A dark hollow that shut out the sunlight entirely.
There was some light, but the eerie stillness hanging over the place still made it hard to breathe.
About ten minutes earlier, I'd finished an emergency call on the radio and followed the responding man's instructions to come here.
This cave was Class A's base camp—thoroughly guarded and concealed. I'd been guided straight into its depths.
"Go in… the room at the very back."
The Class A student who let me through gave curt directions to the designated room.
I hurried down the passage. After about ten seconds, I spotted what seemed to be the deepest room and stepped inside without hesitation.
"…There you are."
A familiar silhouette. A man with straight black hair reaching his waist, dressed in a tracksuit.
In his right hand he held a first-aid kit that felt utterly out of place on an uninhabited island.
As if he'd known exactly when I'd arrive, he was already facing me when he spoke.
"It's been a while, Ibuki-san."
"'Been a while'? You knew everything, didn't you?"
My voice trembled with anger—and for good reason. I'd gone through hell infiltrating Class D, only for it all to come to nothing.
On top of that, even my failure had been part of the plan. The man who'd spoken as though it was all expected stood right in front of me.
Izuru Kamukura.
"From the look on your face, you've realized it. Yes—your anger is correctly aimed at me, not Ryuuen-kun."
"…! So you really did predict they'd retire. Everything up to now played out exactly as you foresaw, right in the palm of your hand."
"Yes. Exactly as foreseen, perfectly smooth—and boring."
I clicked my tongue loudly.
He'd known I would fail. The moment he stayed silent about Class D discovering the spy, he'd already had no intention of letting the infiltration succeed.
Class D allying with Class B, exploiting retirement and point transfers—it was all according to plan.
And I'd been treated as a disposable pawn to trigger it all, manipulated without ever knowing his true intentions.
The anger swelled until I wanted to lash out, to kick something right then and there.
But it wasn't just anger.
…It wasn't only anger.
"Why didn't you tell me any of this beforehand?"
The tone didn't sound like me at all.
I'd thought he was a friend—apparently that feeling was one-sided.
My whole body shook with the surging impulse, and I stood there for a while with my head bowed.
I tried to rein in my emotions, to sort my thoughts—but it wasn't working.
"…You kept quiet about showing yourself to them because you'd already predicted I'd fail from the very start, didn't you?"
A few minutes passed in heavy silence before I lifted my face slightly and asked him.
"You didn't fail. You fulfilled your role more than adequately."
"…Adequately? Don't screw with me, Kamukura. I'm not your tool!"
"To deceive the enemy, you must first deceive your allies. I do not think of you as a tool."
I froze at Kamukura's calm declaration.
The tremor I'd been holding back stopped, but I lowered my gaze again.
…"Do not think of"?
That tiny phrasing caught me. He didn't see me as a tool. Then what did he see me as?
Izuru Kamukura—the person I'd spent more time with than anyone since entering this school. A true genius.
To someone like him, what kind of existence was I, exactly?
Did he consider me a friend?
Or—
"…I see. Well, if everything went according to your plan, that means it leads to victory, right? Then my efforts weren't wasted after all."
I rattled off the words in a tone of forced acceptance, bluffing with feelings I didn't actually have.
"Yes. Still, even though you volunteered, I believe I imposed an unreasonably harsh role on you alone.
That swelling on your left cheek—if left untreated, it will heal slowly. I'll take care of it."
…Did he really mean that?
It was hard to read his inner thoughts from a tone utterly devoid of emotional nuance.
Kamukura approached and gestured for me to sit on a beach chair that felt completely out of place in this cave room.
I silently complied and sat down. He bent his knees to match my eye level.
He gently touched the affected area on my left cheek and carefully examined the swelling.
"No risk of infection. This should be fine. I'll apply a compress—please stay still."
"…Thank you."
During the infiltration I could only cool it with a wet towel, so I honestly appreciated the offer of proper treatment.
