—
Choices. What are they, truly? Are they the demonstration and practice of something known to us as free will, or are they just illusions that aim to mimic this notion? We’re often told that everyone has a choice, but each choice inevitably carries consequences, which could be sometimes subtle, sometimes profound.
When faced with decisions, humans tend to calculate, weighing options against their potential outcomes. They consider whether the price of a decision is worth paying. But does this act of deliberation reveal a paradox? Does the presence of overwhelming consequences strip us of genuine choice?
Is it possible for a choice to bear consequences so severe that the freedom to decide is effectively erased? Some would argue yes, that in such scenarios, the "choice" becomes a mere formality, dictated by survival, fear, or inevitability.
My answer is—
—
—
I slumped into the chair by the broad window, exhaling deeply as relief washed over me as I looked at the freshly cleaned room. Around me, the others sank into seats, grateful for the rest after hours of effort.
“Good job, everyone,” I said, breaking the silence.
Sullivan leaned back, arms behind his head, grinning as he surveyed the room. “Thanks. I think we outdid ourselves this time.”
I glanced at the clock above the door. It was later than I thought, and there was still work to be done. My shoulders tensed slightly before I exhaled again and sat up straighter.
“Alright, team,” I said. “Time to begin our first official meeting.”
Sullivan blinked. “Wait, what? Now?”
“Now,” I confirmed. “We’re already here, and some things can’t wait.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, Marcus has a point,” Hazel said, stretching her arms above her head.
“Come on, everyone,” I urged, moving toward the table at the centre of the room. The others followed as we gathered around, and I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “Let’s start with something important. Harley.”
Harley stiffened, fists clenching slightly. Her eyes flickered with unease, but she nodded, acknowledging what was coming.
I met her gaze. “You leaked information to our opponent during the election. Hazel and I had prepared for that possibility and set up countermeasures, but your actions still caused setbacks.”
Hazel, seated to my left, rested her chin in her palms. “If it had been anyone else we were up against, it could’ve ended badly.”
“Our win came down to how we spun the narrative and presented the evidence,” I added. The full truth, which was that some of the evidence had been discreetly supplied by the onlooker, wasn’t something I was ready to share yet. “Harley, we said we’d forgive you and we meant it. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences.”
Harley swallowed. “I understand,” she said quietly.
“The three of us have already discussed it,” Hazel said. “We’ve decided on surveillance.”
Confusion etched across her face. “Surveillance?”
“Exactly,” Hazel confirmed. “It’s clear Cohen wasn’t the mastermind behind the fake bullying scheme. He was just a pawn.”
Sullivan leaned forward. “Whoever’s pulling the strings is dangerous. A mastermind that operates in the shadows. The lengths they went to suggest this wasn’t a one-time ploy. Ignoring it would be a mistake.”
Though I hadn’t shared everything, I did tell them about the other things I discovered and learnt about yesterday. Harley’s eyes shifted between us as the pieces clicked together. “So… you want me to keep an eye on my class?”
“Yes,” I said. “Report anything suspicious.”
She paused, eyes fixed on the table. “Suspicious behaviour is… vague,” she muttered. Then she looked up. “But if this helps make up for what I did, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” I said. “We appreciate it.”
I took a deep breath. “The next topic to address, briefly for now, is the upcoming cultural festival.”
Sullivan perked up. “Right! What’s our plan?”
“We’re still in a transition period, so I can’t say anything definitive yet,” I admitted. “But we need to start brainstorming ideas. When it’s time to pitch ideas, we have to be ready.”
Everyone nodded. I continued, shifting gears. “Speaking of the transition, while we’re officially the student council, the full handover hasn’t happened yet. That’ll take place during the inaugural dinner.”
Hazel tilted her head. “What’s that? First I’m hearing of it.”
“Nomura-sensei told me after the in-class voting,” I explained. “It’s a formal event with both the current and outgoing councils, plus school staff and administrators.”
“Administrators?” Harley asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “The academy’s founder and representatives from the three founding countries will be there. The dinner is scheduled for the 20th, which is only a week away. It’s not just a formality; it’s also the first event we’re in charge of.”
“A week?” Hazel echoed, clearly concerned. “That's… really close.”
I nodded. “Exactly. That’s why we need to prioritise this. I’ll be assigning tasks to make sure we’re ready.”
“Understood,” Hazel replied.
I turned to Harley. “You’ll handle catering. Choose from the school’s available options.”
Harley nodded. “Got it.”
Next, I looked at Sullivan. “You’re in charge of seating and decorations. Prioritise comfort and aesthetics, and seat the higher-ups closest to us.”
“Alright,” he said.
Finally, I turned to Hazel. “I need you to secure the venue and handle any necessary permits.”
“Consider it done,” she replied.
“I’ll meet with Nomura-sensei for more details about the guest list and any protocol details. I’ll also check with Hotaka for advice.”
“What about Yoko? Is she helping?” Sullivan asked.
I shook my head. “No. Yoko isn’t officially part of the student council, and I think we should handle this ourselves. She can help during the cultural festival. That’s all for now.”
