How troublesome. The weather forecast said that the evening would be a clear day, yet I can see that it is raining hard out there. As much as I want to complain, I must leave soon for that simple job. To get that 50 million yen. Hmm, perhaps I won't mind having to deal with rain as it gives me a reason to try out a jacket I haven't worn in a while.

I get changed into something polite yet casual: a half-button short-sleeve yellow shirt, a blue-checkered knee-length skirt, and a brown jacket that still fits my relatively small body. I had tied my hair so as not to let it spread out too much whenever I walked under the rain and wore hair clips to keep the bangs off my face. Lastly, I pin the sunflower brooch on my collar shirt.

Not exactly a brooch, per se. I had made a small trip to Millennium a while back, specifically paying a visit to the notorious Veritas Club. They are an interesting bunch, and that girl, Kotama, seemed excited at my prospect of buying a hidden camera. For something so small yet capable of recording something with 4K quality in terms of visual audio, it was surprisingly cheap for me to buy. I'm not sure what was going on with Kotama, but I remember she mentioned something about… wiretapping Sensei? I feel like I should be concerned about that, but maybe at a later date.

I almost forgot to turn it on before I pin it back again. Once I'm sure I'm all settled, I store the job paper in my bag and grab my umbrella. Wearing my high socks and shoes and slinging my MG42 around my shoulder, I leave my home with lights off and locked as I make my way to the nearby street. I didn't really have to hurry as I still had one more hour to reach his place. Too early, sure, but it's better than wasting time finding his place near the appointed time. It didn't take long for me to flag down a taxi so I could ask the robot driver to drive me to Jiramiagi Apartments. The driver did give me a strange look, but otherwise, never said anything and we quietly went on our way.

The trip to the avenue is uneventful. The driver had told me it was easier to walk than to drive there as the roads we had to take were headache-inducing, with twists and turns when they could've been straight roads. I never said anything as I listened broodingly to the raindrops outside. I had already stopped paying attention to the roads and became more content with getting some light nap for myself.

I feel that my comprehension of time passes by quickly, and to my surprise, we finally reach our destination. I can see we are already in the lane, and outside to my right, an apartment complex stands tall to greet me. I pay my fare to the driver before I exit and watch him leave the empty road. I look up at the massive building, noting its orange-reddish exterior with numerous white-framed windows. I check the time on my phone and mentally accept that I have at least spent 40 minutes to get here.

I enter the building to be greeted by the visage of a homey lobby room, the kind that elderly adults usually appreciate. The shiny wooden floors, motif carpets, and antique furniture blend with the brown-orangish walls, somewhat reminding me of our school's choice of decoration or Trinity's traditional rooms. There were only a couple of elderly people, one a pitbull and another a cat, still busy reading their newspapers. As I see no one else besides them, and I'm not so inclined to disturb them, I set out to search for his room. It is thankfully convenient that it has a couple of elevators here, so I press for the fourth level and wait under the soothing jazz music.

Wait, they play music in the elevator here? I thought that was just a movie thing. I wonder if being a Head Prefect for a long time makes me miss a lot of things the students have not.

Regardless, I step out of the elevator and search for his apartment. This floor is quiet, perhaps too quiet for my liking. It could be the atmosphere that's been bothering me, but it feels like not many people live on this floor. It wasn't much of a problem finding apartment number 414. I hold back from knocking on the door and check my time: I still have 15 minutes left. Too early to knock on his door.

As a courtesy of punctuality, I wait a bit away from that door, perusing myself with the hallway decorations and checking my smartphone for any new messages or news around Kivotos. Once I still have one minute left on my clock, I immediately return to the door and knock three times.

…. The silence is rather agitating, but-

"Who is it?"

I clear my throat and straighten myself. "It's Sorasaki Hina. I called you about the job yesterday."

"Ah…. Yes. The Head Prefect, wasn't it?"

"That is correct, mister."

"…. Step inside. The door's not locked."

I take a deep, assuring breath before I step in. The whole room, save for the short hallway I'm in, is dark, as I can see the outline of what appears to be a bed, a TV on a cabinet, and… there is a person sitting on the armchair on the corner end of the room next to the bed. I can only see the bottom half of his jeans, and … are those eyes in the dark? I have seen weird things, Juri's cooking mishaps being one of them, but I don't think I have ever had such a chill just from seeing something like that.

"So, you came alone," came his voice.

"I do. Would that be a problem?" I asked in my best professional tone.

He chuckles warmly. "No, not at all, Ms. Sorasaki. If you would, please leave your gun and your jacket on the coat hanger to your left."

I oblige his request and put my items there. I… warily approach him through the darkness, occasionally looking over my shoulders to make sure my gun is still there.

"Do you mind if I… sit on your bed?" I asked.

"Please do," he answered. "I do apologize for it, but the one I'm sitting on is the only chair I have."

"It is of no concern, mister," I pulled out the job paper and handed it to him. "Here's the paper you posted as proof of my intention."

"Ah, of course," the man took the paper, whose hands I realized were human. "Still not tainted yet, I see. I posted this a few days ago, and I knew that no one would ever take it. Yet, here you are."

"I admit, I wanted to turn it down at first. But I decided to give it a shot."

"Any particular reason why?"

I open my mouth but stop myself. Reason…. I am partly desperate with how Pandemonium got under my skin with their stunt. At this point… I realize I do not have the complete answer to his question.

The man waves at me. "On second thought, no need to answer. All that matters is that you are here now."

I see him pull the rope from the standing floor lamp beside him. The fluorescent orange looms over us, and I finally see his face. To my stupefaction, though, it isn't a face; he is wearing a mask.

The adult's mask, although wooden, is stark and featureless, save for the two uneven holes that serve as his eyes within its expanse. With how smooth the mask is, as if it is carved from bones, it morbidly looks like a second skin to him. The edges of his mask, including its neck, blur into the shadows like it is naturally breathing along with him. With how the dim light shadows over him, it almost convinces me that I am looking at a ghostly apparition that just comes back alive. The longer I stare at his mask, the more I feel that I am staring at something that doesn't exist – shouldn't exist. A complete absence that has no place in this world of society.

What disturbs me about his mask is not that it is devoid of any features to form an expression, but it is his eyes that somehow seem more luminous than the lamp next to us. His eyes… are so wide open with pupils shrunk like a dot that I was under the impression that he's either overstimulated or… he's been staring into the abyss for far too long.

"Is there something wrong, Ms. Sorasaki?"

His question snaps me out of my trance. "N-no, mister. I just.. didn't think I would meet another adult like Sensei in Kivotos."

"Haha," he chuckled, rubbing the sleeve of his leather jacket. "I guess that's fair. Unlike him, I keep a lot of things to myself. Reclusive, if you could call it that."

"I see..," I took this chance to digress, being cautious about mentioning his mask. "What this job is all about, mister?"

"Straight to the point then?" he sat still momentarily. "I admire your professionalism as the Head Prefect."

With how things are proceeding now, I most expected to be tasked with an important delivery or a bounty hunt. I took this chance to examine his being. Other than his jacket is his striped shirt that seems rather tainted, can't tell if it's food stains, grime, or something else. And then there are his dark jeans that seem to absorb only the light itself and his shoes; there is nothing out of the ordinary and possibly the only human thing about him. I see him reach to his back and pull out… is that a 4-digit clicker? I reluctantly take it from him without a word as I look back at him strangely.

"You know why you are here. Now click it."

And I did so. 1.

"Click it again."

Now 2. I stare at him, and he says nothing, so I click again. 3.

"Good."

4.

"Keep clicking."

I keep clicking, now faster than before. When I eventually reach 100, I immediately snap back at him with complete disbelief.

