"Audentes fortuna iuvat."
- An excerpt from Virgil's Aeneid
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
??? POV
In a world where society runs on countless intricate maneuvers, cooperation between individuals is the foundation for goal-oriented growth. Those who adapt and excel in skills suited for the real world are destined to climb to the top, while those who can't are left to sink lower and lower.
They say all men are created equal. Maybe that's true. But when you really think about it, it all comes down to a few simple factors.
Is it genetics and heredity? The environment you were raised in? Maybe it's intelligence—logical, practical, or emotional? In the end, it doesn't really matter how it came to be. The system that governs society has already evolved to its current state. Fortune favors the bold and the strong. The weak will always be weeded out, forced to serve and support the strong.
The law of the jungle rules this world.
❄️❄️❄️❄️~ COTE: TSQ1Y ~❄️❄️❄️❄️
Shirayuki's POV
"What are you expecting from this school after taking the entrance exam, Nakaizumi Shirayuki-san?" the interviewer asked, his tone clinical.
My mind, spinning elsewhere, snapped back to the room. I paused, retracing the thread of conversation before pasting on a neutral smile.
"From what I understand, this school prides itself on molding students into 'productive members of Japanese society,' no matter where they come from," I answered, watching as the man gave a small, dispassionate nod, signaling for me to continue.
I shrugged lazily.
"I guess the three years of full boarding is a bonus too. No distractions, no obligations. A clean slate."
He typed something into his laptop, his face betraying nothing. Another question followed, one that pulled at old wounds better left untouched.
"During your second year of junior high, you were hospitalized after an incident involving bullying. By your third year, the students responsible had either dropped out or transferred. It's noted that you had a significant role in... facilitating these outcomes. Would you like to comment on that?"
I smiled again, but this time, I made no effort to hide the sharpness behind it.
"Coincidences are strange, aren't they? People tend to regret once consequences catch up to them," I said, voice light, almost playful. "What they did was pretty terrible, after all. Maybe guilt finally found them."
A slight flicker crossed his expression—subtle, but telling. He nodded without pushing further.
A few more mundane questions later, the interrogation disguised as an interview ended. I left the conference room, returned to my now-deserted classroom to grab my backpack, and finally exited the school grounds.
The sun was already slipping into the late afternoon, casting a tired glow over the city. It was 4:30 PM—still the trailing edge of rush hour. I made my way home at a steady pace, a part of me barely registering the familiar streets.
I had no clubs, no attachments tying me down.
When I finally reached the second floor of our modest 2LDK apartment, I slipped inside with a practiced quiet. My parents, as always, were away for work. I was used to the stillness. It was almost comforting.
After a bath, I retreated to my room. Every window was shut tight, blinds drawn, curtains pulled. Isolation wasn't just physical; it was psychological. On the wall above my desk, a study board stood, a chaotic tangle of photos, printed screens, newspaper snippets, sticky notes, all pinned and connected by red string like a spider's web.
And at the center of it all:
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
The name stared back at me, colder than any winter night.
After I woke up from that hospital bed, barely stitched back together, I wasted no time. Every yen I'd saved went toward hiring an investigator, toward gathering every scrap of information on names I had etched into memory:
Koenji Rokusuke
Sakayanagi Arisu
Horikita Suzune
Ryuen Kakeru
Ichinose Honami
Katsuragi Kouhei
And more. Much more.
Newspaper articles, public records, political reports—I bought everything, read everything. I wanted to know the world that created monsters like them. Figures like Ayanokoji Atsuomi. Secretary-General of the Citizen's Party Naoe Jinnosuke. Prime Minister Kijima. Even the elusive Tsukishiro Tokinari from the Koei Party.
Knowledge was survival. Knowledge was the weapon they couldn't take from me.
I stared at the board, at the countless strings converging into one undeniable truth, and exhaled a slow breath.
"It's been a year since I've trained like crazy," I murmured to no one. The cost of this information wasn't measured in money alone. It was paid in fear, in paranoia, in sleepless nights wondering if I was already being watched.
But it was necessary.
Soon, very soon, we would meet on the battlefield. The so-called future King of the school. The one who had been crafted in the White Room's cradle of nightmares.
"I can't wait to see you up close, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka," I whispered.
With that, I started pulling down the board.
Pictures, notes, reports—everything came down, soaked one by one in a bleach solution I had prepared. I watched the ink bleed away, disappearing like memories I no longer needed to hold onto.
Once done, I sealed the evidence into a special container, ready for proper disposal.
The study board now stood bare. A blank canvas. Just like me.
"There are only two weeks left," I said quietly. "Two weeks until my first attendance at ANHS."
Time to move forward. Time to stop looking back.
I picked up my phone, dialing a number from memory. The line clicked, and a familiar voice answered.
"Hello? Yes, it's me. The one and only Shirayuki," I said, my voice light, almost teasing. "Sorry to interrupt your job, but... I have a proposal you won't want to miss, Sensei."
And for the first time in a long while, a real smile curled at my lips.