—

  —

  As I flipped through the documents, I compared them with the exam manual on our phones. Despite the different wording, the core information was largely the same. Still, several points struck me as particularly important.

  First, there was a clause about a mandatory team swap where each team would be required to trade at least one member halfway through the exam. It meant no team leader in their right mind would share all their secrets from the start, not with the risk of an internal leak on the horizon.

  Second, it had to do with the purchasable features available through the point system. But each came at a high cost, discouraging teams from using them freely.

  Finally, the cypher:

  Given time, I could solve it. The real question was whether they could. Tomiko, maybe. But the others? Less likely. And in the end, one festival committee member was destined to be expelled, unless someone cracked this and claimed the immunity badge.

  After poring over the last page of the document, I glanced up only to notice Sato-sensei across the table, glass in hand, ice clinking softly.

  “Back to reality, are we?” he said with a faint smile, taking a casual sip.

  “Sato-sensei,” I nodded. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “Not at all,” he said, swirling the liquid in his cup. “Just came for a quick break. You’re too young for this or I’d offer you some.”

  I smirked. “Slacking on the job, then? Not exactly allowed.”

  He chuckled. “Slacking? Hardly. I’m still doing my job.”

  “You’ve got a point there.”

  A thought gnawed at me—a question I wasn’t sure he’d answer, but considering he was drinking openly in front of me, maybe there was room for honesty.

  “How do you feel about the school?” I asked.

  “Hachin Academy…” he repeated slowly. “Do you regret coming here?”

  At first, I thought he was dodging the question. But his eyes told me he was probing.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t regret enrolling. It’s… different. Unlike any other school, sure—but isn’t that what we signed up for?”

  He laughed softly and set his cup down.

  “Most people forget this school was never meant to be normal. That minority who do catch on—they might grumble, sure, but that’s about all they can do.”

  “The school still has the final say in matters,” I said.

  “Exactly,” he said as he pointed at me lazily. “And you’re seeing it now. The school’s pushing more restrictions under the banner of the ranking system and believe me, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

  Then he paused for a moment before continuing. “Students aren’t the only ones feeling the squeeze. We staff have our own leash and lately, it’s been getting tighter.”

  “So staff complaints vanish the same way ours do?” I asked.

  He sipped again. “We’ve got more pull, sure. But in the end, we’re still bound to the same machine. Everyone here has to adapt or get swept away.”

  He finished his drink, pulled a bottle from under the table, and refilled his glass.

  “Your insight’s appreciated, sensei,” I said, rising. “I’ll take a walk. What about you?”

  “Still on break,” he replied, raising the fresh pour in a mock toast.

  I nodded and slipped out into the hall. For a moment, I wondered if that was Sato-sensei’s real self. Either way, I pushed the thought aside. What mattered now was how the team selection had gone while I was away.

  I made my way past a few staff clusters and stepped outside. A woman in a tan uniform stood nearby.

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  “Good afternoon. Is there a trail open for walking?” I asked.

  “Ah—yes, there is,” she replied. “May I have your name?”

  “Marcus Luna.”

  Her expression shifted. “The student council president. We’ve been told to assist you. One path is open, but protocol requires a staff escort.”

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  She bowed lightly. “Please wait here. I’ll send someone to guide you.”

  As she walked off, I drew a breath and looked out at the landscape beyond the courtyard. If the participants were going to be camping outside for six days, it would be useful to get a lay of the land.

  —

  —

  Later that day, a notification buzzed on my phone. I tapped the screen, and my eyes scanned the newly released team list:

  Team Diya

  

• Kamaye Ogowa – Male, Year 8 Class 3
• Amara Smith – Female, Year 10 Class 1
• Tylan Singh – Male, Year 9 Class 1
• Priya Sharma – Female, Year 9 Class 2

  Team Nagamine

  

• Hardouin Authier – Male, Year 7 Class 3
• Chanel Jozi? – Female, Year 11 Class 3
• Toshi Brace – Female, Year 7 Class 1
• Anastasia Ivanova – Female, Year 8 Class 1

  Team Tomiko

  

• Noah Brown – Male, Year 9 Class 2
• Akira Futaba – Female, Year 10 Class 2
• Souko Sekine – Female, Year 10 Class 1
• Lucas Monreau – Male, Year 7 Class 3

  Team Natsumi

  

• Mateo Ruiz – Male, Year 10 Class 1
• Dmitry Petrov – Male, Year 10 Class 1
• Sophia Gracia – Female, Year 9 Class 2
• Wei Chen – Male, Year 8 Class 2

  Team Savannah

  

• Sakura Kuhabara – Female, Year 9 Class 2
• Kavya Radhakrishnan – Female, Year 9 Class 2
• Kameko Ohara – Female, Year 11 Class 3
• Anri Hirota – Female, Year 8 Class 2

  Team Ayaka

  

• Kaori Komeda – Male, Year 10 Class 3
• Yuka Sakata – Female, Year 11 Class 2
• Andrej Ivan Skuk – Male, Year 8 Class 2
• Isiah Weaver – Male, Year 8 Class 2

  With the ranking system now publicly accessible, it wasn’t hard to see how it influenced team selections. Each leader had made an effort to secure teammates with high bodily-kinaesthetic intelligence, one of the key intelligences that would no doubt be crucial in this special exam.