"Wait a second. My job is just to keep clicking this?!" I refrained myself from using my high tone. "Is that why you call it a simple job?"

"That is correct, Ms. Sorasaki," he nodded. "You are a steady clicker…. I like that."

I was bothered by how he roughly phrased it as I clicked. He continued. "The money's nearby…."

I stop clicking, gazing back at him with an unpleasant look. "Mister, I don't want to be overbearing, but I demand that you show me the money right now. Because, as it stands right now, this whole job you gave me is stupid enough to begin with."

"Don't worry, Ms. Sorasaki. I was about to."

I see him reaching behind him and procuring a stack of cash for me. "50 million yen. Cash. That's what you said you needed for the Prefect Drill."

I didn't even have to take a closer look at it. The money's genuine.

"That tally counter resets at 10.000 clicks. When it resets, you get the money," he continued, putting back the money. "That's the deal."

I refrain from asking where is the rest of it; instead…. "Why clicking in particular?"

"Just entertain me, please."

Now, aware that I'm going nowhere with this adult, I resign myself and keep clicking. At this point, I want to get this over with, not to mention how uncomfortable this whole situation is. I click as fast as I can, going over the 200-mark. I keep clicking, clicking, and clicking, ignoring the stares he continues to give me. Now that I mention it, I don't think I have seen him… blink, even for once. I can't tell which is more disturbing for me, either that or clicking this thing with his company for God knows how long—my right hand ache as I switch the clicker onto my left hand and continue.

Going over the 300-mark, the man finally speaks. "I didn't know if you'd come alone."

I stop clicking, observing him reaching the lamp's rope gradually and methodically, akin to a cat about to catch a bird, then pulling it to which the… night lamp behind me is finally lit? Wait, how does that work?

"Okay. Get up," he ordered, and I quietly obliged. "Go to the window."

I walk to the only window in the room and look back at him. "Now open the blinds," he continued.

"… Why?" I asked, admittedly in perplexion.

"I want to see how it feels. Variety…."

I did a double-take on both the window and him before I opened the blinds, and to my annoyance, it was still raining outside.

"Good. Start clicking."

I oblige his request almost immediately. I keep clicking until the 316th when he says. "No. No, I hate that."

"Huh?"

"Close the blinds."

I did as ordered. I turn to see him looking away. "That's… That was awful."

As much as I wanted to ask whatever the heck he meant, it sounded nothing different to me, with rain or otherwise. Unless he has sensitive ears, I still don't understand how he found this particular clicking awful. That's like trying to find dust on a pristine floor that has been recently mopped five minutes ago.

"Keep clicking. We're not doing that again."

I only nod and keep clicking. Passing my 321st click, I take a clear look around the room. Some parts remain dark, but I can see his immaculate green bed with the night table, striped green wallpaper with a branching flower motif, a few framed pictures that seemed to be made through traditional painting, and I say must have looked rather expensive as well, considering the acrylic style of drawing. The only thing that seems out of place is the TV monitor, which seems a bit modern for this room's classic homey atmosphere. For someone to have much money to decide to live in a place like this…. Seems a little cramped for me, but I commend him for having a taste for decorations.

"Be honest. Is it your first time?"

I just passed the 350th click and was thrown off the loop. I don't think I've ever felt so frightened in my life to be asked such… I think this is what Iori called a degenerate question. I didn't sound out a yelp, but I couldn't contain the expression on my face.

"W-what do you mean by…?" I carefully and slowly asked to deter my overreaction.

"I mean the clicking, Ms. Sorasaki. Clicking together with someone else. Is this your first time?"

"Er.. y-yes?"

The man just nods. "Apologies if it sounds intrusive. I'm curious."

"R-right…."

I contend myself in silence once more and continue to click. That is until I slow down to a halt at 380, still staring upsettingly at the clicker. This is easy, yes, but… this whole thing is just absurd. Like a joker being the one who is being laughed at instead of his jokes.

"You stopped…."

"… Is this a game to you?" I asked, carrying my voice as the Head Prefect.

"Pardon me?"

"This whole clicker nonsense. Did you bring me out here to see if you could take advantage of my gullibility like those Pandemonium raccoons?"

"As in to mock you? No, Ms. Sorasaki. I never would. That was not my intention."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" I inquired back in ire. "If this is so simple, why can't you do it yourself?"

"I wish I could, but now I can't."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's… rather complicated."

"So, you don't have an answer."

My irritation flared as my eyes glowed a purple hue whenever I was not pleased, reserved for those who caused any problems or intended to offend me, not in terms of rank but the dignity I have as the Head Prefect. Normally, this deters anyone from doing something unpleasant or at least indicates to them that they'll have an incredibly terrible time. To my astonishment, he didn't react much but met his fingertips together on his lap, still always staring at me with those two unsettling eyes.

"I understand that my request may seem too ridiculous for you. But petty as it may be, what I asked you to do is incredibly important to me."

"So important in what way? How does clicking this accomplish anything but to waste my time?"

"Didn't you wish to get the money?"

"That is irrelevant. I want to know what kind of sick game you are dragging me into."

The man pauses. "It is not a game, Ms. Sorasaki. As I said, I wish for you to keep me in company while I ask you to do some of my small requests. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing inappropriate."

Of course, I'm not convinced by what he said, but he seems to take notice. "I see you're skeptical of my intention. If you wish to leave, I won't stop you."

I mentally agree with that notion. I put the clicker on his bed and turned around for my jacket and gun. Then I-

"If you leave, don't come back."

…. What?

I look over my shoulder slightly. Of course, I don't plan on returning here, but… he sounds disappointed. I look back at the door and find myself reluctant to reach the door. I can just step out the door and forget all this ever happened. Go out there once more and prospect for another promising job. But… I would lose the chance of getting the 50 million yen ever again.

….

I admit, despite finding myself offended by whatever antics he has for me, I was having second thoughts, particularly as to how he reacted to me clicking back at the window. It is quite a curious thing for me to see someone to be so attracted to something so innocuous. Perhaps, he is….

I reluctantly change my mind. I step away from the hangers and calmly retrieve the clicker. I return a purple glare at him.

"Don't mistake this as me taking your word," I narrowed my eyes. "I still don't trust you. I'm merely curious where this trivial task will ultimately lead us."

He remains still, unblinking and unflinching, but he places his arms on his armrests. I guess that's enough to hint that he was listening. I continue from 380, clicking much faster now. 10.000 clicks is a long way, but I am determined to get this over quickly. The faster I click this, the less I worry about this adult observing me so unnervingly.

Passing the 450th click, he speaks. "It's my first time doing something like this."

I slow down my clicking, uncomfortable yet intrigued at his comment. "Together with a stranger?"

"Yes. It feels… interesting."

Neither of us says another word as we are drowned in the sounds of my clicking. That's… some weird phrasing coming from me, but I doubt it's significant enough for anyone to hear. The process of clicking this is rather monotonous, and I end up pacing at a stable speed so as not to ache my finger. I still click fast, just not fast enough, as if my life depended on it.

Finally reaching the 600th click, he finally speaks. "I'm tensing a little bit. Just watching you."

I try to ignore his comments as I click, but he still continues. "That clicker means a lot to me, you know. We've been together a long time."

Now, I stare back at him, clicking at a snail's pace.

"I was lost. It found me…. But I can't click it the way you can."

I crease my eyebrows, confused at his remarks.

"The way you run your fingers over it. The way its shape presses into you."

I stop, looking at the clicker. It felt like I had accidentally committed a crime.

"You like it, don't you?"

I was taken aback at his question, but I managed a slight nod. "I guess you could say that…. It doesn't feel that bad."

