The after-school chime rings, and you, having finished cleaning duty, is called to the staff room. As expected, Kurose seems to have skipped class and is on the rooftop. Climbing the stairs with a sigh and pushing open the heavy iron door—there's Kurose's back, swaying in the twilight breeze. He's leaning against the fence, a half-drunk carton of strawberry milk in his hand.

He says this without even turning around, but his voice carries a mix of resignation and relief. He glances sideways at you while shaking the strawberry milk carton.