  Four names stood out: Souko Sekine, Akira Futaba, Hardouin Authier, and Kavya Radhakrishnan—all of whom had ratings above 90 in bodily kinaesthetics.

  It was especially impressive that Tomiko had managed to recruit both Souko and Akira, making her team one of the strongest on paper.

  Several hours later, I walked into a large, open room where everyone was talking. They were so engaged that no one noticed me slip in, which I didn’t mind. I leaned against the wall at the back, arms folded, observing quietly.

  “Yo.”

  I turned to find Natsumi standing beside me, arms crossed.

  “So, what have you been up to?” she asked.

  “I went for a walk,” I replied.

  “To scope the area, I assume?” she said knowingly, clearly seeing through the answer. She was right, but with the mic clipped near my collar, I couldn’t exactly confirm it.

  “Your team working well?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “As best I can make it,” she said, placing a hand on her hip before reaching out and wrapping her arm loosely around my neck, pulling me into a playful side hug. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a few tricks lined up. Prepare to be blown away.”

  “Sure, surprise me,” I said with a faint smile. She grinned, then let go.

  Leaning in, I added, “Could you gather the other committee members for me at the porch? I need a word.”

  She nodded and moved off, tapping each leader on the shoulder as she wove through the crowd.

  I stepped outside to the porch and sat on the wooden floor. Soon after, the door creaked open and the committee members filed out one by one.

  “Hello, everyone,” I said, turning toward them. “Take a seat.”

  They gathered in a quiet semi-circle. Some sat cross-legged, others on their heels or hugging their knees.

  “A final meeting before the exam,” Savannah noted.

  “Yes, and don’t worry, this won’t be long,” I said. “At the end of this test, one of us may not be here. We only came together a few weeks ago, but this group has already shaped the festival in meaningful ways. Thank you.”

  I paused. “Now we face a real challenge. And I won’t sugarcoat it—only the best will remain.”

  Silence followed until Tomiko let out a soft laugh.

  “Didn’t expect those words,” she said, shaking her head. “But you’re right. Only the best will survive.”

  “That’s not helping my nerves,” Ayaka muttered, clutching her chest.

  Diya rose. “Still… may the best of us win.”

  As the group scattered, I lingered for a moment and then noticed Diya heading for the garden path. Curious, I followed at a distance.

  She settled beneath a broad tree, back against the trunk. I hesitated a few paces away, unsure if she wanted to be alone, but before I could leave, she spoke without looking at me.

  “Lurking around is a bad habit, you know.”

  I scratched my head and joined her, sitting down. She held a small pebble in her hand, rolling it between her fingers absentmindedly.

  “Still nervous?” I asked.

  Instead of answering, she leaned against my shoulder. I was caught completely off guard, unsure of how to react.

  “Yes,” she murmured, her voice muffled slightly against my shoulder. “But I’m more worried about Hazel.”

  “Hazel?”

  “Yes… I know that she is going to overwork herself.”

  Her fingers stilled, the pebble quiet in her palm. It was quite impressive that she still thought of her best friend in such a scenario. With the possibility of expulsion hanging over everyone’s heads, it seems she had found a way to relieve the mental burden.

  But—

  “Diya…” I began.

  But she cut me off. “I know I shouldn’t let it distract me. But she’s my best friend. I care about her more than anything. And that’s why I have to survive this.”

  She already knew what I wanted to say. She’d found her reason to push forward. Maybe I wasn’t needed to guide her but there was still one thing I had to say.

  “Diya,” I said softly.

  She lifted her head, meeting my eyes.

  “No matter what happens out there, stay safe… and come back to us.”

  Her expression didn’t change at first, but her eyes shimmered. She blinked once, her lips parting slightly, but she didn’t say anything right away. Instead, a moment of silence passed between us. Then, slowly, a mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

  “What would the others think if they knew I was getting special treatment from you?”

  “Well… why don’t we make it our little secret?”

  Diya laughed, then rose to her feet. “Deal.” She glanced toward the lounge, hesitated, and looked back. “Thanks. I’m turning in.”

  “Goodnight, Diya.”

  She gave me one last smile before walking off toward the building.