—
With his fingers loosely encircling the stem of his half-filled glass of water, Furuya-sensei reclined in his chair. “The ranking system? I assume we can talk about it,” he said in response to Hazel’s inquiry.
We were about two hours in, the event was winding down, and the room had quieted to a gentle hum. I felt more at ease now that the questioning was over. The shift to casual conversation gave us the chance to ask our own questions, which led to Hazel’s curiosity about the ranking system.
Furuya-sensei adjusted his glasses and glanced at Toyoda-sensei before continuing. “The ranking system, as the name implies, is a framework for assessing and ordering students. It categorises them into six forms of intelligence—linguistic, logical-mathematical, musical, bodily-kinaesthetic, spatial, and social. Each student’s performance in these areas contributes to a score out of 100, which becomes their rank score.”
For a moment, I considered the implications. It was impressive that students with diverse strengths could excel through the six categories. “This is based on Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences, right?” I asked.
Furuya-sensei nodded. “Indeed. Gardner’s work challenges the notion of intelligence being a singular, measurable trait. By adopting his theory, we recognise intelligence as multifaceted, with each student having their own strengths and weaknesses. We’ve made some adaptations, combining interpersonal and intrapersonal intelligences into a single social intelligence category for simplicity.”
After sipping his wine, Toyoda-sensei added, “The system goes beyond individual rankings. It’s tied to class rankings and a new monetary system being introduced.”
That caught my attention. “Class ranking? A monetary system? Does that mean there’s more to the ranking system than just scoring students?”
Mr Warren, silent until now, gave a quiet laugh. “Of course not. A ranking system alone wouldn’t be enough. The school is establishing its own economy.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow. “Hasn’t there always been some sort of internal economy?”
“Not exactly,” Toyoda-sensei replied. “In the current system, students rely on external funds. That ends next term. The school will implement its own currency and finance system. Points earned through the ranking system will determine everything from your buying power to your merits and, ultimately, whether you’re expelled. Don’t worry; we’ll explain everything in due time.”
This was all new. The weight of his words sank in. Originally, I was excited by the ranking system because of the competition it would breed, but now the stakes felt much higher.
Before I could respond, Mr Warren crossed his arms and said something that sent a jolt through my chest.
“Cohen is going to be expelled.”
The statement hit like a thunderclap. My pulse quickened as I turned toward Warren, struggling to stay composed. His sharp gaze locked onto me, daring a reaction. He had lulled us into ease, then dropped a bombshell.
Calm down, Marcus. Think.
“That’s... surprising,” I said carefully. “I thought the trial was still pending.”
We were all shocked and none the wiser, but everyone’s reaction was amateur compared to Harley’s. She had a face of pure horror, and I could think of several reasons why.
Warren gave a faint smile, devoid of warmth. “The trial is still going to happen, but the decision’s already been made.”
“So the trial is just for appearances,” I muttered.
Hazel scowled. “Then what’s the point? Isn’t a trial meant to ensure fairness?”
Warren tilted his head. “If fairness is your concern, we can settle it now by asking the victim. Harley, care to confirm? Were you bullied?”
Harley’s eyes widened. She froze, visibly crumbling under the weight of the question. I could almost see the panic in her mind, desperately searching for an escape. This was bad. If the school learnt that she and the others had faked the bullying to deceive us, their entire class could be implicated. And Cohen had chosen to take the blame rather than expose them. Did he do that because he thought he had a shot during the trial? But what would he do if he knew expulsion was already set?
“I... I…” Harley’s voice cracked. Her eyes flicked to me, pleading, but I was powerless. “I was bullied,” she whispered. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her words.
Warren leaned back, expression unchanged. “I see. As the new student council members, let me remind you of this: while the council holds power and independence, the final authority always rests with the school.”
His words stung, and the disillusionment hit harder than I expected. For all the school’s talk of student autonomy, this revealed the facade behind it. The school’s control was far tighter than I’d realised.
“With that made clear, I wish you all a wonderful tenure,” Warren said, almost upbeat, as if the revelation he’d made was just idle chatter. He lifted his wine glass, took a slow sip, then stood with an air of finality. “Ah, before I go—Marcus, a word?”
Something about the request unsettled me. I glanced at Hazel, who gave a slight nod.
“Alright, sir,” I said, pushing back my chair and rising.
Warren walked calmly out of the hall, and I followed. The noise of the event faded behind us, and eventually, he stopped at a quiet spot and leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.
“So,” he began, “how did you like that, Marcus?”
I met his gaze. “It’s a test to see what we’d do, isn’t it?”
He raised a brow but said nothing. The absence of an answer was telling in itself.
Warren smirked. “I’ve heard rumours of an onlooker causing trouble.”
I let out a quiet laugh, unable to hide my amusement at how quickly he had become aware of the situation. “You heard right. Is that your doing too, sir?”
My tone came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t regret it.
“Not at all,” he replied, clearly enjoying the exchange. “They’re acting independently. I’ve had no hand in it.” He glanced out the window, watching moonlight spill across the floor. “On the contrary, I’m pleased to see they’re finally having fun.”