The compress he applied skillfully and carefully was refreshingly cool, and I felt the pain easing.
Yet Kamukura's hand and fingertips that touched my cheek were far colder—like the chill of a corpse.
People with cold hands have warm hearts… The old saying suddenly floated through my mind.
"Hey, Kamukura. What do you really think of me?"
I let the question I'd meant to swallow spill out. Probably because part of me hoped that saying might be true.
I'm not clever. I can't read people's thoughts or psychology the way Ryuuen or Kamukura can.
So surely, with hands this cold, Kamukura's heart must be—
Surely—
"That's quite an abstract question."
Kamukura placed the first-aid kit on a nearby table and spoke while looking down at me.
The difference in eye level only made his usual unsociable demeanor seem even colder.
"I'm asking… whether you and I are friends."
I met his deep red eyes and poured all my current courage into confessing what was in my heart.
I hadn't wanted to know the answer, yet the desire to know kept the words flowing smoothly.
"What would you do with that knowledge?"
The reply, however, was harsh reality.
But he hadn't outright denied it yet.
I forcibly pushed past the hesitation. I congratulated myself on the virtue of being able to speak my mind in moments like this.
And I laid out everything I was thinking.
"…I really do consider you a friend. But this strategy of yours… frankly, it was awful.
I got injured to deceive them, infiltrated another class entirely alone, searched for the leader—I understood all that. I could bring myself to do it even if it was Ryuuen's plan I didn't like.
But the mission was doomed to fail from the beginning, and you never told me."
"Yes. I withheld it to raise the probability of success."
"I get that. But I still can't accept it.
Hey—am I really that untrustworthy to you?"
I said it. I'd voiced my true feelings to another person—something I, who'd never had close friends before, had never done.
—At those words, Kamukura's eyes widened.
"…Trust, you say."
His words caught for a moment. He averted his gaze from me.
For Kamukura to not only widen his eyes briefly but also look away—it was clear something had struck him.
A small sense of relief washed over me.
But it lasted only an instant. His expression quickly returned to its usual blankness, and he began staring straight at me.
"Do you truly feel nothing at all?"
I'd said what I needed to say—words I could never normally voice.
My mind had been pushed to its limits by the harsh island life in extreme circumstances.
And then this act that felt like betrayal from the first person I'd ever been able to relax around.
Those two things had dragged my true feelings to the surface. Saying them left me feeling a little lighter.
I waited for Kamukura's response to those true feelings.
"—On the contrary, I find your reaction right now quite interesting."
The inorganic, mechanical tone suddenly brightened.
That heated inflection engraved itself more clearly in my ears than usual.
"I was taught—and believed—that I had no need for friends or comrades.
After all, most people either envy my talent or try to parasitize it for their own gain. I could never be friends with such vermin… So I had concluded as much."
Somehow, these words felt like his true feelings.
They were the kind that would make my anger boil over. Yet there was an even stronger reason I had to hear them.
"However, there was a turning point that made me realize otherwise. At that time, I learned that the existence of friends or comrades could lead to 'hope.'"
"…If you realized that, then why didn't you tell me anything?"
"It's simple. I was the sort of person who would consume even those close enough to call friends for the sake of my own unknowns. For the sake of my own 'hope,' friends and comrades remained unnecessary."
"—As expected. I lack the kind of 'emotions' that would make me think of trust or comrades."
Having said that, Kamukura turned his back to me.
Boredom—the only fragment of emotion this near-perfect being ever revealed.
He appeared to have no ordinary human desires, yet he possessed desires denser than anyone else's.
"If we can share our true feelings like this, doesn't that mean there's trust?"
I raised my voice slightly to stop him as he started to leave.
Kamukura paused at my words and answered.
Looking at his solitary back, I couldn't help but sense a profound, lonely aloofness.
"…You truly are a strong person. You can 'believe while still doubting' someone like me who used you as a tool. You're overcoming that doubt through your own will."
After saying that, he left the room for good this time.
