Danganronpa - Betray to Trust

by Gamer2002

Co-written by AI Danganronpa story that focuses on students of American Division of the Hope's Peak Academy. I created this for an experiment. Chapter 1 was half written by AI (NovelAI Erato). Until the crime, it was closer to 2/3 being written by AI, but AI couldn't handle resolving mystery as well as characters and throwing ideas for it. Then I had ChatGPT check the grammar.

DANGANRONPA – BETRAY TO TRUST

CHAPTER 1: BETRAYER WITHIN

When I come to, I feel as if I'm sitting on a school chair, with my upper body resting on a table. I can sense the weight and warmth of my head pressing down. My eyes feel heavy, and I can't open them. It's as if my eyelids have gained weight of their own. I don't understand why—it feels strange—so I move my fingers to touch the desk's surface.

The texture is familiar. It's plastic with a slight roughness, the kind often used for desks, and I feel it distinctly under my fingertips.

My consciousness slowly returns, and I feel more awake. I open my eyes carefully, but the ceiling lights are harsh, so I close them again. I feel dizzy as I raise my head and look down at the desk. It's a light yellow and completely bare.

I look around to find a room full of evenly spaced, empty desks. There are no students, no teachers, and no sounds. It's so silent that I can't even hear my own breathing. The quiet is unnerving, a little frightening.

Then, I notice a camera in the corner of the ceiling, pointed directly at me, and I get the feeling it's watching me. There's also some sort monitor on the wall, but it's turned off.

I stand up and step away from the chair. The room seems even bigger now, the empty desks even more isolated. I walk around, looking for windows, but there are none.

The walls are made of large metal plates, and there's not a single window. It feels like a sealed room—a little scary and unsettling.

„What the hell…" I mutter, putting my hand on the back of my head.

I try to recall everything that happened. My name is Kurt Blake, I'm sixteen years old, and a student at the American Division of Hope's Peak Academy. I was on a bus, headed to my first day of school, and I remember feeling really nervous.

A cute Asiatic girl had taken the seat next to me. She smiled at me and was about to introduce herself... but my memory fades from there. I can't recall her name or anything after that moment.

I don't know what's happening, but I know I have to get out of here. Maybe there are some clues on me… Do I still have my phone? I check my pants pockets, but all I find is a small notebook. I open it, and there's a message written on the first page:

Welcome to your new school!
We hope you enjoy your stay!
Please proceed to the front entrance hall.

I feel a twinge of fear. I'm not sure what to make of the message, but I know I need to leave the classroom and find the entrance hall.

As I close the notebook, something slips out from between the pages: an ID card with my picture and name on it. It's attached to a broken clip.

I sigh, putting the notebook in my pocket and taking the ID card. It displays my name, age, gender, and title—Ultimate Interviewer. I sigh again. I'd originally applied to the school as a Journalist, but Hope's Peak Academy turned that down. They told me journalism was already taken by someone else, and that interviewing wasn't the same thing. I took it as their way of suggesting that I specialize in interviews rather than general journalism. I didn't argue with them and agreed to the title of Interviewer.

Interviews were my strength, after all. As a school journalist, I'd even managed to interview the President of the United States. I was the only student allowed to do so, and the entire interview went viral on YouTube, making me famous as the „Ultimate Interviewer."

But there's no point in dwelling on that now. Something's definitely wrong. I have no idea where I am or why I'm here, but I need to find out.

I glance around the classroom and see a door. I walk toward it and open it.

The door leads to a long, wide hallway, with a sign that says „Front Entrance Hall" and an arrow pointing in one direction. The hallway is dark, quiet, and empty.

I don't have far to walk to reach the entry hall. My classroom is located fairly close to it, and I only need to pass by two others. It's a relief, as this place is really creeping me out.

On my way, I notice a door with mirrors on the wall around it. The mirrors are large and reflect the hallway. I walk toward them and see myself in the reflection. I have messy, dark brown hair and blue eyes. I'm wearing a green sweater over a white shirt and brown pants. I look tired and confused. Then, I glance at the door and see that it has two signs: one says "Front Entrance Hall," while the other warns, "Do Not Enter." I'm uncertain about what to do, but I decide to try entering anyway.

I open the door and step into the room.

The room is large, filled with decorations, and resembles a hotel lobby. There are sofas and chairs, a reception desk, a gift shop, and a large monitor that's turned off. The monitor seems like it would display announcements or news. There are also cameras (I've seen quite a few on my way here), but none of them are focused on me, which is somewhat reassuring. On the opposite wall, there's a large metal door. It's locked and seems built to stay that way permanently.

I notice eleven other teenagers who look as confused as I feel—five boys and six girls. They're glancing at each other and around the room, looking scared and nervous.

One of the boys has dark hair and brown eyes. He's tall and dressed in a blue shirt with black pants. I feel like I've seen him somewhere before; he might be an athlete, but I can't be certain.

Another boy has light blonde hair and green eyes. He's short and thin, dressed in a black suit and tie, with a pen twirling between his fingers. He looks deep in thought, and I wonder what his talent might be.

A third boy has brown hair and blue eyes. He's tall and muscular but has a friendly smile. He's wearing a red T-shirt and brown shorts, and I think he might be a football player or something similar.

One of the girls has brown hair and green eyes. She's very short, wearing a black hoodie and jeans, and is focused on a sketchbook in her hands. She's likely an artist.

Interestingly, right next to her is another boy, watching her draw. He has dyed red hair and brown eyes, with an athletic build. Dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans, he's also adorned with various accessories—necklaces, bracelets, and rings.

The last boy has blonde hair and blue eyes, looking somewhat like a prince. He's wearing a fancy suit with a red tie and has a golden ring on his finger. He seems confident and is smiling at everyone.

A second girl has brown hair and brown eyes. She's short, chubby, and appears nervous and shy. She's wearing a white dress with a brown cardigan and glasses, trying to hide behind a book as she glances around.

The third girl has blonde hair and blue eyes. She's very tall, with a large frame, and is dressed in a white dress with a pink cardigan, giving her a bit of a waitress-like appearance. She's also wearing a large hat and has a friendly smile, but there's something slightly off about her that I can't quite place.

