"Even a dead fish can scare those who look too deep."
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Without having slept enough, Akira woke up from a short nap with heavy eyes and a mind wrapped in a dense fog of drowsiness.
Even though his body showed no signs of exhaustion, Akira's mental fatigue was overwhelming. Maybe it was the weight of leaving the White Room, or perhaps the pressure of dealing with a new environment, new faces, new worries... and above all, an unfamiliar freedom.
Honestly, he had no idea what to do. Having been a caged bird all his life, he'd never had the chance to make decisions for himself. But now? Now there were so many options in front of him, he didn't even know where to begin.
Washing his face and staring into the mirror, he observed his reflection closely. His eyes didn't carry ambition—just a tired and piercing gaze.
Sure, he had goals — freedom, the desire to win, to take control of that institution.
But… was that really a genuine desire, something that came from the depths of his soul? Freedom shouldn't even be considered a goal. It's something most people already have, something guaranteed. But for Akira? For him, freedom was a milestone, a conquest. That wasn't ambition — it was necessity.
His will to win? Well… it was a mindset he had been forced to adopt to survive in that place. Not to mention, he was shaped for it — to win, no matter the cost.
Besides, everyone wants to win — no one likes to lose, right? So no, it may be a goal, but it's hardly a true desire, something that comes from deep within.
Taking control of the institution? Maybe, but even that is a distorted desire born from his resentment toward anything that threatens his fragile freedom — something he never truly had.
But… what about something that's just mine? Something not driven by necessity, like freedom — which shouldn't even be a goal but a basic right — or something mundane like winning, something we all want just because we hate to lose.
Not even that warped desire to control an institution as a reflection of the place I was molded in... None of that feels like it came from me.
Damn… Even the reason he became all of this was to surpass that one student.
Every time Akira thought about it, a wave of rage and resentment burned inside him, his fingers almost sinking into the edges of the bathroom sink.
"So I wonder — is there anything that's truly mine? Something that wasn't programmed, forced, or born from a scar?"
Letting out a tired sigh, he dried his face with a towel. He knew that clinging to those thoughts wouldn't take him anywhere.
As he left the bathroom, Akira remembered he lacked even the basics for daily life. His small dorm room had nothing a young man would need to survive, even minimally.
He left the room, mentally listing what he needed to eat or meet other needs, and almost without noticing, he walked to the elevator and went down.
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After walking for a few minutes, he finally found a convenience store — the same one he had noticed on his way back from the classroom.
Hurrying in with his shopping list in mind, he entered the store... only to come face-to-face with Ayanokōji Kiyotaka and Horikita Suzune, who seemed to be talking about something rather… trivial.
The two of them turned to look at him as soon as they noticed his presence.
"Yo."
Ayanokōji was the first to speak. Recognizing Akira, he tried to start a conversation — his tone was monotone, almost robotic. His demeanor felt like that of a machine — his speech sounded forced, maybe even a little sad.
Horikita turned her head in his direction, eyes filled with mockery and disdain. But who could blame him? Clearly, he wasn't good at dealing with people either.
"Good afternoon. You came to get your necessities too?... Never mind, dumb question."
Trying to be polite — it would've been rude to leave the other hanging — Akira stumbled a bit, struggling to keep the conversation alive.
Horikita's eyes flicked between him and Ayanokōji, filled with mockery… and something more subtle. Curiosity?
"You might not look alike physically, but you're equally pathetic. Are you two brothers or something? Maybe incompetence runs in your DNA?"
"Uh—"
"No, we've never seen each other before coming to this school. It's definitely just a coincidence."
"Really? You don't have to feel embarrassed if one of you's an illegitimate child," Horikita said with that sharp look, as if she was just enjoying herself at their expense.
"Or maybe two people can just suck socially? Bet we're not the only ones in the class — or even in the entire school," Akira shot back, arms crossed, keeping his composure.
While Ayanokōji stood there like an idiot, not knowing how to respond to Horikita's twisted logic, Akira realized he had no choice but to clear up the misunderstanding himself.
