Make Them Love Me Or They'll End The World-Chapter 150: And The Winner Is?

"The winner for the right to play Maleficent in the upcoming play is…"

Mr Tachibana drew the syllables out like a magician teasing the reveal. The drama room went so quiet you could hear the lights hum and the faint rasp of paper against paper as someone shifted their script. Heat pooled under the stage lamps; the air smelled faintly of old varnish and dust baked by generations of performances. Kentaro felt his pulse in his ears, thud… Thud, his thoughts split cleanly down the middle.

If Yura wins, that bond between us might pull a memory thread loose. If Kira wins… Maybe I can pull her a step away from Cradle and a step closer to us.

All that collided at once as Mr Tachibana finally stopped smiling and spoke.

"For reasons, only because her personality fits the character just a tiny bit better, I'm giving this win to… Yura."

A beat later, Yura shot into the air like a cork. "HAHAHA! Indeed, you have made the right choice, Mr Teacher!" Her voice rang off the rafters, proud and shameless.

Serica and Aria gasped, soft, relieved, and barreled into her, hugging her from both sides. The applause that followed wasn't just polite; it had weight and warmth. Hands smacked skin, sneakers squeaked, and a few whistles cut the air. Even Sumire let out a satisfied "Nice!" as she clapped over her head.

Kentaro didn't head for the winner. He crossed the scuffed floor to the girl who wasn't celebrating.

"Kira," he said softly.

She kept her head down, lashes hiding whatever flickered in her eyes. Up close, he caught the detail no one else would: her knuckles were a shade too white around the script's edge; the paper had the slightest crescent bends where her fingers had dug in.

"Don't feel down," he added, gently. "At the end of the day, it's just a play, you know."

He touched her shoulder, a careful, solid squeeze.

Before he could say more, Kira moved first. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tight, tighter than usual, like a parachute strap yanked to lock. Kentaro's breath hitched against her hair. It smelled faintly of citrus shampoo and the hallway's cool air.

"Yeah, you're right," she murmured, voice steadying on each word. Then, small and unguarded: "But at least I get to give you a hug, that's a win for me."

A single tear slipped free and tracked the clean line of her cheek before she blinked it away. When she leaned back, she was smiling, annoyed at herself, but smiling.

Kentaro exhaled, returned a light head rub. "You did well."

"Though you didn't win, your performance wasn't bad," Tenka said as she walked up, chin tilted, a small, teasing smirk tugging at her mouth. "Makes me wonder how I'll do."

Kira's gaze snapped to Tenka, zero to target lock. "Mistress in sight. Must move Kentaro away," she intoned in a perfect deadpan, like a robot acquiring a threat.

"What?! I was being nice!" Tenka yelped, colour flaring in her cheeks.

Kentaro slipped between them with both hands raised. "Right, right. Save the rematch for after lunch. We are very, very late." He angled a thumb at the wall clock. The minute hand looked halfway to tomorrow.

Kira and Tenka met eyes for the briefest beat, electric, combative, weirdly respectful, then looked away at the same time.

"Fine," they said together, and immediately scowled at the unison.

Kentaro took two steps and turned to Yura, who stood basking in congratulations like a queen under confetti. "Hope you're ready," he said, grinning like a man greeting his rival at dawn. "Because right now, you're technically my enemy, aren't you?"

Yura's chin tipped, proud. A quick blush tinted her cheekbones. "Tch. Whatever. You'll be going down, human."

She pivoted and strode for the door, Serica and Aria flanking her like loyal knights. Tenka fell in behind them with Sumire and the others. Mr Tachibana, still glowing with teacherly pride, clapped his hands once.

"Come on, Kentaro, Kira, and, uh, Shaula…s. We still have time for a lesson," he said, standing and smoothing his tie.

Kira set her script under her arm and followed the line toward the exit. At the threshold, she paused. Kentaro hadn't moved. Neither had the two Shaulas: headband and necklace. For a fraction of a second, Kira's eyes narrowed, something clicking and not clicking at once. She'd never met the girls before today, but the silhouette, the cadence, the vibe… It brushed the edges of the threat briefings Cradle kept locked behind clearance.

She looked back. "Are you coming, Ken?" Soft. Testing.

Kentaro lifted a hand and waved her on. "I'll be with you. Two seconds, okay?"

Her gaze flicked from his smile to the two girls behind him, and back. Hesitation tightened her shoulders, then slipped. "Okay," she said, and stepped into the hall. The echo of her sneakers faded down the corridor.

When her footsteps were gone, Kentaro turned to the pair waiting centre stage.

Shaula's (Headband, Necklace)

He felt his breath even out. The last rooftop conversation replayed in his head, the wind, the threat, the vanishing. His hand curled loosely at his side.

Both Shaulas met his stare. For a heartbeat, something almost human flickered, surprise? An unaccounted-for stutter in the script? Their cheeks, impossibly, warmed a shade.

"Um… We're sorry about last time," said Necklace, voice smaller than her smile.

"Yeah," Headband added quickly. "Sorry about the whole run-off thing. But our game still stands. Hope you're enjoying your new Alberline friends."

Kentaro's brow twitched. The way they said new Alberline friends, like souvenirs. He inhaled through his nose and let it go.