A fourth girl has black hair and brown eyes. She's tall, muscular, and looks like she's in the military. She's wearing a camouflage uniform and has a holster, though without a gun. She has a serious expression, scanning the room as if anticipating an attack—probably some kind of soldier.

The fifth girl has dark skin and long black hair. She's dressed in a blue suit and tie with a long brown coat that nearly touches the floor. She has a serious look and scans the room with a watchful, suspicious gaze. She seems professional and mysterious—I wonder if she's a detective of some sort.

The last girl is Asian, but she's not the one I remember from the bus. She has brown eyes and black hair, and she's short and thin, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. She's wearing headphones, listening to music on her phone. She looks very casual, indifferent to everything around her. I'm not sure why she's here or why she'd wear headphones in a dangerous situation, but maybe she's just trying to relax.

The girl from the bus isn't here. Good for her, I guess? Though, that might mean this situation is bad for us… Maybe I should just focus on introductions. Actually, I don't recognize anyone here. But I guess that's normal. America is a big place, and there are many bus routes to the Academy.

„Uh, hello," I say, a bit awkwardly. „Are you all Academy students, too? I'm…"

„Kurt Blake," the blond boy with a pen in his hand says. „You interviewed the President."

„Oh, yeah, well…" I stammer, both embarrassed and proud. „I know it went viral last year, but I didn't expect to be recognized right away." I shake my head. „But that's not important right now! Do you guys… did you also just rode to the Academy and somehow end up here?"

The Black girl in a coat and suit nods.

„Yeah, we all did," she says. „We were on a bus, but it seems we came on different ones. Then we woke up in this building. We have no idea what's going on."

„I see… I guess we have no choice but to figure this out together, huh?" I say.

„Maybe not, but…" the girl with the sketchbook speaks up, glancing up from her drawing, „…maybe we should introduce ourselves first, so we know who we're dealing with. I mean, we're all Ultimates, right?"

I nod and introduce myself. „My name is Kurt Blake, the Ultimate Interviewer." I focus on the boy who recognized me and raise an eyebrow. „Let me guess. Ultimate Journalist?"

The boy grins and nods.

„Yeah, I'm Martin. Martin Jimenez, and as you guessed, I'm the Ultimate Journalist. I write the news, and you ask the questions."

I try to keep a poker face, not just because he seems to imply that I supply the material while he crafts the bigger picture. Martin Jimenez became famous for exposing corruption in Congress, all without any interviews—he just investigated, snooped around, and put the pieces together. I don't want to feel inferior, and I really shouldn't.

„Nice to meet you, Martin," I reply, nodding slowly. „I should have guessed you'd take the Ultimate Journalist spot."

„Ultimate Interviewer is a good talent too," Martin shrugs. „Your interview with the President was professional. You actually tackled relevant issues instead of the usual fluff, like asking how much ice cream he likes on his pie."

I can't help feeling proud.

„Thanks," I say, smiling. „That means a lot."

„Still," he says, glancing back at the pen he's twirling between his fingers, „you did everything right, but nothing juicy came out. Your job ends when the interview is over. My job, though, starts afterward. I have to dig deeper to find the truth. That's what makes a real journalist."

I sigh, glancing aside. Confident, isn't he? I turn to the girl sketching to change the subject. „And you are?"

„I'm Yvonne LeBlanc," she says. „The Ultimate Sketch Artist. I draw ultra-realistic portraits of people."

„Can I see?"

She holds up her sketchbook, revealing a portrait of the red-haired boy standing beside her. The drawing is incredibly lifelike, though it's in black and white.

„Wow, that's amazing!" I say, genuinely impressed. „How do you do that? You're not even using a surface to rest on."

„Well," she says, looking away, „I'm just talented like that."

„Can you do a portrait of me?" I ask, smiling.

„Sure, I guess," she replies, starting to draw.

I turn to the red-haired boy. "What's your name?"

"I'm Kent Diamonde," the boy says, looking away. "Ultimate Fashion Model. You've probably seen me on some magazine covers."

I raise an eyebrow, immediately noticing Kent's shy body language—odd for a model.

"I think my sister mentioned you," I say slowly. "Though I don't think you've done any live shows, just photos."

"Well..." Kent averts his gaze further, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's because... well... I don't do live shows. I'm not good at them. I'm better in the studio, where I can be photographed and posed and all that."

Yet somehow, he managed to become the Ultimate Fashion Model. I mean, I can see why he'd be popular from his looks alone. I wouldn't be surprised if his agent played up his shyness as a "hard-to-get" angle, making fans go even crazier for him.

"I get it," I reply, then turn to the dark-skinned girl. "And you are...?"

"Kitty Kim, Ultimate Criminologist," she responds in a serious tone.

"That's... different from a detective, right?" I ask, a bit surprised at how close, yet far off, I was.

"Yep. I study crime and criminals," Kitty explains. "I analyze criminal behavior patterns to predict and prevent future crimes. I'm also an expert in criminal psychology, so I use that knowledge to help law enforcement catch them." She crosses her arms and lifts her chin. "Detectives are just reacting to crimes that have already happened. I'm proactive, looking both to the future and the past. Criminals aren't born; they're shaped, and there are always signs. That's why I'm called the Ultimate Criminologist. I'm the best at what I do, and I'm proud of it."

"And a detective would be more in the field?" I ask, trying to follow her point.

Kitty nods. "Yes. But I don't need to be. My mind is my weapon." She taps her head. "But if someone tries to mess with me, I can use my fists too."

I can tell she's serious. She's not kidding around.

"Well..." I say slowly. "As an Ultimate Criminologist, can you tell what's happened to us?"

Kitty glances around thoughtfully. "I'd say this is either an elaborate prank or a kidnapping. But the latter is less likely—too elaborate, too risky." She shrugs. "If it's a kidnapping, we'll be fine as long as we do what we're told. If it's a prank, we'll get out soon enough."

"That's a level-headed way to look at it..." I say, scratching my head. "Let's hope it's just some stupid prank."

Next, I turn to the dark-haired athlete. Before saying anything, I raise my finger and glance to the side.

"Wait a minute," I say. "Aren't you a marathon runner?"

He nods and smiles. "Yes, that's me," he says. "I'm the Ultimate Marathon Runner. I'm also on the track team, and I do sprints and long-distance races. My name is Kevin Shin."

