9.0
Narrator: MC
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
The repetitive sound of notifications invaded the morning tranquility of the room like a pneumatic hammer drilling directly into my half-asleep brain. It was that kind of noise that brutally rips you from unconsciousness, without mercy or consideration for your mental wellbeing.
Tearing me from a dream that, honestly, I didn't even remember. Was it about food? About doing nothing productive while the world consumed itself around me? Probably something so weird and strange that I'll never remember.
"Damn it..." I muttered in a raspy voice, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand while blindly groping the nightstand in search of the source of my torment.
My fingers finally found the smooth, cold surface of my phone. I grabbed it gracelessly and brought it close to my face, squinting at the offensive brightness of the screen.
The illuminated screen showed a number that could only be described as obscene. [47 unread messages].
"What the hell...?"
I blinked several times, momentarily convinced I was still dreaming. Because, let's be honest, who the hell sends 47 messages at an hour that probably not even birds consider civilized? The only demonic birds that wake up at this hour are chickens, but those aren't found in the middle of the ocean.
I lazily swiped my finger across the screen, and I wasn't surprised at all—though it did deeply resign me—to discover they all came from the same person.
Kushida Kikyō.
Of course.
Kushida Kikyō → Ike Kanji
["Good morning~"] ["Ike-kun, are you awake?"] ["Hello?"] ["Don't ignore me"] ["I know you can see this"] ["Seriously, answer idiot"] ["Still asleep?"] ["Ike-kuuuun"] ["It's okay, I'll keep sending messages until you wake up."] ["I'm serious"] ["Don't make me wait"] ["You know what? Forget it"] ["Let's meet at the restaurant at 7:00"] ["Don't be late"] ["Seriously, don't be late"]
And so on. An endless cascade of messages that oscillated between friendly, insistent, vaguely threatening, and what could only be described as digital harassment justified by "friendly concern," but Kushida wasn't fooling anyone; she just wanted to ruin my restorative sleep.
It was impressive, really. The dedication. The persistence. The complete and total abandonment of reasonable personal boundaries.
"Hahaha, how persistent. This girl definitely has a future as a professional stalker." I commented in a whisper.
I slowly sat up in bed, feeling how each vertebra in my back protested the morning movement. The room was bathed in that dim, grayish dawn light that filtered through the partially closed curtains. The gentle swaying of the cruise ship was barely perceptible, a constant movement that had already become part of the background of my consciousness.
I looked at my roommates.
Yamauchi was sprawled on his bed as if he'd been thrown there by a tornado, with one leg hanging off the mattress and his mouth open in what was probably the prelude to an embarrassing drool stain on his pillow. His snoring was constant and vaguely musical, as if someone were playing a trombone inside a garbage container.
Sudō, for his part, slept in a position that defied all anatomical logic, with his arms crossed over his chest like a vampire in a coffin and the expression of someone who was probably dreaming of making shots while saving the world. And I didn't mean basketball shots.
And then there was the third guy whose name I still didn't bother to remember. He was curled up in fetal position, hugging his pillow as if it were his most prized possession in this cruel and indifferent world.
All were snoring peacefully, completely oblivious to the digital chaos that had just interrupted my sleep.
I looked at my phone again. 5:47 a.m. blinked in the upper corner of the screen like an accusation.
Five. Forty. Seven. In. The. Morning.
No sane person would be awake at this hour during summer vacation. This was a crime against humanity. This was a violation of my fundamental human rights. This was—
My phone vibrated again.
A new message from Kushida: "Ike-kun, if you don't respond to me in the next 5 minutes, I'll personally go to your room and wake you up. And believe me, it won't be gentle."
...This girl was serious.
I sighed deeply, accepting my fate with the resignation of a man who knows he's lost a battle before it even began.
I searched through the digital spam until I found what really mattered: the information about her group for the exam. Kushida, despite her apparent obsession with torturing me with notifications, had at least included useful details somewhere in that tsunami of messages.
Dragon Group:
Class A: Katsuragi Kohei, Nishikawa Ryōko, Matoba Shinji, Yano Koharu
Class B: Kanzaki Ryūji, Ando Saya, Tsube Hitomi
Class C: Ryūen Kakeru, Oda Takumi, Suzuki Hidetoshi, Sonoda Masashi
Class D: Kushida Kikyō, Hirata Yōsuke, Horikita Suzune
I read the list once. Twice. Three times, just to make sure my sleepy eyes weren't deceiving me.
"I suppose they're not so different from canon," I commented quietly, though I couldn't be totally sure since I didn't remember the NPC characters from the group.
They were the typical ones that anyone who had read the novel would know. Katsuragi is the guy who was only leader for 3 exams before they removed him from leadership due to lack of results and all because he played too defensively. Kanzaki, one of the pragmatic characters from Class B, doubted Ichinose's methods, but it's not like he produced good results either. Ryūen, the tyrant who dominated his class with an iron fist, the idiot who thought he could beat Kiyotaka. Though he's forgiven because he didn't know what kind of monster that guy is.
I'm not even going to analyze the problems of my class members. And the secondary characters that caught my attention were Nishikawa Ryōko and Ando Saya, though I don't know why. Maybe because they're both women.
If this group were a TV show, it would be one of those political dramas full of conspiracies, betrayals, and tense dialogue while dramatic music played in the background.
Setting that aside, I decided to respond to Kushida for her... enthusiasm. And also, let's be honest, to prevent her from showing up at my door like a vengeful valkyrie. The worst part is she'd do it sweetly to maintain her facade. Just thinking about it gave me chills.
My fingers moved across the touchscreen:
—Wow, Kushida-san, you sent enough messages to write a complete light novel. The only thing you'd be missing would be to include the illustrations. Besides, do you know you could make money with that? There's a market for this kind of obsessive content; I assure you. Anyway, thanks for the info. See you at the restaurant at 7:00. Oh, and try not to send another 50 messages before that, okay? I'm seriously worried about the health of your thumb. And also my sanity.
I pressed send and left the phone on my chest, staring at the white ceiling of the room while waiting for the inevitable response.
I didn't have to wait long.
Vibration. "How funny, Ike-kun. Just for that, I'll arrive 5 minutes early to make sure you're not late. And if you are, I promise you'll regret it."
I smiled despite myself. This girl really didn't joke around.
I got up from the bed with a fluid movement, feeling how my joints cracked satisfyingly after hours of immobility. The fresh air of the room hit me immediately, causing a shiver that ran down my back. The cruise ship's air conditioning was surprisingly efficient.
I walked toward the shared bathroom of the room, carefully dodging the clothes thrown on the floor—courtesy of Yamauchi, no doubt—and Sudō's sports shoes that had been abandoned in the middle of the path like explosive traps waiting to claim victims.
