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### **Shadows of the Elite – Volume 3, Chapter 1.5**
**December 18, 2026 – 10 Minutes Earlier**
(Mr. Unagi's Perspective)
Deadlines. Pressure. Aoi's smug voice in my ear again.
It was December 18th, and I was neck-deep in unfinished logistics for the next special exam. The school had roped in nearly every staff member to get this one over the line before the 20th—but of course, they paired me with the one man I couldn't stand: **Aoi Fushimiya**.
We were on a video call now, his expression as calm and calculated as ever, like the weight of this world never touched his shoulders.
> "The first sports activity for the next special exam is soccer, right?" he asked, adjusting his glasses like some divine puppeteer preparing his next act.
I grit my teeth, already knowing this was going somewhere annoying.
> "Yes. It's soccer. What about it?"
> "The funds to buy that soccer field cost over 4 million yen," Aoi replied, his tone casual, like he was ordering lunch. "You'd need an American willing to drop \$40,000 and convert that into yen to fund it."
I stared at him through the screen, irritated but not surprised.
> "And just why the hell would *Americans* donate to a Japanese private high school? That doesn't make any damn sense."
Aoi didn't blink.
> "Then create that logic," he said coldly—and just like that, the call ended.
I clenched my fists beneath the desk, staring at the blank screen.
> "That little brat…"
Behind me, the Class D teacher—Tanigawa—stood by the window, sipping his coffee like this was just another Tuesday.
> "Unagi," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Why the hell is there a helicopter coming toward the school?"
I bolted from my chair.
> "What are you talking about?"
We rushed to the window together. Sure enough, a chopper had just landed at the edge of the courtyard. Students flooded the entrance, scattering toward the scene like moths to flame. I grabbed my old binoculars—the same pair I always kept in my desk drawer—and zoomed in.
And there they were.
**Reika Amamiya** and **Kenji Sakamoto**, standing on either side of some boy. He wore a cap low over his face, and a black mask that covered everything below his eyes. Head down. Silent. But it wasn't just the mysterious appearance that unsettled me—it was the way **Reika** and **Kenji** moved. Guarding him. Nudging others away like he was *royalty.*
Then I spotted **Class 1-B** outside as well. Their eyes were sharp. Calculating. Focused on the boy like predators watching prey.
**Class B and Class A never got along.**
Justice vs. dominance.
Idealism vs. ruthlessness.
This—whatever this was—was sure to spark something dangerous.
I kept watching. That's when I saw him: **Kaito**, Class B's so-called leader, alerting students from the windows above. A head leaned out from one of them—**Haruto**. His eyes narrowed, following the same boy I was tracking.
Haruto.
Of all the students in Class C, **he's the one I trust most**. Level-headed, strong-willed, and just sharp enough to survive this hellhole. I'd been hoping he might be the one to *contain* Kei Fushimiya if things spiraled. Kei's been... different lately. Distant. Quieter. Stronger. His body's changed, his stare's sharpened. It's like he's waiting. Waiting for something only he understands.
Then I saw it: Haruto, Daiko, Ayame, Mei, and Shuto—all coming downstairs.
And finally, **Kei** appeared at the edge of the crowd. Calm. Cold. Observing.
Even from here, I saw the faint glint in his eyes—a flicker of... interest. But not the innocent kind. No, it was darker than that. A curiosity that knew too much.
I ignored the chill running down my spine.
Instead, I focused in again—just as **Ichika Renji** stepped into the scene. That arrogant grin carved across his face like always. He approached the boy in the cap. There was a moment of silence.
Then—they shook hands.
Like a manager meeting the boss.
I leaned in closer, catching a glimpse of the boy's hair peeking out from under the cap. It was **white... or silver**. And his eyes—hell if I could tell—**crimson red? Violet purple? Both?** They were unnatural. Piercing, even from this distance.
I couldn't sit still.
> "I'll be right back," I muttered.
Tanigawa blinked. "Wait—where are you going?"
But I was already moving. He followed.
We stormed down the stairs, past waves of students swarming the main corridor. The teachers were holding them back. The boy, Ichika, Reika, and Kenji made their way deeper into the building—toward the dorms.
They were headed for **the reserved room**.
That room had never been used. The staff always said it was "for someone special." And now, that *someone* had arrived.
I kept my distance, trying not to draw attention.
Ichika unlocked the door.
He handed the key to the boy.
And with that same smug grin, he spoke:
> "Welcome back, **Naoki**... or should I say *Mr. President of the Student Government in your freshman year.*"
My heart skipped.
**What?!**
That boy... the one no one recognized... was **Naoki Shirayuki?**
The *original* Student Government President? The one who had allegedly gone to Barcelona for half a year?
Why now? Why return? And why was **Ichika**—Class A's golden prince—acting like *he* served *Naoki?*
> "What the hell is going on in this school?" I whispered.
I barely noticed Ichika turning back until he was beside me.
He paused.
That smug bastard smirked at me.
> "I don't think it's right to eavesdrop, old man," he said casually.
Then he walked away. Just like that.
Leaving me standing in the hall.
Stunned. Shaken. And more uncertain than ever.