Next Morning,
A beam of sunlight broke through the forest canopy, striking a shallow pothole filled with rainwater. The light fractured on the surface, casting a flicker across the uneven forest floor like a silent warning—brief, beautiful, and unnoticed.
The camera panned from that quiet glimmer to a familiar figure resting beneath a tall, time-worn tree. Haruto, eyes half-lidded and expression unreadable, leaned back against the rough bark. A gentle breeze rustled his messy hair, the picture of idle calm, yet his mind was anything but.
The quiet didn't last.
Voices emerged—sharp, purposeful steps followed. A small group of girls made their way down the slight incline, their expressions a curious blend of irritation and discomfort. At the front strode a blue-haired girl, her brows furrowed in determination. They stopped near a tent pitched not far from Haruto's position.
"Sorry for the intrusion," she began, folding her arms with a barely-contained glare, "but we need to check your bags."
That drew immediate protests from the boys nearby.
"What the hell for?"
"Don't tell me you think we—?!"
"It's about Kei," the blue-haired girl interrupted firmly. "Someone stole her underwear. This morning."
More gasps. Shouts. Accusations.
"And you think we took it?" one of the boys asked, incredulous. "Why not check Ibuki instead? She's been slinking around like a damn ghost!"
Another boy chimed in, "She already got caught once, didn't she?"
Despite the pushback, the girls stood their ground. Tension thickened like fog.
"We're not saying all of you did it," the lead girl said, voice clipped. "But someone might've. And if none of you did, then there's no reason to refuse, right?"
The argument dragged on. Heated words traded like blows in a silent war of pride and suspicion. But ultimately, and with no other alternative presenting itself, an uneasy truce was called.
"Fine. You can check our bags," one of the boys relented bitterly.
But before the girls could move, Haruto spoke.
His voice was calm—almost too calm. The kind that made people pause.
"…Are you sure," he said, eyes still fixed lazily on the treetops, "her underwear wasn't burned… or buried somewhere deep in this forest?"
Silence fell like a blade.
All heads turned toward him. The girls stared, caught between confusion and insult. A few flushed in embarrassment. Others scowled outright.
The corner of Haruto's lip curled slightly—not quite a smile.
"Just seems to me," he continued, "that if the thief had a brain, they wouldn't have left it in a bag waiting to be found. Unless, of course, you believe the culprit wants to be discovered."
The implication hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire. Unsettling. Inconvenient.
The girls looked at each other. A few lowered their gazes, uncertainty replacing their righteous fury. One or two boys even chuckled under their breath, the tension fracturing—just a little.
Ayanokōji, standing not far behind, said nothing. But his eyes lingered on Haruto a beat too long.
Watching. Calculating.
The inspection continued, but the spark of doubt had already been sown.
And somewhere, buried beneath leaves or ash, the truth waited. Unbothered.
Like always.
****
As the group started checking bags one by one, a rising murmur cut through the forest silence. Our protagonist—Haruto—caught the shift. From his shaded spot under the tree, his eyes narrowed.
Ayanokōji, Ike, and Sudō were huddled together near a tent, their movements jittery. Sudo was whispering harshly, clearly agitated, while Ike looked like he was about to sweat his soul out. And then—there it was.
Ike, visibly panicked, was holding a piece of lavender fabric with trembling hands—a girl's underwear—and trying to discreetly push it toward Sudo like it was cursed.
Haruto's sigh was silent, almost disappointed.
He rose calmly, brushing dust off his pants, and strolled toward them.
As he approached, Ike jolted and clumsily tried to hide the underwear behind his back, only making things worse.
"Stop," Haruto muttered.
Ike froze, eyes wide.
Without waiting for a response, Haruto picked up a long, dry branch from the ground, held it out like a grim tool of justice, and motioned with his chin. "Put it there. No one wants to touch that."
Ike, shamefaced and pale, obeyed. He placed the fabric on the branch like a criminal presenting evidence, muttering apologies under his breath.
Haruto looked at it with a mix of contempt and calculation. "So disgusting," he murmured, voice just loud enough for those around to hear.
Then, before anyone could question him, he was gone.
