Transaction in the Secret Room and the Brand of the Soul

For Karuizawa Kei, the next two days were the longest and most agonizing of her life. Each second felt infinitely stretched, swaying precariously on a tightrope between hope and despair. She felt stripped bare and left in a crowded plaza, every gaze upon her one of scrutiny and judgment, every whisper a veiled probe. Kushida Kikyo's casual remark, "Opportunity waits for no one," sounded like a final ultimatum, echoing in her mind day and night, tormenting her already fragile nerves.

She tried to maintain a facade of calm, forcing smiles for Hirata Yousuke and feigning cheerfulness within their small group. But this pretense became increasingly difficult, increasingly flimsy. Hirata's eyes, always filled with gentle trust, now felt like spotlights, leaving her nowhere to hide. She began to frequently excuse herself, retreating to the cramped stall of a restroom. Leaning against the cold door, she'd gasp for air, staring at her blurry reflection on the dark phone screen, repeatedly checking if her mask was still secure, her expression flawless.

Finally, after enduring a second night of near-sleeplessness, drenched in nightmares and cold sweat, with dark circles under her eyes that even makeup couldn't fully conceal, Karuizawa, the moment the lunch break bell rang and the classroom erupted in noise, grabbed the hem of Kushida Kikyo's clothes with icy, trembling hands as she was about to leave with some girls.

"Kikyo..." Her voice was dry and hoarse, as faint as a dying person's whisper, her eyes filled with a desperate, last-ditch plea. "You mentioned... that person... last time... Can I... can I see him now? Please..."

Kushida stopped and turned, her face instantly shifting to a perfectly calibrated expression of pity and concern. She gently patted Karuizawa's hand clinging to her clothes, feeling the cold tremor, a flicker of satisfaction at being in control flashing through her. "Of course, Kei. I've been worried about you." Her voice was so gentle it could drip. "However, this is no small matter; it requires absolute secrecy and caution. How about this: after school, go to the West Reading Room on the Third Floor of the Old Library. It's practically a forgotten corner there, no one will bother you. I'll arrange for you to meet there."

The West Reading Room on the Third Floor of the Old Library was indeed a forgotten corner of the campus, lost to time. As Karuizawa, her heart pounding against her ribs, pushed open the creaking, dust-laden, heavy wooden door with all her might, she was met only by rows of empty, dusty bookshelves, and the slanting rays of the setting sun filtering through the high windows, forming columns of light in the floating dust. It was empty. Deathly silent.

Just as she was thrown into confusion by the unexpected emptiness, wondering if she'd been tricked, her phone suddenly vibrated in her pocket. The screen lit up with a short message from an Unknown Number:

[Come to Dorm 129. Be quiet.]

Dorm 129?!

Fūki Ran's room?!

Instantly, a great fear seized her. A boys' dormitory? Meeting alone? Every worst-case scenario flooded her mind, making her limbs go cold, almost compelling her to turn and flee. But then, the menacing faces of her bullies flashed in her mind, followed by the look of disappointment, even disgust, that Hirata might show, and the image of herself falling back into the abyss, irredeemably. This extreme fear overwhelmed her apprehension of the unknown danger.

She bit her lower lip, almost tasting blood. Seizing an opportunity when the corridor was empty, she moved like a ghost, quickly crossing the connecting walkway, head down, heart pounding, and entered the Boys' Dormitory Building, finding the room marked "129."

The door was ajar, leaving a crack, as if her arrival had been long expected.

She took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open with trembling hands. Inside, Fūki Ran sat with his back to her, in front of a disturbingly neat desk, quietly flipping through a thick book with an incomprehensible foreign cover. The desk lamp illuminated his tall, slightly slender back. The entire room was filled with a cool cedar scent that matched his demeanor—neat, orderly, yet exuding an untouchable sense of distance.

"Close the door."

He didn't even turn around, but his flat, emotionless words carried an undeniable command.

Karuizawa obeyed, carefully closing the door, the sound of the lock clicking distinctly in the silence. She stood stiffly in the center of the room, feeling like a flawed item placed on display, awaiting final judgment and appraisal.

