Summary: Three. Two. One.

There was something to be said about eating cup ramen and reading classified documents at the same time, but Naegi was too busy to actually figure out if there was a moral to this particular situation. He was far more invested in the many, many concerning stories that showed a particularly dark side of Hope's Peak Academy he wished he knew before coming to this godforsaken school. At least this way, he would've had some sort of warning that he was going to be tossed into a death game as soon as he showed up for school. Or, in a much nicer world, he would've chosen to go to a different, more normal school. Well, at least he was learning something new.

Hmm. The Reserve Course. Naegi had heard a little bit about that specific part of the school system, and it had been unpleasant, to say the least. The Luckster didn't place much value in the whole Talent thing, but even he knew that there was a specific set of skills you needed to be selected for the so-called Main Course. Especially after seeing what some of the Ultimates were capable of. Especially since some of it really, really did not make any sense. Like, the "defying reality and all laws of physics" sort of deal. These were the best of the best, after all. People that went on to revolutionise whatever field they went into after graduation. Thinking that your average teenager could compare to, for example, the Ultimate Programmer who somehow coded an artificial intelligence with a distinct possibility of becoming sentient on a brick of a laptop, wasn't just wishful thinking; it was expecting a miracle to fall out of the sky.

Where was he? Ah, right, the laughable state of reality. Regardless of the chance of transitioning from the Reserve Course to the Main one, it was very clear from the information in here that the very existence of said Course was not to, as one might foolishly expect, allow the average teenager to have a chance at winning for life, but a cheap way for the Steering Committee (another can of worms entirely) to fund the exorbitant prices of Main Course-related "research". Namely, paying off any previous debts that students may have had (especially those who were in trouble with the law), bribing the police force to stay out of their way (Naegi sure could've used that at some point) and buying the sort of equipment that people like the Ultimate Mechanic might've needed to cultivate their Talent. Of course, part of this funding came directly from the students themselves. Ultimates were Hope's Peak's cash cows, and most were content to go along with it (or just plain oblivious). The Reserve Course was the back-up bank, and judging by the financial statements he was currently sorting through, these were students being bled dry for everything they had their family had before being discarded. The turnover rate was…disconcertingly high. He matched the information to the rare suicide report he had dug up while researching the school, buried under NDAs and firewalls and just plain media suppression. But then again, it was no wonder people simply ignored the problem and continued to throw both their money and lives away in pursuit of some farflung dream. Like desperate gamblers, rolling the dice or and over, thinking that they'll get their big break eventually. And wasn't it a happy coincidence that Hope's Peak Academy had a public image and legal team, staffed to the brim with former Ultimates?

Now, Naegi was a relatively logical person. He knew that this world was a cruel, cruel place with a penchant for stepping on the unfortunate and ruining already ruined lives. He knew that the system in place uplifted those who struck gold in the genetic lottery and cared not for hard work. But he hadn't clawed his way through every single incident in his life to take this sort of information lying down. The papers crumpled in his grip before he dropped them back onto the desk. The boy closed his eye, took a single deep breath, held it until his lungs burned with the effort, then released it quietly. Reflexively adjusting his eyepatch once more, Naegi turned his attention to the secret room. With the sheer number of files and documents in this place, he never did perform a proper search of it. Might as well. It'd give him a little bit of time to cool off before he started throwing things around. His jaw ached, which reminded the Luckster to unclench it.

A cursory glance gave the impression that this was supposed to be a records room sort of deal. But why hide it behind a false wall? Judging from what little he knew about architecture, the fact that this room even exists at all denotes the idea that the blueprint of this school involved building additional rooms that were meant to be hidden in the first place. Or maybe the bathroom wasn't meant to be— no, that couldn't be right. Bathrooms were a mess to build around, especially factoring into account piping and drainage systems. This was a room that was built with the intent to keep it secret. The singular desk suggested this place was someone's private quarters. But who? And why? The Headmaster? A janitor who moonlighted as a records keeper? There were no locks or barricades to prevent this place from being discovered if two students decided to get frisky in that specific supply closet. He checked the doorframe, searching for the telltale signs of hinges or any sort of mechanism that would indicate such a system was once here. No holes from any drilling or screws. Running a scarred finger across the wooden surface reminded him that he needed to tape them at some point, but, again, nothing to denote that something had been removed. This was shoddy workmanship. He frowned. Things weren't adding up.