No one had seen him walk away. No sound, no rustle—just an absence. Like he had never been there in the first place.
Ayanokōji, watching from a distance, raised a single eyebrow. Typical.
He found Haruto again a few meters away, back to leaning casually against another tree, hands in his pockets, completely detached.
"You could've let him fall," Ayanokōji said quietly. "Why save Ike?"
Haruto didn't look at him. A faint smirk crept onto his lips.
"I don't want my future wifey digging up a case where I was even remotely associated with a stolen underwear scandal," he said. "That's too stupid to explain."
Ayanokōji let out a short breath, almost amused.
"Self-preservation, huh?"
Haruto's eyes flicked toward him, cool and unreadable.
"Call it… relationship management."
****
After checking every bag and finding nothing, the blue-haired girl folded her arms with a scowl. The others followed suit, some visibly confused, others frustrated.
"...Nothing?" she muttered.
The girls exchanged glances, unsure.
One of them finally spoke up. "Even if it's not in the bags, it could still be on them. Maybe they're hiding it in their clothes…"
Silence followed.
Then, the blue-haired girl stepped forward, firm in her stance. "We want to do a body check."
That dropped like a thunderclap.
The boys' relaxed air shattered. Whispers broke out instantly—some scoffing, some protesting, some visibly shaken.
"This is insane," Sudō snapped. "We already let you check our stuff!"
"What, you want us to strip in the middle of the forest?" shouted another.
"We're not doing that!" Ike added, this time with more fire, trying to cover up the guilt still stuck in his throat.
Seeing the resistance, the girls backed off, but not without throwing sharp glares. "Then don't complain if we stop trusting you."
With that, the group split. The forest seemed a little colder in the aftermath, the air thick with distrust.
---
Later, a little off to the side, Hirata quietly pushed Ayanokōji on the shoulder, signaling him to talk. They moved a few steps away from the group, pretending it was casual—but Haruto had seen it.
From his spot under the tree, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as they traced the line connecting the two boys.
He muttered, almost to himself.
"They lie… without lying."
A quiet breeze passed, brushing against the leaves above.
His voice was low, thoughtful, like he was solving a riddle no one else saw.
"There's a script here. But no actors… just shadows reading lines."
He closed his eyes for a second, filing away the scene. The blue-haired girl's sudden initiative. Ike's fear. Ayanokōji's unreadable expression. Hirata's smooth diplomacy.
And the missing underwear—still unaccounted for.
Haruto sighed, hands in his pockets again.
"This class really is a stage."
***
The sun had started dipping behind the dense trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The orange hues reflected off the leaves, giving the place a strange golden calm.
Haruto leaned against the tree again, this time with a small blade of grass between his teeth, his gaze fixed on the slowly darkening sky. The crackling of a small campfire nearby was the only sound around.
Footsteps.
Ayanokōji approached and settled down beside him, arms resting on his knees, expression unreadable as always.
"...It seems," Ayanokōji started without looking at him, "Hirata can't be the leader."
Haruto didn't move. He stared forward with that same relaxed indifference and replied in a low tone, "I already know that." He exhaled softly through his nose. "But before that… we need to deal with Horikita."
A rustle behind them.
Speak of the devil.
Horikita stepped forward from the shadows, eyes locked on Ayanokōji.
"Hirata… can't be the leader," she said flatly, as if it had just struck her.
Haruto didn't even blink. His eyes remained steady, almost bored. Ayanokōji glanced at her, offered a half-effort nod, and opened his mouth.
"I suppose—"
But she cut in, again.
"No. He may seem dependable, but his way of protecting peace is shallow. He listens to everyone too much and bends without forming a real opinion."
Haruto leaned back slightly, letting the moment hang. His expression mirrored Ayanokōji's—still, cool, distant.
Ayanokōji tried again. "You're not wrong, but—"
"He's too idealistic," Horikita snapped.
A pause.
Haruto turned his head ever so slightly and whispered under his breath, "You keep proving my point for me…"
Ayanokōji raised a brow for a moment, amused, but said nothing.
Horikita stood tall, crossing her arms. "If this continues, Class D will never catch up to the others."
Haruto sighed internally. She was so focused on moving forward, she didn't even see the cracks beneath her feet.