"If you say so…" she replied, narrowing her eyes. "But you two share a lot of traits. You really gonna say it's just a coincidence?"
"Urgh..."
This time, Akira was the one standing there like an idiot, unable to come up with a decent argument.
As much as he wanted to deny it, there was a grain of truth in what Horikita was saying. And the worst part… he had no way to prove otherwise.
His eyes, his struggle with social interaction, the near-absence of facial expressions, the restrained way he acted… it all aligned too much with the guy next to him.
'I can't just blurt out that we both grew up in the White Room, right? That's not exactly casual conversation material… and even if I said it, she probably wouldn't believe me anyway.'
That's right.
Akira had already figured out that Ayanokōji came from the same place he did. Honestly, it hadn't been hard to connect the dots.
Given the surname, the resemblance to that person, and the trademark behavior of someone from that place.
Even though he had never seen Ayanokōji Kiyotaka in person before, Akira clearly remembered hearing the instructors mention that Mr. Ayanokōji had put his own son in the White Room as a test subject.
Still, he couldn't say for sure whether Ayanokōji Kiyotaka was the so-called "Masterpiece" — the one he had heard about countless times during training, the one he had been constantly compared to until his ears bled.
The instructors never revealed the name, nor the appearance, of that supposedly perfect human.
They only made one thing clear: Akira's sole purpose in that hell was to surpass him, no matter what it took.
"Horikita, he's right. It's just coincidence..."
"Hmph, so you can speak. I thought you'd keep playing mute. Still, I stand by what I said. Even if you're not brothers, there's something weird about you two... There's no way it's just coincidence — not with that many similarities."
"That's just speculation. No matter how you look at it, we've never met before. All we have in common is our behavior. Sometimes, coincidences can be scary."
"You've got a point — it is just speculation. But in the end, not my problem."
Sensing the tension, Akira stepped forward to grab the items he needed and dropped them into the basket he'd picked up while Horikita and Ayanokōji were arguing.
"You two seem to get along great. What were you talking about before I got here?"
He asked casually, lacing it with a touch of sarcasm to change the subject.
In response, Horikita gave him a look sharp enough to cut steel, while Ayanokōji gave him a confused — almost uncomfortable — stare.
"Hmph, asking something that doesn't concern you? Is that a pathetic attempt to make conversation or just a desperate topic change? Either way, pathetic."
"Uh…"
"Urgh, what kind of upbringing creates a personality like that?"
Even though it was Akira who said it out loud, the same question passed through Ayanokōji's mind.
Both Akira and Ayanokōji took a slight step back, caught off guard by the girl's sharp tongue. Neither of them could figure out where all that hostility and contempt came from…
Was she really one of those teen girls who thinks acting like the Ice Queen will make her look cool and attract a legion of fanboys like in an anime…?
No… that couldn't be… right?
Huh?
"What's that?"
Akira, noticing something from the corner of his eye, walked over to a corner of the store. It was a basket with a sign that read: "Free."
The other two followed his gaze.
"Maybe it's for people who've already blown through all their points?" Ayanokōji muttered.
"With 100,000 points? What a generous school…" Horikita frowned.
"Are you mocking me!?"
Before anyone could say more, a noise outside grabbed the trio's attention. A commotion was unfolding right outside the store.
It looked like a fight between four students. One of them — a guy with a delinquent vibe — was shouting at the other three, who were probably upperclassmen, clearly hostile.
"You're from Class 1-D, right?" one of them sneered.
"Huh? So what if I am?" the delinquent barked back, raising his arms like he was ready to throw down.
"Is that how you act toward your seniors?"
"Shut up! You wanna fight or what?!"
The third upperclassman — obviously the leader — crossed his arms and smirked, clearly entertained.
From inside the store, Akira and Ayanokōji watched the scene unfold.
"Look who it is — the Professional Chair-Kicker," Akira said dryly.
"Huh? Oh yeah, he's in our class, right?" Ayanokōji replied, ignoring the joke.
Horikita, completely unfazed, was already at the checkout, hurriedly finishing her purchase.
