The classroom buzzed with chatter, the kind that made the walls tremble with restless energy. Summer was approaching, and the students of Seisho High were restless, their minds far away from textbooks and lectures.
At the farthest corner of the room sat Arata Kiyoshi. His posture was small, his hands folded neatly on his desk, his gaze down at a half-scribbled notebook. His friends often called him the ghost of Class 2-B—he spoke so little, moved so quietly, that sometimes people forgot he was there at all.
"Arataaaa," a voice called, snapping him out of his thoughts. A tall boy with unruly brown hair leaned across two desks. Daichi, the joker of the group, grinned wide. "You're coming with us after cram school tonight, right? Don't tell me you're just gonna crawl into bed and read again."
Arata hesitated, cheeks heating. "I… I guess I can come," he said softly, the words nearly swallowed by the noise around them.
"Good! Finally!" another voice cut in—Riku, loud and confident, the unofficial leader of their little group. "Man, if I don't drag you out, you'll disappear completely."
Arata smiled nervously. "S-Sorry."
To them, he was harmless. The quiet, timid kid who always followed, never led. The one who nodded along to their stories and laughed a beat too late at their jokes.
They didn't see the way his eyes lingered, the way he measured every word spoken around him, cataloguing weaknesses, insecurities, and little cracks in their personalities.
He hid it well. Too well.
The five of them—Arata, Riku, Daichi, Haruto (the quiet studious one), and Aya (the only girl in their circle)—walked together through the dusky streets. Aya chatted animatedly with Riku, while Daichi made a show of teasing Haruto about his test scores.
Arata trailed a step behind, as always.
That was when it happened.
An envelope fell from nowhere, carried by the wind, landing directly at Arata's feet. Jet-black, sealed with crimson wax. He froze.
"What's that?" Aya asked, tilting her head.
Arata bent down, fingers trembling slightly as he picked it up. The seal was marked with a strange sigil—an eye pierced by a serpent. He hesitated, then opened it.
The paper inside was thick, the ink a deep red:
> You have been chosen.
The first game begins tonight.
Location: Seisho Abandoned Gymnasium.
Entry mandatory. Failure = elimination.
His heart skipped. "It's… a prank," he muttered, forcing a weak smile. "It has to be."
But when they turned the corner, three men in black suits were already waiting. Their faces hidden behind expressionless masks.
Before they could scream, rough hands shoved them into a van.
When the black bags were pulled from their heads, they were seated in metal chairs, a single spotlight glaring down from the ceiling. The room was pitch dark beyond the circle of light.
A distorted voice crackled from unseen speakers:
> "Welcome, participants. Tonight begins your trial.
Fail, and you die. Succeed, and you may leave.
The first game is simple: The Trust Auction."
A digital screen flickered to life on the wall, displaying their five faces in a row. Beneath each face, a counter lit up with a number: 10 coins.
The rules scrolled across the screen:
> 1. Each of you begins with 10 Trust Coins.
2. Every round, you may give coins to another, steal coins from another, or keep them.
3. After five rounds, the participant with the fewest coins dies.
4. If no one dies, all participants die.
A timer appeared: Round 1 – 60 seconds.
Panic erupted.
"What the hell is this?!" Daichi shouted, grabbing his hair. "They're insane!"
Aya's voice cracked. "D-Die? They can't mean that literally, right?"
But the screen was merciless. Their faces glowed, waiting for choices.
Round 1
Haruto spoke first, voice trembling. "I—I think we should all just… keep our coins. No one dies that way."
The group latched onto the idea immediately. Aya nodded desperately. Riku clenched his fists. "Yeah. Nobody touches anything. We survive together."
Arata kept silent.
When the timer buzzed, the screen flashed their choices:
Riku: Keep.
Daichi: Keep.
Haruto: Keep.
Aya: Keep.
Arata: …Steal (from Haruto).
Everyone turned to him, eyes wide.
"A-Arata?!" Haruto's voice cracked. "Why—why would you—"
Arata flinched, shrinking under their stares, his hands trembling. "I… I-I panicked, I don't know, I just…"
Riku's eyes narrowed. "You little…"
Round 2
Already, unity was broken. Haruto glared at Arata, Aya whispered urgently with Daichi, and Riku stared at the timid boy like he was a puzzle piece that didn't fit.
The timer began again.
> "Remember," the distorted voice said, cold and amused. "Only one must die. Choose wisely."
Arata's lips trembled. His friends argued. Accusations flew.
But deep down, behind those fearful eyes… a different light flickered. Cold. Calculating.
He had their attention now. He had their fear.
And fear was always the first step to control.