Passing through the 850th click, I switch hands again, sometimes wondering how someone like him could be so patient and so… distant to endure this kind of monotonous hell. For Schale's sake, how does he keep staring at me so lividly without blinking for once?

"I could be home. In bed," he said raggedly at the 950th click.

At least, I'm glad I was about to reach the 1000-mark. 995, 996, 997, 998, 999-

"STOP!"

I jump back immediately, gasping at his sudden action. I see his hand just about to reach my face. I thought he was about to harm me, but… he stayed seated. I see his hand and his entire upper body are in tremors. His eyes are still the same, but there's a certain expression that I couldn't describe in them.

"Stop right there, it's so…. It's so close."

What does he-?

"We're so close. Just.. wait. Wait a while."

"Mister?" I called in concern and a tinge of suspicion.

"On… just the right number. Just like that."

Oh! I remember Aris being so happy to achieve a new high score in her Tetris game. This is something similar to that.

"Yeah. Yeeeaaaaah…. That's good. That's real good…. God…."

The man stiffens for a moment before he finally slumps back into his armchair, huffing out his satisfaction.

"That was something else," he finally sat straight and looked back at me. "Keep…. Keep clicking."

….

W-w-w-what the heck did I just witness?! Was that his euphoria kicking in? If there exist other vocabularies other than creepy, I would like to use such words in his previous dialogues. For… some reason, I feel dirty and disgusted at the both of us doing this. Why do I feel this way?

"Uh…. Ms. Sorasaki?"

"Huh-? Y-yeah?"

"Are you alright? You've been staring for a while."

"Oh, uh, yes, yes, I'm fine. Just- um…. N-nevermind."

Best to ignore what I just witnessed. I don't want to be rude right now. To think I witnessed such a reaction from using this thing. God forbid if this was my reaction to a mountain of paperwork in my office.

Wait, why I'm imagining that?! Stop it, stop it, stop it!

I feel relief passing the 1000th click, and I continue on. A few clicks after 1150, he asks. "Are you satisfied? With your life, I mean."

"Well…. That depends," I answered honestly. "As the Head Prefect or as a student?"

"As you, Ms. Sorasaki."

I stop clicking to ponder and then answer. "Things are going well in my life, all things considered."

The man nods. "Good to know."

Continuing on until I hit 1300, he requests as he points. "Look at that tiger painting."

I turn around and see a painting in the dark. I didn't really realize that it was a painting of a tiger. It's sleeping now, but the tiger looks pretty fulfilled.

"Okay. Now keep clicking."

I clicked.

"It looks happy. It doesn't know it hurts people. The tiger just lives and rests. We don't get that. We get minds that torture us."

Didn't expect him to get philosophical, but he gave me something to think about. Hmm, it reminds me of what I said to Sensei a while back; I asked him to spoil and praise me more. I can't help but compare that to the painting, and I feel so envious of the tiger.

"Are you here just for the money?" He asked past the 1500th click.

I was about to answer, but he held his hand up and waved it away. "Don't answer that question."

Fine then. I click much faster now, and he never says a word but stretches and listens. That is until I passed 1701 clicks.

"Look at the painting. The one of the blind man getting… healed."

I turn around from where I stand, looking around for a second until I lay my eyes upon the aforementioned painting above the head bed. It's a bit hard to see with the dim light, but I can tell that there are three adults in medieval clothing tending onto the eyes of an old man within that Renaissance painting. That must be a fairly expensive painting.

"Yes, that painting. Now click."

I clicked as ordered as I admired the painting with him.

"It's interesting, right?"

"It is," I replied. "That kind of painting is pretty hard to come by in Kivotos. Only museums have such artistic pieces behind those paneglasses. It must have cost you a fortune."

"That it did – A past classic for either of us to reminisce. I feel… jealous to see someone capable of inventing such a piece. Feels like it shouldn't be here. Like us. Ha ha ha ha ha ha…."

I ignore his self-degrading, nonchalant laugh. "Does it have any significance to you?"

"The painting? …I guess so. Reminds me of myself in some way. Something that I have lost."

"And you're looking for a way to get it back?"

"That's right."

I nod. After reaching 1900 clicks, I click much more quickly to reach 2000.

"Get that number up," he encouraged, and soon, I got past the 2000 mark. "The sooner we finish this, the sooner you get paid."

He doesn't have to tell me that. I'm already more than determined to wrap this up as quickly as I can.

"You're good at this. Maybe better than I ever was. Ever will be."

I paused clicking. Staring back at him strangely but unexpectedly feels… contented to be praised like that. How peculiarly humble of him, I admit, since I'm doing nothing but clicking the clicker. His words, although ragged and disconcerting at times, brought genuine warmth that I never thought I heard from him.

"You can give it what it deserves. I like… seeing that."

If you wish so, why wouldn't I oblige? I passed through the 2100-mark and continued clicking. Passing the 2200 clicks, I can tell he has a recount to elaborate to me.

"Clicking for a long time… pulls from you. Makes you ask questions."

I slow down the clicking as I listen.

"There's some weird puppies out there, you know? Have all kinds of questions. All kinds of judgments. Bring their own sickness into things."

He reaches behind his armchair and draws out… a pistol?! I reflexively take a step back as he places his pistol on his lap and stares blankly away from me, at the gun. I recognize the gun in his hand, M1911, excellently reliable and loaded with the stopping power of .45 ACP. I stopped clicking, instead increasing my caution since I didn't expect him to be a potentially credible threat against me. All that warmth has been replaced with sickly apprehension.

"You seemed like a good bet, but…. We're alone…. I've got all this money."

My face remains still yet alert. Almost glancing to the right, I am ready to commit a fight or flight the moment he's going to do something with that gun, either disarm him or incapacitate him with my MG42. We both stay in our respective poses until the adult sighs, at least, I think he sighs.

"Anyway…," he put away his gun behind his armchair, to my incredible relief. "Don't have to worry about that now."

Certain that he won't do something else, I continue clicking despite my guardedness. I can't help but think about his remarks. I was under the impression that he was… harassed, or stalked, or get nosed on too much, either of which warranted him to get a gun. How he carries himself and his attachment to the clicker alludes me to something in a dark light about him. But now, I try not to care about it and catch up until reaching 2500 clicks and beyond.

"It's cold," I quickly stopped at his comment. "I'm – losing sensation. Change the thermostat."

Huh. It's a good thing that he brings that up; I also felt chilly in this room. "Where is it?"

"It's near the door, under the coat hangers."

I walk over to that wall and see the setting still read 'temperate.' Strange. I thought it was set at 'cold,' but perhaps the heavy rain had something to do with it. I switch it up to 'hot' and look back at the masked adult.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"Hmm. Better," he nodded approvingly before I returned to where I was and continued clicking.

Reaching past 2700 clicks, he remarks again. "I'm always surprised how long it takes. Getting to 10.000."

"Have you tried getting to 10.000 yourself before?" I asked curiously, slowing down my clicking.

"I have. Takes longer than I like to, but when I do it myself, I felt… wrong. The sensation, the way I click, the sound, the liberation…. I couldn't get them right anymore."

"That's why you need me to do this for you?"

"That is right. If you don't mind, keep clicking slowly like that."

I complied with his request, clicking and clicking like I'm new at using a typewriter. "Like this?"

"Yes… like that. Slower, if you can."

Now, I'm clicking at a snail's pace. I realized I was so focused on the clicker that I somehow treated it as a ticking bomb. After about 7-10 more clicks, he nods at me.

"…That's enough. Click however you want."

I unconsciously let out a relieved sigh as I speed up my clicking. Not a few seconds too soon, I pass the 3000-mark—7000 more to go.

