The morning light filtered through the ship's corridors, glinting off the polished brass rails and the slow sway of the ocean outside the windows. Most students were starting to relax now that the test was nearing its end — laughter echoed faintly from the upper decks, where some groups had gathered for card games or snacks. Yet, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji had no such interest.
Today, he had a purpose.
He found Sakura Airi near the observation deck, sitting quietly with her camera bag on her lap. She jumped slightly when she noticed him approach.
"Ah—Kiyotaka-kun?" she stammered, clutching her camera tighter.
"I wanted to ask you something," he said calmly, leaning against the railing. "About the Cow group's test."
Airi nodded quickly. "O-Oh, yes. I… um… I'm not the VIP," she confessed. "But I knew who was. Miyamoto-kun messaged me and told me to submit early before anyone else noticed."
Kiyotaka's eyes flickered with interest. So it really was Soshi Miyamoto pulling strings again. Even from the sidelines, he moves people like pieces on a board.
"I see," Kiyotaka replied. "And Class A? What were they doing during your group discussions?"
"They… didn't really talk at all," Airi admitted. "They were quiet. Always observing. It was kind of scary, actually."
That answer satisfied him. It was confirmation that Class A's strategy was purely defensive — a waiting game. He nodded, thanked her, and left her to her camera and quiet peace.
Kiyotaka's next destination was far different.
Descending the ship's inner staircases, the air grew colder and damper. He reached a section of the lowest deck — a place not meant for students. Pipes hummed softly, and the smell of steel and oil filled the narrow corridor. There was no one here.
Perfect.
He stood in the shadows, phone in hand, and marked the spot. This would be the place. No cameras, no signal, no noise. A perfect stage to expose the truth behind Karuizawa Kei.
After a few minutes of silent observation, he left the area unnoticed and returned to the upper deck. The sunlight hit his eyes as he checked his messages. A new one appeared — from Hirata.
Hirata: "Karuizawa wants to talk. Meeting at 4 PM. I'll send you the details."Hirata: "Also… I've attached info about Manabe and her group."
Ayanokōji read the files carefully, memorizing the details of Manabe's background and personality. Then he began his move.
He created an anonymous chat and sent the first message.
"I'm a classmate who also hates Karuizawa. Let's work together to get even with her."
It didn't take long before Manabe replied, cautious and biting.
"Who is this? Is this some kind of joke?"
"No joke. I know what she did to your friend Rika. I want her to pay too."
There was silence for a few minutes before Manabe finally gave in.
"Fine. What's your plan?"
He sent her the map — the lowest level of the ship — and typed:
"I'll call her there. You'll have all the time you need to make her apologize."
He put his phone away and looked out over the sea. The plan was set.
By the time the ship's clock struck four, the lowest deck was cloaked in shadows. The only sound was the deep hum of the engines.
Karuizawa arrived first, standing nervously near the wall. Her hands fidgeted with her phone as she waited for Hirata — who, of course, wouldn't come.
Minutes later, footsteps echoed. Manabe and her friends appeared, their expressions hard and cold.
"Looks like you're alone, Karuizawa," Manabe sneered. "Where's your prince?"
Karuizawa's face paled. "What do you want?"
"You know what," Rika said quietly, clutching her sleeve. "You owe me an apology."
"For what? I didn't—" Karuizawa started, but Manabe's voice cut her off sharply.
"Don't lie. You've been acting all high and mighty since you got a boyfriend. You think that makes you better than everyone?"
The tension rose like the pressure in the hull. Karuizawa's voice trembled. "I didn't do anything wrong…"
But it didn't matter. Manabe pushed her back, and the confrontation escalated. The echo of shouted words and thudding steps filled the empty corridor.
When it was over, Karuizawa slumped to the floor, trembling — her phone cracked, her breathing shallow. The three girls left without looking back.
And then, silence.
Kiyotaka opened the door and stepped in.
Karuizawa jolted upright, eyes wide in terror. "K-Kiyotaka?!"
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze was calm, almost detached, as he crouched down beside her.
"Are you done panicking?" he asked quietly.
She blinked through tears, trying to steady her breathing. "Why are you here? Where's Hirata?"
"He got called away by a teacher," Kiyotaka lied smoothly. "I came instead."
She hugged her knees, trying to regain her composure. "You didn't see anything, right? You can't tell anyone."
Her voice was sharp, almost desperate. But Kiyotaka's tone remained steady. "Even if I said nothing, it won't make this go away. You know that, don't you?"
Karuizawa flinched. "They'll keep coming after me…"
He studied her face — not with pity, but calculation. "You want to prevent that. You're afraid of going back to how things used to be."
Her eyes widened. "What… what do you mean by that?"
He didn't answer directly. "I know," he said instead. "About your past."
Her breathing hitched. "Did Hirata tell you?"
Kiyotaka shook his head slightly. "He doesn't need to. You carry it in your eyes."
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The faint vibration of the ship filled the silence, the deep mechanical pulse beneath their feet.
Finally, Karuizawa whispered, "You don't understand. You couldn't possibly."
"Try me."
Something inside her broke then — the fragile wall she had built to keep her memories buried. Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Back then… I was different. Weak. They cornered me every day. At school, online, even outside. Every time I tried to fight back, it got worse. And no one ever helped."
Her fingers dug into her sleeves. "I thought if I pretended to be strong, if I became popular, no one could touch me again. That's why I acted the way I did."
Kiyotaka nodded slowly, expression unreadable. "So you wear that mask to survive."
"…Yes," she whispered. "And now even that mask is falling apart."
He looked down at her, quiet for a moment before speaking again. "If I said I could stop them — protect you — would you trust me?"
Her eyes widened again. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I need your help too," he said simply. "You have influence over the girls in Class D. If you cooperate with me, we can reshape the class entirely. No more infighting. No more fear."
Karuizawa hesitated. "Cooperate how?"
He pulled out his phone and showed her a single image — the blurry photo of Manabe's group confronting her earlier. "This is enough evidence to make them back off for good. You'll never have to deal with them again. But I'll need your loyalty in return."
Her eyes filled with tears again, but this time there was a glimmer of something else — not fear, but understanding. "You… you're serious."
"Completely," he said. "I'm not asking you to pretend anymore. I'm asking you to trust me."
She looked down, silent for a long time. Then she gave a small nod. "…Alright. I'll cooperate."
Kiyotaka extended his hand. "Then let's begin."
She took it — hesitant, trembling — but she took it.
As he pulled her to her feet, he spoke one last time, his voice low and deliberate. "Karuizawa. I already know you're the VIP. You don't need to hide it anymore."
Her breath caught in her throat. "H-How do you—?"
He smiled faintly. "Miyamoto told me."
Karuizawa blinked, confused but too drained to question further. "You and him… really are alike sometimes."
Kiyotaka turned toward the door. "Maybe. But the difference is — I don't play for fun."
As the door closed behind them, the lowest deck returned to silence once more.