The past three days had been nothing but quizzes. Three per day. Nine total.
While everyone else stressed rankings, I'd been chasing a missing book through the library with Hani. The Kaede case had pulled my focus completely.
Now there was nowhere left to hide.
The air sat heavy. Pencils tapping. Someone's knee bounced hard enough to rattle their chair.
I leaned back, shoulders pressed against the seat. My fingers found the edge of my desk and drummed once, twice, then stopped.
Ms. Song entered with a stack of papers. The room went silent.
She set them down with a thud. Even the confident students sat straighter.
"Before I return these," she said, "I need to remind you about the end-of-month evaluation."
Whispers rippled through the room.
"The rules are simple. The bottom-ranked student from ES1 will be demoted to the regular section. The top student from the regular section will take their place. This swap happens across all year levels."
Someone in the front row exhaled too loudly.
"Your rank will be determined by these quizzes," Ms. Song continued. "Every month."
She started distributing the quizzes.
Papers landed on desks with soft thuds.
Relief. Disappointment. Panic.
I watched it play out across faces around me.
Hani's paper landed beside mine. She picked it up, glanced at it, then set it down without reaction.
Mine stayed on my desk longer than most.
Ms. Song paused beside me. "Eiji Kaito, please see me in the faculty office after this."
The room went still.
Heads turned. Eyes locked on me.
I kept my face blank. My stomach dropped.
I just nodded.
Beside me, Hani's pen stopped mid-word.
The whispers started immediately.
"He's always skipping classes..."
"Probably failed..."
"Finally getting kicked out of ES1?"
"At least it's not me this month..."
I didn't look at anyone. Just waited for the bell.
---
The faculty office smelled like coffee and paper. A few teachers sat at their desks, grading or typing. Ms. Song's table was in the back corner.
She leaned back, arms crossed, studying me like I was a puzzle.
"So, Eiji," she said. "You didn't cheat on those quizzes, did you?"
I tilted my head. "What?"
"You got perfect scores. All nine of them."
I shrugged. "I just... got lucky."
She didn't blink. "I've known you since you were in middle school. I saw your potential back then, even when you were trying to hide it."
She continued. "In chess, you beat the second-year with the highest rating in the semifinals. Then you forfeited the finals."
The final match. The crowd. The board between us—I stood and left before the first move.
"At the science expo, your project should have won. But you ditched the presentation."
"I had other things to do."
"You just didn't want the attention."
I looked away.
She leaned forward. "You've been pulling your punches. Did you know I was the one who endorsed you for ES1, despite your deliberately average grades?"
That caught me off guard. "I didn't ask for it."
"But now you're starting to show what you're truly capable of. Whatever your reason is, I hope you'll continue."
My fingers twitched toward my pocket. Nothing.
"Why are you doing this for me anyway?" I asked.
Her expression shifted—something harder beneath the teacher facade. "There are things in this school that need to be challenged. Things that have been running unchecked for longer than you'd think." Her eyes held mine. "With your potential, you might be the one who can do it. But only if you stop hiding."
The words hung there, weighted. I reached for something in my pocket that wasn't there.
The way she said it—like she was talking about more than just grades or rankings. Like there was something else underneath all of it.
I didn't know what to say to that.
She leaned forward, eyes sharp.
"Keep showing me what you're capable of, Eiji. Don't go back to hiding."
She smiled—not warm, but expectant.
"Amuse me."
---
I was halfway across the faculty office as I left Ms. Song's table when the door opened.
Michi stepped inside, holding a folder while scanning the room.
"Eiji? Perfect timing—I need Ms. Sana to sign club forms. Come with me."
She headed toward the far end of the office without waiting. I followed.
We weaved past desks where teachers graded papers or typed. The noise from the hallways filtered in—students pouring out for lunch, voices echoing.
Michi stopped at a table near the window. Bookshelves behind it—novels, plays, poetry collections. Papers stacked neatly beside a laptop.
A young woman looked up. Late twenties, maybe. Warm smile. Observant eyes.
"Hey, Michiko. Thanks for bringing this over." She took the form, glanced at it. "Mystery Club revival... That takes courage."
Something flickered across Michi's face—brief, almost invisible. "Someone has to."
Ms. Minatozaki noticed. Her smile softened. "Well, if you need anything—even just an ear—my table is open."
She signed the form, then looked up.
"This is Eiji, right? One of the members?"
Michi nodded. "Yeah. How did you—"
"I've seen your club application." Ms. Minatozaki's gaze shifted to me. "Nice to meet you, Eiji. Hmm... I thought you'd be more of a laid-back type."
Michi smirked. "He is."
"Really?" Ms. Minatozaki tilted her head. "You've been cramming hard lately. Skipping meals. Not much sleep either."
I stared. "How—"
"Ink on your fingers. Bloodshot eyes. Your watch is loose—you've been losing weight." She gestured casually. "And you smell like coffee, not lunch."
Michi's eyes lit up. "Woah, you're like Sherlock, Ms. Sana! I think we really chose the right advisor."
Ms. Minatozaki laughed softly. "You can call me Ms. Sana, by the way—everyone does." Her gaze lingered on me with concern.
"Hani's another member, correct?" Ms. Sana asked. "She reminds me of you, Eiji—studying just as hard. Too hard, maybe."
Before I could respond, the door burst open.
Mr. Sendo leaned in, catching his breath. "Hey, announcement just came through—typhoon rain will intensify this evening. Wind's already picking up. Classes suspended this afternoon. No school tomorrow. You two, get home now before it gets worse."
---
Michi and I walked toward the stairs together.
The hallways were already thinning out. Students grabbed bags and headed for the exits.
"Guess no club today," Michi said. "Be careful out there. Make sure you go home early."
"Now you care."
She stopped, then hooked both of her hands around my arm, hugging it against her side naturally.
"Of course I care. I'm basically the reason you have a social life now." She paused, mouth still half-open, like she heard herself a beat too late. Her grip loosened. She let go of my arm and stepped back, smoothing her headband. "That came out wrong. What I mean is—just because I have my ways doesn't mean I'm not considerate."
My feet caught the weight of her words.
"You're still not telling us about Juri Nagano," I said.
"...I know," she said quietly.
"You've been dodging it."
"I'm not dodging. I'm choosing the right moment. I want to tell both you and Hani together." She paused. "How about when we return to the club next week? After the typhoon passes. I'll tell you everything."
"It's up to you. Not that I care."
She studied me, then smirked faintly. "You care more than you admit."
She turned to leave, then stopped.
"Oh, by the way—did you or Hani stop by the club room yesterday? After I left?"
"I did. Why?"
"Things keep moving. Like someone's doing it on purpose."
I'd seen it too. The drawer. The tray rotated clockwise.
"It was like that when I got there."
"So someone else has been inside."
"Still happening, then."
"Mmm. I'll tell security to check the old wing more often. But whoever it is..." Her voice dropped. "They're persistent."
She walked away, footsteps fading down the hall.
I stood there, listening to the rain start against the windows.
Then I headed back to the classroom.
The hallways were nearly empty. Through the windows, I could see wind whipping the trees outside. Students rushed past with bags over their heads.
ES1 was empty when I arrived.
Everyone had left fast—beating the storm, heading home.
But Hani's bag was still at her desk.
Books arranged neatly. Pencil case zipped. Untouched.
I stopped beside it.
No classes. No Olympiad session either—canceled due to weather.
She wasn't in the faculty office. I'd just come from there.
So where was she?
The storm's rhythm intensified outside—water drumming metal, wind testing glass.
I should leave. Get ahead of the weather.
Instead, I stayed.
One hour passed.
Then I went looking.