Part 5 — The Invisible Price of Freedom
The sunrise in Kurohana was too perfect.
The sun filtered through the building's windows with almost artificial precision, as if someone had calculated the exact angle to make the light appear natural.
Even the air smelled of control.
I went down to the central dining hall early.
The hallways were silent, except for the sound of automatic doors and the hum of electronic panels.
Some students were already eating breakfast: trays full of food, desserts, imported juices.
They laughed, talked, made plans.
A normal scene... on the surface.
The menu floated on the holographic panel in front of me.
"Basic breakfast – 1,500 Kurei."
"Full breakfast – 4,200 Kurei."
"Premium – 8,900 Kurei."
Without thinking too much about it, I chose the simplest one.
Not out of austerity, but out of observation.
Seeing how others spent their money revealed more than any exam.
In less than a minute, several classmates had already spent more than half of their daily allowance.
One of them ordered dishes nonstop, as if challenging the system.
Miyu Fujikawa, on the other hand, smiled elegantly, inviting others to her table—her "allies"—and paying for them without hesitation.
Money was her primary social tool.
As I watched them, Kaori Hasegawa sat down across from me.
Her tray was as simple as mine.
Silence. Only the sound of cutlery.
"You don't look surprised," she said at last, without looking up.
"Should I be?" I replied.
"Most people act like this is a reward... not a test."
I smiled slightly.
Kaori had understood something that many would take a long time to discover.
"The hardest tests are the ones that don't seem like tests," I said.
She nodded slowly. We didn't need to say anything else.
Shortly after, a notification appeared on my digital watch:
"Daily consumption report available — Voluntary access: 9:00 a.m."
Out of curiosity, I opened the link.
It showed the class's average expenditure during breakfast:
−18,700 Kurei in total.
Observation: High consumption trend. Self-control level: Low.
"Observation."
That word said it all.
It wasn't an expense report. It was an evaluation.
Every purchase, every gesture, every decision was stored in the system.
"Merit is not measured solely by results, but by everyday decisions."
That phrase appeared at the end of the message, signed by the Kurohana Board of Directors.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds.
I felt no fear. No surprise.
Just the certainty that they were already grading us... without anyone knowing.
When I turned off the watch, the dining room was still full of laughter and noise.
No one seemed to notice anything.
That was the difference between them and me.
They enjoyed the game.
I had begun to understand its rules.
And although freedom was Kurohana's most beautiful promise...
I knew that sooner or later, someone would have to pay the price.