"The cash is underneath the bed. You should know that."

That catches my attention. "Are they in stacks like the one you showed me?"

"All in a briefcase, save for a stack in my hand."

I raise an eyebrow and stop clicking. "May I ask what do you work for a living?"

"Well…. I've done many kinds of work. But recently, I've become an anonymous musician."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Usually work in backwater places. Even clubs owned by the mafia. I'm not that popular, but I managed to make due."

"I can tell. What kind of music do you play?"

"Jazz. You dig that kind of music?"

"Hmm. I'm not familiar with that music. I'm partially classical."

"You need to hear that music one day. Heard from the grapevine that Sensei might have a taste for Jazz as well. It swings the mood and raises the spirit, you know what I mean?"

"I'll keep that in mind," I looked toward the space under the bed. "That money…. It could be just my feeling, but…. Is that your entire savings?"

"Pretty much."

"Why?"

"Does it matter? Truth be told… I feel I no longer need them."

I could see it in his eyes that he made up his mind, so I didn't bother to argue. Clicking until 3115, he gestures to me to stop clicking.

"Hey, find a way into that bathroom."

"Huh?!" Why does he say such a thing so casually?!

"It's locked. Think it needs a key or something."

I stare on with composed disbelief. "You want me to click in the-? No, wait, why did you lock your own bathroom?"

The adult shrugs. "It's my apartment. I'll do whatever I want."

I sigh with my eyes closed. I check the bathroom door. Indeed, it's locked, and I look around to no avail.

"Where did you put the key?" I asked.

"Well... about that…."

I simply bow my head in defeat. It wasn't on the bed, the night table, the cabinet TV. The only thing left is…. I looked at another item I had missed since I entered the apartment: the trash bin.

"Ugh, how troublesome," I whispered as I began trudging through the bin.

Fortunately, perhaps his courtesy to ensure my hands remain pristine, the bin is only filled with unused papers. I end up finding the key at the bottom of the bin and use it to unlock the bathroom. I enter the dark bathroom and leave its door open.

"You're in there?"

"I am," I answered.

"…. I was able to click. I was good. But my hands…. I'm sick. Real sick."

What? That's… new information. Why he didn't say that earlier?

"Didn't think it'd affect so much of me, but it did. You've got my hands. The hands I used to have. After you called me, I realized that I should have asked for the pictures of your hands."

I feel a little creeped out by what he confides to me that I even peek out of the bathroom.

"My memory isn't too good anymore. But I did procure pictures of you from the public domain. A lot of pictures…. To see what your hands look like. To imagine what your hands feel like."

Why are you confiding this to me?! I finally feel a chill in my spine and my heart beating abnormally. The hair above my forehead feels tingling from dread. It was just somehow repulsive for me to listen.

"Don't do much clicking, though. Can't – click the way I want. Not like you."

"I… see. I'm… sorry to hear that," I anxiously stepped away from the doorway. "Can I… turn on the bathroom light?"

"Go ahead."

I proceeded to do so and continued clicking. The clicking echoes from the bathroom and onto the main room for him to hear. Soon, I managed to catch up and pass the 3400 clicks.

"Ms. Sorasaki, you can come out now," he called out.

I step out of the bathroom; the clicker shows 3450 clicks.

"Poke that alarm."

I nonchalantly obey to do so at the night table.

"Now click."

And I did. I can see that he is analyzing this click with certain doubts.

"That's…. Hmm."

"Is… is it not to your liking?"

"Honestly, I didn't know what I was expecting…. Carry on."

I simply nod. Clicking and clicking and clicking, I have reached 3700 clicks and beyond.

"I don't judge you for being here, right?" he assured me. "We're both here."

"How does that make me feel better, mister?" I restrained my tone, still reeling from seeing his gun.

"You have so many options, yet you choose to be here, no matter how… odd things are. You still have that privilege, yet I have… none."

I… don't really understand what he means by that, but I remain noiseless and keep clicking. I change to my right hand and keep clicking. I see him raise his hand, to which I stop clicking at 3800.

"It's… hot in here. Too hot."

I immediately walk to the temperature setting and change it to 'temperate.' "Is this good?"

"Hmm, no."

I finally changed it to 'cold.' "Now?"

"Yes, better. Good."

Shame. I'm already comfy at the previous temperature, but his request comes first. I click once again, fasten my pace after going over 3900 clicks. I feel another wave of silent gratification upon reaching 4000.

"Got something leaking through my mouth. I can't reach it through this thing."

I raise my eyebrow. "Then why don't you-?"

He waved his hand at me, a dismissive one. I shrug and continue clicking. He remains still, listening and staring at me do my miracle with steady, pacing breath. 200 clicks later, I change to my left hand and click.

"I had a dream, once."

I look up at him, curious. Never stop clicking.

"Saw a man in a chair. Completely strong. Completely clean. I couldn't move. He didn't tell me what he wanted. We were alone, in a white void. A sound tried to reach behind my eyelids. I was awake, and then I wasn't, and he was watching me. The man was perfect."

Was he… dreaming of another adult?

"I stood there for hours. While he looked at me. While I couldn't move. And he left, and I…. I made this mask, but it's—I got close. I almost… got very close."

That must be a jarring dream to experience. The thought that such an adult would be willing to stare at me for hours, observing me like a test subject or an exotic specimen, makes my chest feel tight with anxiety. But he…. He said he was perfect, the way he described him.

"Does your mask resemble him?"

The masked man tilts his head, then barely nods. "Yes. As close as it can be."

A fascination. I don't have another question, or rather, I don't really know what I should ask him about that dream, so I continue clicking.

"It took a while to find this place," he began. "Needed something quiet. Clean. Where someone wouldn't ask questions."

He stretches both his palms. "Place where someone wouldn't shout. Ruin it. And then rooms… lot of things don't fit. Most things don't fit. Especially now. I feel it on my skin."

He sounded… like he doesn't even belong here. Desperate. Nervous. I tried to shake off what he was expressing from infecting my emotions. Still clicking, 150 clicks to 5000.

"Something about this is… wrong," he looked around; I stopped at his words and narrowed my eyes. "Click somewhere else."

I look around the room, then I stand at the foot of the bed. "Here?"

"Not there."

I move again, this time standing across him, across the bed-

"THERE…. Click there."

He startles me so much that I click faster.

"Good. Very good."

I pat my chest and breathe out slowly, now clicking at a steady pace. "Mister, please don't frighten me like that."

"S-sorry. Had to say it fast before…. Before…. Don't mind what I said."

I'm still upset, but I nodded. I click a few more before I stop at 4999. I feel… something tingly in my chest while I stare at the number with slight tension. Then, I click once more: 5000.

"Haaaah…." I unconsciously let out a long breath. I… never thought to feel so fulfilled from clicking this thing, like achieving a new best high score in an arcade game.

Yet, I still don't understand what makes this clicker so important for him other than to kill time and count numbers. Oh, right, he's still staring at me. I get back to clicking immediately. I feel somewhat enthusiastic that I speed up a bit after 5200, knowing there's still halfway left until I get the money.

"Come here," he ordered.

Okay? I soon walk back to him, standing close enough for him to grab me. Of course, I still keep my guard up.

"Good. Now click."

I clicked a few times upon his request.

"That… was good."

No further comment. I keep clicking more, subtly stepping back a bit as I stare back at his unblinking eyes. Changing to my left hand, my clicking is about to pass 5500-

"Don't look at me."

"What?" I returned a surprised glare.

"Don't look at me."

I take another step back and look away from his face.

"Even if you're already looking away…."