Closing his eye to drown out some of the noise in his head, Naegi imagined a picture of the building he had stood in front of before everything went to hell. From the outside, the entire Academy consisted of multiple buildings. Made sense, considering each student probably required a specialised facility to train and improve their Talent. What didn't make sense was the scale of this specific building they had been trapped in. The floors were sealed off, but judging by the infrastructure that they currently had access to, there could be no more than six floors to this place. There was a basement, which was used for the Class Trial. The first floor consisted mostly of dormitories, but included a dining hall, laundromat, infirmary, gymnasium, storage room, trash room, bathhouse, restroom, two classrooms, an AV room and the school store. All basic necessities that one might need to survive, along with a few amenities for flavour. Placing all these on the first floor indicated that the building wasn't as tall as the one he had seen on his first day. Perhaps this was specifically to house students on campus? Or maybe an old version of the current Hope's Peak?

Second floor: Library, archives, swimming pool (with accompanying locker rooms), two more classrooms and restrooms. None of which were required to survive, but all functioned to assist in quality of life. If he guessed correctly, the floors beyond the gated stairways would follow the same pattern. More amenities, possibly a games room, science labs and perhaps something for arts and music. This was a building designed to still be functional even if the upper floors were sealed off. Why? For what purpose?

So many unanswered questions. The dorms: there were enough rooms for fifteen of them. Only fifteen. The fifteen students of class 78. Was this place built specifically for them? No, that didn't make sense. People would raise havoc if an entire building was used for a single class of students. The number of classrooms also didn't add up in that case. Four so far, when only one or two were necessary. What happened to the others who were supposed to be using this place? He paused, tilting his head. Actually, that was a bad assumption. There was a staircase in the Despair Hotel that remained shut despite access to the second floor being granted. Could be more dorms there. Still, even if that was the case, there were more people supposed to be here. The presence of fresh produce indicated a garden or farm somewhere. Who was maintaining it? Monokuma? That sort of facility would take a while to build and cultivate. How long ago was this Killing Game planned? The presence of security cameras everywhere was acceptable, considering most schools possessed them anyways. Those could be rigged or hijacked, indicating a control room. Same with the monitors. He resisted the urge to scratch at his wounds, frustration bubbling violently in his chest. It just. Didn't. Make. Sense.

This room…he returned to his search. Opening the drawers like he had the first time this room was discovered, he noted with some delight that he had been mistaken about the extension cable. It was an Ethernet cable, wired into the floor. This was access to the internet, if that still existed, or at least a connection to the rest of the school's systems. Could be useful. Keep that in mind. A small post-it note bearing a cryptic warning that "you must not leave". Yeah, he figured that out long before finding this thing. You would think whoever wrote this note would have had the foresight to give a better explanation of whatever the hell was going on that required such a message to exist. He scoffed, tossing it aside before finishing his search. Yep. Seems to be a room primarily designed for records keeping. He bit a finger, mind scrambling for ways to explain this whole thing in a sufficiently reasonable way. No dice. Like trying to play a game without a HUD, he was lacking the sort of basic information one would need to get the gist of where to start.

He was snapped out of his increasingly depressing train of thought by the chime of the night-time bell. Tuning out Monokuma's muffled announcement with the practiced ease of one who had done it, many, many times, Naegi huffed a laugh. He probably spent too much time in here. Carefully reorganising the papers he had left scattered across the desk, the Luckster made a mental note to find some sort of pencil to scribble down his thoughts instead of letting them clutter his mind. Maybe putting them down in writing would help him see something he hadn't noticed before. And in the worst case scenario, it would make sure that someone else could continue where he left off, if he died. Gotta always have contingencies in place.

Naegi only had a few seconds to himself after leaving the bathroom before Monokuma popped out from around a corner like a cheap jumpscare. The Luckster clamped down, hard, on the urge to pull the robotic bastard apart. His eye burned. If it wasn't concealed beneath two layers of protection, he'd probably be weeping blood from it right now. All because of the bear dancing in place in front of him.

"Monokuma." He spat. "What do you want?"

The Principal giggled. "How's the eye, Makoto-kun?"

"Scream, Makoto-kun. Scream for me."

A visceral shudder ran through his whole body. Judging by the way Monokuma's red eye lit up with glee, the thing had noticed. Great. Fantastic. He bit down on his tongue, ignoring the way it stung as his teeth found purchase in barely healed wounds. The Principal knew that Naegi was two steps away from violence. It wanted a reason to play its twisted game once more. He wouldn't give it the satisfaction. The boy hadn't let out a single scream or plea when it had pinned him like a butterfly on a corkboard to carve up his eye. He wouldn't be losing that sort of self-restraint now.

