The water dripping from Kunon's wet hair traced paths down his shoulders as the silence in the room reached an unbearable weight. With trembling hands, Sayori pulled out the yellow slip of paper she had tucked between her tests. She slid the final page of the special practice exam Akane had given her onto the desk—the page containing that damned paragraph labeled "Subject 4" and "System Collapse."
"This," Sayori said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "This was inside the test Akane gave me. Tell me, Kunon, who are you? What does 'Subject 4' mean? Why are you working at that cafe? And why do I have a psychological evaluation report in my hands regarding my status as a 'trust factor'?"
Sayori expected him to get angry, to deny it, or to pack his things and leave. Instead, Kunon just let out a deep, weary sigh. Draping the towel around his neck, he pulled out the chair opposite Sayori's desk and sat directly across from her.
He fixed his eyes on Sayori. For the first time—the very first time—there was a faint trace of embarrassment behind those cold, distant walls.
"Akane," Kunon murmured, pushing the paper away with his fingertips. "She takes character analysis too seriously sometimes. She can be truly annoying."
"Character analysis? What do you mean? This is a psychological evaluation report!"
Kunon shook his head. He clasped his hands over his knees. In the dim light of the room, his sharp features seemed to soften slightly. "No, Sayori. That's not a report. It's a draft."
Sayori frowned. "A draft?"
"I... I write things," Kunon said slowly. It was as if extracting these words required physical effort. "Online. I write web novels. Let's call it a bit more than a hobby. I usually create stories about experiments testing the limits of the human mind, characters under psychological pressure, and dark themes. I publish my work under a completely anonymous name. I don't want anyone to recognize me by my real name or be subjected to strange looks at school."
Sayori just stood there. She blinked.
"In fact," Kunon added, clearing his throat slightly, "I usually publish my chapters at 7:00 PM. It's easier to gauge the reader's reaction at that hour. Akane is the only one who knows this secret because she knows one of the moderators on the platform I use. This paper... was background research I prepared for one of the main characters in my current story. Akane had read the draft, and apparently, she put it inside your test just to mess with me."
Sayori's brain tried to process this new information. Subject 4. Psychological pressure. Isolation. Those mysterious notes in his black notebook. Was it all just part of a book?
Then, a giggle broke from her lips. The giggle quickly spiraled into uncontrollable laughter. Sayori covered her face with her hands and laughed. She had been so tense that the sense of danger and espionage she had carried for days evaporated instantly. Her nervous system had finally waved the white flag.
"A novel?" Sayori said, wiping away a tear. "You... You're a writer! Oh my god! If you only knew the scenarios I've been cooking up in my head..."
Kunon raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected this reaction. "What scenarios?"
"Sakura," Sayori giggled, trying to mimic Sakura's voice. "She thought you were a ruthless mafia leader! That you ran the city at night and that the cafe was your secret hideout. Kyoko was saying the principal was running a secret experiment project and you were a victim with a wiped memory. They even thought you and Akane were having a secret affair at one point!"
Kunon's eyes widened slightly. His shock was so genuine that Sayori started laughing all over again. Kunon pressed his lips together but couldn't help it; the corners of his mouth curled upward, and a faint, sincere smile—one never seen before—appeared in the room.
"A mafia leader?" Kunon said, shaking his head. "Sakura's imagination is actually more dangerous than my plots."
This sincere moment dissipated all the tension in the room. Kunon stood up. He walked over to the small refrigerator in the corner of the dorm. He opened it, took out two caramel puddings, returned to the desk, and placed one in front of Sayori and one in front of himself, leaving a plastic spoon for each.
Sayori looked at the pudding. "This is my favorite brand," she said in surprise.
Kunon shrugged as he sat back down, letting out a small chuckle. The usual cold boy had suddenly been replaced by a much more human, normal teenager. "I know. I took it from your shelf anyway."
Sayori rolled her eyes, but the warm smile stayed on her face. "Stealing your roommate's supplies is against school rules, Kunon."
