The parameter.
A word no one says out loud, yet everyone feels its weight.
After the trial and the meeting with Yuna, I started to notice how the atmosphere shifted.
Class 2-D was no longer just a gathering of students. It had become an arena.
"I heard Reiji dropped in ranking," someone murmured behind me.
"Why did Aoi rise? She barely did anything."
"Not 'did'. She 'acted'. That's what matters."
These conversations became part of the daily routine.
People tried to whisper, but I heard everything.
During the break, I stayed in class.
Aoi sat at the front, as if she were waiting for something.
"You met with the ones who 'know'?" she asked without turning around.
"I did," I answered. "Did you know they'd call me?"
"I suspected," she said. "They always look for those who aren't afraid to dig."
"Then why aren't you with them?"
"Because I choose when and with whom to act."
We both went quiet.
Sometimes silence speaks more than words.
After class, I noticed Tokizawa talking to the supervisor. Again.
This time — longer than usual.
I couldn't hear their words, but I could read their faces.
The supervisor didn't argue. He listened. Then nodded.
That same evening, a new notification appeared in our system:
> "In three days — individual behavioral evaluation. Be mindful."
Behavioral evaluation.
Not knowledge. Not tests. But actions. Reactions. Silence. Words.
I wrote in my notebook:
— Parameter = not results, but behavior.
— Someone is adjusting the rules in real time.
— Aoi knows more.
— Yuna is the key to the inner system.
— Tokizawa is playing his own game.
And at the bottom:
"Don't fully trust anyone. Not even yourself."
Someone is pulling the strings.
And the closer I get — the more I realize: not all threads are visible.
But I'll learn to see them.