The next morning, the sky over Seiran was a flat, indifferent gray.
Haruto arrived earlier than usual. The corridors were mostly empty, only a few sleepy students drifting toward their classrooms. His footsteps echoed softly on the polished floor.
Class 2-B was still half-dark when he slid the door open. Aiko sat alone at her desk near the front, a stack of papers in front of her. She'd clearly been there for a while.
"Morning," Haruto said.
She glanced up. Her eyes were ringed with faint shadows. "Morning. You're early."
"Couldn't sleep," he lied easily. "You?"
"Same." She pressed her lips together. "I kept thinking about yesterday. The transfer threat. The random penalty. If even one person panics, this whole thing spirals."
Haruto walked to his seat, dropping his bag. "You could always get ahead of it."
"How?"
"Explain a strategy," he said. "If we're forced to play, we might as well coordinate. Spread damage evenly, protect whoever's at 10—if they even exist."
Aiko's gaze hardened. "You really believe them about the 50,000 yen?"
"People owe worse amounts for less," Haruto said.
Something flickered across her face. Her hand tightened on her pen.
He watched that reaction carefully. Noted it. Stored it.
Before either of them could say more, their phones buzzed almost in unison. Then more footsteps and more vibrations echoed as classmates entered.
Exchange Committee to Class 2-B:
Good morning.
Today's special task has been delivered.
Whispers spread instantly.
"Special task?"
"Did you get it?"
"Mine looks normal…"
Haruto checked his messages.
Nothing new privately. As promised.
He looked up just in time to see Shun freeze near the door, eyes locked on his screen.
The color drained from Shun's face.
Aiko noticed. "Takeda? What is it?"
Shun swallowed hard. "I… I got something."
Students gathered around him like water around a drain. Haruto stayed at his desk, listening.
"What does it say?"
"Read it out loud!"
Shun's hands trembled. He cleared his throat.
"'Congratulations. You have been selected for today's Special Transfer Opportunity.'" He gulped. "'Current Debt: 7. If you successfully complete the following task before lunch, your debt will be reduced to 0.'"
A collective gasp.
"Lucky!"
"Zero? That's broken—"
Shun kept going, voice shaking.
"'Task: Convince five classmates to send you the following message: I will take responsibility for you, no matter what happens.'"
The buzz shifted.
"Five?"
"No way."
"What's the catch?"
Shun read the next line.
"'For each person who sends the message, +2 debt will be added to their value at the end of the day.'"
Silence.
Then:
"That's messed up."
"So he becomes 0 and they rise?"
"+2 each… that's a lot."
Aiko strode over and snatched his phone, scanning the screen.
"This is exactly what I was afraid of," she said, voice low. "They're trying to turn us against each other. Using guilt. Responsibility."
Shun reached for his phone. "Nakamura, give it back."
"You're not actually considering it, are you?" she demanded.
"I just wanted to see—"
"There is nothing to see," she said sharply. "If you do this, you're asking people to suffer for you. That's not 'responsibility'. That's selfishness."
Her words hit hard. Shun flinched.
Some students nodded automatically. Others looked away.
Haruto watched Shun's jaw clench.
Exchange Committee to Representative:
Today's special task holder: Shun Takeda (Debt: 7).
Observe the responses of:
– Aiko Nakamura (Debt: 8)
– Ryuuji Sato (Debt: 6)
– [Redacted Student] (Debt: 10)
The 10 was in play today. Interesting.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Homeroom began, the teacher oblivious to the storm brewing under the surface. As soon as the bell rang for first period, the undercurrent of whispers returned.
Shun sat rigidly at his desk, staring at his phone like it might explode.
During math, he didn't solve a single problem. During English, he didn't even open his textbook.
By second period break, he snapped.
He stood abruptly, chair legs scraping. "Nakamura."
Aiko looked up from her notebook. "What?"
"Earlier, you said asking people to help is selfish." His voice shook. "But what if the 'random penalty' hits anyway? What if I go from 7 to 10 because I did nothing? What if I'm the one who ends up responsible for everyone's debt?"