He stood up casually, brushing off his pants.
"Then why not lead yourself?" he asked, tone sharp but lazy.
That made her falter for a split second.
Ayanokōji smirked just faintly, the way he always did when someone else took the heat off him.
***
The once-shared campsite now showed clear signs of division.
Tents were being moved.
A line had been metaphorically — and physically — drawn. Boys on one side. Girls on the other.
Conversations were shorter, colder. Trust had withered under suspicion.
In the middle of it all, Horikita stood with arms crossed, calmly watching as the girls finished reorganizing their side of the camp.
"We'll need some boys to assist," she finally said, her voice firm. "Heavy lifting, night safety, technical setup…"
Among the girls, whispers began.
"How about Hirata?" one suggested. "He's calm and reliable."
Others nodded.
But Horikita's eyes flicked past them.
"No. I want Ayanokōji."
The moment that name left her lips, heads turned.
And just a few steps away, Haruto's gaze slowly turned toward them, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
CRACK!
With no warning, Haruto gave Ayanokōji a swift kick on the shin — light, but pointed. Ayanokōji winced subtly.
"What the hell was that for?" he asked in a low voice.
Haruto clicked his tongue, gave him a mischievous smirk, and muttered, "My future wifey told me to stay away from cases like this."
Before Ayanokōji could even respond, Haruto turned around, casually brushed his coat, and vanished into the forest like fog dispersing in wind.
Ayanokōji stood there, sighing. "That guy…"
Horikita blinked, slightly annoyed. "What was that?"
"He said he had something to do," Ayanokōji replied blandly.
****
Waves lazily lapped at the sand as gulls cried above.
Haruto sat calmly on a rock by the beach, legs crossed. The jungle behind him whispered secrets with every breeze.
He pulled out a compact pair of binoculars from his side pouch and raised them.
Through the lens: Koenji — shirtless, sparkling, hair glistening like he belonged in a shampoo commercial. He posed on a rock, laughing, drinking fresh juice from a coconut held by someone else, who looked utterly defeated.
Haruto sighed, lowering the binoculars.
"…I should've joined his group," he muttered. "Get eliminated, eat like a king, flex under the sun…"
He glanced back toward the forest, where the rest of the students were probably arguing over canned beans and instant noodles.
Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black device — screenless, featureless. But the moment he touched the side—
[Device Detected]
[Connection Established]
[Admin Access Granted]
The screen shimmered into life. A detailed map appeared, showing the entire island and surrounding ocean. Colored dots blinked — each representing a student.
Haruto's eyes narrowed. His voice dropped into a dry whisper.
"…Everyone's just a chess piece on someone else's board."
He looked back toward the island, the endless jungle and arguing voices.
"…And I'm the idiot stuck here while they're sipping coconut water on a boat."
He clicked the device shut.
Meanwhile – On the Boat
A peaceful hum turned into flickering lights.
Then—
RED ALERT
Sirens wailed. Warning lights spun.
Crew members rushed toward the helm.
Teachers dropped their drinks. One stumbled and shouted, "What's going on?!"
Chinasana, sharp-eyed and poised, marched into the control room.
"What happened?"
One of the engineers was pale. "We're losing control of the engines! One by one — they're shutting down! If this continues…"
"…we'll sink," someone whispered.
Chinasana's expression froze.
"Turn us toward the island. Emergency docking. Now."
Back at a Cabin
In her private tent on the boat, Arisu Sakayanagi was lazily moving her chess pieces across a custom board, smiling.
Then—
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Each of her pristine, white pieces suddenly began falling over. The board trembled.
She blinked, completely calm.
"…I should've bought magnetic ones," she sighed, gently setting the king upright as if nothing had happened.
*****
Buzzing with tension and murmurs, Class D stood in an awkward semicircle. The earlier skirmish between boys and girls still lingered like smoke after a fire—subtle, sharp, and waiting to reignite.
Suddenly—
"I heard the ship's here… docked."
"Did something happen?"
"Maybe the test is over?"
The rumor spread like wildfire.
Arguments halted. Accusations dropped. Curiosity united them faster than any teamwork exercise ever had. In seconds, everyone was rushing through the trees toward the shore, abandoning their differences like forgotten wrappers.
