than thirty seconds to heal something like a simple staple stabbed through my flesh. At any rate, to begin with, wounds in the oral cavity tend to heal quickly for any organism. “Oshino─a Mister Oshino?” “Right. Mèmè Oshino.” “Mèmè Oshino, huh─quite an adorable-sounding name, I have to say.” “You shouldn’t get your hopes up on that count. He’s a weathered, middle-aged, thirty-something.” “I see. But as a kid, he must have been quite a moé character.” “Don’t look at flesh-and-blood people like that. And wait, do you even know what that word means?” “It’s a part of common learning these days,” Senjogahara said blithely. “And you call characters like me tsundere, right? Cold and mean at first, but loving once you get to know me?” “………” With how cold she was, “tundra” suited her better. But I digress. About twenty minutes by bicycle from Naoetsu Private High School, which Hanekawa, Senjogahara, and I attended, stands a cram school slightly separated from any homes. Stood. Apparently, a few years ago, it took the full brunt of a big cram school chain setting up shop in front of the station, ran into financial troubles, and went out of business. By the time I learned of the four-story building’s