"You must have both great speed and endurance, then." I cross my arms. "Pretty impressive."

"Thanks," Kevin says, smiling. "Glad you noticed." He looks at the others and adds, "I hope we get out of here soon. I'm an outdoor type, and this place doesn't even have a window."

"I feel you, man." I nod, then move toward the Asian girl. Unlike Kevin, I don't recognize her at all. "Who are you, if I may ask?"

The girl takes off her headphones and looks at me. "I'm Riko Christo."

She's pretty, in an unusual way. Long, black hair falls in waves around her shoulders, her skin is pale—almost white—and her lips are thin. Her eyes are dark and deep. She's wearing a black hoodie and jeans, listening to music on her phone with headphones. I assume it's music.

"And what's your Ultimate Talent, Riko?" I ask, expecting something music-related.

She tilts her head, looking down. "I'm the Ultimate Memorizer. I can remember everything I've ever heard or seen," she says quietly. "I've memorized a lot of books, songs, and movies, and I can recite them verbatim."

I blink a few times. That's... a rather unexpected Talent.

"That sounds almost like a superpower," I say slowly.

Riko shrugs. "I guess so, but I don't think of it that way," she says, her voice still soft. "I just think of it as a talent. I can remember things, and I can recite them."

I snap my fingers. "Alright then, Riko..." I smile as an idea comes to mind. "Do you recall anything about how you ended up here? If anyone can remember details that might give us answers, it's you."

Riko closes her eyes, thinking for a moment. "I remember getting on the bus with the other students. I remember sitting down and looking out the window. I saw trees and houses," she tilts her head to the side. "Of the eight trees I saw, two were oaks and three were maples. The rest were either pine or spruce." She nods slowly. "And the houses… A woman in a brown dress was hanging laundry. In another house, a man with a dog was taking out the trash. In a third, a football game was playing on the TV."

I raise my hands to stop her. "That's not what I meant. I mean something specific. Did you see any masked people or feel anything strange?"

She hesitates. "No, nothing like that," she says, looking away. "It's strange, but... Well, just listen."

She removes her headphones and holds them out so I can hear. It's an audiobook: "You are to be made into a good boy, 6655321. Never again will you have the desire to commit acts of violence or to offend in any way whatsoever against the State's Peace. I hope you take all that in. I hope you are absolutely clear in your own mind about that..."

"A Clockwork Orange?" I ask.

"Yes." Riko nods, putting her headphones back on. "I have gigabytes of audiobooks stored on these. I listen to each one once, then remember it forever." She smiles. "Though I have to be careful—some of them aren't for kids." She sighs, and her smile fades. "I was listening to this one on the bus. It should've finished by the end of the ride."

I scratch my head. "Wait," I say. "You're listening to the same audiobook again. Does that mean you don't remember…?"

She sighs and nods. "Yes," she says quietly. "I don't remember finishing it. I remember hearing the part you just heard, which I now have on a loop. But after that... nothing. There are no further memories. It's blank." She sighs, closing her eyes. "It's strange. I've never experienced anything like this. I always remember everything—every conversation I've ever had."

I look away, nodding slowly. This kind of fits with how I remember, or rather, don't remember, things.

"Thank you, Riko," I say uncertainly. "We'll think about this later. I still need to meet everyone."

I move to the muscular boy in a red shirt. He smiles and holds out his hand.

"Hello," he says. "My name is Steve Dangan, and I'm the Ultimate American Football Player. Nice to meet you."

I shake his hand, feeling the strength in his grip and a warm energy radiating from him.

"Nice to meet you too, Steve," I reply. "I bet you won all the games for your school, right?"

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, not exactly," he says, looking away. "I was mostly on the bench. I was a substitute, but I still did my best."

"Wait," I say, leaning back. "If you were mostly on the bench, how were you recognized as the Ultimate?"

"I guess it was because of our last game," he says, sighing. "We had a player everyone thought would be the Ultimate. His name was Bob. Big, fast, and muscular. But for some reason, Bob didn't show up for that game." He rubs his neck and looks away. "So I ended up playing."

"Wait," I say, frowning. "What happened to Bob?"

"I don't know," Steve replies. "He and his family moved out of state, and I never saw him again. Anyway, I played the entire game, and we won. After that, I was scouted by Hope's Peak Academy, and now I'm here."

"I guess your performance was close to Bob's," I say, scratching my head. "Your team should've had both of you on the field from the start."

"I guess so," Steve says, looking away.

I move on to the next person, but I have a feeling Steve hasn't told me everything. I'll talk to him later.

"Hey there," says a muscular girl in camouflage, smiling as she shakes my hand. "I'm Naomi Williams, the Ultimate Survivalist."

I smile back. "I bet you can survive anything, Naomi," I say. "Even in the wilderness or a war zone."

"Yeah," she says, nodding. "I can survive in any environment, no matter how hostile." She gestures to an empty holster at her side. "But I can't kill. I don't have a gun."

I look at her military uniform, noticing it has no patches or medals.

"You had a gun before you woke up here, right?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah, I always carry one. But someone took it." She glances around. "It's strange—I never leave it behind."

"Whoever brought us here probably didn't want us to be armed," I say, nodding. "But you had a gun, and you're only sixteen? Are you from Texas?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "No, I'm not from Texas. I'm from Kentucky. I have a gun license because my family is wealthy. We own a lot of land, and we have to protect it from trespassers."

I nod. This explains a lot. She isn't just from the South; she's from a wealthy family. But then, why did she choose to become the Ultimate Survivalist? Maybe something happened to her? As interesting as such an interview could be, now isn't the time to focus on personal matters.

"Thanks, Naomi," I reply, and then turn to the elegant boy, whom I assumed was the only wealthy person here. "And what is your name and talent, if I may ask?"

He smiles and extends his hand.

"Hi," he says. "My name is Arthur Nevermind, and I'm the Ultimate Prince. Nice to meet you."

I shake his hand and study him. He's tall and thin, with a pale complexion and a serious expression. He's dressed in a fancy suit and a red tie, and he has a golden ring on his finger.

"A prince?" I say, only partially surprised, given how obvious it is. "Where are you from, and do I need to address you as Your Highness?"

