The next two days were the longest and most agonizing of Karuizawa Kei's life. Every second seemed to stretch endlessly as she teetered on a tightrope between hope and despair. She felt as if she'd been stripped naked and thrown into a crowded plaza, every glance at her scrutinizing and judgmental, every bit of idle chatter drifting her way feeling like a pointed probe. To her, Kushida Kikyo's airy remark—"Opportunity waits for no one"—was no less than an ultimatum. It echoed in her mind day and night, tormenting her already fragile nerves.
She tried to keep up a calm facade, forcing a smile in front of Hirata Yousuke and acting cheerful among the girls. But the act grew harder and thinner by the day. Hirata's eyes, usually brimming with warmth and trust, now felt like spotlights that left her nowhere to hide. She began finding excuses to slip away, retreating into the cramped bathroom stalls. With her back against the cold door, she'd gasp for breath and stare at her blurry reflection in her phone's black screen, checking again and again to make sure her mask was still firmly in place and her expression remained flawless.
Finally, after a second nearly sleepless night soaked in nightmares and cold sweat, Karuizawa appeared in class with dark circles beneath her eyes, too deep for makeup to conceal, their exhaustion and fear plain to see. As the lunch bell rang and the crowd began to stir, she grabbed the hem of Kushida Kikyo's uniform with a cold, trembling hand. Kushida was just about to leave the classroom with a few other girls.
"Kikyo..." Her voice was dry and hoarse, as faint as the murmur of someone on the verge of death. Her eyes were full of desperate pleading. "That person you mentioned last time... Can I... can I meet him now? Please..."
Kushida stopped and turned around, her expression instantly shifting to just the right mix of pity and concern. She gently patted Karuizawa's hand, still clutching her hem, and felt its icy tremor. A flicker of satisfaction at having everything under control passed through her mind. "Of course, Kei. I've been worried about you." Her voice was so gentle it could have melted butter. "But this is serious, so we have to be extremely careful and keep it absolutely secret. How about this: after school, go to the west reading room on the third floor of the Old Library. It's usually a forgotten corner, so no one will bother you there. I'll arrange for you to meet."
The west side of the Old Library's third floor really was a corner of the campus forgotten by time. With her heart pounding as if it might burst out of her chest, Karuizawa summoned all her strength to push open the heavy, dusty wooden door, its hinges creaking. But all she saw were rows of empty, dust-covered bookshelves and the rays of the setting sun slanting through the high windows, forming shafts of light in the dust. There was no one there. The silence was deathly.
As the unexpected emptiness left her at a loss and wondering if she'd been tricked, her phone vibrated abruptly in her pocket. The screen lit up with a short message from an unknown number:
[Come to Dorm 129. Keep quiet.]
Dorm 129?!
Fūki Ran's room?!
In an instant, terror seized her. The boys' dormitory? Meeting alone? All kinds of worst-case scenarios flooded her mind, turning her limbs cold and nearly making her turn and run. But then she pictured the twisted faces of her bullies, Hirata's possible look of disappointment or even disgust, and herself falling back into the abyss, never to escape... That overwhelming fear outweighed her dread of the unknown danger.
She bit her lower lip, nearly tasting blood. Waiting for the corridor to empty, she hurried through the connecting hallway like a ghost, head down and heart pounding, and entered the Boys' Dormitory Building. She found the room with "129" engraved on its nameplate.
The door was ajar, left open by a narrow gap, as if he'd known she was coming.
She took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open with a trembling hand. Inside, Fūki sat with his back to her at an almost unnaturally neat desk, quietly leafing through a thick book with a cover in a foreign language she couldn't understand. The lamplight outlined his tall, slightly slender figure. The room was filled with the crisp scent of cedar, as cool and orderly as he was, yet marked by an untouchable distance.
"Close the door."
He didn't even turn around. The two calm, level words nevertheless carried an unmistakable command.
Karuizawa did as he said, carefully closing the door. The click of the lock sounded especially clear in the silence. She stood stiffly in the middle of the room, feeling like a flawed item displayed on a platform, awaiting a final inspection and judgment.
