Class 2-B was a tomb.
The afternoon lessons proceeded in a mechanical daze, but the silence was so profound that every breath felt amplified. Students stared at their textbooks without seeing them. Pens hovered over notebooks without writing. The air was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of what they had witnessed.
Three seats remained empty.
The front seat where Kaito Sato should have been.
The seat behind it where Hikari Tanaka usually slept.
And the seat beside Kaito's where Riko Aoyama's polished presence was absent.
Nobody dared to ask where they were. Not the students, who exchanged fearful glances but kept their mouths shut. Not the teacher, whose voice wavered slightly as she continued the lesson, her eyes deliberately avoiding the empty spaces.
The clock ticked. Minutes passed like hours.
---
On the rooftop, the door creaked open.
Hikari stepped through first, Riko close behind. The afternoon sun bathed the space in warm, golden light. The wind carried the distant sounds of the city below. It was peaceful. Serene. The complete opposite of the storm they had left behind.
And there, sitting with his back against the fence, was Kaito.
His lunch was open beside him. He was eating. Quietly. Methodically. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just demolished a third-year student and walked away without a word.
He didn't look up.
Hikari and Riko stood at the doorway, frozen. The questions they had rehearsed on the way up evaporated. The words lodged in their throats. The silence between them grew heavy, awkward, unbearable.
One minute passed. Then two.
Finally, Kaito's voice cut through the stillness. Flat. Controlled. As if he were asking about the weather.
"What are you doing here? You're skipping class."
It wasn't an accusation. It wasn't anger. It was simply a question, delivered with the same cold logic he applied to everything.
Hikari found her voice first. She stepped forward, her usual defiance returning but tempered with something softer—concern, perhaps, or the weight of friendship.
"The same reason you are," she said quietly.
Riko moved to stand beside her, her posture no longer the perfect, polished image of a council member, but something more real. More vulnerable.
"The same reason you are," she echoed.
The wind carried their words away. Kaito looked up then, his gaze meeting theirs for the first time since the incident.
(End of Chapter 50)