—
The hour was just shy of 6 a.m., the perfect time for a meeting without eavesdropping or disturbance. Inside the student council office, the air felt unusually heavy as Hotaka and I faced each other.
“So, you never knew the identity of that student, did you?” I asked, my gaze fixed on his, looking for any sign of hesitation.
“Well,” Hotaka said as he shifted and crossed his arms, “I never explicitly claimed I knew who they were, did I?”
“You didn’t,” I acknowledged. “Implied statement. That's what you did. I won't hold that against you because, at the end of the day, it is I who interpreted it in that way.”
Hotaka leaned back against the couch, one leg propped casually on the armrest. “I take it this meeting has something to do with yesterday’s events?”
“It does.” I clasped my hands behind my back. “Warren gave me a challenge involving that student or the onlooker as they go by. If I don’t figure it out, there’ll be consequences. I need your help.”
“Information, I’m guessing.”
“Exactly. Everything you know about this person, and I’ll handle the rest.”
He sighed. “Fair enough,” he said, standing. “I’ll gather what I have and send it your way.”
I nodded, grateful but cautious. “Appreciated.”
Hotaka turned to leave, but something nagged at me. “Wait,” I called, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“Robin. Should I be worried about him?”
Hotaka's demeanour changed slightly as the name was mentioned, and he turned fully to face me.
“Marcus,” he said, voice low, “I’ll be blunt. As much as I’d like to tell you to steer clear of him, it’s too late. He’s already taken an interest in you, which means he’s going to come at you. So yes, you should be very concerned.”
“Good,” I replied. “At least now I know what to prepare for.”
—
—
I stood at the front of the classroom with Marcus beside me. Morning light streamed through the windows as our classmates whispered among themselves. Earlier, Marcus had called a meeting with the council members to finalise our plans before classes began, and now we were addressing our own class.
“At the moment, this is all we know about the ranking system,” Marcus said, and murmurs filled the room.
“The next thing we’d like to discuss is the cultural festival,” I added, cutting through the noise.
“The festival is just under two months away, and preparations are already underway,” Marcus continued. “To ensure everything progresses smoothly, we’re establishing something new this year: a festival committee.”
A louder ripple of muttering followed.
People were wondering why a festival committee was being created, as it was a first, to my knowledge.
“The committee’s primary role,” I explained, stepping forward slightly, “is to convey the student body’s ideas to the council. They’ll also scout other festivals for inspiration to help ours stand out.”
Marcus nodded and picked up the thread. “Each Year 11 class will have two representatives. Selection is up to you, but representatives must be chosen by the last day of the term.”
“With that,” I asked, “are there any questions?”
We scanned the room. No hands were raised.
“Alright then,” Marcus concluded. “If you need clarification, reach out to Hazel, me, or any student council member.”
We returned to our seats, exchanging a glance. Whether this would work, only time would tell.
Nomura-sensei stepped to the front. “Thank you, Marcus and Hazel,” she said, then turned to the rest of the class. “Now, let’s begin the lesson.”
—
—
Marcus and I stood at the far end of the hall, the faint buzz of distant conversation reverberating through the empty space. The minutes dragged by, though neither of us said much.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, and I straightened, my gaze locking onto the figure approaching. Marcus slipped his phone into his pocket as the person we were expecting finally arrived.
“Well, well,” Robin smirked, his tone dripping with amusement. “Didn’t expect an invitation from you two.” He stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed. “So, what’s this about?”
Without hesitation, I pushed off the wall and stepped forward. “Not to beat around the bush,” I said, “we’re here to challenge you.”
His smirk widened into a grin. “We?” he repeated, glancing between Marcus and me. “That’s cute. Marcus, don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve and need backup.”
Marcus chuckled softly and stepped up beside me, standing shoulder to shoulder. “Quite the contrary,” he said, tilting his chin up slightly. “I have no doubt you’re no match for me.”
Robin’s grin faltered for a brief moment. “Oh? Then why the ?”
Marcus crossed his arms. “ doesn’t just mean the two of us. I’m talking about our entire class. I propose a battle between Year 11 Class 1 and Year 12 Class 2.”
Robin stared at him, then burst out laughing. “Oh... oh my...” he gasped between fits of laughter. “This...this is priceless! A class battle?” He finally straightened, an amused glint in his eye.
“You two really know how to keep things interesting,” he said, his gaze flickering between us. “Alright. If we’re doing this, let’s make it memorable. I want the battle to take place during the cultural festival.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “The cultural festival?”
“Why not? It’s the perfect stage. A day of festivities, excitement, and a crowd to witness it all. Besides…” Robin’s tone dropped slightly. “I’ve been waiting for the ranking system to be implemented. This will be the perfect opportunity to test it.”
Marcus regarded him carefully, his expression unreadable. “If that’s what you want,” he said after a moment, “we can wait until the system is in place before finalising the terms of the battle.”