And amid the fading voices, the shadows shifted.
Haruto stood on a branch just above them, arms folded, face expressionless.
"Hmm. Mood manipulation complete," he muttered. "Ayanokoji must be smiling somewhere."
He dropped down silently and followed them.
---
Scene – Beach Shore
All classes had gathered. A collective gasp swept through the students.
Descending from the once-majestic ship were the teachers and staff… looking like survivors of a shipwreck.
Hair frizzed. Suits soaked. One had his glasses taped with leaves. Their usual authoritative aura was gone, replaced by exhaustion and confusion.
The Head Teacher stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"We regret to inform you that the Special Test is being suspended due to unforeseen technical issues aboard the ship."
The crowd burst into chatter.
"Suspended?"
"We were almost done!"
"This isn't fair!"
That's when Haruto stepped forward, dusting his hands, voice as calm as a sniper in a cathedral.
"Stopping a test midway?" he echoed. "That's… unprofessional."
All heads turned.
He looked at the staff, then at the other students. "We believed we were going to win. You're robbing us of that satisfaction."
Someone from Class C scoffed. "What's your problem?"
Haruto smiled faintly. "My problem is that reality isn't fair. But when it pretends to be, that's when it gets annoying."
Silence.
Even the teachers didn't respond. Just awkward glances and clipped murmurs among them.
Haruto stepped back, letting the weight of his words linger.
Only Ayanokoji, standing in the back, tilted his head slightly with a rare smile. "…Interesting."
The air grew thick with murmurs. The students were clearly unsatisfied. Whispers turned into loud complaints. Some accused sabotage, others demanded explanation. The teachers, worn out and disheveled, exchanged glances.
Finally, Chabashira-sensei stepped forward beside the Head Teacher, her usual stern gaze now tinged with fatigue.
"Silence," she commanded.
The crowd quieted, albeit reluctantly.
"The test," she said, "will not be cancelled."
Gasps.
"It will be resumed as soon as the ship's systems are recovered. For now, all students are to return to the ship. You may rest, eat, and enjoy the amenities available."
"But—!" someone tried to interrupt.
She cut them off sharply. "However… every hour spent on the ship will be counted as part of your test time. Every action, every decision, every movement—will be observed."
The tension returned.
"Do not forget," she added, narrowing her eyes, "this is a school built on competition, not comfort."
Haruto, standing off to the side, gave a slow clap. "Now that… is more like it."
A few students turned to him. He just gave a faint smirk, stepping away from the group and walking toward the ship like he owned the place.
Beside the crowd, Ayanokoji whispered under his breath, "He's forcing their hand again."
Horikita looked at him. "What do you mean?"
He didn't respond—only watched Haruto disappear into the boarding line.
******
The luxurious lounge bustled with energy. Students from all classes sprawled on plush sofas, amazed by the sudden shift from wilderness to comfort. Class D entered together, still mentally torn between the test and the unexpected reprieve.
Among them, Haruto moved with elegance, his steps smooth and eyes scanning every corner like a predator in a garden. He suddenly stopped near a waiter carrying a silver tray.
Without hesitation, Haruto picked up a tall glass of a vibrant purple drink with crushed ice—Koenji's custom-ordered cocktail.
He sipped it calmly.
From behind, a dramatic gasp followed. Koenji, in a half-buttoned floral shirt and sunglasses, stood shocked, his towel-draped shoulders trembling in outrage.
"You dare touch the nectar of a superior being?" Koenji exclaimed, striking a ridiculous pose.
Class D's students turned at once.
"Wait—Koenji? You were living it up here this whole time?" Ike accused.
"You were getting deliveries and drinks while we were out there starving and eating canned beans?" added Sudo, clenching his fists.
The outrage built up quickly.
"You betrayed the class!"
"You selfish bastard!"
Koenji merely laughed, flipping his hair. "I simply pursued freedom while you all shackled yourselves to the chains of discipline. How boring."
But then… Haruto placed the now half-empty glass back on the tray and looked directly at Koenji.