Today, for the first time, I felt as though I'd truly talked with Kamukura.
But understanding still eluded me. I couldn't begin to guess what had happened in his past.
I only had a vague intuition that the two times he'd said the word "hope," he'd meant two entirely different things.
"…Something only a genius would have to deal with, huh."
The thought slipped out aloud as I reflected on what he'd told me.
I'd ended up being one-sided and overly emotional, I realized with some regret.
...
An eerie human figure enthroned amid a place encircled by rocks. Objectively, that's how I must appear right now.
I'm seated in a beach chair that feels utterly out of place here. Right leg propped up, left leg dangling loosely.
In that posture, I'm unusually lost in thought.
"…Friends, is it?"
Ibuki-san's words from several hours ago still echo in my ears.
I understand that they are indispensable to the "hope" created by Hajime Hinata and Makoto Naegi.
I understand how vast and vital they are.
Yet I cycle through hundreds of lines of thought, questioning whether they are truly necessary for an existence like mine.
As expected, the answer remains, they are not.
Friends and comrades are equals to one another. But no human exists who can stand beside me as such.
Therefore, forming them is impossible.
Moreover… Mio Ibuki is ordinary. Merely one of the countless mediocre people filling the world.
—And yet, it doesn't settle.
No matter how many times I conclude this, certain words strike at that conclusion like a blade.
Those words are emotions.
By dwelling on this repeatedly, am I not currently ruled by the emotion known as "worry"?
Perhaps what was stripped away long ago is beginning to return.
I'm starting to sense that the very existence of friends might be what allows one to reach toward the unknown realm of emotions.
Such contradictions churn within me.
"Dinner's ready, Kamukura Izuru."
While lost in those thoughts, Kouhei Katsuragi—one of Class A's leading figures—had somehow entered the room.
He carried large plates in both hands, piled with leftover meat purchased by Class C, wild nuts gathered from the forest, and the like.
He set one plate on the table near me, then fetched his own chair and placed it across from the table.
"Looking for advice or something?"
"…Reluctantly, that's part of it. But more than that, I simply wanted to sit and talk with you like this at least once."
"You and I don't mesh well. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah. But we can't move forward otherwise. Some things you only learn by talking."
"Do as you please."
I cut the conversation short and reached for the food.
Using disposable chopsticks, I brought a piece of grilled meat to my mouth.
"So, what is it you want to discuss?"
I chewed thoroughly before swallowing. I already had a fair idea, but I asked anyway.
"First, confirmation on the two proposals you made. I understand the one about retiring the leader at zero points, but I want details on the second."
The method of replacing the leader at zero points.
It involves temporarily transferring all points to Class C, retiring the designated student during that window, then having Class C return every point.
That's all there is to it.
Of course, this hinges entirely on the rule that "points cannot fall below zero."
If the exam rules allowed points to decrease indefinitely, it would have been impossible.
"As your second proposal—you demanded that you and Mio Ibuki be allowed to remain in Class A."
Katsuragi-kun stated it with a grave expression.
"And?"
"…You probably already know, but around noon today, most of Class D's students retired.
Everything you said during the 'contract' was true. Class D retired, leaving only a handful behind. With their numbers so reduced, no one in Class D knows what Mio Ibuki did afterward.
That's why, ultimately, she becomes Class C's leader. And by concealing her existence, you yourself gain complete freedom of movement.
You laid it all out. Everything unfolded exactly as you predicted—impressive."
"You didn't come here just to offer empty praise, did you?"
"…No. Then let's move to the real issue.
Now that you're free to act, you promised to cooperate with our faction to the fullest possible extent. I want to know precisely what that 'fullest extent' entails."
"To the fullest extent. For instance, resolving the matter you're currently concerned about would be child's play."
Katsuragi-kun probes cautiously, down to the smallest details.
Yet when his thoughts are read, he shows faint agitation—his expression wavers ever so slightly.