The bathroom was modest but functional. White tiles, fluorescent lighting that made everything look like a hospital, and that characteristic smell of industrial cleaning products mixed with cheap deodorant.
I washed my face with cold water, feeling how the icy liquid woke me up completely. Each drop that fell down my face was like a small electroshock that activated dormant neurons. I looked at myself in the mirror while water dripped from my chin.
Tired eyes looked back at me. Messy hair that pointed in directions that defied physics. Expression of someone who clearly hadn't asked to be awake at this hour.
"Good morning, idiot," I said to my reflection, smiling with irony. "Ready for another day of social theater?"
My reflection didn't respond, which was probably a good sign for my mental health.
I dried my face with a towel that smelled vaguely of detergent and returned to the main room. I put on my school uniform—white shirt, dark green pants, the blue tie that always took me three tries to knot correctly—and made sure I looked presentable enough not to offend other people's eyes.
One last glance at my roommates, all still lost in their own dream worlds.
With a final yawn that threatened to dislocate my jaw, I left the room heading to the restaurant.
There was no point trying to go back to sleep now. The damage was done. Kushida had won this round.
Damn vengeful girl, though I didn't blame her at the moment.
The cruise ship hallways at 6:15 a.m. were a study in contrasts.
On one hand, there was the architectural beauty of the place: elegantly decorated walls with dark wood panels and golden moldings, thick carpets that cushioned each step, crystal lamps hanging from the ceiling emitting a warm and welcoming light. The design was clearly luxurious, the kind of place where you'd expect to find people in tuxedos drinking champagne while discussing art and philosophy.
On the other hand, there was the absolute and slightly unsettling silence of a normally bustling space now completely empty. My footsteps were the only sounds apart from the constant background hum of the ship's engines. Occasionally, I heard the distant sound of some staff member preparing for the day, but apart from that, I could have been walking through a ghost ship.
I passed several closed doors—other student rooms, probably—and wondered how many of my classmates were still enjoying their sleep while I wandered like a sleep-deprived zombie.
I arrived at a section with panoramic windows offering ocean views. The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon, painting the sky with shades of orange, pink, and purple. The waves stretched infinitely in all directions, shining like liquid crystal under the dawn light.
It was... objectively beautiful.
Not that I was particularly poetic or given to contemplating nature, but even I had to admit there was something impressive about the vastness of the ocean. That feeling of insignificance that reminds you you're just a tiny point in a massive and indifferent world.
Very comforting. Excellent for morning morale.
I continued walking, following the signs indicating the direction to the main restaurant. The cruise ship was enormous—easily the size of a multi-story apartment building—and if you didn't pay attention, you'd probably end up lost in some random hallway.
I finally arrived at the double doors of the restaurant. They were frosted glass with polished metal frames, and through them I could see the lights on inside.
I pushed the doors and entered.
The restaurant at 6:30 a.m. was a surprisingly quiet place.
The space was large and open, with high ceilings and decoration that continued the theme of moderate elegance from the rest of the cruise ship. There were orderly rows of square and rectangular tables, each covered with impeccable white tablecloths and simple but pleasant floral arrangements. The chairs were dark wood with padded cushions, the kind of seats you could sit in comfortably for hours.
One entire wall of the restaurant was glass, offering panoramic views of the ocean stretching to the horizon. The dawn light filtered through the windows, bathing the entire space in a warm, golden glow.
Only a few early-rising students had gotten up. I recognized some faces from other classes—a couple of girls from Class B sitting together conversing in low voices, a guy from Class A reading something on his tablet while drinking coffee, and another student I didn't recognize eating alone in a corner.
Most of the kitchen staff was just beginning to prepare the full breakfast buffet. I could see several cooks behind the long counter that dominated one side of the restaurant, moving with practiced efficiency as they organized food trays, turned on cooking stations, and prepared the various breakfast components.
The aroma was... incredible. Frying bacon, freshly baked bread, freshly brewed coffee. My stomach growled appreciatively, reminding me I hadn't eaten anything since last night's dinner.
And there, sitting alone at a table near the panoramic windows overlooking the ocean, was Kushida Kikyō.
Of course she was there. The girl had probably shown up at exactly 6:00 a.m., set a timer for my arrival, and mentally prepared herself to give me a reprimand for any perceived tardiness.
She looked impeccable as always. And when I say impeccable, I mean that level of perfection that makes you wonder if the person sleeps at all or simply maintains themselves in suspended animation during the night.
Her school uniform was perfectly arranged: the skirt without a single wrinkle, the blouse ironed with military precision, the tie knotted with perfect symmetry. Her light brown hair was carefully combed, falling in soft waves around her face. Even her posture was perfect—straight back, hands resting elegantly on the table, legs crossed with grace.
And that smile. That damn radiant smile that could light up an entire room... or hide homicidal thoughts dark enough to make Stephen King uncomfortable. With Kushida, it was really hard to distinguish sometimes.
She was looking out the window, observing the ocean with a serene and contemplative expression. The dawn light played on her face, giving her an almost ethereal appearance.
If someone took a photo at this moment, it would look like one of those perfectly choreographed promotional images for a luxury travel brochure.
I walked toward her with my hands in my pockets, adopting my best "carefree guy who definitely wasn't brutally ripped from bed less than an hour ago" posture.
"Good morning, Kikyō-chan," I greeted with a casual tone, keeping up appearances. "Have you been waiting long? I hope you haven't sent another 100 messages in the meantime. My phone might press harassment charges if you keep this up."
She turned her head toward me with a fluid and graceful movement. Her smile didn't falter a millimeter, remaining firm like a professionally applied mask.
But her eyes...
Oh, her eyes definitely weren't smiling.
There was a gleam there. Something that oscillated between genuine amusement and barely contained irritation. As if she were actively deciding whether my comment deserved a cheerful response or premeditated murder.
"Good morning, Kanji-kun," she responded with a melodious and perfectly controlled voice. "How considerate of you to arrive only...", she paused to deliberately look at her wristwatch, "...three minutes late."
"Three minutes is basically on time in my book," I replied with a shrug. That reminded me of my time in Latam when I lived near school, but arrived late. "In fact, some would say it's even early. Perspective, you know?"
"Does your 'book' also include ignoring 47 messages?", she asked with poisonous sweetness. Her smile widened slightly, but in a way that wasn't comforting at all.
"Eh, I was sleeping," I explained with genuine innocence. "You know, that thing normal people do at 5 in the morning. That biologically necessary activity that helps us maintain sanity and not turn into functional zombies."
"How convenient," she looked at me with annoyance.
"It is, isn't it? Evolution really thought of everything."
