The room had descended into chaos. Whispers turned to shouts, students yelling over each other, some frozen in place, others backing toward the exit. Aoi's gaze locked on the girl holding the letter—her hands trembling slightly, though her face betrayed nothing but steely determination.
"Everyone, shut up!" she barked, her voice cutting cleanly through the noise. The room fell silent. "I'll read the rest."
Aoi caught the slightest quiver in her tone. She cleared her throat and continued, her eyes darting over the letter's contents.
"'The Games will test your abilities, your endurance, and your will to survive. The rules are simple: succeed, and you will be rewarded. Fail, and… well.'" She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. "'Breaking the rules will not be tolerated. There is no escape. Welcome to the First Game.'"
"Is this some kind of sick joke?" a boy in the back snapped, his voice shaking. "Who's doing this? Show yourself!"
The girl ignored him, reading further. "'For the First Game: You will receive instructions shortly. Gather your strength.'" She exhaled and crumpled the letter in her hand, tossing it on the podium. "That's it."
"That's it?" someone shouted. "What does that even mean?"
"It means we're screwed!" another boy yelled, pacing. "No way am I sticking around for—"
"Sit down," came a sharp voice from the back.
A man stepped into the light—a middle-aged figure dressed in a suit, his face blank and impassive. His footsteps echoed unnaturally loud as he approached the stage. He carried an air of authority so chilling it silenced the room. When he spoke, his voice was calm, measured, almost polite.
"Let me make this simple," he said. "You're here because you've been chosen. The Games are not optional. Your participation, your cooperation, and your silence are mandatory."
"Mandatory?" the boy from earlier scoffed. "Yeah, right."
The man tilted his head slightly, then touched his ear, muttering something inaudible. A second later, he turned back to the group and smiled faintly.
"Excuse me for a moment," he said, drawing a handgun from inside his jacket.
"What the—"
Before the boy could finish, a deafening crack echoed through the room. The boy crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. Screams erupted, students stumbling over one another to back away.
"Calm down," the man said smoothly, as though he hadn't just shot someone in cold blood. "This is simply a demonstration. He broke the rules. Specifically, we detected an attempt to text someone outside this room about the Games. As I said, disobedience will not be tolerated."
Aoi felt the air leave their lungs. Their hands clenched into fists at their sides as they stared at the lifeless body on the floor.
"Listen carefully," the man continued, pacing now. "Your phones are no longer your own. They are tools of this Game, monitored and controlled. Attempting to tamper with or disconnect them will result in immediate consequences. If your phone loses connection to you, if you leave it unattended, or if you attempt to remove it from your possession, well…" He gestured vaguely toward the fallen boy. "I trust you understand."
The group was silent, stunned.
"But don't despair," he added, his tone almost cheerful. "These Games aren't all bad. Win, and you'll be rewarded handsomely. Each victory brings prizes: academic success, wealth, influence. Rewards that will grow with every step you take."
"Rewards?" a girl near the front snapped, her voice shaking with rage. "You think this is some kind of fun game?"
"Oh, I think you'll enjoy it," the man said, smiling wider now. "Our winners in the past certainly have. As for the rest… Well, you'll learn to adapt. For tonight, rest. Your first challenge begins tomorrow."
The man's chilling smile stayed frozen on his face, even as the room filled with uneasy murmurs. For a moment, no one moved. Then, like a dam breaking, the students began shuffling toward the doors.
"This is ridiculous," a boy near the front said, his voice rising. "They're trying to scare us, but it's just some stupid prank."
"Yeah, right," someone else added. "What are they going to do? Kill us over homework? This is just some twisted way to mess with us."
"Exactly," another voice piped up, louder this time, as if trying to convince themselves. "If the tasks are simple, like that letter said, we'll be fine. Nothing to freak out about."
Aoi clenched their fists, hanging back near the edge of the room. The stifling air, the corpse on the ground, and the heavy silence between bursts of forced bravado—all of it pressed down like a weight. At the same time, some women came to carry the body and take it with them. And yet, the words coming from the other students carried a thread of hope, shaky but persistent.
"We'll just stick to the rules, do what they ask, and that's it," someone said with a nervous laugh. "No point in panicking over nothing."
But it wasn't nothing. Aoi couldn't forget the sharp crack of the gun, the blood spreading across the floor. They started toward the door, every step feeling heavier than the last. Just as they reached the threshold, a hand grabbed their arm.
Aoi spun, ready to push away whoever it was, only to find a familiar face. It was Riku, his expression unreadable.
"You're here?" Aoi whispered, eyes wide. "When—"
"Later," he muttered, his grip tightening briefly before he let go. "Let's just get out of here."
They stepped into the cold night air together. Aoi glanced around. Groups of students peeled off in every direction, their hurried footsteps scraping against the pavement. Some whispered in hushed tones, while others walked in stiff silence.
"This is real, isn't it?" someone muttered nearby, their voice barely audible.
"Shut up," another snapped. "If you talk too much, we'll all get in trouble."
Riku didn't speak again. He walked just ahead of Aoi, his shoulders rigid. Aoi didn't press him. The silence between them was heavier than words.
They returned to their rooms, and everyone else went by their own way.