Detective Conan: I'm a Boy, But They Treat Me Like a Big Sister — Chapter 83

Chapter 83: The Queen’s Territorial Awareness

When Tōhō Getsukai returned to Sobu High School, the School Festival was at its absolute peak of chaotic, vibrant life.

He was draped in a light camel-colored trench coat borrowed from Sayuri Sawamura. Although it was tailored for a mature woman, the garment didn’t look out of place on him in the slightest. Just an hour ago, he had played the part of a fresh, sweet girl; now, he had effortlessly transitioned into a lazy, sophisticated beauty.

But that wasn’t a problem. When it came to pulling off an outfit, sheer talent could carry any aesthetic.

Passing underclassmen stopped dead in their tracks, their whispers carrying over the festival noise.

“Is that Senior Tōhō?”

“Did he change his style again?”

“Help, his fashion sense is too good…”

It wasn’t just the students. Several stall owners completely lost track of their customers, their eyes glued to his passing figure.

Getsukai strolled past the colorful rows of stalls, making his way toward the zone managed by the Service Club. Just as he reached the bustling food district, a familiar pink, bun-like head popped out from the dense crowd.

“Getsukai! I finally found you!”

Yuigahama Yui pattered over to him, carefully balancing a plastic cup of strawberry milkshake. She had ditched her usual uniform jacket today. Instead, she wore a frilly School Festival apron pinned with an assortment of small, handmade decorations. A bright pink hair tie, a matching ribbon—it was painfully obvious she had put a massive amount of effort into maximizing her cute factor.

“Yui, you’ve worked hard.”

“It’s not hard work at all! Everyone is super busy, after all.” She thrust the milkshake toward him, the straw already pierced through the lid. “The dessert class just made this! Strawberry flavor! I thought it was super delicious, so I saved a cup just for you.”

“You saved it for me?”

She nodded rapidly, though the tips of her ears were already flushing a deep crimson.

Getsukai glanced down at the straw. A tiny smear of light pink milkshake clung to the very tip. It was glaringly obvious she had already taken a sip.

Yui’s gaze followed his, and her entire body froze.

“Ah! That—I was just testing the sweetness! It wasn’t on purpose! Should I go get a new straw?” Panic laced her voice as she spun around, ready to bolt.

Getsukai reached out, lightly tapping her forehead with his index finger.

“Don’t run.”

“If it’s something you saved for me, how could I ask you to change it halfway through?”

With that, he leaned down slightly, capturing the very same straw between his lips.

Yui stood rooted to the pavement, her cheeks igniting degree by degree. Her hands were still clamped around the plastic cup, the other end of the straw hovering mere inches from her chest. They were so close that if she simply tilted her head, she could continue drinking right alongside him.

But that straw had just been used by Tōhō Getsukai.

‘Isn’t this… an indirect…’

Imaginary steam practically whistled out of her ears.

Getsukai finished his sip and straightened up, his expression perfectly composed. “The sweetness is a bit high. Next time, you can tell them to use half a spoonful less sugar. The strawberry jam itself is quite good, though. It definitely isn’t cheap syrup.”

“Ge-Getsukai, your focus is so professional…”

“You have to treat desserts with the respect they deserve.”

“Then… do you think it’s delicious?”

“It’s delicious.”

“Then I’ll have another sip too.”

The moment the words left Yui’s mouth, her own eyes widened in horror. Why did she say that out loud? Wasn’t that just digging her own grave?

But the words were out, hanging in the air between them. Retreat was impossible. Swallowing hard, she lowered her head, carefully took the straw into her mouth, and drew a tiny sip. Her movements were agonizingly slow, the chaotic noise of the festival fading into absolute static in her ears.

Getsukai watched her flush all the way down to her collarbone, thoroughly amused.

A pink-haired bun is a pink-haired bun. Active offense for three seconds, followed by a shy system crash for three minutes.

“So, how is the progress today?” Yui blurted out, desperately seizing the topic to escape her embarrassment.

“Yeah! Not bad! The cooking club has sold out two entire rounds, the Light Music Club is setting up for their stage performance this afternoon, and the Student Council has been broadcasting non-stop, trying to herd people toward the haunted house.”

“And what about our club president?”

“I sent the cat back. She was super well-behaved today.”

“That’s good.” Getsukai reached out again, his fingertip gently flicking the pink ribbon tying up her hair. “Yui is also very well-behaved.”

Yui slapped a hand over her forehead. “Don’t always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Just… doing these things so naturally.”

“Does Yui hate it?”

“I don’t hate it!” She answered entirely too fast. Realizing her blunder, she ducked her head again. “It’s not that I don’t hate it… no, wait, what I mean is…”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“You don’t understand at all!”

“I do understand. Yui is very cute.”

“Ahhh! Stop! No more follow-up attacks!”

Yui yanked the edge of her frilly apron up to cover the lower half of her burning face. Getsukai let out a low, melodic chuckle.

This was exactly the kind of atmosphere a School Festival should have. Sweet desserts, bustling stalls, and a hopelessly shy, beautiful girl.

Just as the two of them settled into a comfortable, harmonious rhythm, a sharp, prickly female voice sliced through the air.

“Yo. Yuigahama and Classmate Tōhō are together? How intimate.”