"Just peachy, no thanks to you." He shifted his body slightly to keep Monokuma centered within the field of vision of his good eye. "I'll ask again. What the fuck do you want?"

Monokuma grinned. "I've got a little present for you, since you've been such a good boy~"

"Is it Christmas or something?" He snarked. "How magnanimous of you."

The bear clapped its paws over its cheeks, appearing bashful. "Oh Makoto-kun…you always say the nicest things to me." It gestured behind the Luckster. Very slowly, to avoid accidentally backhanding the animatronic and triggering Rule Five, he turned, and was met with an identical copy of their robotic principal. This one appeared more mechanical in its actions, stiffly and silently presenting Naegi with a familiar weapon.

"My bat…" His good hand twitched, and the teenager looked from his previously confiscated tool to a still-grinning Monokuma. "Why?" The bear wordlessly gestured once more. Hesitantly, he grabbed the bat, giving it a couple test swings before switching to a reverse grip, bracing it along the length of his arm. Without a jacket tied around his waist, he would have to keep it in his grasp for now. Well, that upped his weapon count from one to two. Always good.

"Well~" Monokuma placed its paws behind its back, looking a tad bashful. "I thought you might need it, considering the game's about to begin once more."

"What!?" Naegi snarled, an undercurrent of fear forming a bottomless pit in his stomach. "No. No that's not possible. It can't be."

"Oh Makoto-kun…" The bear mockingly frowned. "Did you really think you could stop this? I do admit, you came pretty close! If only you had been just a little quicker—"

The Luckster didn't hear the last part of that statement. He was already running past Monokuma, ignoring the way his broken wrist protested as he used it to pivot past the corner while maintaining his current speed. No. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no! Fuck!

Classrooms were empty.

Swimming pool was empty.

Library had a still-alive Togami Byakuya. The Scion peered up from his book, irritation dying away at Naegi's appearance.

"What's going on?"

"Monokuma said— well, it implied that we have a corpse on our hands somewhere." He hissed, kicking open the archives just to make sure. "I need you to follow me. Bodies are only reported when three people show up."

The blond teenager smirked, closing his book before getting to his feet. "Lead the way." Naegi sprinted back out the room, vaulting over the stairs' railing, rolling to bleed off momentum when he landed.

Gymnasium. Empty.

Restrooms. Empty.

Infirmary. Locked.

School Store. Empty.

Main Hall. Empty.

AV Room. Empty.

Bathhouse. Empty.

Dining room and kitchen. Empty.

Laundromat. Empty.

He paused, propping himself up with his bat as his breathing sped up, punctuated by sharp gasps. Calm down. Assess the situation. He patrolled this place every day. There were only so many places one could hide a body. Assuming someone died recently, the only place they could be hidden…was in one of the dorms.

He sped down the corridor, slamming his bat into Ishimaru's door. Within seconds, the Moral Compass poked his head out, indignation dying quickly when he saw who was causing the ruckus. "Naegi-san, why are you—"

"Help me wake the others!" He was already knocking on Kirigiri's door. "No time to explain, just do it!" As soon as the door opened, he moved on to the next, hearing Ishimaru do the same in the background.

Togami was on his way, Owada was there, Maizono was fucking dead, Enoshima was seen just hours ago, Fukawa slammed the door in his face, Celeste was now screaming at Ishimaru, Fujisaki rubbing their eyes, Asahina fell backwards, Ogami went to check on her, skip Kuwata, Yamada's door was unlocked for some reason and Hagakure…!

He slammed his bat into the door. Once. Twice. Three times. Tried the handle. Locked. A creeping sense of Despair was swirling in his damaged eye. No response. He growled, a rabid noise that tore at his throat. The locks were impossible to open.

"Ogami-san, with me!" He stepped backwards, waiting impatiently for the Martial Artist to stand beside him. "On three, we break this door down." She nodded grimly, drawing her leg back. Naegi readied the bat. "One. Two. Three!"

He swung as she threw a kick, and the door gave way beneath the force of their blows with a crunch. It swung limply on one hinge, somehow still attached to the doorframe. And in the room…

A familiar chime played from the intercom system. On the wall of Hagakure's dorm, the monitor flickered to life.

"A body has been discovered!"