The central library of Seika Academy was a Showa-era red-brick building with a vaulted dome and narrow stained-glass windows. The air stayed permanently dry and cool, heavy with the smell of old paper fermenting and turpentine from floor wax.
Lunch break. Library nearly empty. Sunlight cut through the high stained glass, painting the dust in shifting colors. Beams slashed diagonally across oak shelves, dividing the space into frozen slices.
Satsuki stood at the 'Social Sciences' shelves. Fingertips trailed the spines of hardcovers.
Hair down today. Black, loose over her shoulders, ends curling slightly. She pulled out a thick post-war Japanese economic history, flipped pages. Rustle, crisp.
Two steps away at a reading table, Amy spun a mechanical pencil.
Nikkei Electronics open on the table. Bag of Pocky beside it. She had a biscuit stick in her mouth, nibbling like a hamster. Eyes blank, fixed on a Motorola microprocessor circuit diagram.
"Too slow."
Amy mumbled around the Pocky, pushing silver frames up her nose.
"By data transmission standards, Ezaki-san's response speed is telegraph era. Me? Ten minutes, tops."
"Humans aren't machines, Amy."
Satsuki closed the book. Slid it back into the gap.
"In this circle, making people feel 'needed' and 'waited for' is the ritual. Too fast looks cheap."
She turned. Eyes to the dim corridor entrance.
Hurried, uneven footsteps. Hard leather soles on wood, coming closer. Broke the library's tomb-silence.
Ezaki Mariko appeared around the bookshelf corner.
She'd been running. Sweat on her forehead. Perm waves a little messy. Saw Satsuki. Anxiety in her eyes flipped to ecstasy.
"Saionji-san!"
Mariko kept her voice down, but excitement leaked out. She hurried over, forgetting library silence, crocodile-skin handbag clutched until it deformed.
"Sorry I'm late! Had to verify share counts, annotate everyone's family background, took longer…"
She glanced around. No one else. Carefully pulled a kraft folder from her bag.
"This is what you wanted."
Mariko handed it over with both hands. Like presenting state secrets.
The 'tacit approval' in the Rose Society room days ago had been adrenaline for Mariko. Not only had she offloaded the stocks, she felt she'd touched the inner circle's doorknob.
This morning, when Satsuki came to her privately and said, in that confidante voice, 'I want to know everyone's "enthusiasm level" so I can plan Rose Society activities better,' Mariko thought she'd been blessed by the goddess of luck.
This was trust.
This was the path to becoming a confidante.
Satsuki took the folder. Fingertips paused on the rough kraft paper.
"Thanks for the hard work, Ezaki-san."
Satsuki's voice soft. Perfect note of approval.
"In this school, people as thorough and considerate as you are rare."
Mariko's face went red instantly. Twisted her fingers. Incoherent: "No, no trouble! Honor to help Saionji-san! And… and I think Rose Society should screen members. Some people have backgrounds but they're so short-sighted, they don't match your level."
Amy bit her Pocky. Crack.
Glanced at Mariko. Pity flashed in her eyes.
Poor hamster. Handing a hit list to a venomous snake. Worried about the snake's appetite.
Satsuki ignored the loyalty display. Opened the folder. Pulled out several A4 sheets, densely printed.
Stained-glass sunlight threw colored shadows on the paper.
List was long.
Had to admit: Mariko's work was meticulous. Not a list. An intelligence map.
****
****
****
…
Rows of names. Some familiar. Some not.
Behind them: families controlling Japan's purse strings, seals, police batons.
1988.
Crazy year. Nikkei sprinting to 30,000. Tokyo land prices breaking records by the second. Everyone believed: buy stock, buy the future.
Greed spread down this list like a virus.
To guarantee Apex Group's post-IPO moon shot and build a protection umbrella for illegal expansion, they picked the most covert, efficient bribe: transfer pre-IPO shares cheap to the powerful's kids and relatives.
Legal gray zone then. Actually: naked interest-peddling.
Satsuki's eyes swept the numbers fast.
5,000 shares. 3,000 shares. 2,000 shares… each line a time bomb.
Months from now, media detonates this. Tokyo District Prosecutors Office Special Investigation Department moves in. Every family on this list faces disaster.
Budget Committee Chairman: resigns in disgrace.
MITI Director-General: suspended, investigated.
And those girls dreaming of riches… they'll learn their stocks aren't Paris plane tickets. They're tickets to send their fathers to prison.
Of course, even without these girls, if their fathers wanted in, they'd find other channels.
But if it goes through their hands, and ends with their families in prison? Those girls will carry guilt for life.
"This is what you'd call an 'All-Star lineup.'"
Satsuki sighed, internally.
Her eyes stopped at the last line.
Name circled in red. Question mark beside it.
****
Satsuki's eyebrow lifted.
Pity.
As expected, one hint wasn't enough?