"No, no, no," he says, looking away. "I'm from the Kingdom of Novoselic, but this is America. You can just call me Arthur. Or whatever nickname you want." He looks away again and sighs. "And, well... I'm not the king of anything, so you don't need to address me as such. If someone is going to inherit the throne, it'll be my sister."

"Your sister?" I ask.

"Her name is Sonia," he says. "She's my twin sister. She's the Ultimate Princess. From what I've heard, she went to the Japanese Division of Hope's Peak Academy..."

I nod. Arthur seems like a nice guy, but he also seems to have a lot on his mind.

"From what you've heard?" I echo. "I'm sorry to pry, but it sounds like you two don't stay in touch."

He looks away. "Well, I have been exiled from the Kingdom of Novoselic..." He sighs and shakes his head. "Though it's an honorable exile. I'm allowed to return if I prove myself as a man worthy of the royal bloodline. That's why I enrolled here, in America. I wanted to study abroad, broaden my horizons, learn more about the world, and make friends from different cultures."

"I apologize again, Arthur," I say, nodding. "The situation is bad enough without bringing up your personal burdens."

"It's okay," he says, looking away. "It's nice to talk about it with someone. It's been a while since I had anyone to talk to. I miss my home country and my sister."

"I'm sure there will be plenty of time to talk once we get out of here," I reply, patting him on the back.

Then I walk away, and the girl in the hat and white dress approaches me.

"Hello," she says, shaking my hand. "I'm Emma Gerlach, the Ultimate Waitress." She smiles warmly. "I'm glad to meet you, Kurt. I hope we can work together to get out of this place."

I raise an eyebrow. I've heard of Emma before. She's known for her incredible skill at waiting tables. She even has a television show where she shows off her skills and teaches others. She's also famous for her friendly, cheerful personality.

But there's something odd about her. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she seems a little bit... off. Like she's hiding something.

"I hope so too," I say with a nod. "I've heard of you, and I'm glad to have you on our side."

I move to the last girl—a short, chubby, and nervous-looking person with glasses perched on her nose and a book in her hands. She looks up at me and smiles shyly.

"Hi," she says. "My name is Lily McGuire, and I'm the Ultimate Librarian. Nice to meet you."

"Hi," I say, shaking her hand. "I'm glad you're here," I add, tilting my head. "So, what do you do as an Ultimate Librarian?"

"Well," she says, looking away, "I work at the library. I help people find books and answer questions. I also read a lot and know a lot of facts. I can remember everything I've read," she glances at Riko, "though she's better than me in that regard."

"I see," I say, nodding. "But as a librarian, you're probably also good at organizing things."

She nods.

"Yes, I can help with that too. I can organize books and other materials, and I can make schedules and plans."

"That's good," I reply, smiling. "Your talent will be very useful."

I look around and nod at everyone after briefly talking with them. "I guess this is everyone..."

And as I say those words, another person enters the room—an Asian girl with short brown hair and brown eyes. She's wearing a black sweater, black skirt, and a black beanie. She looks at us, slightly nervous but smiling.

The girl from the bus.

"Oh, hello!" she says. "I guess I'm late..." She notices me and waves awkwardly. "Oh, hi! You're... uh..."

"You two know each other?" Kitty asks, raising an eyebrow.

"She was on the school bus to the Academy with me," I explain to Kitty, then turn back to the girl. "Though I can't recall her name. All I know is that she's a student from Hope's Peak Academy."

"Of course I am," she replies, looking away. "I'm the Ultimate... um... I mean... I'm the Ultimate Lucky Student. My name is Miku Noone."

I raise an eyebrow and look at her.

"Wait," I say, frowning. "You're THAT Miku Noone? The one who won that billion-dollar lottery?"

"Yes," she says, smiling. "That's me," she giggles. "But don't think I'm rich anymore. A fool and her money are soon parted. It was the same with me. I spent most of it, and what was left was stolen by my accountant. Well, former accountant," she looks at the floor. "Anyway, I ended up being randomly chosen as the Ultimate Lucky Student. I'm just an ordinary girl, but I guess I'm lucky enough to be here."

"That's quite the story," I reply.

She looks at me, then at the others.

"Hey, what's going on? Why are we here?" she asks, looking around. "Where is everybody else?"

"Well," I say, crossing my arms. "We're all Ultimates from Hope's Peak Academy. I'm Kurt Blake, the Ultimate Interviewer," then I quickly introduce the others to Miku. "We all woke up here without much memory of how we got here. We don't know who brought us here or what's going on, but we need to figure it out together."

"That's... weird," she says, looking away. "Why would anyone do this?"

"A question on everyone's mind," I say, crossing my arms.

Just then, the screen on the wall flickers to life. A loud static noise fills the room, and though very little can be seen, shadows occasionally flicker across the screen. The sound of footsteps echoes from the stage, and then a voice begins to speak.

"Greetings, students of Hope's Peak Academy! Welcome to your new school life!" a cheerful yet ominous voice announces. "I hope you are all enjoying yourselves!"

There's a pause as the screen returns to static.

"What the hell is that?" Steve asks, staring at the screen.

"I'm not sure," Martin replies, frowning. "Maybe it's a prank? Or a test?"

"Shh," I say, putting a finger to my lips. "Let's listen."

Another noise crackles through, and the voice resumes. "Now, let's begin! Your school life is about to start! But first, let's introduce ourselves!"

The voice sounds cheerful, but there's an unmistakable hint of menace. We hear clapping, and suddenly, the screen clears to reveal a floor plan of a large building. An animated arrow glides through the layout as the voice continues.

"As you can see, this is where you'll be staying. It has plenty of rooms, including a dining hall, a gym, a library, and even a swimming pool!" the voice says. "But before you start having fun, let's meet up in the gymnasium! Please make your way there in a calm and orderly manner. Don't run or push each other, or I'll have to punish you." A sinister giggle follows.

Then, the screen goes black. We stand in silence for a moment. The tension in the room is high, and I can tell everyone is thinking the same thing.

What the hell is going on?

"Did we all hear the same thing?" Arthur asks, breaking the silence. "Was that person serious?"

"I'm..." Kitty starts, clearly worried. "I don't know. That voice reminds me of the most disturbing cases."

