My older sister is a villainous rich girl.

Moreover, they were all girls who had inappropriate feelings for Chris.

"Huh? You didn't know? The craft club was originally a club that almost only girls wanted to join."

Wayne's lips twitched.

It was one thing to have a small number of people before, but now that the handicraft department is about to undergo a major expansion, it would seem a bit strange if I were still the only male there.

Besides, what kind of strange reasons are these for joining the club? Very few people even wrote that they genuinely like craft activities; most of them were just words of excessive praise for Chris.

This makes one wonder about the motives of these people.

The minister was tormented by these applications, but seeing that Wayne seemed interested, she quickly shoved the other documents she had into his hands.

"Wayne, I know you've always been a very, very gentle boy, so, please help your senior out a little bit too—"

Meimei clasped her hands together, making a pleading gesture.

With a blank expression, Wayne rolled up the documents and slammed them directly onto the minister's head.

The paper was tapped, making a soft "snap!" sound.

"Waaah—" The minister covered his head in anguish, lamenting, "Wayne! I don't love you anymore!"

"Huh? Has that kind of thing ever existed before?"

Wayne didn't care at all.

The only people in the crafts department were Minister Meimei, Chris who had been asked to help, and myself, who had just come along as a bystander.

It's time to work overtime before school ends.

The afternoon sunlight was very gentle, and it shone through the glass windows, forming beams of light in the department room.

There's a sense of laziness and leisure.

At times like these, if you can lie on the sofa and have a good nap, life can be considered happy and fulfilling.

"It's really a tough decision. It's not like you can just apply and join. Our craft club's funds aren't very good either. If it weren't for this new bonus, we'd be starving!"

Meimei followed Chris's example and lay on the table like a salted fish.

"Yes, yes, and these applications don't show their personalities or how good-looking they are..." Chris chimed in.

You're definitely a member of the "looks-matter" club. You're something else.

As she spoke, she let out a helpless sigh: "Why can't there be photographs in this world!"

"Photographs? What are those?" Meimei asked, puzzled.

"It's probably a kind of prop that can replicate real-world scenery onto paper?" she vaguely described.

"It sounds like it requires very advanced magic," Meimei remarked.

On the other side, Wayne had taken a blanket from the cabinet that Chris had previously placed in the clubroom and spread it on the sofa.

Then, I lay down on it.

"...Wayne?" Chris said speechlessly, "What are you doing?"

"Go to sleep." Wayne struck a seductive pose, leaning back like a beautiful woman. "It's still early. You can wake me up after you've finished your business and before you go home."

Hearing these shameless remarks, Chris slammed her hand on the table, clenched her fists, and stood up. "Are you dreaming?"

Just as a bloody incident was about to occur inside the department, there was a knock on the door.

"Please come in," said Minister Mei.

A girl wearing glasses pushed open the door shyly.

"Excuse me... I'm here to submit my application to join the club."

The girl had braids on both sides of her head, thick bangs on her forehead, and wore her school uniform neatly, looking very simple and unassuming.

"Okay, please hand it over."

Chris had just stood up, so she walked over and took the form from her hand.

As Chris approached, the girl nervously clutched the hem of her skirt.

"Fifth grade, Class B, Camille? Isn't that Wayne's class?" Chris looked at Wayne with some surprise.

Wayne remained lying on his side on the sofa. "Yeah, he's a classmate."

Chris had wanted Wayne to give some advice on whether she could be accepted into the club, but then she thought that it might be inconvenient to say some things in front of him.

So she went back and placed the girl's application at the bottom of the thick stack of documents.

Seeing the woman named Camille still standing at the door, looking lost and confused, Chris spoke up:

"We have received your application. You can go back and wait for our notification. The result will be available within a week."

"Okay...okay."

Hearing Chris say that, she could only leave hesitantly.

"I have a feeling that she had something else she didn't say," the minister said, watching her retreating figure.

"If you don't say what you mean, you don't have time to guess what people are thinking," Chris said with some resentment. "Besides, you should at least close the door when you leave."

Due to her obsessive-compulsive disorder, she had no choice but to get up and close the door again.

On the sofa, Wayne comfortably rolled over.

Actually, if Chris hadn't closed the door, I would have inevitably gotten up.

It's so great to meet someone who shares my obsessive-compulsive disorder about closing doors.

He closed his eyes.

For some reason, I've become increasingly sleepy since the school festival. In the past, I could stay up all night and still have plenty of energy the next day.

But now, I always feel like I can never get enough sleep.

Wayne opened his eyes.

The room was empty and pitch black.

I'm all alone.

Where are Chris and the others? Did they leave me alone in the activity room and go back first?

Strange noises were heard outside the activity room.

"Gurgle gurgle gurgle..."

He lifted the blanket and first tested his earth magic.

He summoned another clay figure the size of an adult, and manipulated it to walk towards the door, while he himself moved closer to the window.

The silvery moonlight shone on him, as if coating him with a veil.

The clay figure pushed the door open roughly.

The loud crash echoed far down the quiet corridor.

"Gurgle gurgle gurgle..."

The strange noise grew louder and seemed to be moving closer to the crafts department.

It sounded like boiling water bubbling in a pot.

An ominous aura crept in from the doorway.

In the black mist, a flat, two-dimensional image was stuck at the doorway.

That was... a hot pot filled with food?

Wayne rubbed his eyes, confirming that he was seeing a flat image of a hot pot, struggling to squeeze through the doorway.

What is this??

Wayne stared in disbelief at the scene before him.

Could it be that my recent poor sleep quality, coupled with my longing for Earth food, has led to such bizarre dreams?

The flat hot pot, after trying to squeeze in for a long time, seemed to get angry and lowered its head.

He bowed.

From the rim of the pot, the black broth poured out, heading straight for where Wayne was standing.

The black liquid bubbled and bubbled, and everything it touched seemed to be corroded, hissing and emitting white smoke.