"What you did was horrible," he said evenly. "But I know you'll give them their memories back. So for now, I'll play along." He let the words land, then added with a calm that felt like steel in his throat, "And I'll win this."

Their shared chuckle rang like matching bells. Necklace tilted her head. "We know, Kentaro. Your overconfidence was something we saw the day we met. But don't tell me that's why you stayed back to speak with us."

Something uncharacteristic curled at the corner of his mouth, half a smirk, half a dare. It was enough to make both Shaulas falter.

"Heh… Listen here, Shaulas, and the other one hiding somewhere," he said, eyes sharpening. "The third."

Two blinks, synchronised.

"I know the Shaula with the golden sword earring is a fake," he went on, voice cool. "So that leaves three of you." He lifted a finger and pointed, clean, theatrical.

"You with the headband."

A second finger, the shift of his wrist crisp.

"You with the necklace."

He lifted his hand, pointed up toward nothing, toward the empty air as if it had a heartbeat.

"And her with the hairpin and bracelet. You three are the main suspects, the ones who could be real."

His words rolled into the room and pressed against the curtains.

"Tch. How could you know the one who disappeared was a fake?" The headband snapped before she could swallow it.

Kentaro touched the bridge of his nose with his thumb. "Instincts."

They laughed again, quieter this time, a seam showing at the edge.

"Very well," Necklace said, recovering. "So how will you… Decipher the three of us, then?" She still didn't know what he'd decided.

He let the smirk go, scratched the back of his head, and answered plainly. "Originally? I didn't know. Maybe question you, but that wouldn't help, too easy to lie." He exhaled. "After thinking about it for a while, I've got a rough sense of the Shaula who stayed at my place, how she moved, what she teased, what she avoided. So the way to uncover that is…"

He thumbed his chest.

"…Each of you goes on a separate date with me."

"…"

"…"

"WHAT?!" they shouted together, faces going bright red. Necklace actually took a step back, hands flying to her cheeks. "A d-d-date?!"

Kentaro lifted his brows, taken aback by their reaction. "I mean… I expected some reaction. But seeing you guys this flustered over a date, it's kind of weird considering the original Shaula was always teasing me."

"How could we go on a date with the enemy?" Headband demanded, jabbing a finger at him. "You're our rival!"

"Technically, yeah," Kentaro said. He could hear his own heartbeat, steady now that the decision was out. "But it'll be outside of college. Neutral ground. No problems… Righhht?"

Silence. Two faces doing complicated math, risk against curiosity, mission against impulse. The heat from the stage lights made the air shimmer above the boards; a thin ribbon of dust drifted through it like a thought.

Kentaro took one step closer, just one, and let his voice drop half an octave. "Ohhh, I see. The Shaulas are going to turn me down. Amazing. You wanted me to play a guessing game, you took memories from people who matter to me, and all little old me asks for is three small dates in return?" He layered just enough sarcasm to sting, and just enough sincerity to make refusal feel like retreat.

They inhaled at the same time. Instinct rather than plan pushed them backwards, two small steps, two backs hitting the same wall with a muted thud.

"Huh…?" Kentaro said, deadpan, as if noticing the symmetry made him stronger.

The necklace cracked first. "Okay, okay. Date it is, fine." Her ears were pink. "Just let us know when and who, a day in advance."

Kentaro's smirk returned without his permission. "I can't believe that worked. People who do this full-time are weirdos," he thought, a private shiver of second-hand embarrassment running down his spine.

"Good," he said, fishing his phone from his pocket. "Numbers?"

They rattled them off, eerily similar strings, as if someone had rolled one sequence across two different dice, changing just two pips each time. They also made sure to get Shaula's missing number, though he couldn't check its validity, but trusted them to do the right thing. He typed, double-checked the other two numbers in front of him, and sent a "hi" to confirm with two small chimes.

"Great. I'll let you know soon." He slipped the phone back, pivoted toward the door, and, because his brain sometimes betrayed him, added with a corny little finger-gun and a grin, "And in the meantime… Don't lose, hehehe."

Every hair on the back of his neck rose. Why did I say it like that?

He escaped into the hallway before they could roast him. The door sighed shut. The corridor's cooler air washed away the stage heat, carrying the faint scent of photocopier toner and floor cleaner. Voices floated from far-off classrooms, muffled by painted cinderblock.

Inside, both Shaulas slid down the wall to a sit in perfect mirror.

"Honestly… What the hell was that?" Headband muttered, palms over her face.

"I don't know," Necklace said, equally stunned. "That wasn't like him. This whole date thing, since when is he that bold?" Her cheeks were still doing their own private sunrise.

Headband let her hands drop, eyes sharpening again. "Whatever. He's clearly figured something out. Let's make sure we don't slip. No tells. No patterns."

"Mm." Necklace nodded. The fragile moment of fluster cracked; the mission knit itself back together. "Right now, we focus on the play. We prove him wrong onstage. And then… we uncover his true side."

Their small, shared giggle wasn't kind. It curled up the curtains and into the ceiling, a spider threading silk.

They stood, smoothed their skirts, and walked out of the drama hall, two shadows moving in lockstep toward a week that had just grown far more complicated. By themselves...