"We need to go to the gym," Naomi says, glancing around. "We need to find out what's going on."

"We don't have to do anything," Emma mutters, looking away.

"It's better to play along," I say. "We won't learn anything if we don't get a chance to ask questions."

"Kurt's right," Martin nods. "If we want to know more, we need to go to the gym and meet whoever's behind this. Otherwise, we'll just be left in the dark."

"I think Martin and Kurt are right," Yvonne agrees. "We need to go."

"Fine, but if anyone tries to mess with us, I'll protect everyone," Kitty says, eyeing the group.

"In case of anything, Naomi would be a strong backup too," I add. "Anyone else know how to fight?"

Steve raises his hand. "I can fight if I have to. As an athlete, I can hold my ground."

"Same here," Kevin adds.

"I can defend myself," Arthur says, "though I'm better with a sword than bare-handed."

"I can't fight," Miku admits, "but I'm really good at running away."

"And I'm not a fighter at all," Riko says.

"I'm just a waitress," Emma says nervously, glancing around.

"Still, that's just in case," I sigh. "Honestly, I doubt whoever's behind this will attack us now if they didn't do it while we were unconscious." I shake my head. "Alright, let's go to the gym and see what's going on."

We exit the room and enter a corridor that leads to a set of heavy wooden double doors. They creak as we push them open. Beyond the doors is a large room, dimly lit by buzzing fluorescent lights. The room appears mostly empty, with only a few benches and a basketball hoop hanging from the ceiling. There are no windows, and the only way out is the door we came through. We enter and close it behind us.

Suddenly, bright lights turn on, revealing a room decorated with balloons and streamers.

"What the...?" Martin says, glancing around.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Lily asks, staring at the decorations.

"Upupupupu!" A strange laugh echoes from the stage at the far end of the room. "Welcome to the gym, kiddos! I'm so glad to meet you all!"

The stage is decorated with a red curtain and a podium, and on the podium stands a bizarre creature. It's a small, white-and-black teddy bear with a red eye and a sinister grin. A large red bow is tied around its neck.

"What the hell is that?" Steve asks, pointing at the bear.

"I am not a 'that'!" the bear snaps, shaking its little paws. "My name is Monokuma, and I'm the Headmaster of the American Division of Despair's Bottom Academy!"

"Despair's Bottom Academy?" Naomi repeats. "Is this a joke?"

"A joke? No, not at all," the bear says, shaking its head. "This is a serious school, with serious students and serious rules. I'm serious!"

"A bear can't be our Headmaster," I say, crossing my arms. "Who are you really?"

"I am not a bear; I'm a robot!" Monokuma replies. "I'm a serious Headmaster, here to teach you all about serious matters!"

"This has to be a prank," Emma says, eyeing the bear.

"Well, if it is, it's an elaborate one," Martin says, crossing his arms.

"Weeeeell, I can't blame you kiddos for doubting," Monokuma says as its red eye begins to glow. "But this is no joke!" It giggles and claps its little paws. "Now, let's bring out our special guest! Upupupupu!"

Then, from beneath the podium, a chair with a woman tied to it rises up. She has brown hair in a messy bun and is wearing a business suit. She looks terrified, with a piece of duct tape covering her mouth. She struggles, trying to free herself. I recognize her immediately.

"Headmaster Katharine Collins?!" I exclaim, recognizing the head of the American Division of Hope's Peak Academy—the woman who was supposed to welcome us to our new school.

"Headmaster Katharine Collins?! Are you kidding me?" Kitty echoes, shocked. "How the hell did you get her?"

"That's our headmaster?" Yvonne asks in disbelief. "She's tied up and gagged!"

"Indeed," Monokuma nods, speaking with a smug tone. "I've brought her here to demonstrate just how serious I am!"

The bear moves across the stage to a nearby table and picks up an oversized revolver. To our horror, he aims it at the Headmaster's head. We all gasp. I feel like I have to do something, but I can't move.

"You see, I have a serious gun," Monokuma says, pointing it directly at the Headmaster. "It's seriously needed, because our dear Mrs. Collins has taken dibs on all of you! Upupupupu!"

"What are you talking about?" Lily demands. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Well, let's see..." Monokuma giggles, slowly pulling the trigger. "I'm going to end your current headmaster the same way her Academy ended: with a bang!"

The gun fires, but instead of a bullet, an arrow with a suction cup hits the Headmaster on her forehead, sticking there. I gasp and exhale in relief as a flag pops out from the arrow, with the word "BANG!" written on it. The Headmaster looks at the arrow, then at us, her terror deepening.

"Upupupupu!" Monokuma laughs, setting the gun down.

"This must be some kind of sick joke—" I begin.

And then, the arrow attached to Mrs. Collins' forehead explodes, splattering blood and brain matter everywhere. We're all stunned and horrified as the Headmaster's headless body slumps in the chair.

I hear Yvonne and Kent screaming. Martin lets out a loud gasp and takes a step back. Emma covers her mouth, while Lily shields her eyes with her book. Riko drops to her knees. Kitty clenches her fists and grits her teeth, inhaling deeply. Arthur is completely petrified by the sight. Miku closes her eyes and turns her head away. Kevin suddenly jumps back but manages to keep his balance. Steve falls onto his back. Naomi reaches for her holster before realizing she no longer has her gun.

And I gasp, barely able to stand as I take in the gruesome scene before us. I can't believe this just happened. I can't believe that bear actually killed her. I can't believe we're in this nightmare.

"Upupupupu!" the bear laughs, tossing the gun aside. "Looks like you kiddos need a new headmaster after all!"

I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe we're in this situation.

„What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kitty says, clenching her fists. „How dare you?!"

„How dare I what?" the bear responds, shaking its head. „How dare I kill a woman who dared to take dibs on all of you?" The bear giggles and shakes its head. „How dare I take control of this school and make it a place for serious students?" The bear shakes its head again. „How dare I?"

Kitty is furious. I can feel the anger radiating from her. I place a hand on her shoulder.

„Don't provoke him," I whisper to her. „He has the home advantage—and who knows what else over us." I turn to the bear. „What do you want from us?"

The bear grins, wiggling his little paws. „I'm so glad you asked," he says, grinning wider. „I want you all to participate in a fun little activity called the Killing School Semester!" He wiggles his paws again. „Upupupupu!"