"Think of it as rent," Kunon said, peeling back the lid of his pudding. "I taught you so many shortcuts for derivatives and integrals. Besides, I might have taken a little inspiration from your organized nature for a character in my story. Let's call it a royalty payment."
The conversation continued to the clicking of plastic spoons. Sayori felt like she could breathe freely for the first time in a long while. Kunon being a writer made sense of all his strange behaviors—the way he buried himself in his notebooks and stayed away from people.
However, as Sayori took another bite of her pudding, her eyes drifted to the test books on the desk. Her smile slowly faded.
"Tomorrow is the big day," she whispered, her voice suddenly thin. "Sometimes, no matter how much I study, I feel like I'll forget everything the moment that exam paper is in front of me. My head is so full that it feels like my whole life will be ruined by one wrong equation or a tiny lapse in concentration."
Kunon set his spoon down. The relaxed expression in his eyes was gone, replaced by a serious, steady gaze. "Everything is going to be fine, Sayori. You need to be calm."
"That's easy to say."
"I'm not just saying it, I know it," Kunon said firmly. "Because I've seen how you work. You don't just memorize formulas; you understand the logic of the system. I've personally witnessed the effort you've put in and the sleepless nights you've spent in this room. You don't need to panic. Just take a deep breath and put what you know on the paper. You will definitely get that scholarship."
The icy fear inside Sayori melted a little under Kunon's unshakable belief. She took a deep breath and leaned back.
Kunon pushed the empty pudding cup aside. His eyes were on her. "I wonder... why do you put so much pressure on yourself? I mean, the scholarship is important, yes. But your drive doesn't look like just a desire for academic success. It's like you're running just to stay alive."
Sayori looked down, tracing the wooden edge of the desk with her fingers. The silence in the room this time wasn't heavy; it was reassuring.
"I... I come from an ordinary family, Kunon," she whispered. "A family you might call poor. I don't have a principal for a father like Akane, or parents who own companies like most students here. Since I was a child, I've had to scrape for everything myself. If you knew what my family sacrificed to send me here and cover my first-year expenses, you wouldn't believe it."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't cry; being strong was her oldest habit. "Getting here was a miracle for a girl like me. I woke up before everyone else and studied under a makeshift lamp until midnight. But sustaining that miracle is up to me. If I stumble, I don't have a safety net to catch me. That's why I have to run. Without stopping."
A deep silence followed. Kunon was looking into Sayori's eyes. There was no pity in his gaze—pity was the thing Sayori hated most. In Kunon's eyes, there was only pure respect and great admiration.
"I understand," Kunon said softly. "You're building your own wings so you don't hit the concrete. This isn't the story of someone afraid of falling; it's the story of someone teaching themselves to fly. It's truly an admirable effort."
Sayori felt closer to Kunon than ever before. Behind that iceberg was a heart that built worlds with words—a heart that was scarred but understanding.
"What about you?" Sayori asked, her voice softening. The invisible wall between them seemed to have crumbled entirely. "What's your story, Kunon? Where do you come from? Why are you working secretly at that cafe until such late hours?"
The moment she asked, there was a very slight flicker in Kunon's eyes. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the digital clock on the desk emitted a sharp beep.
It was already past midnight; it was 1:00 AM.
Kunon looked at the clock and stood up. "It's late," he said. The softness in his voice vanished instantly, replaced once again by his familiar protective armor. "You have your exam tomorrow. You shouldn't tire your mind any further. You need to sleep."
Sayori wanted to insist. She didn't want the wall to go back up just as she had pried it open. But Kunon was right. Being sleep-deprived on the morning of the exam would be the biggest mistake she could make.
"You're right," Sayori said in defeat. She gathered her test books. "Thank you, Kunon. For the pudding... and for telling me you're a writer. It set my mind at ease."
"Good night, Sayori," Kunon said as he moved to his own bed.
Sayori turned off the light and lay down. When she closed her eyes, she was no longer afraid of Kunon's mystery. He was just a writer. All those strange terms, the notes, the part-time job at the cafe... it was all part of the ordinary struggles of life and his research for his novels. As Sayori drifted into a peaceful sleep, a sweet smile lingered on her lips.