"That's not confirmed," she said.
"Nothing is confirmed!" he shot back. "That's the problem! They're making up rules and we're just sitting here hoping the teachers fix it. What if they don't?"
A few people murmured agreement.
Aiko opened her mouth, then closed it. Her certainty had cracks.
Haruto raised his hand slightly. "Can I say something?"
All eyes turned to him.
"The task wording matters," he said calmly. "It's not 'I trust you with my money' this time. It's 'I will take responsibility for you, no matter what happens.' That's heavier."
"We know," Aiko said. "That's why—"
"But because it's heavier," Haruto continued, "anyone who agrees won't be doing it lightly. If someone still wants to help Shun after knowing the cost, is that wrong?"
"So we're supposed to applaud self-sacrifice now?" she asked, eyes narrow.
"I'm saying we can't decide for other people how much risk they're willing to take," Haruto replied. "We can warn them. We can tell them not to. But if someone still chooses to—"
He shrugged. "That's on them."
Shun looked at him, hope flickering. "Tanaka…"
Aiko glared. "Easy for you to say. You're at 0. You're not the one being targeted."
The class stirred. That detail had spread fast.
Haruto didn't flinch. "True. Maybe that's why you should ask someone else first."
He stood and walked toward the door. "I'm getting water."
As he stepped into the hallway, he heard Shun's voice behind him, low and shaky.
"…Sato. Can we talk?"
Haruto's lips curved.
By the time he returned, Ryuuji and Shun were standing near the back, facing each other.
Ryuuji's expression was torn between frustration and something close to guilt.
"You're really asking me that?" he said. "Like, seriously?"
Shun's grip on his phone was white-knuckled. "You're my friend, right? We've known each other since middle school. I just… I thought if anyone…"
"If anyone would carry your punishment, it'd be me?" Ryuuji let out a disbelieving laugh. "Do you hear how that sounds?"
"It's not like that," Shun said desperately. "I'm just scared. If I become 10, they might—"
"You don't even know what being 10 means!" Ryuuji snapped. "None of us do!"
"But they already have someone with 10 and 50,000 yen debt," Shun said. "What if they stack it on me? What if they—"
His voice cracked.
The room fell quiet. Even the usual gossipers pretended to study while listening closely.
Ryuuji rubbed his face. He looked tired. "If I do this, I go from 6 to 8. And then what? Tomorrow they'll give me some messed-up 'special task' too. Then I'll have to beg someone else. Where does it stop?"
Haruto leaned casually against his desk. "You don't have to answer right now, Sato. The deadline is lunchtime, right?"
Shun nodded weakly.
"Then use the morning to think," Haruto said. "Talk to other people too. Don't put all the pressure on one person."
Aiko shot him a sharp look. "You're encouraging this?"
"I'm encouraging him not to cling to a single lifeline," Haruto said. "That never ends well."
He met Shun's eyes. "Ask around. Some people might surprise you."
Shun swallowed. "Right… Right."
He moved away, shoulders hunched, approaching classmates one by one.
Most rejected him instantly. Some more gently than others.
"Sorry, I can't."
"I'd like to help, but…"
"If I say yes, my parents will kill me if anything happens."
Each refusal chipped away at him visibly.
By mid-morning break, he had zero messages.
Haruto watched from his seat, head resting on his hand. The atmosphere was shifting again—pity curdling into irritation.
"Why is he still asking?"
"I get that he's scared, but…"
"If he keeps going, I'll start avoiding him."
At the front, Aiko seemed torn between stepping in and letting the "lesson" play out.
When she finally approached Shun, it was almost noon.
"Takeda," she said, softer than before. "Stop. You're just making yourself miserable."
He laughed hollowly. "So I should just wait for them to crush me?"
"You're not alone," she said. "If something happens, we'll deal with it as a class. That's better than putting five individual targets on people's backs."