Fūki finally closed his book and slowly turned around. His gaze rested calmly on her, not like he was looking at a living person, but more like he was examining an object, assessing its value and utility. This devoid-of-emotion stare was more suffocating than any fierce glare.

"Sit."

He gestured to the only chair beside the desk.

Karuizawa practically shuffled her stiff legs, carefully sitting on the chair, her hands clasped nervously on her knees, her knuckles white from the pressure.

"Kushida said..." She mustered the greatest courage of her life, but her voice still trembled uncontrollably. "...you could help me." Saying this seemed to drain all her strength.

"That depends on what price you are willing to pay." Fūki's tone was devoid of inflection, cutting straight to the core. "I understand you are in urgent need of points, stemming from certain... past events... that you are extremely unwilling to mention, and would go to any lengths to bury."

Karuizawa's face instantly turned ashen. Her lips trembled, and she could barely speak. "I... I don't know how much Kikyo told you... but those things..."

"I know you experienced systematic and quite severe bullying at your previous school." Fūki interrupted her mercilessly, each word a precise scalpel dissecting her scabbed wounds. "I know this experience left you with deep psychological trauma, leading to an unhealthy obsession with social status and others' opinions. I know you fear this past being exposed, fear losing the seemingly stable social fortress you've painstakingly built, and even more, you fear Hirata Yousuke—your current protector—seeing the real, fragile, even... unbearable you hidden beneath your polished exterior."

Every word, every sentence, felt like a heavy lead weight crashing down on Karuizawa's heart. Her breathing became rapid and ragged, her chest heaving violently. Her eyes quickly reddened, tears welling up uncontrollably, blurring her vision. She felt completely exposed, laid bare before this indifferent man, all her carefully constructed defenses rendered useless.

"However," just as Karuizawa was about to be consumed by despair, Fūki's tone abruptly shifted, his voice still terrifyingly steady. "Your fear, your past, your fragile relationship with Hirata Yousuke—these emotional entanglements hold no value for me."

He slowly stood up, walked around the desk, and approached Karuizawa. His tall figure cast an invisible pressure, his shadow engulfing her small frame.

"What interests me is, what tangible price you are willing to pay to protect these secrets, which are more important to you than life itself, and to maintain your precarious 'normal' life."

"I... I can return the points to you!" Karuizawa desperately looked up, like a drowning person grasping at a straw, speaking incoherently. "All of them! With interest! Next month! No, next month might not be enough, but I can pay in installments, I definitely will..."

Fūki gently shook his head, a subtle movement that sent Karuizawa's heart plummeting.

"Points?" A faint, almost mocking curve touched the corner of his lips. "Those are meaningless numbers to me. What I need is something else, something only you can provide... unique value."

He leaned down slightly, closing the distance between them. His deep eyes were like two vortices, locking onto Karuizawa's terrified gaze.

"I want you, from this moment on, to be my eyes and my ears. By Hirata Yousuke's side, within your girls' group, and in every corner and shadow of Class D that my gaze cannot reach. Everything you see, every whisper you hear, every undercurrent you sense, must be reported to me without reservation and in a timely manner."

Karuizawa's eyes widened in shock, her pupils constricting in disbelief. "You... you want me to... spy on Hirata? Betray him? That's impossible! I..."

"Not betrayal," Fūki's voice remained cold, yet possessed a seductive power. "But a higher level of cooperation and loyalty. You can continue to play his sweet and lovely girlfriend, you can maintain your seemingly central position in the girls' group, your current superficial life can remain the same. The only, and most important, change is—" he paused deliberately, ensuring each word seared itself into her soul, "—from the moment you stepped into this room, the only person you truly need to be loyal to is me."

"No... I can't... Absolutely not..." Karuizawa shook her head frantically, tears finally breaking free, streaming down her pale cheeks. "Hirata... he trusts me so much, he protects me, I can't..."