"Stop pretending," he said coldly. "You were planted here. If you want to enjoy the world's luxuries while we suffer, at least don't act like a clown."
He turned to the rest of Class D. "Don't waste your energy barking. Learn from him. He saw opportunity, and he took it. I respect that more than a herd complaining."
A moment of silence.
Even Koenji seemed briefly stunned.
Haruto started walking away, then glanced back, smirking, "Although… I'll admit. His drink's too sweet."
*****
Moonlight bathed the sand in silver. Laughter echoed from the deck of the ship behind, where students partied, laughed, and tried to forget the earlier chaos. But two shadows stood apart beneath a lone palm tree at the edge of the beach—Haruto leaning casually, arms crossed, and Ayanokoji with hands in pockets, eyes scanning the waves.
Haruto broke the silence.
"Quite the distraction, huh?"
Ayanokoji gave a slow nod.
"Bigger than I expected. Comfortable too... but far too visible."
He exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching as if annoyed by how predictable everything felt.
Haruto smirked.
"Yeah... nothing hides in pleasure. Everyone's guard is down. Perfect time for entertainment."
Suddenly, a commotion. Ibuki was being shoved by a smug, towering boy from Class C, voices rising nearby. She resisted, but the imbalance of strength was obvious.
Haruto tilted his head, watching with sharp eyes.
"She's something else, huh, Ayanokoji? Feisty even when surrounded."
Ayanokoji barely moved.
"She is. But also impulsive. Driven by pride... and easily manipulated by her own desires."
Just then, some Class D girls rushed over to help Ibuki, shouting at the Class C leader. A brief scuffle broke out before teachers began walking over from the ship.
The two under the tree remained motionless.
"Told you," Ayanokoji added, "She only needed a spark."
Haruto's gaze wandered up toward the stars.
"Tomorrow... the ship will be fixed."
Ayanokoji's eyes flicked to Horikita, who stood in the distance with her arms crossed, clearly displeased.
"Perfect. But we need to change the leadership. She's... too rigid."
Haruto didn't respond immediately. Instead, he pulled out a small weathered book from his pocket—the cover dark, with pages bookmarked and corners worn.
"You know, with this book... everything changes," he said quietly.
Ayanokoji glanced at the book, then followed Haruto's gaze toward the sky. Silence fell between them.
Stars sparkled above the ocean like scattered data on a dark interface—both beautiful and full of code waiting to be decrypted.
****
The night wind howled eerily as Class D stepped back onto their forest clearing, laughter and fatigue still in their bones from the cruise-like distraction.
But the warmth of their short-lived joy was instantly replaced by a burning glow—flames licking up the sides of their tents, casting wild shadows on the trees.
Sudo, shirt half-unbuttoned, was the first to shout.
"What the hell?! Our tents are on fire!"
Horikita rushed forward, grabbing a fallen branch to swat at the flames, while others tried to throw dirt and water in panic. But the fire had already eaten too much.
It was hopeless.
From under a tree, Haruto stood with hands in pockets, his sharp eyes glowing orange from the flickering firelight. He turned to Ayanokoji, who was silently watching it all unfold like a stage play.
"So this was your idea?" Haruto's voice was calm, but cold.
"Not comfy at all. I gave you such a comfortable distraction… and this is how you repay it?"
Ayanokoji didn't reply—his gaze slipped away, expression unreadable.
"Avoiding my gaze, huh," Haruto muttered, lips curving in disappointment.
Then chaos began brewing among the boys.
"It's gotta be Ibuki!"
"Yeah! She's not even here!"
"That thief! First the underwear stunt, now this?!"
Horikita, hearing the name, didn't hesitate.
She turned and ran into the woods, following the trail she believed was Ibuki's.
But Haruto didn't move. He simply flicked his eyes back at Ayanokoji and held the stare longer this time.
No words. Just a look.
That look said: I already gave her a chance to confess. She's our current leader. Why are you still orchestrating this drama?
Ayanokoji slowly turned his head to meet the gaze this time. Calm. Calculated.
"Because someone... still needs to learn something."
His eyes shifted briefly toward the dark forest where Horikita had disappeared.
The fire behind them crackled louder, but between the two boys, silence spoke volumes.