The Tyrant's Messenger

Friday morning, the sky was as overcast as a dirty rag.

The rain was threatening to fall, and the air felt thick and sticky, carrying a musty scent with every breath.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka stood before the bulletin board in the school building, staring at the newly posted "VIP Exam Rules Announcement." The area was packed with people, their whispers buzzing like flies.

The announcement was written in formal, flowery language, but the core boiled down to three points:

First, exam format: First-year and second-year students will be randomly paired to compete in a class-based tournament.

Second, victory condition: Capture the opposing class's "VIP" identity card while protecting your own.

Third, special rule: Each team has one "traitor" whose mission is the opposite of the team's goal. The traitor's identity will be revealed one hour after the exam begins.

"Randomly paired." Kei Karuizawa stood beside him, her voice barely a whisper. "As if."

She pointed to the fine print at the bottom of the notice: "Team rosters are determined by a Student Council lottery; results are sealed and will be revealed on the day of the exam."

"It means it's rigged." Suzune Horikita walked over leaning on a cane. The bandage on her ankle had been removed, but she still walked with a slight limp. "Chabashira-sensei said we are paired with Class 2-C. The leader of Class 2-C is Atsushi Ryuen."

She paused, then added, "Kakeru Ryuen's older brother."

The expressions of the Class D students nearby shifted instantly.

Kakeru Ryuen was already unhinged enough, and his brother was the "tyrant" of the second year. This was clearly walking into a fire pit.

"Is there a way?" Yosuke Hirata asked. He looked unwell today, with dark circles under his eyes—he had been dealing with the fallout of Hashimoto's expulsion until late last night.

"Yes," Ayanokoji said. "Lose gracefully."

The area went quiet for a moment.

Then Kei laughed, her shoulders shaking. "Are you serious?"

"Very serious." Ayanokoji looked at the notice. "This competition is unfair from the start. Our 'teammates' will do everything in their power to eliminate us, and our 'opponents'—regardless of which class they are—will prioritize attacking us. Because everyone knows that a combination of Class D and Class 2-C is bound to collapse from within."

He paused. "So, what we need to do isn't to win, but to survive. And while surviving, gather as many points as possible."

"Then the class points..." Kanji Ike whispered.

"Will be deducted," Ayanokoji said bluntly. "But we can control how many."

He looked at the group. "The exam lasts three days, and the location is the 'Special Exercise Area' behind the school. There are dorms, a cafeteria, and a simulated small society. What we need to bring isn't combat power, but survival supplies and intelligence."

"Intelligence?" Haruki Yamauchi didn't understand.

"Intelligence about other classes, intelligence about the terrain, and..." Ayanokoji looked toward the second-year building, "...intelligence about our 'teammate'."

The bell rang for class.

The crowd dispersed.

Ayanokoji took one last look at the notice and turned to leave, only to be stopped by a voice.

"Ayanokoji Kiyotaka-kun?"

It was a girl. A second-year, wearing a Class C uniform, short hair, glasses, holding a folder, her expression as respectful as a secretary.

"I am Hiyori Shiina from Class 2-C." She bowed slightly. "Atsushi Ryuen-kun asked me to give this to you."

She handed over a black envelope, sealed with red wax bearing the imprint of a ferocious dragon head.

Ayanokoji took it without opening it. "Did he say anything else?"

"He said..." Hiyori Shiina adjusted her glasses, her voice steady and devoid of inflection, "'The game starts now. I hope you can survive until the day of the exam.'"

With that, she bowed again and turned to leave.

Kei leaned in. "What is this? A threat?"

"An invitation." Ayanokoji broke the wax seal. Inside was only a card with handwritten text as sharp as a knife:

Time: Today after school, 17:00

Location: Old School Building, 3rd floor, Music Room

Agenda: Pre-battle meeting

Note: Come alone. Bringing a weapon is fine, if you think it's useful.

Signature: Atsushi Ryuen.

Kei gasped. "This is a trap, isn't it?"

"It's a show of force." Ayanokoji tucked the card away. "He wants to establish dominance before the exam even begins."

"So, are you going?"

"I am," Ayanokoji said. "If I don't, he'll think I'm afraid. And if I'm afraid, the next three days will be even harder to endure."

Five o'clock in the afternoon, third floor of the Old School Building.

The door to the music room was ajar, and piano music drifted out—Chopin's Funeral March. It was played well, but every note was laced with a chill.

