Ryo sat at his usual spot in the corner of the common room, his back against the cold stone wall, eyes scanning the faint reflections in the window. The sky outside was darkening, clouds rolling in like heavy shadows over the Institute grounds. He was alone, exactly as he preferred. The silence allowed him to think, to unravel the day's events and assess every interaction with exacting precision. His teammates could question his methods, they could even misunderstand his intentions, but ultimately, they didn't need to understand him. They simply needed to follow.
Footsteps broke the silence, echoing down the hall, and a moment later, Aya appeared. She moved quietly, almost hesitantly, her gaze finding him before she even stepped into the room. Ryo didn't acknowledge her presence, his eyes staying fixed on the reflection of storm clouds gathering outside.
After a pause, she stepped closer, clearing her throat softly. "Ryo… can we talk?"
He turned, his gaze as steady as stone. "If you have something to say, then say it."
Her brow furrowed slightly, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. "You always make things sound so… clinical. Like we're just pieces on a board."
"Because that's exactly what we are," he replied evenly. "We're all here to serve a purpose."
Aya sighed, folding her arms as she looked at him. "But we're people, Ryo. Real people with—"
"Feelings?" he cut in, his tone almost mocking. "Emotions? Is that supposed to be a virtue here?"
She fell silent for a moment, a faint flicker of sadness crossing her face. "It doesn't have to be a weakness."
"Then prove it," he said coolly, watching her intently. "Show me one instance where emotions have improved anyone's standing in this place."
Aya's jaw clenched, but she held his gaze. "Maybe they don't improve our standing here, but they remind us why we're doing all this in the first place. Maybe we need something more than just survival, something more than winning the Institute's game."
Ryo's expression remained impassive. "Survival is the only goal that matters here."
Aya shook her head, her voice softer now. "You're wrong. We're all fighting for something, Ryo. You included, whether you admit it or not."
He watched her in silence, his face unreadable. After a moment, he turned back to the window, dismissing her words as he watched the storm settle over the landscape.
Their silence was interrupted as Kenji sauntered into the room, his hands in his pockets, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, so this is where everyone's hiding. The storm bringing out the brooding in everyone tonight?"
Aya looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and relief. "Kenji…"
Kenji chuckled, making himself comfortable in the chair across from them. "Look, Ryo, I know you're Mr. Stoic and all, but I think Aya has a point. We can't just function as pawns, completely emotionless."
Ryo's gaze flickered to him, his voice as cold as ever. "You're both missing the point. Emotions cloud judgment. I operate without distractions."
Kenji rolled his eyes. "Operating like that might keep you alive, but it won't make you human."
Ryo's silence was unwavering, his gaze like ice. "Humanity is irrelevant."
Kenji leaned forward, his tone suddenly serious. "Maybe so. But if you think you can get through this alone, you're underestimating this place. Everyone here is part of a system, even you, Ryo. You can't just be a ghost in the machine."
Ryo's gaze didn't waver. "I don't intend to be anything but what's necessary. Anything else is excess."
Aya sighed, glancing at Kenji, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "Let's not waste our time. He's not going to change his mind."
But before anyone could respond further, a faint chime echoed through the hall—a call to the assembly hall. Ryo rose immediately, his expression unchanging, while Kenji and Aya exchanged wary glances.
"Looks like we're in for another announcement," Kenji muttered, his smirk fading as they filed out of the room and joined the wave of students moving toward the main hall.
The assembly hall was buzzing with murmurs as students from every class gathered, the tension thick in the air. The principal stood at the podium, his expression unreadable, watching the students as they settled into their seats. His gaze was sharp, commanding silence as he began to speak.
"Students of the Institute," he started, his voice carrying a weight that silenced even the whispers. "As you all know, this institution was established to cultivate potential in those deemed worthy. But potential is not measured by strength alone. True potential is measured by sacrifice, by the willingness to abandon comfort, certainty, and, yes, even allies."
Ryo's face remained impassive, his eyes fixed on the principal with an unwavering focus. Beside him, Aya shifted uncomfortably, and Kenji's usual smirk was nowhere to be seen.
The principal continued, his voice growing sharper. "From this point forward, each class will face unique trials designed to test not only individual resilience but collective loyalty. These trials will be unpredictable, ruthless, and they will demand a choice: are you willing to sacrifice everything, including those around you, for victory?"
The tension in the room escalated, whispers breaking out among the students. Ryo remained still, his expression unfazed. This was exactly the kind of test he had anticipated.
"Your scores, your privileges, your future standing—everything depends on your performance in these trials," the principal added, his gaze piercing. "Those who fail will lose not just points, but the trust of their peers, and ultimately, their place here. Make no mistake: these trials are not designed to cultivate friendships. They are designed to weed out the weak."
A murmur of unease rippled through the crowd, but Ryo's face remained expressionless. He glanced at Aya, whose face was pale, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and determination. Kenji clenched his fists, his gaze hardening as he absorbed the weight of the principal's words.
"You have one week to prepare," the principal announced. "Each class will be notified individually of the specific trial they will face. Make use of this time. That is all."
With a final, piercing gaze over the assembly, the principal turned and left the stage. As he disappeared from view, the hall erupted in murmurs and anxious whispers, the weight of the announcement settling heavily on the students.
Kenji turned to Ryo, his face unusually serious. "So… this is it, huh? The big test they've been hinting at?"
Ryo met his gaze, his tone as cold as ever. "It's just another step. The rules haven't changed."
Aya looked at him, her eyes searching. "But they're asking us to turn against each other. They're asking us to sacrifice our own… our own friends."
Ryo's gaze didn't waver. "Friendship is a liability here. Focus on the objective."
She shook her head, her voice soft but determined. "Maybe to you, but to me, it's not that simple. I don't want to just survive this place, Ryo. I want to leave with something that isn't broken."
Kenji glanced at her, a faint, almost pained smile on his lips. "Yeah… I get that. But here? I'm not sure that's possible."
Ryo regarded them both with a detached calm. "You're wasting energy on ideals that don't belong in this environment. Adapt, or be eliminated. It's as simple as that."
Aya's face fell, but she didn't argue. Kenji sighed, crossing his arms as he looked away. "You know, Ryo… sometimes I wonder if you're even human."
Ryo didn't respond, his expression unchanging. He turned and walked away from them, his mind already calculating, analyzing every variable, every possibility. Whatever alliances he might have tolerated before were irrelevant now. This was the final test, the one that would determine who truly had the strength to rise above the rest. And he had no intention of letting anything—least of all sentimentality—stand in his way.