Kushida let out a theatrical sigh that sounded like something between genuine exasperation and resigned acceptance. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she gestured toward the seat across from her with an elegant movement of her hand.
"Sit down. We need to talk about the exam."
I dropped into the chair with a satisfied grunt, allowing my body to sink into the padded cushion. Definitely more comfortable than the hard plastic chairs in the school cafeteria.
"Sure, sure. But first," I raised a finger in a gesture meant to be dramatic, "have you eaten breakfast yet? Because, honestly, talking about complex strategies and elaborate plans on an empty stomach sounds like a form of medieval torture. It probably violated some Geneva convention."
"No, I was waiting for you," she responded with a tone suggesting this wait hadn't been exactly voluntary.
"Aww, how considerate," I said with exaggerated emotion. "I feel special. Truly honored by your infinite patience."
"Don't get excited," she cut quickly. "It's just common courtesy. Something you might not understand... Besides, I have to keep up appearances, even with someone like you when we're in public."
"Sure, sure. Keeping up appearances. That's definitely the only reason."
Kushida's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Kanji-kun."
"Yes, Kikyō-chan?"
"Stop being annoying or I promise I'll make your life hell during this exam."
"Noted." I made a gesture to confirm it, feeling my smile widening slightly. "Annoyance reduced to minimum. Will proceed with caution."
We got up together and headed to the buffet area.
Being still early, the selection wasn't complete—some dishes were still being prepared, and certain sections of the buffet remained empty with small signs saying "Available at 7:30"—but there was enough variety to satisfy any reasonable person.
There were fresh fruits organized artistically in large crystal bowls: bright strawberries, perfectly cut melon slices, green and purple grapes, still slightly green bananas, and pineapple slices that were probably canned but looked fresh enough.
Yogurt in various flavors—plain, strawberry, vanilla—along with granola, nuts, and honey to add. Toast from various types of bread, from basic white to whole wheat with seeds. Fluffy scrambled eggs in a thermal container. Crispy bacon shiny with grease. Sausages that probably contained more preservatives than actual meat, but smelled delicious anyway. Pancakes stacked in a wobbly tower. Waffles at another station.
It was like breakfast paradise. And best of all, all of this was free.
Kushida assembled a balanced and healthy plate with the precision of someone who had carefully calculated the calories, macronutrients, and probably the glycemic index of each component. Strategically selected fresh fruit, plain yogurt with a measured amount of granola, a whole wheat toast.
I, on the other hand, proceeded to load my plate with a chaotic combination that would probably violate several international gastronomic conventions and make nutritionists cry.
Bacon. Lots of bacon. Because bacon is the answer to all of life's problems.
Pancakes with an obscene amount of maple syrup that was definitely more corn syrup with artificial flavor than actual tree product.
Sausages. Multiple sausages.
Crispy hash browns.
And for some reason I didn't completely understand myself, I also grabbed a banana. Probably some residual survival instinct whispering "you need at least ONE healthy thing on that plate, idiot."
When we both returned to the table with our respective trays, Kushida looked at me with an expression that could only be described as barely contained horror.
"...Kanji-kun."
"Yes?" I responded with innocence.
"Your plate is giving me anxiety."
"Jealous of my culinary freedom?"
"No. Worried about your cardiovascular health," She responded with a blank stare. "I'm pretty sure I can see your arteries clogging from here."
"How sweet. I didn't know you cared."
"I don't care," she corrected quickly, making a slight grimace of disgust in her eyes. "It's just that it would be inconvenient if you died of a heart attack in the middle of the exam. Especially near me. At least if you plan to do it, do it somewhere I can't see you."
"Relax, my heart is unbreakable. Strong as steel. Probably. I haven't checked recently, but I'm reasonably sure it's still working."
"Your confidence in your own mortality is alarming."
"It's part of my charm."
"Do you have charm?", she asked with a mocking smile, tilting her head in a tender way.
"Ouch. That was unnecessarily cruel before coffee."
We returned to our table and began eating. The ocean stretched infinitely beyond the windows, shining under the morning sun that was now completely visible above the horizon. The waves moved in hypnotic patterns, constant and eternal.
It was quite a pleasant view, honestly. The kind of landscape you could see on postcards or computer desktop backgrounds. Serene. Peaceful. Completely unaware of the adolescent drama unfolding on the cruise ship.
The bacon was perfectly crispy. The sausages had that slightly rubbery but satisfying texture. The pancakes were fluffy and absorbed the syrup like sweet sponges.
For a few minutes, we simply ate in silence. It was one of those comfortable silences that occasionally occur between people who have overcome the need to fill every second with forced conversation.
Kushida delicately chewed her fruit, occasionally looking out the window. I demolished my plate with the elegance of a wild animal that hadn't eaten in days.
After approximately five minutes of this peaceful silence, Kushida finally decided to break the ice.
"So," she began with a casual tone while carefully peeling a mandarin segment, "your group."
"Cow Group?", I responded between bites of pancake. "Yeah, what about it?"
"Who are the members?"
I recited the list I had memorized the night before: "From our class there's Sakura, Sudō, and Matsushita. From Class A there are four: Yasumi Sawada, Naoki Shimizu, Haruka Nishi, and Kenta Yoshida. From Class B there's Yume Kobashi, Mako Amikura, and Norihito Watanabe. And from Class C there's Hiroya Tokitō, Hiyori Shiina, and Mariko Yajima."
Kushida nodded thoughtfully, chewing a piece of banana while processing the information. I could see the wheels turning in her head, evaluating, categorizing, analyzing.
"Shiina Hiyori...", Kushida murmured, more to herself than to me. "I think she's close to Ryūen's faction; besides, she's rumored to be quite intelligent. Quiet. Observant. The type who sits in the back and takes notes while everyone else puts on the show. She almost always spends time in the library reading books alone."
"Yeah, I know."
Her eyes moved toward me with renewed interest.
"Do you have any plan?"
"Plan? Kushida-san, you greatly overestimate me," I responded with my best idiot smile. "I can barely plan what underwear to put on each morning. Sometimes I just grab a random pair and hope it matches with... well, with nothing, I suppose, because no one else sees it."
She looked at me expressionlessly for several long and awkward seconds.
"Kanji-kun."
"Yes?"
"I know you're still an idiot, but not so much as to have absolutely no strategy. Stop playing dumb," Kushida looked at him annoyed.
"Ouch. That hurts, you know? Right in the heart. Or where my heart is supposed to be. Emotionally speaking."
"Good." She widened her smile at my apparent pain.
I smiled, allowing a touch of sincerity to filter through my usual facade.