Ayanokoji pushed the door open and entered.

The room was large, with a discarded piano in the center. A boy sat on the piano bench, his back to the door. He wore a second-year uniform but no tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His hair was longer than Kakeru Ryuen's, tied into a small braid hanging behind his head.

The music stopped.

The boy turned around.

This was the first time Ayanokoji Kiyotaka had laid eyes on Atsushi Ryuen.

He looked seventy percent like Kakeru Ryuen, but his eyes were entirely different—Kakeru Ryuen's gaze was manic, burning with a fever to destroy everything; whereas Atsushi Ryuen's gaze was cold, like a scalpel, like an ice pick, the kind of cold that could peel back skin to expose the bone.

"Sit." Atsushi Ryuen gestured toward the chair opposite him.

Ayanokoji sat down.

The two stared at each other for five seconds.

Then Atsushi Ryuen smiled, a shallow expression that didn't reach his eyes: "My brother says you're difficult to deal with."

"You flatter me."

"It's not a compliment," Atsushi Ryuen said. "It's a fact. He's fallen into your hands twice, and he's already planning the third attempt. Though, I don't think his probability of success exceeds thirty percent."

He was blunt, uncomfortably so.

"So?" Ayanokoji asked. "Are you here to avenge him?"

"Avenge him?" Atsushi Ryuen sounded as if he'd heard a joke. "Why would I avenge him? If he lost, it's because he's incompetent. Incompetent people aren't worth my time."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the gloomy sky.

"I'm looking for you to discuss a collaboration."

"Collaboration?"

"Correct." Atsushi Ryuen turned around, leaning against the windowsill. "You've seen the rules for the exam starting next Wednesday. We're in the same group, but there is a 'traitor' among us. The traitor's mission is to sabotage the group's victory."

He paused. "Who do you think the traitor is?"

"You," Ayanokoji said.

Atsushi Ryuen raised an eyebrow. "So direct?"

"Because you're the most suitable candidate," Ayanokoji analyzed. "You're the leader of Class 2-C; sacrificing Class D to secure your own class's victory is a sound trade. Plus, your brother hates me, so you could kill two birds with one stone by avenging him while doing someone a favor."

"Good analysis." Atsushi Ryuen applauded—once, twice—the sound echoing through the empty classroom. "But you're wrong."

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and tossed it to Ayanokoji.

On the paper was a single line of handwritten text:

Traitor Identity: Ayanokoji Kiyotaka (Class D)

Ayanokoji's pupils contracted slightly.

"Surprised?" Atsushi Ryuen smiled. "The Student Council provided the list of traitors to each group leader in advance. And I am the leader of Class 2-C."

He walked over to Ayanokoji, leaned down, and braced his hands on the armrests of the chair, trapping Ayanokoji in the middle. "So, the situation now is this—you are the traitor, I know you are the traitor, and you don't know that I know you are the traitor. According to the rules, I am supposed to wait one hour after the exam begins to disclose this information."

His breath brushed against Ayanokoji's face, carrying the scent of peppermint. "But I'm telling you now. Why?"

"Because you want to play a bigger game," Ayanokoji said calmly.

"Smart." Atsushi Ryuen straightened up, putting distance between them. "I don't care about the outcome of this exam. Class points? I can take those whenever I want. What I care about is..."

He paused, his eyes turning excited. "It's the game itself. It's watching how a person struggles when they know they are destined to lose. It's watching a smart person dig their own grave while trapped in a dead end."

A madman.

He was the same kind of madman as his brother, but smarter, calmer, and more... capable of enjoying the process.

"So?" Ayanokoji asked. "What do you want me to do?"

"It's simple." Atsushi Ryuen walked back to the piano and pressed a key at random. "Play with me for three days. Use your full strength and give me a spectacular performance. If you can do that..."

He turned his head, his smile brilliant: "After the exam ends, I guarantee Kakeru Ryuen won't bother you again. I'll make sure he stays far, far away from you and Class D."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will reveal your identity as the traitor in the very first minute of the exam," Atsushi Ryuen said. "Then I'll watch as you're hunted by everyone, watch as Class D collapses because of your 'betrayal,' watch as you lose everyone's trust, and finally... watch you get expelled."

He tilted his head. "Choose. Will you play a game with me, or will you die right now?"

The classroom was so quiet that the sound of dust settling could be heard.

The sky outside the window grew darker, and the rain finally began to fall, pattering against the glass.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka was silent for a long time.