“Fun?” I echoed, brow furrowing. “Someone’s about to be expelled because of this so-called fun. Our definitions of entertainment clearly differ.”
“True,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “But you geniuses love a challenge, don’t you?”
I crossed my arms. “I might enjoy a challenge, but that doesn’t mean I condone underhanded methods.”
His grin didn’t falter. He clapped his hands together, as if concluding something. “Then let me give you a personal challenge.”
“Huh?”
“Well, it’s not like you can refuse,” Warren said, his tone casual—too casual.
I narrowed my eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Ah, I forgot to tell you,” he said, drawing out the moment like he enjoyed watching my confusion grow. Then he smirked. “I’m one of the cofounders of this school.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
I blinked, stunned. “Co-founder?”
That didn’t make any sense. Suppose Warren was truly one of the co-founders of Hachin Academy. In that case, it should have been common knowledge, as something documented in the school’s official history or spoken of by staff and students alike. A title like that wasn’t something people just .
So why would he say this now, out of nowhere? Was he lying to intimidate me? Fabricating power just to box me into a corner?
But as I stood there, thinking back to the first time I met him, pieces began to fall into place. I remembered how people reacted in his presence. It wasn’t just respect for a departmental head.
So if he was telling the truth… then the real question wasn’t whether he was a cofounder; it was why he’d kept it hidden.
What kind of man builds a school… and then chooses to operate from the shadows within it?
“Sorry to interrupt your internal monologue,” he said, waving a hand lazily, “but I’m not answering any questions until after the request is complete.”
I exhaled slowly. There was no point pressing him now. He held the cards, at least for the moment.
“Go on.”
“Here’s the deal: on the day of the cultural festival, meet me in the director’s office at 7 p.m. Tell me the name of the onlooker.”
I searched his face, hoping he was joking. He wasn’t. “And if I fail?”
“That’s simple.” He leaned in, voice dropping. “You’re expelled.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I clenched my fists to hide the reaction.
“And don’t bother asking Haku. He’s barred from speaking about it, not that he knows the exact identity anyway,” Warren added, stepping back to give me space.
I froze. Haku-senpai doesn’t know? That revelation sent my thoughts spiralling further. That meant he made that deal acting purely on a hunch. Why? There were too many questions without enough answers. Even as student council president, I wouldn’t have access to files that might help.
“This is quite the task,” I said, masking my unease behind the calm, robotic front I usually wore.
Warren shrugged. “Is it? Maybe. But considering you and the onlooker both passed the special entrance exam with full marks, I’d say you’re up for it. Academically, you’re evenly matched. As for the rest... We’ll see, won’t we?”
“Fine,” I said at last, accepting his terms, not like I could decline them, as he mentioned. “I’ll find your onlooker.”
“Wonderful,” Warren replied, clapping once. “This should keep things interesting for a while. I’ll be watching closely.”
As he passed me, he placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Good luck, Marcus. Oh, and one more thing: make sure no one learns I’m the cofounder.”
And just like that, he let go.
I turned to watch him disappear into the hallway shadows without a backward glance. This was a man who had just set the pieces on a chessboard and was confident in his strategy. He wasn’t returning to the hall; he was leaving completely.
My fists were still clenched tightly at my sides, frustration and anger welling up in my chest. This guy was going to be a problem in the future, even if I managed to solve the challenge he had presented to me. There was nothing I could do about that at present.
Between this and Cohen’s trial coming up next week, the weight on my shoulders felt heavier than ever. I rolled my neck, then exhaled sharply and turned back toward the hall.
First things first—I needed to finish this event.
Inside, a slow song played as staff members danced under dim lights in the cleared centre of the room. Furuya-sensei and Toyoda-sensei stood in a conversation with a few others in the corner.
The sight was serene, yet my nerves refused to settle. I scanned the room until I reached our table, where tension lingered. Hazel spotted me and offered a small, encouraging smile, but my eyes locked on Hotaka. I gave him a stern look as I sat beside her. He seemed to understand.
I sank into the chair, staring at the tablecloth as everything, as the world around me, faded into white noise and crashed down at once: Cohen’s trial, the cultural festival, council duties, the onlooker, and Warren’s challenge. Could I really juggle it all?
The cultural festival was two months away, which was plenty of time in theory, but finding one person among hundreds? If they were anything like me, they wouldn’t be easy to catch. I’d need every resource, every bit of leverage I had.
A gentle touch on my lap pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up, surprised, to see Hazel looking at me; her concern was clear in the wrinkle of her brow.
“Marcus,” she said softly. “Come on.”
Before I could ask, she took my hand and pulled me up.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“We’re going to dance,” she said firmly. “Now.”
“A-alright,” I mumbled, still too astonished to articulate an appropriate argument as she led me to the dance floor.
She set my left hand on her waist, took the right in hers, and began to sway. I followed instinctively.
“What are you doing?” I asked quietly.
