The morning light filtered through my curtains at precisely 6:30 AM, but I had been awake for nearly an hour already. Sleep had eluded me, my mind too preoccupied with the possibilities that lay ahead. I sat at my desk, a steaming cup of coffee beside me as I reviewed my notes from the previous night.
My phone chimed exactly at 8:00 AM.
GAME OF TRUE FACES: TASK #1 Create a situation that forces another player to reveal their true nature. Document results with evidence. Points awarded based on complexity, subtlety, and maintenance of your own facade. Deadline: 48 hours.
I smiled into my coffee cup. How delightfully straightforward.
"Onii-chan! Breakfast is ready!" Yumi's voice called from downstairs.
"Coming!" I responded, slipping my phone into my pocket and arranging my expression into the gentle smile reserved for my sister.
Downstairs, Yumi had prepared a simple breakfast—toast, eggs, and miso soup. Despite being only twelve, she had become quite capable in our parents' frequent absences.
"You didn't have to do this," I said, ruffling her hair affectionately.
She beamed under the praise. "I wanted to! You're always taking care of everything."
If only she knew what "everything" really entailed.
The walk to school provided the perfect opportunity to strategize. Cherry blossoms drifted lazily through the air, but my mind was far from appreciating their ephemeral beauty.
Player #1: Haruka Takahashi
The student council president projected an image of ruthless efficiency and moral righteousness. Her facade: the incorruptible leader who lived by the rules. But I'd seen the cracks—how her hands trembled slightly before important presentations, how her voice hardened when her authority was questioned. Her perfectionism wasn't just about excellence; it was armor against her own insecurity.
Player #2: Takeshi Yamamoto
My so-called best friend portrayed himself as the carefree sidekick, the loyal support to my lead role. His facade: the good-natured jokester who didn't care about status. Yet I'd caught the calculating look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching, the way he strategically built connections with influential students. His friendliness masked raw ambition.
Player #3: Mei Tanaka
The quiet observer. Her facade: the shy, awkward bookworm who faded into the background. But her eyes missed nothing, and her rare suggestions often revealed startling insight. I suspected her meekness concealed a sharp, analytical mind that cataloged everyone's weaknesses.
Player #4: Ryota Nakamura
The star athlete and my supposed "rival" in popularity. His facade: effortless excellence and unshakeable confidence. Yet I'd noticed how desperately he checked for reactions after his achievements, the slight tremor in his smile when praise wasn't immediately forthcoming. His confidence was a veneer over deep-seated doubt.
Eight other players remained unidentified. I'd need to watch carefully for anomalies in behavior, for anyone who seemed too aware of the social dynamics at play.
But first, I needed to set my trap.
"Kazuki-kun! Perfect timing!" Haruka intercepted me the moment I stepped through the school gates. Dark circles under her eyes betrayed a sleepless night. "The principal approved our budget proposal for the school festival, but there's a catch."
I tilted my head questioningly, though I already knew what she was about to say. The school festival was two weeks away—the most significant event of the year and a perfect stage for my task.
"They cut the overall budget by fifteen percent," she continued, clutching her clipboard tighter. "We need to decide which clubs get reduced funding. There's an emergency council meeting at lunch."
I furrowed my brow in calculated concern. "That's unfortunate. But I'm sure we'll figure something out together."
The pieces were already falling into place.
Morning classes passed in a blur of meaningless lectures. I divided my attention between taking immaculate notes and observing my classmates' behavior. Ryota kept glancing at his phone under his desk. Mei's gaze lingered on me a fraction too long when I raised my hand to answer a question. Small details, potentially significant.
When the lunch bell rang, I made my way to the student council room, stopping briefly to chat with the captain of the baseball team—a strategic conversation within earshot of Takeshi.
The council room was tense when I arrived. Haruka stood at the whiteboard, different club names listed with their current budget allocations. Takeshi slouched in his chair, seemingly relaxed but with tension visible in his shoulders. Mei sat in the corner, ostensibly focused on her notebook but watching everyone from beneath her lashes.
"Let's get started," Haruka announced as I took my seat. "We need to cut ¥300,000 from somewhere."
I watched silently as initial suggestions were made. The debate grew heated as various council members defended their preferred clubs. Takeshi argued passionately for preserving the sports clubs' budgets—especially baseball, where he was a rising star pitcher. Haruka seemed to favor maintaining academic club funding.
It was time to add fuel to the fire.
"What about an equal percentage cut across all clubs?" I suggested, knowing full well the reaction it would provoke.