Not enough? Now, I turn around, facing the tiger painting. I glance at-

"Don't turn around."

I fix my eyes on the painting. An awkward silence followed, blended with the faint sound of rain.

"Just like that… Looking away."

A confirmation. I clicked a few times, passing 5520 clicks.

"…. Okay. Turn around again."

I fully turn around at him again. Waiting for a moment, but he said nothing else. It's safe for me to click again. Quick repetition on the clicker commenced. I have now reached 5600 clicks.

"Turn on the TV," he requested. "I don't know if this place has it hooked up, but… try it."

I turn the TV on, only to be met with… a static screen followed by a white noise.

"There it is. Keep it on, now," he asked, to which I clicked again. "I like the white noise. It feels like God can't hear you anymore. …If you're quiet enough."

That's… hmm…. Interesting thought. I'm not a religious person by any means, at least not on the level of Trinity's Sisterhood. But I find that particular line somewhat… detached, perhaps not in a bad light. I may try that kind of experiment back at home to feel a similar effect as his, but to hear such a line from someone like him. Feels… isolated, chilling even, as though he is alluding me that he had cut off everything that was once mattered to him. I click a few more until I reach 5750.

"Turn off that TV," he ordered, to which I did almost reflexively. "I can hear myself think. Not necessarily a good thing. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…."

His laugh sounds depressed and a bit looney, but I guess I chalk it up to him being lonesome and having joy in hearing my clicking. I continue on. Although it felt like about 15-20 minutes or so being introduced to the clicker, it felt like second nature to me to click this so seamlessly. It takes me 10 seconds or more to reach 5900, and I still count the number up.

"I like how I feel in here," he narrated. "The sound of the clicker. Again. Been a while since it rang like that. Kinda slid and 'chunked' into place. You get a feeling like this… rarely. And the older you get, the less of them you have. You're always running out…."

That's…. That caught me off-guard. I still remember the days when I was still just a student, still in my early years and classes. A time when I don't have that much responsibilities and complete freedom of my actions, freedom of what I want to get and what I want to use my time for. Now... the work schedule is piling up, the constant craps of the delinquents spare me no rest, and my position that not only given me heavy responsibilities but also drawn the eyes of unscrupulous individuals. Always running out…. To see such a similarity of my circumstance to his is just… uncanny, yet assuaging. I… miss those feelings so much.

"I guess the feeling's mutual, mister," I reassured him.

"Hah," his chest rose and then deflated through a long sigh. "Isn't that how life is?"

I passed the 6000-mark. But at this point, I click slowly as a question comes to bother my mind.

"Mister, you haven't told me your name yet," I told him.

"Why do you want to know my name?"

"In respect for business, sir. I need to know to who I'm doing the work for. Wouldn't you agree, mister?"

"Perhaps. But that won't be important. You won't have to see me again after this."

"But what if I decide I want to meet you again?"

Among the clicks, he only stares. I wouldn't say I liked asking him that after he exposed his gun; I was more keen to know what his name was, real name, that is.

"It doesn't matter who I am or if you want to meet me again, Ms. Sorasaki. What matters is that you're willing to do this for me, and that's what counts."

My disappointment is apparent on my face, and I'm sure he notices but shrugs it off. I click more, now approaching 6400.

"I- …Change the temperature."

I'm a bit annoyed by this point, but I hold it in. I moved to the temp settings again and changed it to 'temperate.'

"Wait a second…."

I waited; my thumb was resting on top of the clicker button.

"Yeah, that works."

I nod. I click once again, walking back to the foot corner of the bed closer to him. I change hands, now placing my left hand on the TV Cabinet while my right hand clicks. It would probably take another half a minute to reach 6800 clicks and click a few more. The green hue of the numbers keeps me focused and fresh in this hazy room.

"You get to feel like this all the time, don't you?"

"… How'd you mean?"

"Special things. GOOD things. You look at someone like me – and that makes it feel better, doesn't it?"

"W-wha-?"

"SWEET."

I jerk my head back involuntarily.

"Everything running out. Everyone running out, except for you. But I'm clean. And strong. In ways you will never know. The waves inside me would break another man."

I… I'm clueless as to what prideful gibberish he was spilling. Had he been rattled so much that he had to convince himself that he was tough? Either being wrought upon by misfortune or his own delusion? I would never know, and I don't think I would be willing to ask him, seeing how tense or… excited he is right now. So, I keep clicking, occasionally drifting my eyes at my gun hanging near the door. Going past the 7000 mark, I feel harder and harder to contain my eagerness to finally achieve that money. Almost there.

He still hasn't said anything yet. I keep clicking for another 300 more, then decelerate my pace a bit to get in a few more clicks.

"Go to the hallway."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, walked to the hallway by the two doors, and looked back at him. "Here?"

"That's right. Like that."

Then, I click a few more. Soon, I noticed that his head bobbed back and forth in a gradual rhythm.

"Mmmmmmmm."

Eeh… Oh…. Okay, that sounds a bit perverted. So peculiar that this clicker brought more pleasure out of him, not the kind I like either. I ignore it anyway and keep clicking.

7500 clicks, he didn't say anything. 7600 clicks, still no comment. 7700 clicks, I focused on the clicker. 7800 clicks, all sounds around me begin to blur. 7900 clicks, the clicker became the most deafening sound in the room. 8000 clicks… more thrilled to almost reach the goal.

"Click faster."

Still using my right hand, I did so with more effectiveness. Even my thumb begins to feel numb from how fast I keep clicking this small device.

"Much better. Yes…. Well done."

Silence once more, click, click, click, click. The green numbers circle as enthusiastic as the speed of my thumb. My gaze occasionally shifts to his mask, and I realize that at a certain angle, with the dim orange light behind him bathes lightly over his head, I see a silhouette of a human face, a second face, if you could call it that. It's such a sight that it makes me wonder if he wears it due to his fascination with the aforementioned man or if he's so detached from reality that he finally decides that he no longer sees himself as a part of this world. Or perhaps… he has already made peace with how this world has progressed that he sees no need for himself to be involved. Whatever it is, I'm no place to critique or judge him for his decisions.

"I wonder what my wife would say, if she knew I was here," he suddenly said at 8396 clicks. "I think she'd ask me why."

I widen my eyes at this new information. "You have a family?"

The man nods. "I have a wife. And a daughter. And a son. The son's three. The daughter is eight. We waited. Wanted them to help raise each other. What could I tell them. That I had a dream? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…."

His words and laughs were deprecating. Bitter. I slow down my clicks to ask him. "Your family. Are they… in Kivotos?"

The man slightly shakes his head. "Outside of Kivotos. Somewhere nice. Somewhere… where the culture of odd violence and guns Kivotos has is foreign to them."

"You…. Your family drifted apart?"

"No…. Not necessarily. We had disagreements, that's all. How can I complain?"

"You still check on them while you're here?"

"Time from time. But recently…. I haven't checked on them for a while now."

"So, you're here for another reason. To take the heat off from your family."

"…I guess so."

I can only nod. With how busy I am as the Head Prefect, it never crossed my mind to ever check up on my family. I'm somewhat thankful that he made that conversation. Perhaps one day… when I get the time away from that bothersome work, I can check up on my mother.

From 8575, I begin to speed up. I compose myself not to let that money get over my head. I feel... relaxed now despite the bizarreness I had to endure from this man. I'm still upset that he never told me his name, but I guess that won't be necessary as I'm close to finishing this simple job. 8996, 8997, 8998, 8999, 9000. Hah…. 1000 more to go, and I'm done.

"Click somewhere else," he asked of me. "I'm looking for… something. Something else."