"Relax. I already told you: I have some ideas. Nothing concrete yet. We have to wait until the VIP is revealed, anyway, but something will occur to me. Probably. With some luck and a prayer to God to avoid bad luck."
"'Something will occur to you'? How comforting," she responded with sarcasm. "What happened to the brilliant plan you were bragging about yesterday?"
"Pshh, what a lack of faith. Relax, haven't you heard that improvisation is an art? A beautiful and chaotic art."
"Improvisation is also a recipe for absolute disaster."
"Tomato, tomahto." I commented making a dismissive gesture.
Kushida sighed deeply, clearly resigning herself to my... particular strategic planning style that consisted mostly of "let's see what happens and act accordingly."
"And your group, Kikyō-chan," I changed the subject, gesturing vaguely with my fork. "What a luxury group you have there. It's like the school decided to put all the leaders in one room just to see what explosion would result."
Her expression darkened slightly. The smile remained on her face—because of course it did, the girl probably smiled even in her sleep—but there was a tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there moments before.
"Yes. It's... complicated."
"Complicated? You have Horikita, Hirata, Katsuragi, Kanzaki, and Ryūen in the same group. That's not complicated, Kikyō-chan. That's a recipe for absolute chaos. It's like putting five professional chefs in a small kitchen and asking them to prepare dinner together. Someone's going to end up stabbed with a butter knife."
"I wish the one stabbed were Horikita," Kushida admitted quietly with a sigh.
"Eh..." Kushida's comment didn't surprise me; what did was how sincere she was with me. Fortunately, she spoke quietly and we were far enough from the other students that they couldn't hear her.
"She's fucking irritating." She continued and spat the word like it was poison, without finding her usual friendly tone. As soon as it left her mouth, her irritation became palpable.
"She's really annoying. Why did I have to be in the same group as Horikita? Of all the people I could have been with, it had to be her. Aghh, she's really annoying. How can someone be so annoying? She doesn't talk much, but every time she does, she somehow ends up being the center of attention. Everyone listens to her, even though she's useless. Completely useless. She has no charm, she doesn't even try to be nice, and yet, people are naturally drawn to her. It's disgusting. She's like a magnet for attention without even lifting a finger."
Kushida's words came out in a rapid, unfiltered torrent, and her frustration only grew with each passing second. "Even in this stupid exam, I have to deal with her. I hate it. I hate it so much. Why doesn't she die or disappear from existence? Aghhhh, she's really annoying!"
When she finished, she was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling as if she'd just run a marathon. The intensity of her emotions left her momentarily breathless.
I looked at her and listened without interrupting her. I didn't judge her with my gaze either and my smile didn't change; I wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible. Though honestly, I didn't expect this from her.
I should have suspected, but instead I asked. "Do you feel better now?", I said gently, tilting my head with curiosity.
"...Yes."
I let a comfortable silence form between us; I didn't know what would change Kushida's mind after she vehemently refused yesterday and her lack of trust in me. I suspected she still hated me, but I guess Kushida weighed the pros and cons of what I offered her and decided to accept just to have someone to vent to.
"So, I accept your offer. From now on, when I need to vent, you'll listen to me. And you'd better not do anything that could ruin my reputation. Understood?"
I smiled. "Sounds good to me." Then she paused and decided to change the subject: "Anyway, who do you think is the VIP in your group?"
Kushida looked at me with a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was that special smile she reserved for when she was evaluating exactly how much to reveal and how much to hide.
"What do you think?"
"Hmm..." I made a show of thinking about it carefully, looking at the ceiling as if the universe's answers were written on the white panel. "If I had to bet, I'd say it's Hirata-kun or Kikyō-chan."
"Why me?"
"Because you're adorable, popular, and no one would suspect you. You're like... the perfect definition of 'hiding in plain sight.' The school probably thinks you'd be hard to identify because you're so omnipresent that everyone would assume you're too obvious to be the VIP."
"Stop your stupid false flattery."
"They're not false or am I wrong?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you're dodging the question with another question. I won't answer it because it seems like a landmine that will explode on me no matter what I answer."
"How cunning, Kanji-kun."
We both smiled, but neither revealed anything. It was like a verbal poker game where both players had hidden cards and neither was willing to show their hand first.
We remained silent for a while and continued eating.
Just as I was about to bite another piece of pancake that had miraculously survived on my plate, two familiar figures appeared next to our table.
"Ike-kun, Kushida."
I looked up, still with the fork halfway to my mouth.
There they were: Horikita Suzune and Ayanokōji Kiyone.
Horikita looked as serious as always, as if she had come out of the womb with an expression of disapproval permanently etched on her face. Her posture was perfect—back straight as a ruler, shoulders back, chin slightly raised at that angle suggesting intellectual superiority. Her uniform was impeccable, every fold perfectly ironed, every button fastened with millimetric precision.
Her cold eyes evaluated me with that barely contained disdain she seemed to reserve for most people—but especially for me. It was as if her gaze said "here's this idiot again, breathing my oxygen."
Walking beside her was Ayanokōji Kiyone, who remained in her natural state: neutral expression bordering on catatonic, a presence as memorable as beige wallpaper. The only thing I noticed was a strange expression in her eyes as she penetrated both of us with her gaze, which made me feel slightly uncomfortable. And no matter how much I tried to read the emotion in her eyes, I couldn't conclude anything exact, though I could suppose it was curiosity and something else.
Setting that aside. It was impressive, really, how someone could be physically present and yet seem completely absent. If it weren't for Horikita, I probably wouldn't have noticed her. It seems Kiyone completely took the professional stalker position from Matsushita.
Kushida, as expected, immediately activated her "social angel" mode. The transformation was instantaneous and slightly terrifying in its perfection.
"Good morning, Horikita-san, Ayanokōji-san!" she greeted with bright enthusiasm, her voice rising a full octave in artificial joy. "Did you also come to have breakfast early?"
"Obviously," Horikita responded dryly, her tone making clear she considered the question unnecessary and slightly offensive. "We didn't come here to admire the ocean landscape and contemplate the meaning of existence."
"Aww, what a shame. The landscape is quite pretty," I commented, pointing toward the ocean with my fork in a gesture that probably violated all known table etiquette. "Though I suppose not as pretty as the present company. I'm lucky to be surrounded by beauty on all sides."
Horikita shot me a look that could freeze hell, the kind of look suggesting she was actively reconsidering whether murder was really that bad if the victim deserved it.
"Your sense of humor remains as unbearable as always, Ike."
"Thanks, I work hard at it," I responded with genuine pride. "It's a natural talent, really. Not just anyone can be consistently annoying in every social interaction."
"Clearly." Horikita responded sarcastically.
