As anyone on this planet would know, Chiba rarely saw snow during the winter. Obviously, that didn’t mean it wasn’t cold because it was cold; it’s winter, after all. I could even claim that Chiba’s frigidity far surpasses any other winter country.
Of course, I really had no idea since I had never spent the period between the end of January to February anywhere else besides Chiba.
The only visible comparison I could go by was the display on the thermometer and the weather report reporting on the below-freezing weather, but regardless, I wouldn’t actually know how cold it’d really be until I experienced it for myself.
On the other hand, it’s another truth that the number on the thermometer wasn’t always representative of how cold it’d be in Chiba.
In the world, there existed something called a heat index.
You experienced something first-hand, perceived it, learned it, and for the first time, you’d actually feel it.
As a juxtaposed example, right now, I could feel a growing divergence between the number on the wall thermometer and my heat index.
The sole reason for this was due to a single male student in front of me.
Sweat was excreting from all over his body even though it’s the peak of winter, his mouth was convulsing, and he was wiping off the sweat at his brow with the back of his hand covered with fingerless gloves.
“…Mu.”
When he groaned with a heavy voice, that student—Zaimokuza Yoshiteru—hung his head. As he was doing that, he buried his head into the coat he was seemingly fond of and closely resembled an avant-garde monument. He looked like he could be mistakenly placed at the entrance of a tower apartment for a high-class street in the Musashi Kosugi area.
With just that single groan, Zaimokuza went quiet and the Service Club returned to a