Very well. I move between the bed and the TV, no reaction. I move to the hallway. No reaction. I move to the spot across the bed. He shakes his head. Then I stand in the three-way intersection, my back facing the hallway.

"Not there."

I ponder where I should go, to which I decide to stand and lean against a corner next to the only window in the room. My demon wings shrink and lay to rest on the bottom wall and floor.

"There."

Then, I clicked a few times.

"Good. That'll do."

"Almost there now," I whispered to myself.

I'll be frank, I'm starting to lose my patience the closer I am to 10000 clicks. Not so befitting as the Head Prefect, but I was more than looking forward to getting away from this place. Yet, simultaneously, I might miss him and his peculiar conversations. Perhaps it's for the best. He assured me that I wouldn't have to meet him again anyway. Now, I'm almost close to clicking for the 9300th time.

"You don't get to keep your dreams, with family."

Huh? What is he-?

"Not unless you keep it private. Or you're willing to cause harm."

I slow down my pace. I… didn't like where this conversation is going.

"Strangle and cut and break things. For a dream. Take a thing apart, 'til just the dream is left. Or… I guess you could kill it."

I can see my own hands paled at what he admitted to me.

"That's one way to keep a dream. You can bury it wherever you want."

"You…," I gasped and stopped clicking. "You're saying you're sacrificing everything you have, including your family, for a dream that might even not exist? The one you told me of?"

"You don't get to keep your dream, unless you're willing to sacrifice yourself for it. Don't you also have a dream, Ms. Sorasaki? A dream that you wanted to have but never seemed to be in your reach?"

My retort soon changed into voicelessness. I look down, and I realize that my only dream now… is to retire from my position. To just be an ordinary student. But the consequences that would follow once I do that; the reactions of those delinquents once I step down; the chaos that would come from that…. I tighten my free fist. Anxiety, fear, anger, sorrow, helplessness, all in one place.

I am the only thing that is keeping Gehenna intact, and I'm getting sick of it.

"Miss… Sorasaki, are you okay?"

I hate this…. I hate this…. I take a few deep, stuttered breaths. My whole body stiffens at the complexity and impossibility of that dream. I rub my sniffling nose, and then my eyes that begin to redden when my tears are threatening to pour down upon my cheeks. I squint my eyes and look away, holding back from crying out my sorrow.

"Ms. Sorasaki?"

"I-I'm fine," I almost hissed. "Let's…. Let's just get this over with."

"Alright…."

I see I'm at 9457, now 9458, 9459, on and on. I hate this, I goddamn hate this…. I want to leave by this point. It doesn't matter if I finally get the money, I just want to forget that we ever had that conversation. My wish, my dream…. Goddammit! Huh…. No… Sensei… Sensei wouldn't want to see me like this….

No point thinking about that now. I grit my teeth, and I click at a composed pace. I stare at the numbers continuously shifting, my clicking hand becoming numb, a pathetic slave I am to the clicker. 9500, I stop paying attention to the numbers shifting by that point. 9600, I snap for a moment at that number, then become absent-minded. 9700-

"Come back here," he spoke. "On the bed. Where you were before."

I only let out a hasty exhale but obeyed with my head bowed. The clicker now changed into my left hand. As I was about to click, despite the wretched state upon my face, I noticed he was standing up.

"We're almost done."

He takes two or three slow steps forward; despite the barely audible footsteps, I could feel the reverberating heaviness in the air: morbidity. He has also drawn his pistol whilst approaching me. My rueful sorrow is now replaced with a threat to my life. I lean back away as he crouches halfway and leans close to my face. Both his hands and a pistol rest on his thighs, and his eyes that supposed to stare at me, yet his pupils seem to look somewhere else. This man…. This bastard…. He's looking down on me.

"What…. What are you doing?" I asked – demanded to know in my repressed rage.

"I need you to keep clicking," he softly requested. "Fast. Slow. Doesn't matter."

"How dare you…." I hissed, my eyes finally glow a purple hue. "You realize that whatever you're about to do, I will respond in kind, a world of pain that even automatons never sought to find out. Is this what you intend to-?"

"You can't 'hurt' me," he cut in, ragged yet firm. "Nothing can hurt me. I am STRONG. And CLEAN. …And we are alone."

"If you so much lay a finger on me…," I hissed again, yet he never budged.

"Hush, now, Ms. Sorasaki," still he responded softly. "Keep clicking."

I would have lunged for him, right there and then, put him down on the ground, and made sure he'd be locked away for good if he dared to hurt me. But I couldn't, not right now, at least. I still adhere to the Prefect Team's rule of engagement: "Do not engage unless fired or aimed upon with intent of harm." I would've run from there and grabbed my gun to escape him. Yet….

My hand is still clicking on the goddamn clicker. Why?! Why am I still doing this despite this existing threat?! Finishing this job wouldn't have mattered by this point, yet…. I see the numbers reached 9800.

"We need to finish this. Together."

I still keep clicking. Glaring with all the hate I can muster while I am watching the numbers going above 9860.

"I can't do this if you can't do this. Please."

"Please?" I hissed interrogatively. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I can't STAY HERE LIKE THIS."

I finally reach 9900 clicks, and it is at that moment that he aims his gun forward, almost at me.

"You point that gun at me," I threatened. "I will make sure that you'll-"

*TONG*

…. What…? Why is he…? Wha-?

All the hate, all the spite, all the anger I had for him vanished in an instant. I couldn't believe my eyes….

He placed the barrel of his pistol against his own head.

"Wha-what are you doing..?" I whimpered.

"I can't STAY HERE LIKE THIS," he exclaimed, trembling despite his steady breath. "Don't make me do this without you."

"Why..? Why are you putting that on your head?!"

And why can't I stop CLICKING?!

"We need to finish this. Together."

"No, no! Stop this!" I cried out. "Put that gun away from yourself!"

"No. I can't," he almost shook his head. "I can't do this if you can't do this."

"Please, enough! You don't have to do this!"

It didn't matter if I was crying or if my face had turned red and swollen; I had to stop him! Stop him from doing something foolish! I… I don't know why, but somehow, for unknown reasons, I couldn't move, like I had forgotten how to move even for a single muscle. I am becoming a spectator of something that I have no control over. No, no! Nonononono!

"We need to finish this. Together."

"No, no!" I almost choked on my words. "It doesn't have to be this way, sir! Why..?!"

"You have to finish. It has to tick over."

I look at the clicker once more. 9991. No….

"You can't do this to me!"

"You have to keep clicking it. It has to be done."

9992.

"Why would you do this?! You can't die like this!"

"I already have made up my mind. Long ago."

9993.

"This is foolish! Please, you have to stop whatever you're doing!"

"There's no going back for me in this world. You and I know that."

9994.

"I don't want to do this! Please, you have to think this over!"

"No, it's not necessary. I know what I must do."

9995.

"No, no! I'm not going to make you do this!"

"You have to. Everything doesn't fit. I don't belong here. I shouldn't be here."

9996.

"Why? Whyy?!"

"You gotta have to finish it. We need to make this over."

9997.

"I still don't understand! Please stop!"

"You don't need to. You only have to click it."

9998.

"What of your family?! What will they say? What will they think when they hear you die?"

"I don't know. But I know they will have less burden to worry about."

9999.

"I'm not going to click this! I don't want you to die!"

"Please. Please, Ms. Sorasaki. You have to tick it over."

No matter how I begged, pleaded, cried, shouted, he never changed his mind. How could I? He remains resolute that I even fear how hopeless he became, how pathetic he was.

How regretful he felt in his life.

"Please…. I can't stay here like this…. You have to tick it over. Please…."