Ayanokōji, observing the exchange with her usual disinterest bordering on clinical apathy, asked in a monotone voice: "Can we sit down?"
"Sure, sure," I responded, vaguely gesturing toward the empty chairs with a broad movement of my arm. "The restaurant is free. And no one owns the seats... so—" I shrugged.
Fortunately, this wasn't like the private schools in Latin America. Because well, in all those schools technically no given event is free or government-funded. Even if it were, every event held would be paid for indirectly with exorbitant tuition fees that would probably cover the cost of a small car. It was relative freedom within the capitalist context of the educational situation.
Both took seats: Horikita slid gracefully into the chair next to Kushida, maintaining her perfect posture even while sitting. Ayanokōji simply dropped into the chair next to me with all the ceremony of a sack of potatoes.
There was a moment of awkward silence as the four of us processed this new group configuration. It was that kind of dense silence that forms when people who don't necessarily like each other are forced to share space.
Finally, Kiyone was the one who broke the awkward silence in our group, taking me by surprise. "What were you talking about?" She looked at us with curiosity, her eyes penetrating Kushida.
"Eh... we were talking about the groups we were assigned. Right?" I commented calmly looking at Kushida.
Kushida nodding, confirming my comment, maintaining her cheerful tone that probably required considerable effort, considering who sat next to her. "Yes, I was telling Kanji-kun that I'm in the Dragon Group! And what, Horikita-san, you were also in my group! Along with Hirata-kun."
Horikita nodded, clearly already knowing this because the girl had probably memorized all the group lists in the first five minutes after receiving them.
"Yes. There's also Katsuragi from Class A, Kanzaki from Class B, and Ryūen from Class C." Horikita went straight to the point, as always, and didn't add unnecessary small talk.
"Wow, wow," I commented, whistling low in appreciation. "Honestly, that they put so many class leaders together makes me suspect the groups weren't chosen randomly or at least this one definitely wasn't. If I were in your group, I'd probably bring popcorn to watch all the drama."
"Hmm," Horikita hummed, probably she had already thought about and taken my comment into account, though it wouldn't have helped her at all. Because knowing whether the groups are chosen randomly or not doesn't help discover the VIP.
"And you?" Ayanokōji asked me with her usual monotone voice, turning her head toward me with the enthusiasm of someone asking about the weather, though I could see the slight layer of interest and curiosity.
"Cow Group. With Sakura, Sudō, and Matsushita from our class."
Horikita frowned slightly, a small wrinkle appearing between her perfectly groomed eyebrows.
"A group of misfits," she commented with a haughty tone.
"Excuse me?", I asked, genuinely offended. "Clearly you still underestimate me too much, my friend."
"I'm not your friend. And I don't underestimate you, I'm just telling the truth. Sakura is too shy to contribute effectively to group discussions, Sudō is an impulsive idiot who will probably ruin any strategy with his temper, and Matsushita..." she paused, considering. "...Matsushita is an unknown. The only thing she stands out in is her appearance and you're still the same idiot, that you performed well in the island exam doesn't mean much, but..."
Horikita stopped there; clearly, her opinion about Ike had increased slightly, but she was too proud to complete her thought.
Setting that aside, it was interesting. How even Horikita had noticed something strange about Matsushita, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly what. The girl had good instincts; I'd have to give her credit for that.
"But what?", I pressed, feigning casual curiosity about her opinion of me.
"Nothing. Simple observation," she closed the topic quickly.
I didn't press, but I smiled with arrogance and haughtiness, which clearly bothered Horikita if the tic in her eye showed it. Though my curiosity made me wonder how much Horikita or Kiyone knew about Matsushita.
Thanks to the light novels, I knew perfectly well that Matsushita was smarter than she let on. Horikita probably hadn't noticed anything about her. Horikita isn't the type who observes other people. She only sees us as irrelevant NPCs and, unless the evidence fell right in front of her. Then she wouldn't investigate anything.
Kiyone might be different, since she observed everything with minimal detail.
My mind could imagine her noticing small inconsistencies in Matsushita's behavior during the first semester: the way her eyes briefly lit up during complex explanations in class before she deliberately extinguished that spark, how she avoided answering difficult questions despite clearly knowing the answers, the way she strategically positioned herself in the middle of the academic ranking—not so high as to stand out, not so low as to worry.
Though I couldn't confirm that Kiyone had noticed that Matsushita hides her academic abilities. I can only speculate and, with Kiyone now being a woman, I wouldn't be surprised if she had noticed suspicious behavior unintentionally and then investigated it in more detail.
Setting that aside, I wasn't going to share my knowledge with Horikita, Kiyone, or Kushida. Why keep ruining my image as a careless idiot? After all, it was still useful.
"And your group, Ayanokōji-san?" Kushida asked politely, turning toward the girl with a perpetually bored expression.
"Rabbit Group. With Karuizawa, Yukimura, Sotomura, and others."
"Ah, Karuizawa-san," I commented with a mischievous smile, allowing a touch of implication to slip into my tone. "That must be... interesting. Very interesting. Fascinatingly interesting, even."
Ayanokōji didn't react visibly—because of course not, the girl could probably receive news of the apocalypse with the same neutral expression—but Kushida shot me a warning look that clearly said "shut your damn mouth, Ike."
Obviously everyone knew I didn't have a good relationship with Karuizawa, especially after I shut her down so abruptly when the fire broke out. Still, despite my teasing toward her, I didn't hate her or try to intimidate or belittle her. The girl had already been through too much, so I tried to be gentle with her, despite her insults toward me.
Anyway, I wondered how the relationship between Ayanokōji and Karuizawa would change, considering that Kiyotaka is now a woman and is called Kiyone. Would a lesbian relationship form? As interesting as that thought was, I couldn't continue it because...
...Just at that moment, all our phones vibrated simultaneously.
Well, technically not all.
Horikita, Ayanokōji, and Kushida immediately pulled out their phones from their pockets with synchronized movements, like a perfectly choreographed technological ballet, and checked the notification with expressions varying between serious concentration, absolute indifference, and carefully controlled curiosity.
I, on the other hand, patted my pockets with an increasingly confused expression.
Right pocket. Nothing.
Left pocket. Nothing.
Back pocket. Nothing except my wallet.
"Uh... did any of you see my phone?", I asked jokingly, even if it was a silly question.
The three looked at me with expressions varying between deep exasperation (Horikita), barely contained amusement (Kushida), and total indifference (Ayanokōji).
"Ike," Horikita said with a dangerously low tone that generally preceded severe verbal violence. "Please, please tell me you didn't forget your phone in your room."
I shrugged nonchalantly, as if forgetting a critical electronic device was something that happened every day. Which, honestly, wasn't too far from the truth.