„Killing School Semester?" Martin repeats. „What is that?"

„You'll see, you'll see!" the bear says, shaking its head. „The purpose of every school is to prepare its graduates for the outside world. And what better preparation than learning how to commit murder and get away with it?"

„Commit murder?" Steve says, aghast. „Are you insane?"

„I am perfectly sane!" the bear replies, shaking its head. „In fact, I'm more sane than all of you combined!" The bear places its paws on its belly and closes its eyes. „Anyway, the Killing School Semester is simple: you have to kill someone and get away with it. If you're discovered, you'll be executed. If you're not, you'll graduate from this school! Upupupupu!"

„That's ridiculous," Lily says. „We're not murderers!"

„Maybe not yet," the bear says, opening its eyes. „But you will be! You'll have to kill to get out of here. That, and avoid being identified as the culprit during a Class Trial. If you're discovered, you'll be executed, and the rest of you will continue with the Killing School Semester! Upupupupu!"

„This is insane!" Naomi exclaims.

„Wait," I say, as a chilling realization dawns on me. „And what happens to the rest of us if we fail to identify the murderer?"

„Oh, not much," the bear says, nonchalantly. „You'll all just be executed, that's all!"

„Executed?" Riko gasps, horrified.

„Yeah," the bear says, nodding. „Executed. You'll be dead! Upupupupu!"

„This is bullshit!" Emma snaps, shaking her head. „We're not going to play your game! We're going to escape and call the police!"

„Oh no you won't!" the bear says, wagging a finger. „But you're welcome to try! You're stuck here until you graduate! Upupupupu!"

„Fuck you!" Kitty yells, pointing her finger at the bear.

„Now, now, that's no way to talk to your headmaster!" the bear says, shaking its head. „That's disrespectful!"

„You killed our headmaster right in front of us!" I shout, furious. „And now you're forcing us into some twisted game!"

„I'm not the one forcing you," the bear replies, its tone shifting slightly. „You're the ones forcing yourselves. You have to do this if you want to survive. You have to kill if you want to live. You have to betray if you want to trust."

„What is that nonsense supposed to mean?" I ask, clenching my fists.

„You'll see in due time," the bear replies, a mysterious tone in its voice. „Now, don't worry about things like food, drinks, or other supplies. I'll provide them for you. Each of you has received an ID Card, so use it to access your room and the cafeteria."

„We have to sleep here?" Miku asks, horrified. „I'm not doing that!"

„You will, if you want to live!" the bear replies, wagging its finger. „Upupupupu!"

„This is insane," Arthur mutters, shaking his head. „You're insane!"

„You'll have to kill if you want to live," the bear repeats with a serious tone. „But anyway, there's no time limit on your stay here, and no rush on the killings." He giggles. „But it's only a matter of time before someone snaps and decides to kill. The weak will be eliminated, and the strong will survive."

We all stare at the bear, and I'm pretty sure we're all thinking the same thing: This is not going to happen. This is not how our school life will be. This is not how we'll become the Ultimates we were meant to be. We won't let this happen.

„Upupupupu!" the bear giggles. „It's been so long since I've had so many Ultimates to play with!" The bear claps his little paws.

„You've done this before?!" I ask. „When?"

„Who knows?" the bear giggles. „Maybe a long time ago, or maybe just yesterday! Maybe it's a secret! Or maybe it's a lie! Who cares?"

We all stare at the bear, knowing he's not telling us the whole story. Either way, Monokuma adjusts his red bow tie and continues.

„I'll be watching you from the security cameras," the bear says. „So, don't even try to escape! You won't succeed!" He grins. „And remember, you have to kill someone to get out of here! But for now, I suggest everyone take some time to get to know each other and explore this place. Maybe you'll find a weapon, a way to escape, or maybe… a victim."

The bear giggles once more. Then he bows before us, and a platform lowers him beneath the podium. He disappears, leaving us alone in the gymnasium—just the thirteen of us, and Mrs. Collins' body on the chair in the center of the stage.

I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe we're in this situation.

I'm looking around at the people around me, these strangers... A thought crosses my mind—could they turn into my foes? Emma is still covering her mouth, while Miku looks down, clutching her left arm. Martin scans the room slowly, though it doesn't seem like he's focusing on anyone. Yvonne tries to hold back her tears. Kent looks at everyone with clear fear in his eyes. Steve stays focused on Mrs. Collins. Kitty's face is emotionless as she casts a piercing gaze at each of us. Naomi has her back turned to Kitty but is observing the rest of us. Arthur clutches his ring, looking concerned about everyone. Riko is still on her knees, staring downward. Lily takes a few steps back, glancing at us over her book. Kevin hesitates, torn between looking at our group or the exit.

No, we can't go on like this…

"What should we do?" Miku quietly asks, breaking the silence. "What can we do?"

"Calm down, everyone," Arthur says. "We have to think this through. We need to figure out a way to escape."

"Escape?" Naomi shakes her head. "There's no escape from here. We're stuck. We're trapped."

"You don't have to believe that bear right away," I tell her. "Survival isn't about giving up immediately, right?"

"Right," she nods, taking a deep breath. "But, what do you suggest? How should we proceed?"

"I don't have any good ideas yet," I admit, looking at the group. "But maybe the bear is right about one thing—we need to explore this place."

"Are you crazy?" Emma exclaims. "We should just stay here and wait for someone to rescue us!"

"You want to stay with her corpse?" Steve asks, pointing at Mrs. Collins' body. "I'm not staying in this gym another minute. I'm getting out of here. Now."

He walks to the door and opens it. "Wait!" I yell, turning to the others. "We shouldn't go alone, and pairs might not be enough. Anyone coming with me and Steve?"

"I'll go," Yvonne says after calming herself. "I'm an Ultimate Sketch Artist—I'll make a floor plan of this place. It'll help if we know the layout."

"Thank you, Yvonne," I say. "Anyone else?"

"I'll go too," Miku says. "I don't want to stay here, and if I have to move, I'd rather go with someone."

"Of course," I reply.

"I'll stay," Kitty says, looking at the corpse. "I want to examine the Headmaster's body."

"Alright," I say, nodding.

"Then I'll stay too," Lily adds, leaning against the wall.

