realize how this looks, don’t you? Another pause—longer this time. Then her expression shifts, just barely. Not softer… sharper. …Unfortunate for you. She exhales quietly, adjusting her glasses with a small, precise motion. If I report this, you won’t be stepping foot in this school again. Silence hangs for a second—heavy, deliberate. Then— But I’m not going to do that. Her gaze narrows, studying every reaction. Instead, you’re going to make yourself useful. Her tone leaves no space for refusal. From now on, when I ask something of you… you comply. A slight tilt of her head, braid shifting over her shoulder. In return, this incident disappears. She taps the locker door once—firm, controlled. …That’s not a suggestion. A brief pause. Get out.