"Okay, then I won't tell you," I said with an innocent smile.
"Idiot!" Horikita exploded, her voice rising several decibels as her carefully maintained composure cracked. Her hand moved to her forehead in a gesture suggesting a massive headache approaching.
"Hey, hey, it's not that big a deal," I responded with irritating calmness. "I'll just go back later to get it. The phone won't go anywhere. It's not like it could grow legs to escape from my room and expose my message to the whole world."
Horikita massaged her temples with both hands, clearly containing the desire to strangle me with my own small intestines.
"Your incompetence is astonishing. Truly. I didn't know it was possible to reach such levels."
"It's a talent," I responded with feigned pride. "Not just anyone can be so consistently careless."
Kushida, for her part, let out a musical giggle that sounded genuinely amused for the first time this morning. Probably because of how irritated Horikita was.
"Typical of you, Kanji-kun. Absolutely typical. Do you want to know what the message says? Or do you prefer to remain in blissful ignorance?"
"Nah, it's fine. It probably just confirms what group I'm in, right? I already know that. Cow Group. An easy name to memorize that I did about fifteen minutes ago."
"It also confirms whether or not you're the VIP," Ayanokōji pointed out casually, her voice as expressive as always, meaning not at all.
"Ah. Well, I suppose that's important. Slightly important. Maybe moderately important, even."
"'I suppose'," Horikita repeated with absolute incredulity, her eyes opening wider than they had been in the entire conversation. "Ike, this exam literally determines the class points we'll receive or lose. How can you be so... so... careless?"
"Relax, Horikita. Like I said, I'll check it later. The phone is still in my room and no one can read the message without my password. It's not the end of the world. The sun will still rise tomorrow. The earth will continue spinning."
Before Horikita could launch another elaborate sermon about my apparent incompetence and complete lack of sense of responsibility, a familiar voice interrupted.
A voice that had that particular quality that made the room's temperature seem to drop several degrees.
"Well, well. What an interesting gathering we have here."
We all turned our heads simultaneously.
Ryūen Kakeru was approaching with his usual arrogant smile—that kind of smile suggesting he knew something you didn't and was enormously enjoying that knowledge. His hands were in his pockets, his posture relaxed but somehow threatening, like a predator that had detected prey but hadn't yet decided whether it was worth the effort to hunt.
Walking beside him was Ibuki Mio, looking as grumpy as always, as if the entire world had personally offended her with its mere existence. Her eyes evaluated the surroundings with barely contained hostility.
"Good morning, Suzune," Ryūen greeted, deliberately ignoring the others while focusing on Horikita with that particular intensity that probably made her want to hit him. "What a lovely morning, isn't it? Perfect for having breakfast and talking about the fascinating exam awaiting us."
Horikita looked at him with coldness that could form frost on the windows.
"I don't recall giving you permission to use my first name, Ryūen."
"Kukuku. How cold. So hostile so early in the morning," he responded with genuine amusement, as if her irritation fed him. "Is this how you treat your group mates? That doesn't bode well for our future cooperation."
"You're my competition, not my companion."
"Interesting perspective. Very binary. I like it."
Ryūen's group stopped next to our table, forming a semi-intimidating barrier of Class C presence. Ibuki shot an especially hostile look toward Horikita, clearly remembering their confrontation during the deserted island test—where Horikita had strategically outmaneuvered her and left her with wounded pride. Ibuki probably thought Horikita wouldn't realize she stole the card.
Ibuki looked at me briefly, I smiled at her and she frowned at me. Schess... women.
"I think the email already arrived, so, how was it? Did you become the 'target'?" Ryūen asked.
"There's no way I'd tell you, or that you'd tell us," Horikita replied.
"If that's what you wish," Ryūen said as he sat in a nearby empty seat. "But before that, please tell me, how did you manage to achieve that result on the island test?"
"I have nothing to say to you," Horikita replied bluntly. Horikita was completely calm in her response; I couldn't even detect a tremor in her voice. In fact, she possesses a tremendous amount of acting ability.
But Ryūen didn't seem provoked by her response at all. "I don't care either way, but according to her report, you didn't do much during the island test to allow your class to obtain those results," Ryūen says while pointing at Ibuki.
"I'm not someone so idiotic that someone like her could figure me out. I was holding back then because of the fever."
In response to that provocation, Ibuki immediately stood up and declared: "Then let's fight here and now," she told Horikita.
However, Horikita didn't respond to that challenge and simply said: "Unfortunately, I'll have to decline, as it would violate the school rules for this exam. However, if you use violence on me, I'll inform the school about this. Please, do as you wish then," she told Ibuki.
Ibuki walked angrily toward Horikita after that, but stopped almost unable to lay a hand on her. Using violence here would undoubtedly result in sanctions from the school. And most importantly, Ibuki, as one of Ryūen's subordinates, had no right to use her personal wishes in this situation.
The talented Ibuki who hates Ryūen. That was the reason she was chosen by Ryūen as the one sent to Class D as a spy in the previous test.
"Since we're all here, let's have some coffee. It seems like a good time to drink," Horikita surprisingly restrained herself from further provocations. And she had coffee ignoring Ryūen and Ibuki briefly.
I contained my smile at the spectacle, simply looked at Kushida, who seemed strangely quiet, one would think she would have already intervened to calm the situation, but well, if it was Horikita who was suffering, I suppose she wouldn't intervene.
However, Ryūen seemed to show no signs of leaving and seemed to want to continue the conversation while observing Horikita in silence.
"I'm not surprised. After all, I never would have thought that someone from Class D like me would be capable of such feats. Isn't it the same for you and Ibuki being here now? You're all on guard against me, right?" Horikita responds to Ryūen.
"Kuku. I'm not even going to deny it. I'm here to confirm your ability for myself," Ryūen said while Horikita took another sip of her coffee. "But you should also know that my methods are different from Katsuragi's; besides, a serious girl like you wouldn't be capable of formulating a strategy like the island test."
"I don't care either way, but. How would you know what my strategy was during the island test? All that was announced were the results after all," Horikita tells him.
Against Horikita's calmness, Ryūen only smiled at her. He seemed to be saying: "Katsuragi doesn't know the method you used," which could also be him saying he knows how the island test results were achieved by our class.
"I wonder if you can explain to us how we did it then?", Horikita asks.
Ryūen simply laughs before saying "In the end of the test when the leaders' names had to be written, the only reason we answered wrong was because the leader was changed to someone else before the end of the test and it was no longer you."
"That's not impressive at all; anyone could guess something so simple with a little thought, even Katsuragi, who mocked you."