Yui’s spine snapped straight. She whipped her head around. “Yumiko…”

The crowd parted slightly, making way for Miura Yumiko. She had completely abandoned her school uniform. Instead, she wore a form-fitting cropped jacket paired with a daringly short skirt. Her blonde hair was styled into immaculate, cascading curls, radiating the obvious aura of the school’s reigning queen bee.

Two girls trailed faithfully behind her—one holding a drink, the other clutching a smartphone. They had clearly just finished touring another section of the festival.

“I heard Classmate Tōhō has been incredibly busy this semester,” Yumiko drawled, crossing her arms. Her pacing was slow, deliberate, and dripping with condescension. “Service Club, Art Club, Student Council, and even entertaining people from other schools… truly versatile.”

Yui immediately grew anxious, stepping forward to block her. “Yumiko, it’s not like that. Getsukai is just helping everyone out.”

“Did I say he was doing something bad?” Yumiko tilted her head, shooting a fierce glare at the pink-haired girl. “Yuigahama, why are you in such a rush to protect him?”

Yui choked on her words, shrinking back slightly.

Faced with this blatant, undisguised provocation, Getsukai’s expression didn’t shift by a single millimeter. He had always known that Miura Yumiko, a staple of his own class, was one of the very few girls who harbored genuine hostility toward him.

As for the reason…

“Yui,” Getsukai said smoothly, his voice a calm anchor. “The dessert stall up ahead is getting a bit overwhelmed, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“You just mentioned the cooking club sold out two rounds, and the queue for the dessert class is stretching down the walkway. Go help them out first.”

Yui didn’t want to leave. Her feet remained planted, her fingers still clutching the ruffled edge of her apron.

“Be good. I’ll come find you later.”

“…Really?”

“Then don’t fight with Yumiko.”

“I don’t bully cute girls,” Yumiko scoffed, clicking her tongue.

Yui’s face flushed anew. She looked at Yumiko, then back at Getsukai, before finally relenting. She turned and trotted toward the back of the bustling stall.

Halfway there, she spun around.

“Getsukai! Don’t be too mean!”

The moment Yui was out of earshot, the air between them instantly chilled. The two girls standing behind Yumiko exchanged nervous glances, entirely too intimidated to interject.

Getsukai turned his attention to Yumiko’s bright, aggressive face and took a slow step forward.

The distance between them vanished.

The second wave of sarcasm Yumiko had prepared died in her throat. It felt as though she had just taken a point-blank critical hit from sheer aesthetic force.

She shared a classroom with Tōhō Getsukai every day. Usually, from across the room, she only saw a generalized handsomeness—a beauty that her brain could rationalize and categorize.

But now, the distance was compressed to less than a meter.

The delicate sweep of his eyelashes. The perfect, aristocratic slope of his nose. The natural, healthy pink of his lips.

This was… beauty weaponized into physical attack power.

That cold, yet suffocatingly gentle temperament effortlessly shattered the social dominance Yumiko usually relied on. She hated this feeling. She absolutely loathed it. She had marched over here intending to seize the upper hand, to dictate the flow of the conversation.

Instead, he merely leaned in, and her entire rhythm collapsed.

Observing the rapid shifts in her expression, Getsukai politely halted his advance, maintaining a respectable boundary.

“Student Miura, are you worried that I’ll hurt Yui? Or is there something else bothering you?”

“Cut it out.” Yumiko lifted her chin, fighting to maintain her haughty facade. “I’m not the type to be easily coaxed like Yuigahama. You act so gentle with absolutely everyone… aren’t you tired?”

“That depends entirely on the person.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a bit more patience for cute girls.”

Yumiko froze. Behind her, her two followers hastily averted their eyes, thoroughly charmed by the smooth delivery.

A faint dusting of red crept up Yumiko’s ears, but her pride forced an immediate retort. “You think you can fool me by tossing out a couple of cheap compliments? You really know how to piss people off.”

“Then, are you angry right now, or are you just shy?”

“Who’s shy?!”

Furious, Yumiko forced herself to take an aggressive step forward. She had the momentum, but in her anger, she completely forgot she was wearing heels.

The pavement near the food stalls was treacherous. A sugary drink had been spilled earlier, and though someone had hastily wiped it up, a slick residue remained. The smooth sole of her shoe caught the edge of the puddle and slipped.

“You dragged Yuigahama into the Service Club, you made Hayama constantly talk about you, and now you’re standing here acting like the perfect saint! What exactly are you trying to do?!”

Hayama? Hayato?

Getsukai blinked. He knew Miura Yumiko harbored a massive crush on Hayama Hayato, but pinning this blame on him was completely absurd. If Hayato was paying attention to him, it was merely due to the shifting interpersonal dynamics within their class.

Yet, Yumiko had dumped the entire grievance squarely on his shoulders.

A misplaced target of jealousy. A textbook high school romance accident. And… incredibly troublesome.

“As for Student Hayama…” Getsukai sighed softly. “You should really go ask Hayama.”

“Stop playing innocent!”

Desperate to reclaim her space, Yumiko took a sharp half-step backward. Her heel hit the slickest patch of the spilled drink. Her ankle gave out, and she lunged wildly forward and to the side, all balance lost.

“Yumiko!” her friends shrieked.