While the students began glancing left and right, slowly edging away from one another, the seeds of suspicion and panic had already taken root in every mind.
A boy at the back of the room broke the silence.
"Then what do we do? That girl's still the most suspicious one here."
"Suspicious?"
Rain's voice cut sharply through the suffocating quiet.
"You're choosing based on suspicion, not evidence?"
"And what do you even mean by someone in this room trying to frame someone else? Why would anyone do that?" another voice added.
All eyes turned toward him.
Even the girl behind him, still silent, froze in place.
Her hands remained clenched on her lap, stiff and unmoving.
Rain stood in front of her, arms slightly outstretched—though his own body trembled.
"I don't know yet," he admitted, his voice just barely shaking.
A5-038-BX took another step forward, frowning slightly the veins on his forehead bulged.
"You don't even know—and you expect us to just listen to you?"
He rolled his eyes, turning briefly to those who agreed with him, then back to Rain.
"But she was acting suspicious. Everyone saw it."
"She was about to confess! Why are you protecting her?"
Rain swallowed hard, feeling the collar tighten slightly around his neck.
But he stood his ground, stubbornly straight.
His lips pressed together in a firm line before he spoke again.
"Because it's wrong."
He took a deep breath, voice trembling but resolute.
"You're about to force someone to confess… just because it's easy."
"Easier than admitting we don't know the truth."
"But just because it's easy… doesn't mean it's right."
The numbers on the screen continued to count down.
18
17
16…
"And why is it that all you do is accuse others? Why don't you step up and prove you're not the one who did it?"
Rain's eyes narrowed, his voice colder than before. The group he faced instinctively backed off a little, their eyes darting uneasily between one another.
"Instead of throwing around random suspicion, why don't we all calm down and actually think for once?"
He swept his gaze around the room, finally settling it on A5-038-BX and the others.
"And another thing — I haven't seen you do anything except tell people what to do. So why don't you go first? Show us your pockets. Prove to everyone they're really empty."
The boy's face tightened, his eyes glaring at Rain with growing irritation.
His voice rose, tinged with anger.
"Hah? What did you just say?"
A few boys rushed toward Rain. One of them grabbed the collar of his shirt and gave it a sharp tug.
"You're not just siding with the wrong person—now you're accusing my friend too, huh?"
The atmosphere in the room grew heavier. Tension buzzed in the air as voices rose and emotions started to spill. No one noticed that the countdown had stopped at 15 seconds — frozen, as if time itself was holding its breath.
"You lookin' for a fight or what, you bastard?" another boy growled, stepping forward to surround Rain, his posture clearly confrontational.
The situation had shifted. It was no longer about who broke the rules or who the culprit might be. The room had become a powder keg of frustration and wounded pride — a schoolyard brawl ready to erupt.
Then — silently but swiftly — Zyn stepped up behind the boy gripping Rain's shirt. She reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Let go of my friend," she said, voice sharp, commanding.
"What, you got a probl—"
CRACK.
Before he could finish his sentence, Zyn twisted and pressed down on his elbow joint with sudden force. A popping sound rang out.
"AAAGH!" he screamed, immediately releasing Rain's collar and clutching his arm in pain.
Eliza and Gaia stepped in beside Rain, gently catching his shoulder to steady him.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
Rain whispered back, "I'm fine."
The situation in the room was quickly deteriorating. Students were starting to form into small, tense groups, like sides preparing for a fight. The air was thick with aggression, and it felt like a violent clash could break out at any moment.
"Enough, all of you!" a girl's voice rang out from one corner of the room, desperate to break through the rising chaos.
"Please stop..!"
Suddenly, an ear-splitting alarm blared through the air.
WEE-OOH WEE-OOH WEE-OOH
<< Instructor Announcement >>
; "That's enough. We will not tolerate any fighting or inappropriate behavior in this facility. All students, return to your designated positions immediately."
As the time that had been frozen at 15 seconds suddenly jumped to 0—before anyone could even react—the needles embedded in every student's collar slowly retracted back into their casing with a faint mechanical whir. The tension that had been choking the room gradually loosened, in sync with the needles withdrawing. One by one, the students returned to their designated spots and quietly sat down, the air thick with leftover dread and confusion.