Robin nodded, satisfied. “Good. I look forward to it.”
With that, he strolled away and as soon as he was out of sight, Marcus let out a loud sigh and ran a hand down his face.
“Well,” I muttered, walking closer and crossing my arms, “that went... okay. But wanting the challenge on the day of the festival?” I frowned. “Do you think he chose it on purpose? When we’ll already be busy?”
“Probably,” Marcus admitted. “But we’ll deal with that later. For now, we need to focus on Cohen’s trial next week.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I just got the guidelines. Want to go over them with me?”
I smiled. “Sure. Why not?”
—
—
The room was dimly lit as we sat around a large U-shaped table in one of the administrative building’s conference rooms. Year 11 class teachers, disciplinary committee members, and the student council were present. At the centre of it all, standing in the cutout of the table, was Cohen.
Marcus, seated beside me, leaned forward slightly, his fingers curled. His voice was cold as he spoke. “Let’s begin the trial, shall we?”
“Yes, we should,” Mr Taichi Kita of the disciplinary committee replied. “Typically, only the student council secretary is required to attend. However, given that this involves a council member, your attendance was deemed mandatory.” His gaze landed on Marcus and me.
“That’s fine,” Marcus replied, his tone flat. “Proceed with the case summary.”
All eyes turned to Sullivan, the council secretary, as he adjusted the document in front of him. “Today, the 28th of March, we are here to deliberate on the case involving allegations of bullying. The accused, Cohen Higgins, is alleged to have targeted several victims, most notably Harley Daguchi, who is present.” Sullivan cast a brief glance at Harley, who sat stiffly with her head lowered. He then addressed Cohen. “Cohen, how do you plead to these accusations?”
Cohen’s expulsion was inevitable, a decision made long before this trial began. Everything unfolding here was just for show, a formality to maintain appearances. Marcus and I had spent hours discussing ways to prevent this outcome. The simplest solution was to expose the truth: the bullying accusations had been fabricated by Cohen’s classmates.
But doing so would open Pandora’s box. The punishment for such collective deceit would be severe, likely affecting the entire class. Worse, there was no way to determine who had genuinely participated, making an indiscriminate, class-wide penalty unavoidable.
Revealing Harley’s involvement would only make things worse. It would ruin her reputation and deal a heavy blow to the student council’s already fragile standing after the election leak scandal. Leaving things as they were seemed like the least destructive option, even if it meant letting one person take the fall. Besides, Cohen was not a saint either; he had been the subject of many complaints around the school, and this felt like some sort of divine punishment—though it seemed excessive.
If we informed Cohen about the predetermined verdict, we risked creating even bigger problems. For all we knew, this trial could be a test orchestrated by Warren to see how we would handle it.
Cohen, standing in the centre of the room, hesitated as the silence stretched, before his expression finally shifted.
I turned slightly, flicking a glance at Marcus. His expression was unreadable, his eyes locked on Cohen. Was he surprised by his admission? If Cohen had wanted to save himself, he could have exposed everything and turned the tables on his classmates. But he didn’t. A final, noble act.
“Guilty?” Miss Riko Otake, the other member of the disciplinary committee, drawled as she lazily twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “Not even going to bother defending yourself, are you?”
Cohen met her gaze without flinching. “No. I don’t see the point in wasting anyone’s time.”
Miss Riko laughed softly, shaking her head in mock admiration. “How generous of you,” she said, dripping with sarcasm. Then, without warning, she turned to Cohen’s teacher, Mr Hiryuro Chinen. “And you, Mr Chinen, how does something like this happen under your watch?”
Mr Chinen’s face was pale as he stood up and sighed heavily, straightening his tie before bowing his head. “I take full responsibility for my oversight,” he said solemnly. “It was my failure to supervise properly that allowed this to occur.”
My fists tightened under the table, guilt gnawing at me. Chinen-sensei was an unintended casualty of this charade, taking the blame for a crime that never happened. It felt wrong, but I kept silent, knowing the truth would only cause chaos.
“Is there anything else before we proceed with judgement?” Mr Kita asked.
Silence.
“Very well,” Mr Kita said, gesturing to Miss Riko. “You may proceed.”
Miss Riko Otake stood, her smile peaceful yet keen, like a razor hidden behind silk. The disciplinary committee had a reputation, as the school had its patterns, after all. Stories circulated about these disciplinary trials, whispers among students who’d seen firsthand the committee’s methods. You could often gauge your fate by which of the two figures led the proceedings: "" or "
Today, had taken the lead.
“The admission of guilt, the offences, and the evidence have been weighed,” Miss Riko began, fixing a piercing stare on Chinen-sensei. “Mr Chinen, for negligence and failure in supervision, you will face a ten per cent salary reduction and forfeiture of any bonuses accumulated since the start of the year.”
