—

  —

  Revenge.

  They say it’s a dish best served cold. The slow burn, the delayed strike, the quiet satisfaction as time erodes memory. The target, having long moved on, never sees it coming. That’s the beauty of it.

  But not everyone has the patience for the long game. Some prefer to strike while the iron is hot. Instant justice.

  Two paths, opposite in nature, yet both effective.

  And sometimes, there exists a perfect middle ground: swift retaliation masked with subtlety. An act so sudden they don’t realise it was revenge at all until the damage is done and the realisation dawns far too late.

  Of course, many would argue that forgiveness is the nobler path. That if the harm wasn’t intentional, we should let it go.

  And sure… that’s possible. People can forgive. People should forgive.

  But really…

  Where’s the fun in that?

  —

  —

  I stood at the front of the classroom, hands clasped behind my back, and beside me was Hazel. With Nomura-sensei’s permission, we’d gathered the class to host an important discussion.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Alright, everyone. So… what are we doing for the cultural festival?”

  Hazel stepped forward. “We’ve got just over a month to prepare. Let’s start now while we still have time.”

  Before anyone could respond, Diya shot her fist into the air. “YEAH!” she cheered, drawing chuckles.

  “Any ideas? Let’s hear them,” I prompted.

  A murmur spread until Kaiya raised her hand. “Hmmm, let’s see… how about a food stall?”

  “Food stall, huh?” I echoed.

  “It's simple and effective,” she added with a shrug.

  “But overdone,” Yoko countered from her seat by the window, twirling a pen. “Pretty sure most of the other classes will be doing the same thing.”

  Hazel wrote it down on the board anyway.

  Then Aryan leaned forward, arms resting on his desk. “What if we do a game parlour? We could rent consoles and set up different gaming zones with the latest hits and retro classics.”

  Jazlene raised her hand. “How about… a genderbent maid café?” she suggested, her lips twitching with a smirk she tried badly to suppress.

  “Uh… why genderbent?” Yoshiro asked.

  “Well, uh… It’s unique?” she tried, her voice faltering.

  “Not really. They’re pretty common now,” Aryan replied.

  Jazlene’s gaze dropped, unused to so many eyes on her.

  “I see the dream and vision!” Diya declared suddenly, eyes gleaming.

  A pause lingered in the air.

  “…What are you saying?” Ran asked flatly, one brow raised.

  “Well,” Diya said, “we could do a genderbent maid café… but without the café part.”

  “I think I get what you mean.” Hazel tapped her chin, taking a step toward the board. “So, any more ideas?”

  “Haunted house… with a maid theme?” Jaden offered.

  “Hmmm,” Diya hummed, finger on her lips.

  “How about mystery food?” Aria suggested quietly, almost too softly to be heard.

  I turned toward her. “Care to explain that one a bit more?”

  “It’s like a restaurant where the menu is vague, so customers don’t know what they’re getting until it arrives.”

  Diya snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! We blend everything! A genderbent maid-themed… mystery restaurant!”

  The class fell silent.

  “…So,” Stella finally said, “are we just ignoring how insane this sounds?”

  “I’m still stuck on the genderbent part,” Yoshiro muttered. “Why are we doing that again?”

  “Because dudes in maid outfits are hot,” Diya grinned.

  Yoshiro stared with his mouth open slightly. “…What?”

  “You just don’t get it,” Diya said, waving him off and turning to Jazlene, giving her a wink. “You need to be cultured, like Jazlene and me.”

  Jazlene’s eyes widened as her face turned crimson, though she smiled shyly.

  Diya spread her arms. “So… what do you all say?”

  Murmurs rippled through the room.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Matsumoto said.

  “It’s definitely different,” Jaden added.

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  “I say we go for it!” Aryan declared, fist to palm.

  Aria giggled softly, exchanging a glance with Jazlene and Diya. The Cultured Ones, apparently.

  “Wait,” Kai raised her hand. “What about the budget?”

  I nodded. “We’ll make a budget sheet and adjust from there.”

  “Come on, everyone,” Takara said brightly. “It’s creative, right? Way better than another food stall or haunted house.”

  “Alright then, let’s take a class vote,” I said. “All in favour of the genderbent maid-themed mystery restaurant, raise your hand!”

  Hands went up. Only five stayed down. The five in question were Stella, Yoshiro, Kaiya, Cale, and Kimi.

  Hazel turned to them. “Any other ideas?”

  A short back and forth followed, but the resistance faded. The consensus was clear: the class would go forward with the genderbent maid-themed mystery restaurant.

  And behind it all, Diya. Her social finesse had reshaped resistance and manipulated the entire class towards this outcome.

  Watching her work the room like that, I had to admit…

  It was honestly kind of impressive.

  —

  —

  A short while before Hazel and I were set to meet the class about the cultural festival, I stood at the end of the hallway with Diya beside me. She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Moments later, Robin appeared, stopping a few feet away.

  “Good, you came. And I see you’ve brought someone else this time,” his gaze settled on Diya.

  “Hazel had other things to take care of,” I replied. “So I came with Diya instead. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

  “No issues. I just came to announce what our contest will be,” he said. “Whichever class earns more with their stall on festival day wins.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Surprised, aren’t you?” Robin sighed, folding his arms. “I really wanted to use the ranking system. But since it doesn’t apply to seniors, there’s no way to test it properly.”

  Ah. So that was it. He had dropped the idea. It made sense; if the system didn’t apply to the seniors, there was no real way to compete with it. But he had looked more enthusiastic about this challenge earlier. Part of me considered proposing an additional twist to make things more engaging…

  …but no. This was Hazel’s domain. She was the one managing him and the competition; complicating things now would only give her a headache.