"President Kudo didn't take it?" she asked, looking up, casual.
Mariko startled. Smile stiffened. Turned to disdain.
"Yeah. That nerd… doesn't know a good thing."
Mariko curled her lip. Resentment thick.
"I had someone send him an LOI, hinted it was my father's 'support' for Student Council work. He sent it back. Said 'Student Council doesn't do commercial activities.' Ha! Who's he performing integrity for? Everyone knows his dad's just a prosecutor on a fixed salary. Family's broke."
"A prosecutor, I see…"
Satsuki nodded, thoughtful.
But this worked too.
Variable appeared. Use it.
Kudo Kei's refusal meant he was uncontrollable. Also meant he was a clean blade. When reckoning came, clean blades cut unexpected places.
"It's fine."
Satsuki closed the folder. Fingers tapped the cover twice, light.
"Some people are meant to look up at the view from the mountain base. We don't need to mind them."
Mariko's eyes lit up.
"You're so right! I think so too!" Mariko nodded hard, eyes locked on the folder in Satsuki's hand. "Then… Saionji-san, are you satisfied with this list? Need me to…"
"No need. This is enough."
Satsuki cut her off.
She folded the folder slowly. Elegant. Composed. Like folding a love letter.
"This list is valuable. It showed me many things clearly."
For example: who are greedy fools, who are incompetent gamblers, and… who will vacate key seats in three months.
Saionji Family wouldn't join this feast. But they could absolutely 'clean the battlefield' after.
When these families fell to scandal, the political vacuums they left, the channels they controlled, the premium assets they'd firesale… all became her prey.
This was a death list.
And a treasure map.
"Then…" Mariko rubbed her hands. Tentative. "This Sunday's Rose Society tea… can I…"
She wanted status. Official. Even coordinator.
Satsuki looked at her.
No distance now. Instead: gentle closeness.
Reached out. Patted Mariko's shoulder, light.
"You did well, Ezaki-san."
Satsuki's voice had that heart-ensnaring power.
"This tea party, sit on my left. I think everyone would love to hear your thoughts on the 'Information Superhighway.'"
Boom.
Mariko felt fireworks in her skull.
Left side!
Core member seat! Only Yoshino Ayako, Isokawa Reiko level sat there!
She… she made it! Climbed up!
"Yes! Yes! Thank you! Thank you, Saionji-san!"
Mariko's face red, voice shaking. Bowed deep. Ninety degrees.
"I'll prepare perfectly! Won't disappoint you!"
"Go."
Satsuki smiled. Waved a hand.
"Don't keep everyone waiting. You're our school's most popular 'God of Wealth' now."
"Yes!"
Mariko turned like a freshly knighted cavalier, head high. Steps light. Leather shoes tapping victory on wood. Like the world was hers.
Library quiet again.
Only dust in light beams, tumbling silent.
Amy bit her last Pocky. Watched Mariko's back. Pushed her glasses up.
"Data overflow."
Amy said, unclear.
"What?" Satsuki slipped the folded folder into her jacket's inner pocket. Against her heart.
"Her dopamine levels."
Amy pulled her oolong can tab.
"And Apex Group's stock price expectations. All indicators too high. Illogical. Like buggy code — runs happy now, but one memory jitter and it blue-screens, crashes."
She sipped. Looked at Satsuki.
"Were you writing a 'death warrant' for her just now?"
Satsuki laughed.
Walked to the window. Pushed open the heavy stained glass.
Afternoon breeze came in. Blew her hair. Outside, Seika courtyard, carefree girls on the lawn, laughter riding the wind.
"Amy, know what 'alchemy' is?"
Satsuki looked at the vibrant figures below.
"Alchemy?" Amy blinked. "Turn stone to gold?"
"Close. But that's basic alchemy. Unsafe."
Satsuki shook her head.
"True alchemy is turning other people's greed into your bargaining chips."
Amy felt a chill down her spine.
Looked at the girl bathed in sun. Sixteen. Smiling gentle. But in her shadow: something huge, fanged, lurking.
Ah… like this… so cool, this Satsuki-chan… I like her so much… "Then… what do we do?" Amy head down slightly, hiding the flush, voice small.
"Nothing."
Satsuki turned. Back to windowsill. Sun gilded her silhouette.
"We sit in the audience. Watch the play to the end."
"Wait for the stage to collapse. Wait for actors to fall dead."
"Then we go up. Pick up the gold coins on the ground. One by one."
She took a fruit candy from her pocket. Unwrapped. Ate it.
Crunch.
Candy breaking. Clear in empty library.
"Let's go, Amy. Class time."
"Heard today's history is 'Taisho Bubble Collapse.' Should be interesting."
Satsuki fixed her collar. Stepped to the door.
"Mm… mm…"
Amy grabbed her magazine and snacks. Trotted after.