Everyone nodded and stood, exiting the room. Hazel lingered, arms crossed as she leaned on the table, eyes on me.
“Do you think that went smoothly?” I asked.
“For your first meeting? Not bad,” she admitted.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I leaned back with a sigh. “One perk of being on the council is we don’t have to attend every class.”
“Only the core and semester ones, right?”
“Yeah. Permanent subjects are still mandatory, but even so, I’ll be spending most of my time here.”
She cocked her head slightly, her expression softening. “Something bothering you?”
I hesitated, fingers drumming on the chair’s armrest. “You could tell?”
“Yep. Though you hid it pretty well,” she said dryly.
“I need to meet with Ryo,” I said but noticed her unchanged expression, which made me speculate. “You knew he was working with someone else, didn’t you?”
“Knew? More like assumed,” she replied. “Harley never mentioned him when she apologised. That told me Ryo wasn’t involved in her plans, at least, not directly. So either Cohen used him without anyone knowing, or Ryo acted on his own.”
“Exactly. I’m planning to confront him. I doubt he’ll be upfront, but maybe he’ll slip.”
She rubbed her arms absently. “It’s a gamble.”
I noticed the small shiver that ran through her. “Are you cold?”
“Just a little,” she admitted, grabbing her bag. “I should head back to class.”
Once she left, the room fell quiet. I glanced at the vent; the heater was still running, a green light blinking steadily.
—
—
I sat at a small table tucked into a quiet corner of the academy’s greenery as I hummed, waiting for Ryo.
“Hello, Marcus,” Ryo said, approaching with his usual smile.
Ryo blinked, startled for a moment, then laughed as he sat down. “Wow, such a loaded question before I’ve even taken a seat. Why would you think that, Marcus?”
“Apart from dropping the fake persona, I have evidence.”
His smile faded. The charming front vanished, replaced by a relaxed, indifferent air. He leaned back, crossing his legs. “Don’t worry about all that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re not even denying it?”
“What’s the point?” he shrugged. “I did my job and failed. By the way, when did you figure it out?”
“I suspected during our first meeting,” I said. “Confirmed it at the interview.”
“Seriously? I thought I answered everything perfectly.”
“You did. Too perfectly. It came off as rehearsed, like you were trying too hard to give the answers. Next time, show some flaws, conflicting goals, or a misstep. Makes it feel more real.”
He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I see. Thanks for the advice. As a drama kid, that’s going to be pretty helpful.”
The absurdity of the conversation wasn’t lost on me. We were discussing how he could improve at sabotage, like it was a critique session. “You’re… welcome.”
“I should probably congratulate you on your win, huh?”
“Don’t worry about all that,” I said, throwing his line back at him.
Ryo chuckled and leaned forward slightly. “No hard feelings, right?” He extended a hand, his smile broad. I studied him for a moment, considering the implications of his actions and the game he had been playing. I had come to a conclusion about him. Finally, I sighed and shook his hand.
“No hard feelings,” I replied.
“Thanks.” Ryo stood, hands in his pockets, preparing to leave.
“Before you go,” I called out, halting him. “I have one more question.”
He turned back. “Go ahead.”
“Did Tomiko do anything to you in response to this?”
Ryo sighed, closing his eyes briefly, as if recalling a particularly unpleasant memory. “Let’s just say there are a few things scarier than pissing off Tomiko. She hasn’t punished me yet, but I’m expecting something. And when it comes, it’ll hit hard.”
“And you still chose to go against her?”
For the first time, Ryo hesitated, his gaze distant. “I got offered something worth my while. You can’t win the game without sacrifices. Remember that, Marcus.”
With those final words, he walked away, leaving me to consider the larger game at play. The implications were clear: Ryo wasn’t the mastermind, just another pawn. I could tell that he had no intention of telling me who it was; hence, I didn’t press him about that.
Whoever arranged these events was far more calculating, using both Ryo and Cohen to execute their plans. However, what made me still suspect the possibility of two masterminds was the evidence that was dropped off at my door. It could also be a ploy to throw me off track.
My thoughts were interrupted by my phone ringing. I checked the caller ID.
“Hello, Hotaka,” I answered.
“Marcus, could you come to the student council office?” he asked. “Bring the rest of your members.”
“What’s this about?”
“I have information about the inaugural dinner,” he replied.
“Understood. I’ll inform the others,” I said before hanging up.
—
—
Hotaka opened the door to the student council office. We were already seated, waiting.
“Welcome, Haku-senpai,” I said with a polite nod.
“There’s no need for the formality,” he replied, waving a hand as he joined us at the table.
“Let’s get straight to it,” he began. “The inaugural dinner usually happens a week after the election. You’ve likely started preparations, but I have some information that might help.”
He paused briefly, giving us a chance to respond.
“There’s also another matter,” he continued. “The school will be holding a trial for Cohen. The administration will share the details soon, but be prepared.”