Why had Mr Warren told us about Cohen’s punishment but not Chinen-sensei’s? Was it to get a reaction out of us, or to see if we were indifferent? Whatever the case, it was too late.
Miss Riko’s gaze shifted to Cohen. “Cohen Higgins, for acts of bullying and forceful compulsion, you are hereby expelled from this facility. You are to gather your belongings and leave no later than the 6th of April. Consider yourself fortunate to have a week’s grace.”
The sinister smile curling on her lips sent a chill down my spine. Did she hold a personal vendetta against him, or was this simply who she was?
Cohen flinched slightly before straightening, masking his reaction, though his pale complexion betrayed the turmoil beneath. Even if he had expected this, facing it was another matter.
The room was still. Marcus’s expression remained cold and detached, but his fingers tapped rhythmically against his chair’s armrest. What was he thinking?
“With judgement made, the trial has concluded,” Sullivan declared. Chairs scraped against the floor as people rose and began leaving.
I stayed seated, staring at the now-empty space where Cohen had stood. Nomura-sensei’s eyes met mine briefly before she turned and left. Soon, only the student council members and Miss Riko remained.
Stretching languidly, Miss Riko smiled, her voice laced with amusement. “I wish all trials were this quick.”
“You asked to speak with us after the trial. We’re here,” Marcus said.
She leaned on the table, clasping her hands with a mischievous glitter in her eyes. “Yes, I did. I was asked to convey a message. You see, despite the school having the final say, the students hold considerable power. That’s because you all have something most precious: choice—the greatest expression of freedom, don’t you agree?”
My breath hitched. Was this leading where I thought it was?
“It might have seemed like there was nothing you could do to stop Cohen’s expulsion. But a choice could have been made.”
“You knew,” I said coldly. “You knew the bullying was orchestrated.”
“What?” Harley shot up, her face blanched with horror. “If you knew, then what was the point of this farce?”
Miss Riko’s smile widened. “As I said, it was to see what choice you would make.”
“Your so-called test cost two people dearly,” Sullivan said, his voice taut with anger. “One was expelled, and another was unjustly punished.”
“Chinen-sensei was already under scrutiny for another matter,” she replied with a shrug. “This trial simply provided an opportunity to indirectly deal with him. As for Cohen... well, that boy was bound to be expelled eventually.”
“I don't know what Chinen-sensei did, but you’re justifying baseless assumptions and personal biases,” I snapped.
Miss Riko laughed softly. “I admit, I have my grievances with him. Perhaps I am a little biased.”
“How did you find out the truth?” Marcus finally spoke.
“The evidence was submitted by an anonymous individual, a self-proclaimed , the day before the inaugural dinner,” she answered.
“I see,” Marcus said. “Would Cohen have been expelled if we had presented the truth?”
“No, he wouldn’t,” she admitted. “The appropriate punishment would have been given to the class as a whole. Cohen’s expulsion was a result of your inaction—or, should I say, your choice.”
Miss Riko’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, stood, and adjusted her blazer. “Duty calls. I look forward to seeing you all in action.” With that, she strode out, closing the door behind her.
The air was thick with unspoken words and emotions: guilt, anger, disappointment. It was a suffocating mix.
Marcus sighed, his fingers interlocked on the table, his eyes distant, as if assembling a puzzle only he could see. After a moment of heavy silence, he finally spoke.
“First, I have something to tell you regarding the onlooker.”
He explained how the onlooker had anonymously sent him a package containing irrefutable evidence that the bullying incident against Cohen had been staged.
“For someone to gather that much evidence without being caught, they must have been aware from the beginning,” Sullivan said.
“Harley, could it be someone from your class?” I asked.
She pressed a hand to her chin, thinking hard. “It would make sense. They would have had the easiest access. But… why? Why would someone from my class go through the trouble of collecting all that evidence, only to stay anonymous?”
“Regardless of what class they’re from,” Marcus said, “one thing is clear: the onlooker didn’t want Cohen expelled. That’s why the evidence was sent to clear his name before things went too far.”
Harley’s eyes widened as the realisation hit. She gripped the edge of the table tightly.
“So, the school knew all along? They had the evidence but ignored it?” she asked.
“Exactly,” I said bitterly. “They made a conscious decision to withhold it, framing the narrative with words like to shift the responsibility onto us.”
“The school wasn’t like this before,” I muttered.
“It’s not the school,” Marcus corrected. “It’s Warren Mars. He’s the one pulling the strings for his own entertainment.”
He stood up calmly. “That’s why I’m going to handle him. He wants entertainment? Fine. I’ll give him exactly what he wants… on my terms. You focus on your tasks.”
The truth was, things would likely get worse once the ranking system was implemented. I am not sure what is going to become of this school in the next few months, but I had to be prepared to rise to the challenge if need be.
As for Marcus, he would find the onlooker. It was a game of cat and mouse. I wished I could do more to help, but Robin was my assignment now. All I could do was wish him good luck.