“Sorry for coming off as forceful, but I am helping you clear your head,” she said, eyes on our feet. “You were shutting down. This was the quickest way I could think of to snap you out of it.”
“But I—”
“No excuses,” she cut in. “I don’t want to hear it. I know you’ve got a lot going on. I don’t know what Warren said, but it clearly shook you. So let me say this.”
Her grip tightened slightly as her gaze lifted to mine.
“Marcus, rely on your teammates. And if not them, then rely on me. You chose me to be your partner, didn’t you? That means I’m with you… every step of the way.”
Something in her words, in the way she looked at me, made my chest tighten. That feeling, whatever it was, had surfaced before, but now it was stronger.
I didn’t mind relying on others, but this was different. Warren Mars wasn’t just another student. If Hazel got involved and he found out, what then? Would he come after her? The student council? The worst-case scenarios played out in my head, and I couldn’t ignore the faint fear that had settled in the back of my mind.
“Hazel, I…” I began, but she shook her head.
“Not now,” she said softly. “Whatever it is can wait, can’t it?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “It can,” I admitted, tension easing from my shoulders.
She looked down as we swayed to the music, everything beyond the dance floor fading away.
“It’s alright,” she replied. “Besides, the event’s over; we can take it easy now.”
Her words grounded me, and for the first time in a while, I actually took in my surroundings. The hall was nearly empty, with few staff members lingering, chatting as they cleared the last decorations and tables. Hikura, Sullivan, and Hotaka were gone.
“Was I really that out of it?” I muttered, more to myself than to Hazel.
“You were,” she teased with a smile. “Can you believe we’ve been out here for almost an hour?”
My head snapped toward her. “Wait—an hour? That’s…” I trailed off, unable to make sense of the ridiculousness of the situation. Another thought struck me. “Are you okay? Your legs don’t hurt, do they?” I stopped swaying, stepping back to look her over.
Hazel stared at me, lips twitching like she was holding something back, then burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, confused.
“I was joking,” she said between laughs. “It’s only been fifteen minutes. I think.”
My face warmed. “Seriously?” I muttered and smiled, raking a hand through my hair.
Her laughter softened as she leaned in. “There you go.” I realised then—this had been her goal all along.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Where are Harley and Sullivan?” I asked, shifting the topic as I walked back toward our table.
“I sent them off. Event’s done, and Rika-sensei said the staff would handle cleanup.”
“Rika-sensei?”
“She’s the homeroom teacher for Year 9 Class 2. Honestly, a lifesaver.”
Rika-sensei… I nodded, making a mental note to thank her later. “Aren’t you heading out?”
Hazel didn’t answer right away. Instead, she picked up a box from the floor nearby.
“Well,” she said, hesitating. “I stayed to make sure you were okay, so... you know.”
She moved toward the exit. I was the reason that she was still here; the least I could do was return my gratitude.
I stepped up beside her. “Then let me walk you back.”
She paused mid-step and looked at me. “My room? That’s kind of a long haul.”
“I don’t mind.” Before she could argue, I closed the gap between us and took the box from her arms. “This is my way of thanking you.”
She sighed but smiled. “Alright, then.”
We stepped into the cool night air. Streetlamps lit the path, and the city skyline shimmered beyond. Hazel walked beside me, and the box felt lighter than expected.
“What’s in the box, by the way?” I asked, peeking through the lid.
“Oh, just a few things I need to return to the home-ec club tomorrow,” she said with a shrug.
“I see…” My words trailed off as something ahead caught my attention. I nudged her gently. “Look over there.”
Hazel followed my gaze to a nearby bridge where two silhouettes stood close, and their posture and proximity left little to the imagination.
“Are they… kissing?” she whispered, intrigued. “Out in the open? Aren’t they worried about the cameras?”
I grinned. “Want to bust them? Technically, it’s the student council’s job to prevent indecent behaviour, after all.”
She laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s turn a blind eye this time.”
—
—
We soon arrived at Hazel's dorm. I set the box down and stretched, rolling my shoulders to shake off the walk.
“Thanks for helping me with that,” Hazel said, kicking off her shoes and sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing her ankles.
“That’s the least I could do,” I replied. I turned to leave, hand on the doorknob, but paused.
“You mentioned earlier that I should rely on you,” I said, turning to face her. “I’ve decided… I’m going to do that.”
Hazel’s eyes met mine, and she stood slowly, stepping forward. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Thank you for choosing to trust me. I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.” She bowed, catching me off guard.
“There’s no need for that,” I said quickly. “You should rest. You've already done plenty.”
She smiled, a little teasing. “I do feel better, you know.”
I stepped closer and touched her forehead. Warm, but nothing serious. “Better, sure,” I said, pulling away. “But not one hundred percent. You still need more rest.”
She giggled. “Alright, doctor. But only if you promise to do the same.”
“Deal.”
She walked me to the door. “Goodnight, Marcus.”
“Goodnight, Hazel,” I replied.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I stood there for a moment, staring down the empty hallway. That feeling was undeniable now. My chest tightened, and my pulse quickened.
Could it really be what I was thinking? Could I be...