"Hirata Yousuke cannot protect you." Fūki interrupted her coldly, his voice decisive and irrefutable. "All he can give you is temporary, false security, a seemingly warm harbor. But he cannot change your inherent fragility, erase the scars in your memory, nor can he foresee and prevent all potential threats. When the real storm comes, his naive 'unity' theory will be worthless."

He leaned down again, the distance so close that Karuizawa could feel his cool breath, carrying the scent of cedar, and clearly see the bottomless, emotionless darkness in his eyes.

"Now, the choice is yours. Will you continue to live in this constant state of anxiety, forever fearing that one morning you will wake up to find everything you've painstakingly built has collapsed, and you will fall back into the abyss called 'the past' that you desperately try to escape? Or will you choose to accept my protection, gain true, unbreakable security, at the price of—dedicating your loyalty, everything you have, entirely to me."

Karuizawa's tears fell like pearls from a broken string, large drops rolling down her cheeks. She looked at the man before her. He was like a demon from the abyss, clearly laying out a path to salvation that required selling her soul. In her mind, the jeers and blows of her past bullies, the isolation and humiliation, were as vivid as yesterday. Hirata's gentle smile and the potential look of disappointment alternated. The fear of falling back to the bottom, of being trampled again, coiled around her heart like a cold viper, tightening its grip...

Her reason screamed, warning her this was an abyss from which there was no return. But the instinct for survival, the extreme fear of falling into hell again, ultimately overwhelmed everything.

"I... I promise..." She closed her eyes, mustering her last ounce of strength, and squeezed out these words, like signing a devil's pact, from her trembling lips. Her voice was weak, but carried a desperate finality.

Fūki straightened up, his expression unchanged, as if this outcome was entirely within his expectations. He walked to the desk, opened a drawer, took out a brand new, unregistered, plain black communicator, and handed it to Karuizawa.

"Use this to maintain one-on-one contact with me. It will be encrypted to ensure security." His voice returned to its previous flatness. "Remember, from the moment you take this, your loyalty, your secrets, your fate belong solely to me. This is a contract, not to be violated."

Karuizawa's trembling, icy hand reached out and took the communicator. It was cool to the touch and light, yet felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, as if she were taking her soul's deed of sale.

"Now," Fūki sat back down in his chair behind the desk, reverting to the calm observer and commander. "As the first intelligence exchange, tell me, what has Hirata Yousuke been busy with lately? What specific plans or concerns does he have regarding the upcoming Special Exam?"

Karuizawa wiped the tears from her face, took a deep breath, and tried to calm her still erratic breathing and pounding heart. She glanced at the black communicator in her hand, then at the man before her who now controlled her fate. Finally, she began to report, intermittently but as detailed as possible, everything she knew—Hirata's recent efforts to unify the class, his concerns about several unstable elements, his private speculation about Chabashira-sensei's vague warnings...

As the first secret was revealed, she clearly felt a part of her soul had changed forever, stripped of its original color, branded with Fūki Ran's cold mark.

When she finally left Dorm 129 and stepped back into the light of the corridor, she was no longer the Karuizawa Kei who simply relied on Hirata Yousuke's protection, filled with inner unease. She had become a pawn strategically placed by Fūki Ran in the heart of Class D, a dual existence walking between light and darkness. Every step she took would be on a tightrope woven from lies and loyalty.

And within Dorm 129, Fūki Ran recorded the information Karuizawa provided in his thick notebook. Under the "Available Resources" section, he solemnly added the name "Karuizawa Kei," with the annotation "Deeply controlled, value to be further explored." A barely perceptible, satisfied curve touched the corner of his lips. Karuizawa Kei, this unexpected acquisition, her potential value was gradually unfolding. She could not only provide information on the movements of Hirata Yousuke's inner circle but also served as an excellent window for him to deeply understand the internal dynamics of the girls' group, and even the complex power structure of the entire Class D.

More importantly, by precisely controlling her deepest fears and most urgent needs, he had gained an ally with extremely high loyalty, which would have been almost impossible to obtain under normal circumstances. In this cruel, strength-based world, he knew better than anyone that fear originating from the depths of the soul was often more reliable and lasting than any superficial loyalty.