Fūki finally closed his book and turned around at a leisurely pace. His calm gaze settled on her. He looked less like he was seeing a living person than inspecting an object, assessing its value and usefulness. That utterly emotionless stare made Karuizawa feel more suffocated than any hostile glare could have.
"Sit."
He pointed to the only chair beside the desk.
Karuizawa could hardly move her stiff legs as she carefully sat down. She clasped her hands nervously in her lap, her knuckles paling from the pressure.
"Kushida said..." She summoned the greatest courage of her life, but her voice still trembled uncontrollably. "...that you could help me." The words seemed to take all the strength she had.
"That depends on what price you're willing to pay." Fūki's tone didn't waver as he went straight to the point. "I understand that you're in desperate need of points because of something you're deeply reluctant to talk about, something you'd go to any lengths to bury... your past."
Karuizawa's face turned as white as paper. Her lips quivered, and she could barely speak. "I... I don't know how much Kikyo told you... but those things..."
"I know you experienced systematic and very severe bullying at your previous school." Fūki cut her off without mercy. Each word was like a precise scalpel, slicing open her scarred wound. "I know it left you with deep psychological trauma, making you pathologically obsessed with social status and other people's opinions. I know you're afraid that your past will be exposed, afraid of losing the seemingly stable social fortress you've worked so hard to build, and even more afraid that Hirata Yousuke—your protector now—will see the real you beneath your polished exterior: weak, fragile, and even... pathetic."
Every word, every sentence, landed on Karuizawa's heart like a heavy lead weight. Her breathing grew quick and ragged, her chest heaved, and her eyes reddened as tears welled up uncontrollably and blurred her vision. She felt as if he'd stripped her bare and exposed her completely before this cold man. All the defenses she'd so carefully built were useless against him.
"But," Fūki said, changing tack just as despair was about to consume her, his voice still terrifyingly even, "your fear, your past, and the fragile relationship between you and Hirata Yousuke—these emotional entanglements have no value to me in themselves."
He rose slowly, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of Karuizawa. His tall frame cast an oppressive shadow over her small figure.
"I'm interested in what tangible price you're willing to pay to protect these secrets that mean more to you than your life, and to preserve your shaky 'normal' life."
"I... I can pay back your points!" Karuizawa looked up urgently, as if grasping at her last lifeline, and spoke incoherently. "All of them! With interest! Next month! No, next month might not be enough, but I can pay in installments. I promise..."
Fūki shook his head slightly. The tiny gesture sent Karuizawa's heart sinking.
"Points?" The corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest hint of mockery. "They're just meaningless numbers to me. What I need is something else, something only you can provide... a unique value."
He leaned toward her, drawing closer. His deep eyes were like two whirlpools, locking her frightened gaze in place.
"From this moment on, I want you to be my eyes and ears. At Hirata Yousuke's side, inside your girls' clique, and in every corner and shadow of Class D beyond my reach. Every scene you witness, every private word you hear, every undercurrent you sense—you'll report it all to me without reservation and without delay."
Karuizawa's eyes widened in shock, her pupils shrinking in disbelief. "You... you want me to... spy on Hirata? Betray him? That's impossible! I..."
"It isn't betrayal," Fūki said, his voice still cold but carrying a beguiling power. "It's a higher form of cooperation and allegiance. You can keep playing the part of his sweet, gentle girlfriend and maintain your seemingly central position in the girls' clique. Your outward life can continue as before. There's only one change, and it's the most important one—" He paused deliberately, making sure every word branded itself into her soul. "—from the moment you walked into this room, there's only one person you truly need to be loyal to. Me."
"No... I can't... I absolutely can't..." Karuizawa shook her head in panic. Tears finally spilled over and ran down her pale cheeks. "Hirata... He trusts me so much. He protects me. I can't..."