"You want assistance in suppressing the dissenting elements within Class A, correct?"
Katsuragi-kun's face shifted more dramatically than before.
His mouth parted slightly, eyes widening.
"…Yes. That's exactly what I want to ask of you."
"I've already made preparations. To ensure the success of the 'contract,' internal division is the single worst outcome we must avoid."
I declared it firmly to the still-astonished Katsuragi-kun.
"To tell the truth, I've nearly identified everyone in the Sakayanagi faction likely to betray us. However…"
"As the leader of the opposing faction yourself, anything you do would simply be repelled.
But an outsider—a collaborator from another class—might achieve results."
"Precisely."
Katsuragi-kun answered, directing eyes brimming with fierce resolve toward me.
Eyes that refuse to doubt his own ability—and desire—to unite the class.
That extraordinary determination in his gaze speaks the truth.
"I said I would cooperate. However, there is one thing I wish to ask."
"What is it?"
I voiced the question that could be called my own doubt.
"Once this exam ends, you will likely become Class A's leader. You will reign as the commander of Class A's forces.
…Do you have comrades there worthy of your trust? And will you continue to place faith in them going forward?"
"Of course. Everyone who supported me is a comrade worthy of trust.
They are the comrades I will fight alongside in future class battles. Comrades who will help one another. I have not the slightest intention of abandoning them."
"Does that include Arisu Sakayanagi?"
"…If she supports me without interference, yes."
It's tenuous. He responds positively to anything that appears positive. There is no trace of "doubt."
As expected—unless pushed into extreme circumstances, this is the limit.
Boring.
"I see."
The conversation ended there. Afterward, I finished every bit of the food Katsuragi-kun had brought.
We exchanged trivial small talk over the meal. It served to pass the time.
Then I stood to help with cleanup.
"…That's right. There's something I should inform you of."
"What?"
"Starting tomorrow morning—no, the morning after tomorrow, from the morning of the fifth day of the special exam—have as many Class A personnel as possible monitor Class D.
By reducing to a small elite group, they've gained mobility, but conversely, they're now vulnerable to sheer numbers.
If you surround and observe them from every direction, it will create an opportunity to identify their leader."
"A sound strategy. Frustrating as it is, I must concede you've read this far ahead. But why not tomorrow morning?"
To the question from the man whose hairstyle is symmetrical to mine, I answered smoothly.
"To observe. To watch how they move."
"That's complacency. We should deploy large numbers immediately."
"Sometimes restraint is necessary to guide their actions."
"Guide? Guide toward what?"
Katsuragi-kun pressed me with a stern face.
Even as allies, there's no obligation to reveal the plan and invite complications.
—After all, I feel no trust toward them, no sense of camaraderie or friendship.
And that is what defines Izuru Kamukura.
"Guidance toward victory. The more rationally they think and make correct decisions to win, the more tightly they'll be cornered.
If they lose composure and act erratically, the outcome could become unpredictable."
Admittedly, inducing erratic behavior would introduce greater uncertainty—and thus greater interest—but Ryuuen-kun would not accept that.
For this occasion alone, we'll proceed according to plan.
"I see. You have no intention of telling me."
"You'll understand in due time."
I ended the conversation there and began assisting with cleanup.
But beyond that—
Someone has now appeared who exploited the "point transfer" rule.
That demonstrates the existence of at least one reasonably clever mind in Class D.
I cannot yet identify who utilized it.
It could be the strategy of one of the remaining members, or perhaps entrusted by someone among those who retired.
A long shot—it might even be a whim of Rokusuke Kouenji.
Whoever it is, it matters little to me.
Beautiful or ugly, it's all the same. I simply want them to struggle in whatever way they can. And for that someone to show me something "unknown."
That alone is what I desire.
Once more, I reminded myself to account for every possible outcome and never hold back.
***
If you want to read up to 25 chapters ahead, don't hesitate to visit our patron: pat reon . com / XElenea (remove space)