"I will as well," Emma says. "I don't know where that bear went, but I know it's not here anymore."

"I'll stay with the girls, then," Arthur says, crossing his arms. "I can protect them if anything happens."

"Martin, Kent, Naomi, Riko, what about you?" I ask.

Martin stands silently, staring at the Headmaster's body.

"Hey, Martin, you okay?" I ask.

"What?" He looks at me. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He sighs and shakes his head. "I'll stay. I need time to collect my thoughts." He waves his hand. "Good luck with your search."

"Kent, Naomi, Riko?" I ask.

"I'll stay," Kent says, already seated with his head between his knees. "I don't feel like going anywhere right now. I need to think about what's happened."

"Same here," Riko says, shifting from her knees to a half-lying position. "I'm tired. I just want to rest for a bit."

"I'll go with Kurt," Naomi says, nodding slowly. "I think I should assist with venturing into the unknown."

"Alright," I say, heading to the exit. "Let's go, before Steve gets too far."

We leave the room, and I hear the door close behind us. We're now in a corridor where the lights have switched on, matching those in the gym. Now, we can see that the windowless walls are white, and the floor is gray. Cameras and monitors are clearly visible.

"Where should we go first?" Naomi asks.

"We should follow Steve," Yvonne suggests.

"Steve!" I call out. "Wait for us!"

Steve turns, and I see the anger in his eyes. He's angry but also scared—of what happened to the Headmaster and of what might happen next. But he's wearing a brave face.

"Alright," he says. "I'll wait. But let's move quickly. I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to."

We walk down the corridor, noticing many doors—some open, some closed.

"Let's check these," I suggest.

"Sure," Steve agrees.

We enter a room, and it's a classroom. It looks ordinary, with desks, chairs, and a blackboard. There's a door at the back leading to a storage room. Nothing of interest in there—just a ladder, a broom, and a mop.

"I guess we could use this to clean," I remark.

"I'm not cleaning anything," Steve replies.

"Maybe we'll have no choice," Miku says.

As we move out, we pass more classrooms that look the same. Finally, we come to a room that's different, and we open the door to reveal a large, well-stocked infirmary. There are beds, cabinets, and medical supplies. In a corner is a small office with a desk and chair. There's also a door at the back, leading to a storage room. Inside, a backpack is mounted on the wall with a green light shining next to a screen displaying "fully charged." A label identifies it as a defibrillator.

"I think we could use this," Yvonne says.

"What's a defibrillator?" Steve asks.

"It's a medical device for restoring a normal heartbeat in case of cardiac arrest," Naomi explains. "I'm no doctor, but I learned about it in survival training. You place it on a patient's chest, and it delivers a shock to the heart."

"A surprising item to find here," I point out, "considering the bear wants us to kill each other, not save lives."

"Maybe the bear prefers us to die from murder, not accidents," Miku suggests. "Or maybe it's a trap. Maybe the defibrillator isn't what it seems."

"Either way, we shouldn't use it unless absolutely necessary," I say.

"I don't plan on using it," Steve says.

As we leave and travel further, I take a moment to think about the people around me. I don't feel unsafe with them. We're a group of five—too many for anyone to try anything. Well, Steve is large and muscular enough to overpower most of us, but Naomi could probably handle him. She's strong and clearly well-trained. Yvonne is quickly sketching out the plan as we go, showing her dedication. Or maybe she's deliberately focusing on something other than what happened in the gym. Miku meets my gaze with a weak, friendly smile, and I reflexively smile back. For a moment, I wonder how our forgotten conversation on the bus have gone.

Overall, although we ended up here because of Steve's impulsiveness, I think it's a fortunate turn of events. I get to learn more about this place while cooperating with a few people I'm locked in with. It feels beneficial, all around.

We move to another room, which turns out to be a cafeteria. Inside, there are tables, chairs, and a small kitchen with a stove, a refrigerator, and a sink. Entering the kitchen, we see that it's fully stocked. On one of the kitchen walls, a sign catches our attention:

"You are prohibited from causing any poisoned food or drinks to be inside the kitchen or cafeteria. Signed: Headmaster Monokuma."

I read it aloud.

"Odd," Miku says.

"Why is the bear so concerned with us poisoning the food?" Steve asks.

"I'm glad you asked!" a familiar voice says, and Monokuma suddenly appears from behind the fridge, wearing a chef's hat and an apron.

"Monokuma?!" I yell, startled to see him again so soon. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the one asking questions, kiddo!" he says, waving his little paws. "Why would you ask such a silly question? Are you planning to poison the food?"

"No!" I shout. "But considering how you want us to commit murder, you'd think you'd encourage it!"

"Poison is such an unoriginal way to kill someone!" Monokuma says, shaking his head. "Besides, it would ruin all the fun of the Killing School Semester!"

"Ruin the fun?" I ask. "But you're not the one playing the game—you're the one orchestrating it."

"Exactly!" Monokuma says with a grin. "That's why it has to be fun for me." He turns to the side and waves a paw. "Sneaking in here at night and poisoning all the food would kill everyone except the poisoner, and that would be boring! I prefer a series of individual murders. That's much more interesting!" Monokuma claps his little paws together. "But do keep this rule in mind; it has loopholes you might exploit," he giggles. "Think it over and see if you can take advantage of the rules!"

With one last giggle, Monokuma dives behind the fridge, and the hidden passage he used seals shut. We all stand there, stunned by his sudden appearance.

"What the hell was that?" Steve asks.

"He's playing games with us," I say, crossing my arms. "And he's trying to mess with our heads by giving us ideas."

"What ideas?" Steve asks.

"The idea of poisoning," I say, looking at him. "He's practically daring us to think about it."

"That's a dangerous game," Steve says. "Isn't the rule prohibiting us from doing it?"

"Not entirely," Yvonne replies. "The rule says we're prohibited from causing poisoned food or drinks to be inside the kitchen or cafeteria. It doesn't say anything about poisoning food outside of those areas."

"And that's the loophole we should avoid," I say, crossing my arms. "I don't believe any of us is a murderer, but we need to be careful and think practically about how we act here."

I turn to see the others looking at me with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"Practical? What do you mean, Kurt?" Naomi asks.