  “Then it’s settled,” I said, stepping forward and extending my hand. “May the most profitable stall win.”

  Robin shook it firmly before turning around and walking off.

  Once he was gone, Diya exhaled. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

  I leaned against the wall with her. “Yeah… but it makes things easier on Hazel.”

  “There is one issue, though,” she said calmly. “The class.”

  “The class? How so?”

  “You’re new, so you wouldn’t know this,” she explained. “But our class always goes for something… tame during the cultural festival. It isn't necessarily bad, but it has become a habit.”

  “And what’s the usual?”

  “International cuisine. We’ve done it several times. It performs decently but since we’re up against Robin, we’ll have to be more adventurous this time.”

  My original plan was simple: bring up the competition, toss around ideas, and take a vote. Straightforward enough. But the way Diya spoke, I could tell there was more to it.

  “It won’t be that simple, will it?” I asked.

  “If we tell the class about the competition right away, it could stir up tension. People might argue, push for familiar ideas, or clash over what’s best. We’d waste time just trying to settle on a direction.”

  She had a point. Diya understood the class dynamics better than I did, and if she was warning me, it was worth listening.

  “So… got a plan?”

  A playful smile spread across her face as she gave me a wink. “Leave it to the social butterfly to smooth things over.”

  Looked like this part of the game was hers to play, and I’d just have to sit back and watch her work.

  —

  —

  I waited about an hour after the class decided on our cultural festival venture, just as Diya advised. Enough time for the tension to cool. When the atmosphere felt calm, Hazel and I made our way to the front for the second time.

  “We’ve got some news,” I began. “We’ve received a challenge from Robin of Year 12 Class 2.”

  Murmurs rippled through the room.

  “Robin?” Ran said sharply, her voice heavy with disdain.

  Hazel spoke next. “He wants to compete before graduation.”

  “That makes sense,” Jaden said as Ran groaned.

  Yoshiro raised a brow. “Are we sure this isn’t just about Marcus?”

  Hazel answered before I could. “Most likely. But regardless, the challenge is to all of us. And we’ve accepted.”

  Another round of murmurs followed.

  “Which means,” Diya cut in, “we just have to make our genderbent maid-themed mystery restaurant amazing.”

  “We really need a shorter name,” Yoko muttered.

  “I know,” Stella mumbled under her breath.

  “We’ll figure that out later,” I said. “For now, what matters is that the school is giving every class a budget of 100,000 points.”

  The budget translated to roughly $1,300 in real-world value, which was enough for costumes, decorations, and supplies. Hazel had mentioned it was consistent with previous years. Still, I couldn’t help but find it a little surprising. With the new ranking system and digital currency overhaul, I expected budgets to be tighter. But apparently, the school hadn’t changed everything. Yet.

  “Let’s start delegating roles,” I said.

  Hazel nodded and looked around the classroom. “Kai and Kazuki, can we count on you both for costumes?”

  The two exchanged a glance.

  “We’ll talk with the Fashion Design Club and get back to you tomorrow,” Kai said, adjusting her glasses.

  “Great.” Hazel smiled. “Takara, would you handle shopping? You can pick three others to help. I’ll put together a detailed list.”

  Takara’s eyes lit up. “Alright.”

  Hazel turned next. “Cale, could you take charge of the menu?”

  “Of course.”

  Before she could continue, the classroom door opened.

  Nomura-sensei entered, her expression unreadable, but from her body language, I could tell that it was something serious. “Everyone, please settle down.”

  The room quietened immediately. Hazel and I exchanged a glance and returned to our seats as she stepped to the podium.

  “Hello everyone. I’m sure you’ve all checked your individual rankings across the seven intelligences,” she began.

  I had.

  It was strange, seeing myself broken down into numbers. I never thought the school could measure something like that, but somehow, they had.

  Then there were Class Points.

  They were awarded based on two factors: the average rank score of your class and performance in special exams. Each year level only had 1,000 points to divide. If one class took 600, the rest had to fight over the remaining 400.

  These points determined how much digital currency your class received. In other words, academic strength and group performance translated into literal wealth. If your class ranked low, even a perfect personal score wouldn’t earn as much as it could have.

  “Starting next month, Class Point totals will be published publicly,” she said. “You’ll be able to see exactly how your class is performing compared to the others. With it being updated every month.”

  As for individual rank scores, though, they were still private. You knew your own score, sure, but unless someone told you theirs, there was no way of knowing where anyone else stood.

  “I want to inform you that individual rank scores will also be made public,” she announced. “This will go into effect Saturday night.”

  I already knew. The school had told me ahead of time. The fact that they’d chosen me to know in advance… that meant something. Which could only mean what came next—

  “Apart from that, I have another important announcement,” Nomura-sensei added, and I leaned forward instinctively. “The school’s first special exam will commence soon.”

  Conversations erupted across the room like a sudden storm.

  Was I surprised? Probably.

  Should I have been? Not really.

  I knew the school was preparing a special exam, but I hadn’t expected it to arrive like this—sudden and with almost no warning.

  “This exam will involve all members of the cultural festival committee,” Nomura-sensei continued, “along with twenty-four additional students selected at random from across the school.”

  “Wait—random?” Yoshiro said.

  “Seriously?” someone muttered in the back.

  “You will be accompanied by the student council president and selected faculty. You’ll be taken to a designated test location, where you will remain for approximately one week.”

  Huh?

  A week? Off-campus?

  That was not what I expected.

  My heart picked up a beat. It wasn’t anxiety. It was adrenaline.

  The question looped in my mind like a loaded phrase.

  And as it did, I couldn’t help the smirk that began to form at the corner of my lips.