"That's not fair to the smaller clubs!" Takeshi protested immediately. "They're already operating on minimal budgets."
Haruka nodded in rare agreement. "The impact wouldn't be proportional."
I leaned forward, adopting a thoughtful expression. "Then perhaps we should consider which clubs contribute most to the school's reputation and prioritize those?"
The room erupted into argument, exactly as I had anticipated. I maintained my role as the voice of reason while subtly guiding the conversation toward my intended outcome.
After twenty minutes of deliberate chaos, I struck.
"What about the art club?" I asked innocently. "Their showcase last year had lower attendance than most other events."
I watched Mei's expression carefully. As a member of the art club, this would directly affect her. Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her pen.
Takeshi seized the opportunity. "Kazuki's right. The art club has one of the largest materials budgets but smaller participation. We could cut their funding by half and solve most of our problem."
I knew Haruka had been a vocal supporter of the arts. I'd heard her passionate speech last semester about creative expression being essential to education. This was the test—would she maintain her principles under pressure?
Haruka hesitated, glancing at her notes. Then, to my carefully concealed delight, she nodded slowly. "That... might be our best option. The art club does have excessive materials expenses."
Fascinating. What changed your mind, Haruka?
Mei remained silent, but her eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'll speak with the art club advisor this afternoon," Haruka concluded, effectively ending the discussion.
As we left the meeting, I placed a sympathetic hand on Mei's shoulder. "I'm sorry about the art club budget. I didn't mean to suggest such a drastic cut."
Her eyes met mine, unnervingly direct. "You never suggest anything by accident, Kazuki-kun."
I allowed a flicker of surprise to cross my face before smiling apologetically. She was sharper than I'd given her credit for.
A worthy opponent.
After classes ended, I lingered in the school, ostensibly helping with festival preparations. In reality, I was tracking Haruka's movements. My patience was rewarded when I spotted her slipping into an empty classroom on the third floor—followed minutes later by Kenta Ishida, captain of the baseball team.
I positioned myself in the adjacent classroom, using my phone to record their conversation through the thin wall.
"No one can know about this," Haruka's voice came through clearly. "The baseball team gets their full budget, plus an extra ¥50,000 from the reserve fund. In exchange, you guarantee me a recommendation to Todai from your father."
Kenta's father was a prominent alumnus and donor to Tokyo University—Haruka's dream school.
"Deal," Kenta replied. "But what about the shortfall?"
"The art club will cover it," Haruka answered coldly. "No one will question it if I present it as a unanimous council decision."
How predictable. Principles sacrificed on the altar of ambition.
I stopped the recording and smiled. Task complete.
That evening, after helping Yumi with her homework, I composed my submission to the Game Master. I included the audio recording, along with a detailed analysis of how I had engineered the entire situation. For good measure, I added my observations of Takeshi's reaction when I had mentioned the baseball team earlier—how his expression had darkened momentarily before he composed himself.
Submission: Task #1 Target Players: Haruka Takahashi and Takeshi Yamamoto Method: Created artificial scarcity (budget cuts) requiring moral compromise, positioned targets in competition while exploiting known loyalties and ambitions. Evidence: Audio recording of Haruka accepting bribe, documentation of Takeshi's attempts to influence outcome through prior arrangement with baseball team captain.
I sent the evidence and waited. Within minutes, my phone chimed with a response:
EVALUATION: TASK #1 +150 points for complex manipulation while maintaining facade +50 bonus points for exposing two players simultaneously Current Standing: #3 of 12 Notes: Excellent use of existing social dynamics. Minimal direct involvement. Perfect maintenance of established persona.
A thrill of satisfaction ran through me. But before I could fully savor my success, another message arrived—this one from a private number:
Impressive start, Player #7. The way you pulled their strings without getting your hands dirty was masterful. Want to collaborate on the next task? Two minds like ours could dominate this game. —Player #2, Arata Kudo
I stared at the name, momentarily surprised. Arata Kudo—the quiet transfer student who had arrived just last month. I had dismissed him as inconsequential, a background character in my carefully orchestrated social world.
A critical mistake.
I leaned back in my chair, a genuine smile spreading across my face. The game had just become significantly more interesting.
Arata-kun, I'm intrigued by your proposal. Perhaps we should discuss this further... tomorrow, on the rooftop during lunch? —Kazuki
As I set my phone down, I glanced at the mirror across my room. For a brief moment, I allowed my true expression to surface—calculating, hungry, alive with the thrill of worthy competition.
Let's see what you're made of, Player #2.