We arrived at Zone F closer to evening.
The complex was an old building, long out of use. Stone walls, echoing hallways, abandoned classrooms.
The atmosphere felt like a bad dream.
Each class was assigned their own "sector."
Ours — the east corridor, third floor.
The rooms had no locks, but there was video surveillance. Shared restrooms. Windows sealed with tape. No outside communication.
— They want us to feel the pressure, — someone muttered.
But no one responded.
At the very first briefing, Aoi raised a question:
— What if one of us already has a role?
— If the goal of this trial is to find the "information bearer," they might be in our team — and not even know it yet.
Someone chuckled:
— Or maybe it's simpler than that? Maybe the bearer is in another class, and we just have to find them?
I remained silent.
It was still too early to draw conclusions.
But inside, a plan was already forming.
Or more precisely — a scheme.
Black and white. Cold.
That evening, the "joint meetings" began.
Three students from each class.
The first attempts at building contact.
Complex glances. Fake smiles.
I chose the role of an observer.
Among the 2-A delegates, there was one figure I remembered immediately — Yuki Kaseda.
A calm, almost lazy gaze. But his movements were too precise.
He listened more than he spoke.
I marked him. No labels. Just — observe.
At night, someone left a note at my door.
> "If you don't want to be a pawn — don't trust her."
No name. No explanation.
But I knew who it was meant for.
Me.
In the morning, someone from Class 2-C started shouting that their assignment note had gone missing.
Panic. Noise. Suspicions.
The supervisor just watched.
Without interfering.
— This is part of the game too, — Aoi whispered. — They're watching how we react.
Who breaks. Who accuses. Who stays silent.
I met her eyes.
It had already begun.