Hotaka leaned back. “More importantly, I have some advice. Take it or leave it, but it might help with what’s ahead.”
I wanted to ask why he was being so helpful but kept that thought to myself. Hazel straightened, her expression serious.
“Any advice would be greatly appreciated,” she said, bowing her head slightly.
Hotaka nodded. “Toyoda Fuji-sensei is the founder of Hachin Academy, also known internationally as the Global Joint Profectus Schools, or GJPS. He was Japan’s third-richest man, with a net worth of $25 billion. That alone should tell you how influential he is.”
“GJPS?” Sullivan repeated, eyes widening.
I looked around the table. Harley and Hazel wore similarly shocked expressions, and Hazel’s eyes shifted to me.
“Marcus,” she asked, “you already knew about this, didn’t you?”
Caught, I sighed and nodded. “Yeah. I found out when I came to write my entrance exams. I met someone named Warren Mars. He mentioned GJPS as the school’s true name.”
“Warren Mars?” Harley leaned forward, a short laugh escaping her. “Who’s that supposed to be?”
Hotaka cleared his throat. “Not entirely sure, but he’s important. That’s actually why I called this meeting—to tell you about him.”
“How important are we talking?” Hazel glanced my way, probably assuming that I had an idea, considering I had met him before.
I leaned back, recalling the brief encounter with Mars six months ago. “It was short, but everyone around him acted like he was someone big.”
“Could he be a stakeholder?” Sullivan suggested.
Hotaka nodded. “Possibly. Either way, he’s someone to watch. People like Mars don’t show up for nothing.”
Mars had been cryptic, and at the time, I hadn’t grasped the full scope of his importance. Now, with this added context, his role seemed far larger than I had imagined.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before any words could leave, the door to the student council office swung open, drawing everyone’s attention. Three figures stepped inside, each of them male, and at the centre stood someone I instantly recognised.
Hotaka shot to his feet, fists clenched, glaring. “What do you want, Robin?”
He stepped forward, flanked by two others: one lanky with messy blue hair, the other broader and looming in the doorway.
“Relax,” Robin said, glancing around. “Just came to congratulate Marcus and his squad. Outstanding performance.” He began clapping slowly.
“Thanks,” I replied, watching him closely. His laid-back demeanour put me on edge, and judging by Hotaka’s tense posture, there was history here.
“See? Marcus gets it. You, on the other hand...” The blue-haired boy said to Hotaka. “You really need to loosen up.”
Hotaka crossed his arms, unamused. “Funny coming from you, Joel.”
Joel shrugged with an easy grin. “Touché.”
Robin stepped back, still smirking. “Alright, alright. Let’s not make this more awkward than it needs to be. I meant what I said. Congratulations, Marcus.” He headed toward the door.
Just before leaving, he paused. “Oh, and Hotaka, Shayna told me you were here. Do with that what you will.”
With that, they left. The door clicked shut behind them.
Silence settled over the room. All eyes turned to Hotaka, who stood motionless, his fists still clenched.
“Marcus,” he said sharply.
“Yes?” I answered, wary.
“Avoid Robin at all costs. The fact that he came here means you’re already on his radar, and that’s trouble.”
The seriousness in his tone hit hard, but before I could ask more, Hotaka stepped back from the table.
“I have to go,” he said, then walked out, the door swinging shut behind him.
“Marcus?” Hazel called out.
I took a breath and stood. “A lot happened today,” I began. “Haku-senpai’s warning is clear, and we need to take it seriously. Avoid Robin and his group. Focus on preparations for the inaugural dinner. As for this Warren Mars, I’ll figure something out.”
Everyone nodded, though unease lingered.
“This meeting is dismissed.”
One by one, they left. Hazel was the last to reach the door.
“Hazel,” I called.
She paused. “Yes?”
“I need information on Robin.”
A faint smirk played on her lips. “Didn’t Haku-senpai just warn you?”
“I heard him,” I said, stepping toward her. “But considering what just happened, Robin’s clearly not done with us. I need to be ready if he makes another move.”
Hazel studied me, then gave a small nod. “I was already planning to look into him. What I can tell you now is he ran against Hotaka for student council president.”
I frowned. “That alone can’t be the reason things are so tense between them.”
Her smirk faded. “Probably goes deeper. I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Thanks.”
She nodded and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
I sank into the couch, my mind buzzing with unresolved threads. Warren Mars, Robin and Hotaka. Then there was the onlooker whose intentions I can’t decipher at the moment, but given the current situation, I was willing to leave that alone for now.
I rubbed my temples, trying to gather my thoughts, when a knock at the door snapped me out of it. Who could that be?
“Come in,” I said, sitting upright.
The door opened slowly, and to my surprise, in walked an unexpected visitor. She moved with confidence, every step graceful. Though her uniform matched any other student’s, she wore it with a polish that made it seem custom-fit. Her shoes clicked softly as she approached the table, stopping just short.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, her voice smooth and clear. “You may remember me, but just in case: hello, Marcus Luna. My name is Amelie. I’m from Class 3.”