Chapter 1

A bright yellow tennis ball hit the wire mesh at my feet with a powerful thud, then bounced off, sending up a cloud of dust. My heart skipped a beat, and I instinctively dodged to the side, avoiding being hit by this unexpected stray bullet.

As soon as the shock subsided, a small anger rose. Looking up, I saw a tall and straight young man in a silver and white team uniform striding towards me.

His short silver-gray hair was particularly dazzling in the sunlight, with the ends slightly curled up, giving him a touch of unruliness. His eyes were sharp, and even from a distance, one could sense his natural confidence and...

Well, it doesn’t seem too much to describe it as “arrogant”.

"Hey!" I raised my voice, a hint of dissatisfaction after being frightened, and shouted at the person who was obviously the culprit, "Over there! If you're not good at it, practice more! Hitting someone with the ball is very dangerous, don't you know?"

As soon as the words fell, the surroundings seemed to be quiet for a second.

Several team members who were practicing nearby stopped what they were doing, their expressions becoming somewhat strange, their eyes darting back and forth between the two of them, filled with disbelief and a hint of anticipation.

The boy stopped precisely in front of me.

He was much taller than me, and at that moment, he lowered his eyes slightly, his deep gray-blue eyes fixed on my face. He didn't speak immediately, but just looked at me like this, and the corners of his mouth seemed to curl up in an extremely subtle and elusive arc.

The air seemed to freeze, carrying an invisible pressure.

"Oh?" He finally spoke, his voice was low and pleasant, with a unique magnetism, but the tone was drawn out, full of amusement, "If you're not good at it, just practice more?" He repeated my words softly, and every word seemed to be carefully ground between his lips and teeth.

I felt a little uncomfortable being stared at by him, but the anger from almost getting hit just now was still there. I stared back at him: "Yeah, you can't even control the direction of the ball. If you're not a loser, what are you?"

"The court is for practice, not for hitting people," I added.

"Pfft..." An uncontrollable sneer came from the side, but it was quickly suppressed.

Atobe's eyebrows raised slightly.

Before he could speak, a man wearing glasses who looked like a manager ran over and bowed to Atobe nervously. Then he turned to me and explained in a hurried tone:

"My dear classmate! I'm very sorry! The ball was hit back by the opponent with too much force. Atobe Sama..." He seemed to be choosing his words.

"Atobe Sama?" I caught the name and repeated it with some confusion.

The boy who looked like a manager became even more nervous and almost blurted out, "Yes! This is the captain of our Hyotei Academy Tennis Club, Atobe Keigo-sama!"

"That was a perfect smash, but the opponent couldn't catch it, causing it to fly out of the court! It's definitely not a problem with Atobe Sama's technique! Please..."

"That's enough," Atobe Keigo said calmly, interrupting the manager's explanation without taking his eyes off my face. The playful curve of his mouth widened.

"Heh." He chuckled. There was no anger in his laughter, but instead a kind of excitement as if he had discovered a new toy. "You're the first one who dares to say 'If you're not good at it, practice more' in front of me."

He leaned in slightly, moving closer. His powerful aura was overwhelming, and I subconsciously wanted to take a step back, but I forced myself to hold it in. His perceptive eyes seemed to see through my thoughts.

"You're quite courageous, huh?" His voice rose at the end, with the flourish that was characteristic of Atobe. "But, mistaking my magnificent smash for a 'crap' job is as 'outstanding' as your outspoken 'courage'."

He deliberately emphasized the words "gorgeous" and "outstanding" with obvious ridicule and pride.

Standing up, he gracefully stroked the teardrop mole under his eye, his eyes condescending yet scrutinizing: "In view of your 'uniqueness', I will not mind your offense. However..."

Changing the subject, he glanced at me and said, "Since you think I need more practice, why don't you try it yourself? Let me see if I'm any good at it or not?"

He issued a challenging and clearly playful invitation.

The team members around me were completely silent, looking at me with bated breath, waiting for a response.

The air was filled with the powerful presence of Atobe and the awkwardness and tension brought about by my previous words "If you're not good at it, practice more" that had not yet dissipated.

The first time we met, I left an extremely deep impression on the Ice Emperor in such a "gorgeous" way.

A guy who dares to say he is a loser to his face and has no idea of ​​his own limitations.

Listening to the manager nervously explaining "Atobe SAMA", I couldn't help but roll my eyes in my heart.