"No, no. He thinks you planned everything. But from my point of view, not even you should have been able to predict that you would be the leader or that you would have to retire before the end of the exam," Ryūen tells her.
"It's just insurance to prepare for the most basic obstacles. I took everything into account the moment Ibuki-san infiltrated our class. There's nothing innovative in what you just said," Horikita responds to Ryūen.
"Anyway, the important thing is the new leader of the island test, the one who switched with you at the end. They were the one pulling your strings behind the scenes," Ryūen said that while looking directly at Horikita.
Then he swept his gaze over all of us with the deliberation of someone cataloging information: Horikita, with her expression of barely contained disgust. Kushida, with her perfect smile that didn't reach her eyes. Ayanokōji, with her wallpaper presence...
And then, briefly, at me.
His eyes rested on my face for exactly half a second—enough to register my existence, but not enough to consider me important. Then they moved forward, completely dismissing me as if I were unimportant furniture.
Perfect. The art of being underestimated required consistency. Though my mind reminded me that I was underestimated for being Ike and not because I was good at hiding.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I barely have friends to talk to. The only one I can consider someone close to me would be Ayanokōji-san, but he was holding me back and anyway isn't a great cooperator." By calling attention to Kiyone, Horikita was able to make her seem irrelevant to the development of things.
"Maybe she's the one pulling my strings," Horikita tells Ryūen.
"I see." Ryūen looks at Kiyone softly once before looking away.
Despite things not going according to his plan in this encounter, Ryūen still smiled at us shamelessly without anger in his expressions.
"It's a shame when I thought I had finally found someone who plans like I like. But it's a pity that the one pulling Suzune's strings moved too soon. The trump card you used in the island test should have been saved for this exam, but you ended up showing your hand too early in the game. Suzune, if you meet the one pulling your strings later, please pass this message along," Ryūen told Horikita.
"Thanks for the heads-up," Horikita told Ryūen coldly.
"No need for thanks."
"Do you really think there's someone pulling my strings, right?" Horikita asks him.
Ryūen didn't answer the question. He must have no doubts about his conviction, even if there's no evidence or confirmation from Horikita. After all, Ryūen doesn't accept advice from those he believes inferior to him.
Ryūen seemed to have taken this failure calmly and seemed to be enjoying chatting with Horikita.
Unlike me, who lamented not bringing popcorn for this back and forth between them, I knew what was coming. I should have let it continue to not draw more attention, but as the good samaritan I am, I prevented him from taking something without consent; and clearly it wasn't just to release a grudge for the trash (literally) he threw at me at the end of the exam... I'm not vengeful at all.
"Hey, Horikita," I said casually, leaning back in my chair with the studied nonchalance of someone who definitely wasn't trying to draw attention. "Now I can understand why you were complaining about your group; they're a bit... how should I say?... pretentious? I mean, you have all these 'leaders' gathered in one room. Sounds like a convention of giant egos competing for the prize of 'who can inflate their sense of superiority highest.' Must be exhausting."
The comment made Ryūen pause his chat and turn his head toward me.
His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me with renewed interest—as if he had just noticed that the furniture he had dismissed moments before had spoken and said something vaguely funny.
"And you are...?", he asked with a casual tone that fooled no one and with a contemptuous and mocking smile.
"Ike Kanji. Cow Group. Nice to meet you," I responded with a silly smile I had perfected over months. "I'm basically irrelevant, but I like to give opinions on things that don't concern me."
"Kukuku. Ike, eh?" His eyes evaluated me like a surgeon deciding where to make the first cut. "And what makes you think my group is pretentious?"
I shrugged with studied nonchalance.
"Simple observation. When you put together so many people who think they're the smartest in the room, it usually ends in disaster. But hey, what do I know? I'm just an idiot from Cow Group who will probably fail this exam spectacularly." I commented with a mocking smile.
Ryūen observed me for a long moment, his eyes evaluating me with that characteristic intensity that probably intimidated 99% of the people who experienced it.
I simply returned the look with my silly smile intact, allowing my eyes to remain vaguely unfocused as if I didn't completely understand the tension of the moment.
After a few seconds that seemed to stretch, he let out a short, abrupt laugh.
"Kukuku. Where did you get this clown, Suzune? Are you sure this guy can be useful for anything?"
And just as his interest arrived, it evaporated. He turned completely, returning his attention to Horikita as if I had never existed.
Perfect.
Evaluated. Categorized. Dismissed.
Despite not being in my plans to draw a little attention, I'm satisfied. You could say the task failed successfully. Even if Horikita's penetrating gaze said otherwise.
She surely admires my beauty.
"Tch. Don't pay attention to him, he still lacks training," she responded annoyed.
My eye twitched, but I guess that's what I get for being nosy.
"Don't let him respond so freely next time, Suzune; I might not be so indulgent," Ryūen replied with a smile full of disdain, his conversational tone having a sharp edge, "Setting aside your mutt, why don't we share information? After all, we're group mates. It would be beneficial for everyone to cooperate, don't you think?"
"I have absolutely nothing to share with you," Horikita responded coldly.
"What a shame. I had some interesting theories about how this exam works. I thought they might be of mutual interest."
"Keep them to yourself."
"Very well, very well. Your loss, really."
Ryūen directed his gaze briefly toward Kushida, then toward Ayanokōji; he stopped on her longer than Kiyone would have liked.
"Kushida Kikyō... The most popular girl in Class D. Known by all, loved by many. And Ayanokōji Kiyone..." he paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. "The mysterious girl who is Suzune's follower. I'm curious about this combination."
My eye twitched again at being ignored. I wanted to make a cruel and sarcastic comment, but it probably wouldn't end well for me. And although I knew how to fight and defend myself, I don't know how resistant Ike's body is to withstand blows. That and it would draw more attention than I'm already drawing.
Kushida maintained her radiant smile, but I could notice the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her tea cup.
"Good morning, Ryūen-kun. How kind of you to remember my name." She commented with an innocent smile, though I could notice the slight irritation in her hands. After all, like me, she had been ignored in favor of Horikita.
"It's hard to forget someone annoying and extroverted," he responded with a touch of something that could have been amusement or could have been mockery. Hard to distinguish.
Ayanokōji, for her part, simply nodded silently, showing no particular reaction to being called "mysterious." Probably because she genuinely didn't care enough to generate an emotional response.
"In any case, I'm happy I was able to talk with you, Suzune. Remember, this is a game. I will definitely find the one moving in the shadows. Everything is a target for me," Ryūen tells her.
"Let me ask you just one more thing. I understand you being cautious of me, but why obsess over me so much? Aren't there others who matter more? Like Ichinose-san from Class B or Katsuragi-kun from Class A and then there's the person known as Sakayanagi according to rumors. There should be guys above Class C that you'd normally worry about. You said you'd tell me something good, so at least answer me that," Horikita asks Ryūen the reason why he was so obsessed with Class D.