I can feel my mind breaking apart, clashing amid helplessness and horror. My clicking hand trembling so hard, I ought to have it amputated if it needed to be. My eyes run wild between staring at the clicker, the gun, and into his maddening eyes. I couldn't…. I don't want…. Even if he pleads. Even if he begs me to spare him from what he perceives to be his suffering.

Yet…. I unwillingly succumbed to it and looked away.

*CLICK*

0000.

We both hitch our breaths. I shudder along my shaky breaths as I finally open my eyes and look back at him. He shivers more than I did, dancing back and forth as he takes his hasty yet deep breaths. He voices out a grief-stricken cry before he looks up to me. Despite his eyes unblinking, unmoving, illuminated, widened, there is peace behind his eyes.

"Thank you, Ms. Sorasaki."

*DAAR*

All I could see was a blinding flash. And afterward… the clicker and my hand… are spat on with blood. I look down… his body sleeps eternally; blood slowly torrents and slithers itself out from his head and soon forms a pool of blood underneath him. The wall… a single hole punctured the homey walls and had been painted on by a splatter of blood, flesh, and brain matter. All happened so fast, yet slowly at the same time; I couldn't even comprehend a single thing happening before me.

Afterwards? It all becomes a blur for me. The only thing I remember was that I took something and ran. I ran as fast as I could. I don't know why, I just know that I had to run. It didn't matter where I ran off to. I… my nerves were begging me to run away from it all. The only thing I barely noticed were the droplets that kept ticking on my face, but I was too numb to even feel such a thing.

Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like years. I just couldn't stop running. How could I? The horror and dread I had endured…. This is torturous.

But…. Huh?

"I'm…. I'm at home….?"

I begin to realize that I'm already in front of my bed—the steel briefcase sitting comfortably on top of it. I slowly spin around and see that I am indeed in my apartment: the white room, the messy desk, my nest by the window, all unmistakable. Wait, oh, the front door, I left it open, and the raindrops are coming in! I quickly take out the key, close the door, then finally lock it. I take a few steps backward and notice that I am heaving severely. I look at my door's key and see a crack in it, maybe from how hurried I was to enter my home.

"Wait… I… ran for that long? I… huh? What's in my left…?"

I look at my left hand. Dirtied by blood and still clutching to the clicker. Reading 0000.

"No…. No…. No! Please tell me this is not real! Not real. He didn't- I didn't- He-"

I hitch my breath. Terror finally comes flooding back into my mind. The reality of what happened. The reality of what I've been forced to commit. The reality… that I had participated in someone's death.

"No, no, no, no, no. This can't be real. Can't be real! I-I…. What have I done?"

I-I panicked during that moment. I immediately place the clicker on my desk and step away from it as far as I can. A goddamn cursed device! Just had to get away! My back hit the bed, and I wish I could step away further from that bastardized abomination! And yet….

"Hah. Ah-ah…. No…. How could I..? Uwaah…."

I… I broke down. I drop to the ground and hug my legs tightly. I bawl out whatever tears bottled up in my eyes and scream out my fear, my shock, my grief—crying at the fact that I let such death happen in front of me. The fact I didn't do anything but watch him follow through to his death. I couldn't care if anyone came over to ask me to shut up; I couldn't take it anymore.

I'm a pathetic excuse of a Head Prefect.

….

….

….

I don't know how long I cried; it feels like a millennia just passed by me. I'm so tired…. I still have enough strength to lift my head and stand on my weak legs. I can feel my eyes burning, and I wipe out whatever wet tears are left on my face. I let myself fall to sit on the bed and mindlessly stare around the room, preventing myself from looking at the clicker. I look down upon myself and soon notice there is blood on my clothes, his blood…. I… I need to get changed.

I stand up and happen to look in the direction of the briefcase. I ponder for a moment despite my grief.

"I…. He did say that I get the money after I reached 10000 clicks. Perhaps…."

I shouldn't have run from there, but there's no point dwelling on that. I know that Valkyrie will be coming like bloodhounds by the time they discover he died there. Calm down, calm down. I'm the Head Prefect, so cool your head. I'm able to do this. I will take responsibility for what happened, but first.

"I need to deposit this to our Prefect budget and take care of a few things at my office, and by then…. I will turn myself in. One less promise to worry about. And I won't burden them for my mistake."

I just hope I've been given enough time before the police come knocking. I walk over to my cabinet and I undone my sunflower brooch-

Wait…. My brooch.

I unpin it and look at the gadget. It is still running. That means….

"I forgot I still had this. Maybe… this will help me explain to them what happened. Perhaps they can help me understand why he.. did it."

I gasp voicelessly. Another tear pours down from my eyes, but I don't bother about it.

"I'm sorry, mister. I'm really sorry…."

I turn off the hidden camera.

The best they could describe the entire recording is… disturbingly intimate.

To see such a death for the first time indeed terrified them to the core, especially with how graphic his death was. But what had put them on edge throughout the recording was how uncomfortably and invasively intimate the mysterious man divulges to Hina. While the prospect of the clicking business is a whole level of dumbfounding outlandishness, everyone felt like they shouldn't be watching this. Not because the information contained here can sway the opinions of witnesses but rather because they feel they are somehow exposed to something that is equally perverted and repulsive yet non-existent and intriguing at the same time. Iori, Kanna, and Kirino enormously agree with that notion.

Sensei himself felt agitated the longer he watched this. The questions, answers, and ramblings that had been directed to Hina felt… too personal. It's another story if he was Hina, but from watching a screen? For him, this complete one-sided conversation is hell in itself. Not only was he inquisitive and charged in his conversations, but he also kept speaking his thoughts out loud, which neither of them in the room wanted to hear.

But the most unsettling part for Sensei and even Rin? It was how unprompted and easily the man was in speaking about his own vulnerabilities so extensively. Speaking as if Hina was his only best friend.

However unsettling the events the recording has shown, they don't discount the fact that the masked man is also going through his own share of turmoil. One that has stricken him with shame and guilt about how his life has reached this point. With how he became. That clicker, however stupid and meaningless it was, was the only thing that comforts him. The only thing that kept him forward until his inevitable demise.

Kanna looks at her officers on the back. Fubuki, as usual, doesn't do anything, but she has lost the appetite to eat any donuts. Kirino…, she grips her pen rather tightly before putting it down. It was clear to see how much morale she had lost after observing the record and opted to lose herself in her thoughts.

After such a disturbing record, Chinatsu feels unwell and excuses herself to the restroom. Iori, in all her rights, hugs her own chest tightly to spare herself from any form of agitation. Her throat felt dry and tight, and she couldn't say a word. Ako could only cover her face as though she had been unwillingly chosen to be the one carrying Hina's guilt.

Rin and Sensei pitied Hina for what she had experienced. With how strict Hina might have been, she is innocent of such concepts of death and the grim side of life. While the fault of her trauma lies with the masked man, they also pitied him for having to suffer such misfortune circumstances. It was easy for them to see how isolated he was: trapped, helpless, despondent, futile. They don't condone what he did, but perhaps it was necessary for him to end his cycle of pain.

Iroha has never been so focused on something else aside from Ibuki. She wears off her cap in honor of the deceased man and wishes that she had been there to support Hina. All she can do is shake her head and sigh. She then turns to Makoto from across the arch and….

Makoto is speechless. There is an apparent pale on her face, but it seems she is more focused on how the masked man passed away on his own terms and how terrified Hina was in that recording. It is unclear to her what emotion Makoto is wearing, but there is undoubtedly genuine concern within her features. From that look itself, she knows that Makoto will be apologizing to Ibuki and later Hina as profusely as she can be.