Then came the voice they all recognized:
<->
; "The situation we just mentioned—regarding a student tampering with hidden items in the dark corner of the room at the night time—was nothing more than a simulation. It was a fabricated scenario used to conduct a behavioral test. No real incident took place. However, due to the actions displayed by several individuals during the countdown, we are obligated to deduct conduct points accordingly. Consider this a warning. Guard your behavior more carefully in the future."
As the announcement ended, a long list of all 48 students' names appeared on a massive screen. Over half of the names were highlighted with glaring red marks.
"...Tch. Damn it..." one boy muttered under his breath, frustrated.
The giant screen faded away, and with an echoing creak, the large steel doors slowly slid open—a clear signal that this unsettling class session was finally over.
<
; "All students are now requested to return to the dormitory. We have an important message to deliver. Preparations on our end have been completed, and we are ready to proceed shortly. Please gather at the communal dormitory area. Thank you."
The announcement echoed through the room, its cold, emotionless tone cutting through the air and seizing the attention of everyone instantly. There was something chilling about the way it was spoken—something clinical and unnerving. Without protest, the students quietly began making their way back to their dormitory as instructed, moving in a surprisingly orderly fashion.
Rain and his group followed suit, walking together amid the sea of silent footsteps. As they passed other students, they could feel the lingering stares—sharp and disapproving. Some whispered behind cupped hands. Others simply glared. The tension from earlier had not completely dissipated; it had simply changed shape.
---
And now, in the dormitory room filled with both unease and curiosity, everyone waited—wondering what exactly had been "prepared," and what came next.
As the last footsteps echoed and the sound of steel locking into place rang out with a heavy thud, the room fell into a thick silence. Then, a new announcement crackled to life, its signal distorted by static and an eerie hum—followed by that same cold, emotionless voice that had become all too familiar.
<<->>
; "As you are all aware, this communal dormitory arrangement was a temporary measure—designed to create social deviation data and to gather behavioral information relevant to large group interactions. That process is now complete.
Beginning now, you have 27 days remaining before individual room separation will be implemented. This marks the lead-up to the second round of evaluation and elimination for underperformers. Prepare yourselves accordingly.
And remember: after next month, you will no longer be allowed to remain with those you are close to or with your friend—except during approved intervals and classes time. From this point forward, rely on yourselves. You are seedlings—we will see which ones grow."
The announcement ended abruptly, replaced by the low hum of hushed, rising voices.
Some students were visibly agitated—frustrated by the sudden barrage of developments, none of which had been announced in advance. Others sat quietly, trying to process the news, some already grieving the inevitable separation from newfound friends. A swirl of emotions overtook the room—shock, anger, despair. Yet the common thread tying it all together was resentment.
Resentment at a system that made decisions from above without ever giving them a voice.
———————————————————————————
---
Everything was a blur… Colors began to spill more vividly from the core. Some kind of crystalline structure twisted unnaturally… A few droplets hit the ground with soft splashes… The young man snapped out of his trance when another voice broke the silence.
"Hey, what are you doing? It's time to switch shifts."
A second security officer, clad in the same black cloak and featureless dark mask, stood holding a firearm calmly at the ready. His tone was flat, cold.
"Ah, right. Sorry."
The first young man—also a security officer—stepped back from his post in front of the large iron door, allowing the other to take his place. The door loomed ominously, marked by two vertical red lines that ran from top to bottom. It looked heavily reinforced, unyielding.
The young man turned and walked off, heading down a hallway lined with endless intersections and security cameras mounted at every corner. The path he took passed several secured rooms, each guarded by stationed personnel, as though this entire facility was safeguarding something critical.
Eventually, he arrived at a large, industrial-looking elevator. He came to a stop. The floor beneath him vibrated subtly as some mechanism stirred below, followed by a ding—a sound both mechanical and clinical. The doors opened with a hiss, and he stepped inside. Slowly, the doors slid shut behind him… and the elevator began to descend deeper into the lower levels.