"A bunch of uncivilized idiots. How did this school even let in people like that…"
Ignoring her comment, Akira stepped outside to watch more closely. Ayanokōji, curious, followed him.
"Hmph, we'll let this one slide today," said the leader, satisfied with the drama.
"You losers aren't even worth our time. If we lowered ourselves to your level, that would be pathetic..." one of them sneered before walking away laughing with his crew.
"Bastards! Where do you think you're going!?"
Unfortunately, no matter how much the delinquent screamed and cursed, the upperclassmen vanished from sight like they never even acknowledged his existence.
Frustrated at being ignored and humiliated, the guy turned around and kicked the first thing he saw — a trash can — sending garbage flying across the ground.
"Dammit!! Those bastards, running their mouths and then running away… I'll get 'em next time!"
Spitting on the ground, he walked off in the opposite direction, mumbling curses and leaving the mess behind.
Ayanokōji, watching the drama unfold, let out a helpless sigh and went over to pick up the trash and stand the can upright again.
Akira didn't even flinch. After watching the whole mess, he went back inside, grabbed his basket, and headed to the checkout.
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The month passed by without much trouble — with Horikita and Ayanokōji continuing their "friendly" conversations, which, in practice, were nothing more than dry and rude remarks from Horikita directed at the pathetic guy who sat behind Akira.
The routine followed its course: classes, studying, hanging out with friends…
Well, except for Class D.
At first, they tried to pay attention. Now? Most of them just chatted, played games, read manga… and didn't even bother hiding it anymore. Unlike the beginning, when they at least pretended to care about studying.
This shift happened once they realized the teacher didn't give a damn. She simply ignored everything, letting the students do whatever they wanted — even leaving the classroom without permission and skipping classes right in front of her.
Such a generous school…
Drrriiing!
The shrill sound of the bell echoed through the halls, marking the start of class.
Chabashira-sensei entered the noisy classroom, but her presence didn't change a thing. No one gave a damn.
"Take your seats. Morning class is starting."
The students instinctively returned to their seats, sensing something… off about the teacher's mood.
"Hey, Sensei… the points didn't drop into our accounts. Aren't we supposed to get paid on the first of the month?"
Some clueless idiot — clearly oblivious to the tension — blurted the question out loud, catching everyone's attention. Truth be told, a lot of them wanted to ask the same thing. They just didn't have the guts.
Especially after seeing the look on her face.
"No… the points were definitely distributed."
"Huh? But—"
"The points were distributed, I assure you. I'm sure you didn't forget about the class points, right?"
The students glanced around at each other, more confused by the second, silently asking the same thing:
Did anyone actually get anything?
"No one got anything!"
"Yeah! Me neither!"
The room burst into murmurs and panic.
Chabashira-sensei smiled. A cold, cruel smile — like she was in on a private joke at their expense.
"How pathetic…"
"Huh?"
It was the first time anyone had heard her speak like that. Normally, she only said what was necessary to get through the lesson.
"A total of 98 late arrivals and absences. Phone usage. Side conversations. 400 violations in just one month."
She raised her voice, listing the class's screwups. The students froze, embarrassment washing over them.
"At this school, your academic performance and behavior directly affect your monthly points. Based on my evaluation, the 100,000 points you were supposed to receive this month have been revoked. In short: the amount you received… is zero."
"EH!?"
"You mean we're broke this month!?"
"W-What the hell!? No one told us this...!"
Chaos erupted. Panic, whining, cursing — especially from the ones who had blown through their points on junk the second they got them.
"You really thought high school kids like you would just get 100,000 points every month for doing absolutely nothing? Ridiculous. Try using some common sense. And if you had questions, maybe you should've asked."
With the tension reaching critical mass and faces turning pale, Chabashira-sensei went on — clearly enjoying the collective despair.
"I told you on the very first day, didn't I? This school evaluates its students based on merit."
"In other words, you're worthless. Trash."
She paused for effect, savoring the weight of her words.
"Allow me to say it one last time… Welcome to the Class of the Elite."