Atobe Sama?

The Japanese's second-year spirit is truly burning brightly and will never be extinguished...

Looking at the silver-haired boy in front of me with a smile of absolute confidence and playfulness on his face, and the group of members behind him who were holding their breath as if waiting for something earth-shattering to happen, I felt a strong sense of exaggeration that is unique to the Japanese.

Although it was a bit unpleasant to be almost hit by the ball, I also heard the explanation clearly - the ball was hit away by the opponent.

More importantly, the "Atobe SAMA" in front of him had a very strong aura, and was followed by a group of people. He didn't look like a good person at all.

His provocation of "Why don't you try it yourself?" was more like waiting to see me make a fool of myself or prove how powerful his "gorgeous smash" was than an invitation.

Are you kidding me? I can't play tennis, so why would I go down there? To be a sitting duck or a clown?

An alarm immediately went off in my mind.

It's my first day at the new school, and I'm unfamiliar with the place. It would be no good getting involved with such a powerful person.

So, he decisively bent down to pick up the tennis ball at his feet. Ignoring Atobe's eyes full of scrutiny and interest, he handed the ball directly to the nervous bespectacled manager next to him: "Here, your balls."

Then he turned to Atobe Keigo and waved his hand decisively, his tone calm and with a sense of distance that said, "That's it."

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to play tennis, so I can't test your skills."

After a pause, she looked at him calmly, "Since this is just a misunderstanding, I won't disturb your training. Goodbye."

He turned decisively, without hesitation or lingering, and headed for the stadium exit. His back was straight, his steps steady, as if the tense confrontation just now was just a minor incident.

“…”

The entire tennis court fell into an eerie silence.

The Hyotei team members were collectively petrified.

They stared at the girl with wide eyes, and she just...left?!

She turned down Minister Atobe's invitation?! And she walked away so abruptly, without even a glance?!

The smile on Keigo Atobe's face froze instantly.

The curve at the corner of his mouth froze there before it could fully unfold.

For the first time, a trace of astonishment clearly flashed across those extremely insightful eyes, followed by disbelief of being strongly offended, and finally settled into a deeper and sharper interest.

He, Atobe Keigo, the emperor of Hyotei Academy, the absolute leader of the tennis club, was used to being the center of attention, used to being looked at with awe or admiration, used to being in control of the situation...

This was the first time that someone dared to refuse and leave directly after he issued an "invitation" so straightforwardly, so calmly, and even with a hint of "I don't want to bother with you".

The sentence "I can't play tennis" was an excuse, but Atobe clearly felt the subtext:

"I'm not interested in playing this childish game of proving myself with you."

Especially the way she handed the ball to the manager and then waved to him and said "goodbye" was so smooth and natural, as if she was getting rid of an insignificant passerby.

This made the proud Mr. Atobe feel an unprecedented sense of contempt, even more than the previous accusation of "If you're a bad student, practice more."

"Heh..." A low, indistinguishable chuckle came from Tsuchiya's throat, breaking the silence.

He raised his hand, and his slender fingers habitually stroked the iconic teardrop mole under his eye. His movements were still elegant, but his eyes were fixed on the slender figure that was about to disappear at the exit of the stadium, as sharp as an eagle staring at its prey.

"Can't you play tennis?" He repeated in a low voice, with a slightly rising tone at the end, with a completely ignited desire to explore.

"Bushi..." Ozuki Yuushi pushed up his glasses, his eyes flashing with complex light behind the lenses, "This lady is really... special."

He couldn't find a better word. Bold? Cool? Or fearless?

"Ah." Atobe Keigo finally withdrew his gaze, and the corners of his mouth curled up again, but this smile was completely different from the previous playful one. It carried a kind of excitement after being challenged, and an absolute, unquestionable desire for control.

"Special indeed. Birchland."

"Yes." The tall boy responded.

"Go check it out." Atobe's voice was not loud, but it was clearly heard by every team member. "Who is that girl who dared to say 'If you're not good at it, practice more' in front of me, and then dared to ignore my grand invitation?"

His gaze once again turned to the empty exit, an unprecedented interest burning deep in his eyes.

"This 'misunderstanding'..."

Atobe Keigo's fingertips tapped lightly on the handle of the racket, making a rhythmic sound. His gorgeous voice echoed in the silent court, "I feel that this is far from over."