Then he stood up and walked toward the door.

At the threshold, he stopped without looking back: "I'll play your game. But the rules need to change."

"Oh?" Atsushi Ryuen turned around, intrigued.

"I won't be using 'full strength'," Ayanokoji said. "I will use every means at my disposal, including the ones you don't like. If you want to quit halfway through, or if you can't handle the game..."

He paused. "I will make you regret looking for me today."

With that, he pushed the door open and left.

The sound of the piano rang out behind him again—it was still the Funeral March, but the tempo was much faster, as if it were chasing something.

Atsushi Ryuen watched the closed door, his smile deepening.

"Interesting," he whispered. "Too interesting."

7:00 PM, Class D activity room.

Ayanokoji revealed the matter of the traitor.

A deathly silence filled the activity room.

"Isn't this a fucking cheat!" Ken Sudo slammed his fist onto the table. "Leaking the traitor's identity in advance? Won't the Student Council do anything about it?"

"The Student Council provided the list of commanders, but the commander leaking it in advance is, strictly speaking, not a violation," Suzune Horikita analyzed calmly. "Because the rules only stated 'to be announced after one hour,' not that it couldn't be said earlier."

"Then what do we do now?" Karuizawa's face turned pale. "You are the traitor, Atsushi Ryuen knows, and other classes might know too... Once the exam starts, you will become everyone's target."

"That is why we need a plan." Ayanokoji drew a simple diagram on the whiteboard. "The exam lasts three days: the first day is the adaptation period, the second is the conflict period, and the third is the decisive period. Atsushi Ryuen will reveal my identity on the first day, so we must establish a defense on the first day."

He looked at Hirata: "Adjust the supply distribution. Food, water, and medicine should be stored in three separate locations. One visible, two hidden. If the main camp is breached, we will still have a retreat path."

Hirata nodded and took notes.

"Karuizawa, you and Sakura will be a team, responsible for reconnaissance and intelligence," Ayanokoji continued. "Especially the movements of other classes, as well as the internal dynamics of Class 2-C—I don't believe everyone there listens to Atsushi Ryuen."

"Understood," Karuizawa said.

"Horikita, you and Hirata are responsible for internal coordination and defensive fortifications," Ayanokoji said. "The exam site is the mountain behind the school; there is terrain we can utilize. Study the map in advance and find retreat routes and ambush points."

Horikita nodded.

"Sudo, Ike, Yamauchi, you are the combat force," Ayanokoji looked at the three of them. "But remember, our goal is not to fight, but to delay and disrupt. If you encounter an attack, run if you can; if you can't, create chaos."

The three looked at each other, but eventually nodded.

"What about you?" Hirata asked. "You are the traitor and the target; what will you do?"

"I will act as bait," Ayanokoji said. "Atsushi Ryuen wants to play cat and mouse, so I will let him catch me. But mice can bite back."

He paused: "Besides, the traitor identity isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"What do you mean?"

"The traitor's mission is to sabotage the team's victory," Ayanokoji said. "But what if the definition of 'team' can be blurred? What if I can make Class 2-C and Class D nominally remain one team, while they are actually already divided?"

Everyone was stunned.

"You mean..." Horikita's eyes lit up, "exploiting a loophole in the rules?"

"The rules only said 'seize the target class's VIP identity card,' it didn't say we couldn't seize our own teammates'," Ayanokoji said. "If I can make Class 2-C become the 'target class,' then my traitor mission will be complete, and what's more..."

He smiled: "We can get an extra share of points."

A madman.

That was what everyone was thinking at this moment.

But it was an exciting kind of madness.

"Let's do it," Karuizawa was the first to declare. "We're dead either way, so we might as well give it a shot."

The others nodded one after another.

The meeting ended, and everyone dispersed to prepare.

Ayanokoji was the last to leave the activity room. As he closed the door, his phone vibrated.

It was a message from Kikyo Kushida, containing only one photo:

In the photo, Shiho Manabe and Honami Ichinose were talking in a cafe, and Shiho was handing her a USB drive.

The caption read: "Your new ally doesn't seem very honest, you know."

Ayanokoji stared at the photo for a few seconds, then deleted it and replied:

"Mind your own business."

He turned off his phone and looked out the window.

The rain was getting heavier, and the streetlights on campus blurred into patches of dim yellow light in the curtain of rain.

A storm was coming.

And he had already walked into the tyrant's hunting ground.