One thing that is clear for them. They finally know the truth. It is now up to Sensei and the GSC to determine if Hina is guiltless. For Sensei, she wasn't at fault, mainly during the last click, as it was clear that she'd been forced to do so under his pressure.

Ako and Iori expressed their thanks for participating in the viewing and soon bid goodbye to return to Gehenna. Iroha also thanked Kanna for being allowed in the viewing, but Makoto… looked so detached and sad after the viewing but managed to return a nod. They both returned as well using Iroha's Tiger tank.

Watching the Gehenna students leave, Sensei sighs. "It's been a long day."

"To think that job turned into something so unexpected," Kirino shivered a bit. "I wish I could forget that ever happened."

"That recording has proven to be vital in filling in the missing details during that incident," Kanna added. "That poor girl. President Hina didn't deserve to be faced with such a cruel fate."

"Indeed," Rin nodded. "But the only thing we can do for her right now is to support her as much as we can and determine if she is indeed guilty during that incident, but I have high hopes that it will be the opposite."

"That better be," Fubuki firmly added. "That girl had gone through enough as it is."

"As much as I want to agree with that," Kirino chimed in. "She shouldn't have run away from there."

"You're right. She shouldn't have," Sensei nodded. "But put yourself in Hina's shoes and go through what she had experienced. Can your head remain straight after watching something so messed up?"

Kirino crosses her arms and sighs. "I guess I won't. Alright…."

"Well, I should get back and make sure Hina is still resting there," Chinatsu looked at Sensei. "Are you heading back to Schale?"

"Not yet," he replied. "I'm going to keep Hina in company for a while."

"Whatever you say then," Rin commented. "Director Kanna, I'm heading back to the GSC headquarters. Have the new report ready by tomorrow morning so I can update them on the case."

"Consider it done, Acting President," Kanna answered with a firm nod.

They finally dispersed from the station entrance. All that remains is what consequences Hina will face in the days ahead.

Aru is in the middle of directing the Prefect members in their daily training. She watches from the sidelines as her partners are the only ones directly interacting with the members. She turns her head towards the sound of a car and sees Iori's and Ako's return in their Volkswagen. Aru comes over and is about to greet them happily but soon notices the sad and bitter look on their faces.

"Ako? Iori? Is something wrong?"

"None of your business, Aru," Iori waved off.

"Wha- Did you see Hina, at least?"

"No, we didn't. She's awake but still inconsolable at this point," Ako answered flatly. "We can… visit her later."

Ako and Iori are about to walk to the training grounds, but Aru quickly holds onto Ako. "Hold on a sec, Ako. What the heck's going on?! Why are you both look so gloomy?"

"Grh! Put your damn hand away!" Ako pried her hand off rather rudely. "Don't you have any-?"

Aru keeps her distance immediately and watches on until they both calm down. Ako sighs her frustration as she rubs the arm where Aru holds her. Thankfully, Aru reads the room and uncomfortably looks back at the training ground.

"Very well, you can tell me what happened back there later. You happen to come at the right time," Aru added. "We need some hands in directing your counter-terrorism drill. Would you like to join us?"

Iori and Ako look at each other for a moment. Iori lets out an annoyed sigh.

"Fine," Iori answered begrudgingly. "Beats getting my feet cold from loitering."

"Come on then," Ako nodded neutrally. "I think we can clue you in on some tips regarding our drill."

"But, of course!" Aru pridefully answered. "Lead the way!"

They soon depart for the training grounds. Seeing that Hina is not free yet, Aru won't mind staying around for a few more days. The money can wait. She hopes that Ako and Iori will shed light on things regarding that case.

The evening atmosphere within the Pandemonium office is… gloomy, stifling even. Even the minions of Pandemonium are unnerved by how silent Makoto is after returning to the office. The usual bravado that Makoto often wears is now one of hollowness. That discombobulating atmosphere is intensified by the shade granted by the curtains that have been covered in such a way that the Pandemonium leader's face seems to blur under the shelter of darkness at her desk. Satsuki, the long pink-haired demon lady with the massive cleavage, and Chiaki, Pandemonium's propagandist photographer, are somewhat fearful and worried by how Makoto had stayed quiet for a very long time.

"M-Mein Präsident," Satsuki stuttered. "How did that campa-?"

"Silence, Satsuki."

Cold, uncaring. Satsuki takes a step back from the shock. Chiaki gulps and approaches with a single step.

"Mein Präsident, the Propaganda Department is going in full swing to take advantage of this incident. It will be a matter of time until Head Prefect-"

"Chiaki."

The photographer freezes up and then nods slightly. "Y-yes, President?"

"Announce to all Pandemonium members to cancel all my orders to defame the Head Prefect."

Everyone, including the Pandemonium minions, turns at her in full shock – Some are even rattled by her decision.

"What?! But President!" Chiaki argued. "We already have her where we want. Valkyrie has declared her a criminal. Surely, it would be beneficial for us to-"

*BRAAAAR*

Everyone immediately ducks and cowers. Satsuki remains crouching with her hands shielding her face. Chiaki stiffens up like a statue before, slowly and surely, turning around to see her cap on the ground, a large hole from front to back that has rendered it useless as an item of authority. She turns back to Makoto and finds herself quailing underneath the darkening wrath of her leader. Makoto's own gold WA 2000 rifle fails to gleam and instead emits a disconcerting aura.

"Because of what we did. Of what I did, Schale no longer wishes to associate with us. Our potential partnership… tossed aside.. like a scrap of garbage."

Makoto finally sits down, placing her golden rifle aside on her table. "Sensei scolded, slapped me for my audacity. But when I finally get to see the truth. The why of the Head Prefect to end up in a hole where I wanted her to be…. I feel so disgusted at myself."

They all widen their eyes yet don't dare to ask her anything. Instead, Makoto continues.

"Give the order to cancel all of my previous orders, or I'll have you all expelled from this school."

The Pandemonium members hesitantly stare at each other at the outlandishness of the order.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE, NOW!"

All Pandemonium members, including Satsuki and Chiaki, immediately flee the office. Once she is sure that the office is now empty, Makoto sits back once again. She grabs the not-so-alcoholic wine from her secret compartment and pours herself a glass to drink. Mentally insulting herself on how she could not see the consequences of her own actions.

"Oh, the office's empty," Iroha came into view from their personal break room. "You finally gave them that order?"

Makoto sighs with her bowed head. "Iroha, you don't have to tell-"

"I know, I know."

They both stare at each other in the midst of their awkward silence.

"Does Ibuki know?"

Iroha shakes her head. "I had to ask Chiaki to make sure Ibuki doesn't hear whatever you're doing back there. She's in the dark, as far as I can tell."

Makoto nods a couple of times. "Iroha."

"Yeah?"

"Soon, I will have to write an apology speech and a few private apology letters, especially to Sorasaki Hina. I ask that you assist me in this task."

Iroha raises an eyebrow, finally letting out a sigh but with lessened annoyance. "Fine, you're still my boss in the end. I'll go get the envelopes ready."

"…. I'll be waiting here."

As Iroha leaves, Makoto pulls a drawer on her table and grabs an antique pen, solemnly staring at its tip. Her mind continues to ponder about what she has done, about how she is going to rectify that. When she thinks of Hina, the spite she feels whenever her name is mentioned now lessened to a significant degree. She couldn't see how Hina reacted in that recording, but trying to imagine what face Hina made during that time… left an incredible distaste in her soul. To try to revel in something involving someone's death, she finally realized, is… abhorrent. It doesn't matter if it wasn't Hina who died. It doesn't matter if it happened within or outside of Kivotos.

So, she grabs a nearby paper and begins writing a letter. She doesn't mind spending a long night in the office for today.