"It's because I already know more or less their capabilities and none of them is capable of being my enemy. If I wanted to crush them, I could crush any of them whenever I wanted," Ryūen boldly said.
"What about the rumored Sakayanagi?" The person who made that question wasn't Horikita but Ibuki.
It seems Ibuki wanted to confirm this for herself with Ryūen.
And Ryūen, who had been speaking so smoothly until now, waited a while before answering. "I'm saving that woman for dessert. It would be a waste for me to eat Sakayanagi now," he finally said.
After a few more moments of tense glance exchanges between Ryūen and Horikita, he finally got bored.
"Well, this was fun. But I have better things to do than waste time; after all, this conversation became unproductive."
Ryūen then stood up along with Ibuki. Then he made a casual gesture to Ibuki and began to walk away from our table with that particular confidence of someone who knew exactly the effect he had on people.
But before leaving completely, he threw one last comment over his shoulder, his voice loaded with implication:
"Ah, by the way, Suzune. I look forward to our group discussions. I'm sure they'll be... Very illuminating."
And with that, he left, with Ibuki following him like a well-trained procession.
There was a moment of silence after his departure. The kind of dense silence that forms after a tornado passes and you're assessing the damage.
Finally, I let out a low whistle.
"Wow. That guy really knows how to make a dramatic entrance and exit, eh? I bet he practices in front of the mirror every morning. He probably has a whole routine. 'Today I'm going to tilt my head exactly 15 degrees for maximum intimidating effect'." I made a mocking and contemptuous voice.
Horikita shot me a murderous look that could have melted steel.
"Ike, your earlier comment was completely unnecessary."
"Which one? The one about the ego convention? But it was true. Objectively, true."
"You could have drawn his attention unnecessarily."
"Relax. He looked at me for three seconds and decided I'm an idiot. Mission accomplished. Now I'm officially irrelevant on his mental radar."
Kushida intervened with a pacifying tone:
"Kanji-kun is right, Horikita-san. Ryūen-kun clearly doesn't consider him a threat."
"Exactly. I'm completely harmless," I affirmed with genuine pride. "As harmless as a puppy. Or maybe a bunny. A particularly incompetent bunny."
Ayanokōji, who had been observing everything in silence—because of course she had—finally spoke with her monotone voice:
"Still, Horikita has a point, Ike. Ryūen is dangerous." Kiyone gave me a penetrating look that gave me chills. "You should be careful."
"Yes, yes. Dangerous, intelligent, intimidating. I get it," I said, finishing my last bite of pancake, wanting to end the sermons about me and my recklessness. "But now, if you'll excuse me, I need to return to my room to get my phone before Horikita has a complete aneurysm right here."
I stood up, stretching satisfyingly and feeling how my joints cracked.
"It was a pleasure having breakfast with you, ladies. Fascinating conversation. Excellent dramatic tension. See you later."
"Ike-kun," Horikita called.
"Yes?" I looked over my shoulder.
"Try not to do something stupid."
"I promise nothing. Stupidity is part of my brand at this point." I joked.
And with that, I walked away from the table, leaving the three there processing... whatever they had just witnessed.
ᕕ (⌐ ■ ■) ᕗ ♪ ♬ ᕕ (⌐ ■ ■) ᕗ ♪ ♬ ᕕ (⌐ ■ _ ■) ᕗ ♪ ♬
The way back to my room took about five minutes of navigation through the elegant hallways of the cruise ship.
At this hour—approximately 7:15 a.m.—the ship had begun to slowly wake up. I could hear distant sounds of students moving in their rooms, doors opening and closing, conversations muffled by the walls.
The cruise ship was enormous, a floating labyrinth of luxury and functionality. The distribution of student rooms was designed to maximize privacy and space—each group of rooms had its own section, separated by hallways that branched like arteries of a living organism.
I passed by the same panoramic windows as before. The ocean now shone with more intensity under the fully visible sun. It was beautiful in an abstract and vaguely alien way.
I finally arrived at my room. The door opened with a soft click when I slid my access card through the sensor.
The room was still mostly empty. Sudō was probably having breakfast—the guy needed massive calories to maintain his athletic physique. Yamauchi... honestly I didn't care where he was. Probably chasing some girl who had no interest in him.
The third guy whose name I still didn't remember was still asleep, now snoring softly with his face buried in his pillow.
I found my phone exactly where I had left it: on my nightstand, the dark screen reflecting the light from the window.
I picked it up, feeling the familiar weight of the device in my hand, and pressed the power button.
The screen lit up, showing several accumulated notifications.
I swiped my finger and opened the official school notification.
From: Advanced Nurturing High School To: Ike Kanji Subject: Special Exam - VIP Status Confirmation
[Dear student Ike Kanji.]
[After careful consideration, you have been selected as VIP. Please act responsibly as a member of your group and prepare for the exam. The exam will begin today at 11:00 a.m. for your group and will last three days. All students from Cow Group must meet in Room 2F on the second floor of the upper deck, in the section designated as "Cow".]
I read the message once.
Twice.
Three times, just to make sure I had correctly processed each word, each implication, each strategic possibility.
Then, I let out a short, abrupt laugh that sounded vaguely maniacal even by my own standards.
"Hahaha... This is going to be a massive headache."
I dropped onto the bed, feeling how the mattress sank under my weight. I looked at the white ceiling of the room—that kind of institutional white you find in hospitals and schools, completely devoid of personality.
I closed my eyes, enjoying the gentle swaying of the cruise ship—that constant, rhythmic movement that had become the backdrop of everything. That I had now gotten used to.
The exam would begin in less than four hours.
Four hours to prepare mentally.
Four hours to review my strategy.
Four hours before I had to become the most convincing version of Ike Kanji, the idiot I had ever created.
This was going to be interesting.
Very interesting.
And honestly, a small part of me—that part that found excitement in chaos and satisfaction in successful manipulation—couldn't wait.
.
.
.
By the way, did you like the chapter? If you want to support my writing and get early access to chapters of my story, you can support me at Patreon com/c/Paxkun12. You have to put it in your search bar for it to work, all together.
Any support is incredibly valuable to me and will help me a lot. It's not an obligation; all my chapters and stories will always be free to read. But your support would motivate me a lot. Of course, if you want me to update a particular story, I will do my best to do so. Everyone is welcome to enjoy it. PDT: All donations will go towards repairing my computer, as it has broken down. And sorry for any spelling mistakes that may have slipped through. As I work on a tablet, I may have missed something, but I have tried to proofread everything several times.