"Hirata Yousuke can't protect you." Fūki cut her off coldly, his voice firm and unquestionable. "All he can offer is a momentary, false sense of security, a seemingly warm refuge. But he can't change the weakness in your bones, erase the scars in your memory, or anticipate and stop every potential threat. When a real storm comes, his naive, childish theory of 'unity' won't stand a chance."
He leaned toward her again, close enough for Karuizawa to feel his cool, cedar-scented breath and clearly see the emotionless darkness in his unfathomable eyes.
"Now the choice is yours. Do you keep living on edge, day after day, forever afraid that one morning you'll wake up to find everything you've worked so hard to build has collapsed, and fall back into that abyss you've desperately tried to escape—the one called 'the past'? Or do you accept my protection and gain genuine, unshakable security, at the cost of giving me your loyalty, giving me everything you are?"
Karuizawa's tears fell like pearls from a broken string. She looked at the man before her. He was like a demon from the abyss, laying out a clear path to salvation that required her to sell her soul. In her mind, the bullies' mocking and beating, their isolation and humiliation, returned as vividly as if they'd happened yesterday. Hirata's gentle smile flickered before her, then the disappointed look he might give her. The fear of becoming a target again, of being trampled underfoot, coiled around her heart like a cold snake, tightening and tightening...
Reason screamed at her, warning that this was an abyss from which she'd never return. But the instinct to survive, the overwhelming fear of falling back into hell, finally crushed everything else.
"I... I'll do it..." She closed her eyes and used the last of her strength to force the words from her trembling lips, like someone signing a pact with the devil. Her voice was faint, but filled with desperate resolve.
Fūki straightened, his expression unchanged, as if he'd expected this outcome all along. He went to the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a brand-new, unregistered, plain black communicator. He held it out to Karuizawa.
"Use this to contact me through a secure, private line. It's encrypted to keep it safe." His voice returned to its earlier calm. "Remember: from the moment you take it, your loyalty, your secrets, your fate—all of them belong to me alone. This is a pact. It cannot be broken."
Karuizawa reached out with a trembling, cold hand and took the communicator. It felt cool and light, yet weighed a ton, as if she'd just accepted a deed selling her soul.
"Now," Fūki said, sitting back down behind the desk, once again the calm observer and commander, "as our first exchange of information, tell me: what has Hirata Yousuke been busy with lately? What specific plans or concerns does he have about the upcoming Special Exam?"
Karuizawa wiped the tears from her face, took a deep breath, and tried to steady her still-uneven breathing and racing heart. She glanced at the black communicator in her hand, then at the man who now held her fate in his hands. At last, she began to report everything she knew, haltingly but in as much detail as she could: Hirata's recent efforts to unite the class, his concerns about several unstable elements, and his private speculation about Teacher Chabashira's vague warning...
As she divulged her first secret, she felt with utter clarity that a part of her soul had changed forever, stripped of its former color and branded with the cold mark of Fūki Ran.
When she finally left Dorm 129 and stepped back into the light of the corridor, she was no longer Karuizawa Kei, the anxious girl who relied on Hirata Yousuke for protection. She had become a pawn Fūki Ran had quietly placed in the heart of Class D, a double agent moving between the light and the dark. Each step she took would fall on a tightrope woven from lies and loyalty.
Inside Dorm 129, Fūki Ran recorded the information Karuizawa had provided in his thick notebook. Under the heading "Available Resources," he solemnly added the name "Karuizawa Kei," followed by the note "Deep control; value to be explored further." A faint, satisfied smile touched his lips. Karuizawa Kei was an unexpected gain, and her potential value was gradually becoming clear. She could provide information about the movements of Hirata Yousuke's inner circle, and she was also an excellent window into the inner workings of the girls' clique and the complex power structure of Class D as a whole.
More importantly, by precisely controlling her deepest fears and most urgent needs, he'd gained an ally with an exceptionally high degree of loyalty—someone he could scarcely have won over under normal circumstances. In this brutal world where strength reigned supreme, he understood better than anyone that fear rooted deep in the soul was often more reliable and enduring than any loyalty that merely skimmed the surface.
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