The small hall on the first floor was filled with both tension and excitement.

  On the tables stood a rge pot of ratatouille, silver ptters neatly arranged with crackers and baguette topped with cheese and prosciutto, quiches, and veggie burgers. There were also rge bowls of sad and couscous sad. Italian dishes such as porcini cream pasta and ricotta-and-spinach arancini were pced among them.

  On the table beside the food corner were cups of wild grape and grapefruit jelly, along with financiers and madeleines. On a long table set against the wall, several pitchers of lemonade and bottles of Orangina had been lined up. The students simply helped themselves.

  Tomatoes, herbs, garlic, olive oil…

  In the hall where the smells of various ingredients mingled together, I felt slightly uncomfortable.

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  I have always been uneasy about social situations like this. Interacting with people has never been my strong point. More than anything, the restless noise swirling in my chest felt like a warning of something unpleasant about to happen, and it made it impossible for me to rex.

  When I was younger I hadn’t been aware of it, but as I grew older, these unpleasant premonitions had begun to come true more and more often. Sometimes the bad thing happened immediately afterward, and sometimes it came a little ter.

  I searched the hall for Roman, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was probably better that way than running into her and feeling awkward.

  I let out a small breath.

  My cssmates had scattered around the hall, chatting with uppercssmen.

  Jeanne, wearing a badge marked with the same number—37—as mine, came to greet me with a gentle smile.

  Her skin was white as snow, and her gray hair, softly waved and falling to her neck, gave her an air of nguid elegance. Tear-shaped gold earrings hung from both ears. She was around 170 centimeters tall, taller than I was. Her narrow gray eyes, the same color as her hair, looked extremely cold. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were not. The sight of it reminded me of that middle-aged woman I had met not long ago.

  Even though she wasn’t threatening me with words or actions, she radiated a strange and indefinable pressure. Her unreadable eyes only intensified the impression she gave. Unlike Roman, whose distance felt natural, Jeanne had a kind of elusiveness that made it difficult to rex around her. I usually developed an immediate sense of unease toward people like that.

  “ Enchantée, Avery.”※

  Some of the other students were greeting their partners with lines like, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my sister.” But one could hardly expect such refined manners from me. I forced a small smile that wouldn’t look too unnatural.

  “Enchantée.”

  “You’re Roman’s sister, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t look very alike.”

  She studied me closely with a faint smile that I couldn’t tell was a habit or a form of mockery.

  “We’re not reted by blood,” I replied ftly, careful not to let my irritation show.

  “Speaking of which, Roman is… today—”

  “If you mean your sister, she’ll be te because of a committee meeting,” Jeanne said. “She should be here soon, though. Are you that worried about her?”

  “No, it’s not like that…”

  “Hehe, it’s all right. You don’t have to hide it. I already know.”

  Jeanne twisted her lips in a meaningful smile. She picked up one of the ptes stacked on the table in front of us, then walked to the neighboring table. After dling some soup into it, she handed it to me along with a spoon.

  “This is the ratatouille my group made. S’il vous p?t.”※2

  I took the pte and brought a spoonful of the soup to my mouth. Roughly chopped zucchini, onions, and paprika floated in the broth.

  Whoever had seasoned it had used far too much herb salt. It wasn’t exactly delicious. But there was no way I could say that aloud. Especially not in front of her.

  I had the distinct feeling that speaking carelessly in front of this person would be a mistake. The feeling was almost instinctive—like a warning of danger. Somewhere deep inside her, something slept that could stir fear in others.

  “It’s good,” I said.

  “Really? Isn’t it a bit salty?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I see. That’s good.”

  Jeanne smiled again.

  Her smile still revealed nothing.

  Just like the one Océan’s mother had given me—

  And just as I had sensed back then, I instinctively knew that she did not like me.

  My bad feeling had come true again.

  ※1 French for “Nice to meet you.”

  ※2 French for “Please enjoy.