"Easy for you to say," he murmured. "You're at 8. If random +3 hits you, you'll probably be fine. You're… you."
Aiko stared at him. For once, she seemed at a loss.
Haruto stood.
Time.
He stepped closer.
"Nakamura-san," he said quietly. "If you're worried about people acting out of panic, maybe give them an alternative. Something that feels less like betrayal."
She turned to him, eyes wary. "Like what?"
"A pledge," Haruto said. "We write it down: no one will use the tasks to target someone else maliciously. If anyone does, we treat them as the enemy, not the Committee. It won't stop everything, but it might stop the worst."
Some students perked up.
"A pledge sounds good."
"At least we'd know who broke it."
Aiko considered. "Written agreements don't mean much if people are desperate."
"True," Haruto said. "But they'll hesitate before breaking something they signed in front of everyone. Hesitation buys time."
Time for him.
Aiko exhaled. "Fine. After lunch, we'll draft something."
Shun stared between them. "That doesn't help me now."
Haruto met his gaze evenly. "You still have fifteen minutes."
Shun's lips trembled. "I… I thought you of all people would understand. You're at 0. You could afford +2, right? It wouldn't even hurt you."
The classroom held its breath.
Haruto smiled faintly. "Maybe. But if I help you today, everyone comes to me tomorrow. I become the class dumping ground. A safe place to offload guilt. That would hurt."
Some students flinched at his bluntness.
Shun went silent.
"So no," Haruto finished. "I won't send it."
For a second, Shun looked like he might snap. Then his shoulders slumped.
"Of course," he whispered. "I was stupid to ask."
He turned away.
Ryuuji's fists clenched on his desk. He looked from Shun to Haruto, then back again.
The clock ticked toward lunch.
Haruto's phone buzzed.
Exchange Committee:
Excellent choice, Representative.
You are maintaining your 0 admirably.
He ignored it.
Another message followed.
We wonder, though:
How long can you stay clean while those around you drown?
He tucked the phone away and stared at the board, not seeing the chalk lines.
For an instant, the white marks blurred, replaced by other numbers on another board, another voice telling him:
"If you fail, you'll pay for all of them."
He blinked, and the image vanished.
The classroom, the teacher, the gray sky outside—everything snapped back into place, untouched.
He picked up his pen, hand steady again.
Not now.
Glimpses were fine. The rest could stay buried.
When the lunch bell rang, no one moved for a moment.
Then phones lit up.
Exchange Committee to Class 2-B:
Lunchtime status check:
Shun Takeda – Messages received: 0.
Special task failed.
The next lines came slower, as if for dramatic effect.
As a result, his Debt remains 7.
To compensate for your class's inaction, random penalty will be applied to three students.
Dots appeared.
…
Aiko Nakamura: +3 (New Debt: 11)
Ryuuji Sato: +3 (New Debt: 9)
[Redacted Student]: +3 (New Debt: 13)
The room erupted.
"Eleven?!"
"Can it go above 10?"
"What does 13 even mean?!"
Aiko stared at her screen, knuckles white.
Ryuuji swore under his breath. "You've got to be kidding me."
Shun looked like he'd been punched.
"This is my fault," he whispered.
"No," Aiko snapped, but her voice shook. "This is theirs. The Committee. They're punishing us for not dancing when they say dance."
Haruto glanced at his own status.
Exchange Committee to Representative:
Your Debt: 0 (unchanged)
In the middle of 2-B's panic, he was still standing on untouched ground.
For now.
He watched Aiko, Ryuuji, and the unseen 13. Watched how everyone shifted around them—some backing away, some drawing closer, some already calculating whether to cling to or avoid the new "heavyweights."
The stakes had gone up. The calm was cracking.
And somewhere behind the anonymous messages and rigged rules, someone was pulling harder on the strings.
Haruto smiled faintly, just for himself.
If they wanted to see what Class 2-B did under pressure, they would.
But they might not be ready for what he would do with the pieces afterward.