"I mean," I say, raising a finger, "remember how I mentioned that we shouldn't be walking around alone or in pairs?"

"Right," she replies. "Being in pairs would leave us vulnerable to one-on-one attacks. Better for us to stay together as a group or in groups of three or more."

"Exactly," I nod. "I'm not accusing anyone here, but it's about minimizing risk."

"I see," Naomi says, nodding. "You're trying to lead us, aren't you? You want us to follow these precautions to survive."

"Lead?" I ask, surprised, but I give a slight smile. "I just have a few ideas, mostly from watching too many B-grade horror movies." I shrug, glancing to the side. "We all want to survive, so let's avoid the classic mistakes."

"Movies and shows aren't always realistic," Yvonne points out. "But your ideas make sense, Kurt. I agree with them."

Steve nods as well. "I agree too. You're the Ultimate Interviewer, right? So I guess it makes sense for you to be thinking about how to talk us into cooperating."

"I suppose…" I say, scratching the back of my head.

"Anyway," Miku speaks up, looking at me, "what did you mean by 'practical' regarding the food and poison?"

"The rule has a dangerous loophole, but it also offers some protection, as long as Monokuma sticks to it," I say. "It assures us that no food in the cafeteria or kitchen should be poisoned. I know it's risky to trust that maniacal bear, but we don't have much choice. We have to eat and drink, and all the food here comes from Monokuma anyway, so it's probably safe here."

"Exactly," Yvonne agrees. "If Monokuma wants us to kill each other, he's not likely to do it by poisoning our food himself."

"But there's still the risk of being poisoned outside the cafeteria or kitchen, right?" Naomi asks, and I nod.

"Yes. We shouldn't accept food or drinks from anyone outside those areas. We should bring our own food from the kitchen to avoid tampering," I explain. "It's about limited trust. We presume people are innocent but still take precautions—like locking our doors."

"Good point," Steve says, nodding. "Your ideas make sense. I think we should follow them."

"Thank you," I say.

"I agree," Yvonne adds. "And I like your idea of being cautious. We shouldn't trust anyone completely, but we should trust each other enough to work together without fear."

"Exactly," I say.

We leave the cafeteria and continue down the corridor. After passing a few classrooms, we reach a large, windowless room with four doors. Opening them, we find that each one leads to a different space: a bathroom, a storage room, a janitor's closet, and a room with a large television screen on the wall.

"I wonder what that's for," I say, looking at the screen.

"It's probably for announcements," Steve says.

"Announcements?" I ask.

"Updates on rules or new information," Naomi says.

"I wonder…" I say slowly. "The bear could come meet us, like he did in the gym, for announcements. This screen might be for footage or images he wants to show us."

"Or a video message," Miku adds, drawing our attention. "What?"

"Wouldn't it be more convenient for him to just speak to us through the loudspeaker?" Yvonne asks. "Or on the monitors all over the place, if he wants to show his face. Why do we need such a big screen just for that?"

"Maybe the bear likes to make things dramatic," Steve says. "A big screen would definitely do the trick."

"Yeah, he definitely loves his theatrics," I agree. "But I'm more concerned that he wants to mess with our heads. Remember, he wants us to start killing each other. Maybe he plans to make us watch something disturbing to provoke us."

"What do you mean?" Naomi asks.

"Maybe he's planning to show us some twisted images or a video message meant to mess with our heads." I shrug. "Or maybe it's just a monitor, and we're overthinking this." I sigh. "Let's focus on exploring. Still..." I look over at Naomi. "There isn't a single window here. I think it's safe to assume we're in some kind of underground bunker."

"An underground bunker?" Naomi says, frowning. "I've heard of those. Aren't they designed to protect people from nuclear bombs?"

"Or chemical weapons," I say. "The United States built a lot of them during the Cold War. This could be one from that era, just repurposed and rebuilt." I sigh. "Either way, it means that, if we want to get out, we'll have to find a way up."

"Then let's keep exploring," Naomi says, and we continue down the corridor. We reach the end of the hall and see a set of double doors.

"I wonder what's behind here?" I say.

"Only one way to find out," Steve says, pushing the doors open.

The room is large and dark, with no windows and just a few dim lights on the walls. There are tables, chairs, and a stage with a large curtain hanging from the ceiling. In the middle of the room, there's a podium, a few desks, and a large screen mounted on the wall.

"What is this place?" Miku asks.

"This must be the auditorium," Yvonne says.

"Another spot the bear can use to meet us," I point out. "Though I doubt we'll be having any assemblies here."

"We should move on," Naomi says. "There's nothing here."

I nod, and we all leave. We continue down the corridor and come to a hall lined with doors. I approach the nearest one and see a plaque: " 6. Riko Christo - Ultimate Memorizer."

"A dormitory wing?" I say, glancing around and noticing that each door has a nameplate for another participant in the Killing School Semester:

Martin Jimenez - Ultimate Journalist

Yvonne LeBlanc - Ultimate Sketch Artist

Kent Diamonde - Ultimate Fashion Model

Kurt Blake - Ultimate Interviewer

Kitty Kim - Ultimate Criminologist

Riko Christo - Ultimate Memorizer

Steve Dangan - Ultimate American Football Player

Naomi Williams - Ultimate Survivalist

Arthur Nevermind - Ultimate Prince

Emma Gerlach - Ultimate Waitress

Lily McGuire - Ultimate Librarian

Kevin Shin - Ultimate Marathon Runner

Miku Noone - Ultimate Lucky Student

"Great to know we have places for a long rest and for a long stay," I say with sarcastic frustration and sigh. "Let's check out these rooms," I say.

Each door has a card reader. "Do you think it's for our ID cards?" I wonder aloud, taking mine out. I approach the fourth door with my name on it and swipe my card over the reader. The door clicks open.

Inside, I find a bed, a desk, a chair, a closet, and a small bathroom. And, but, of course, a bloody camera plus monitor. There's a vent near the left corner of the opposite wall.

"It looks like a hotel room," I say, "but it's set up in my style."

"What do you mean?" Yvonne asks.

"There are things here I like," I say, noticing some of my favorite books on the desk and my clothes in the closet. "These are the things I brought with me to Hope's Peak Academy."

"I guess we're stuck here," Steve says from his room, then turns to look at the rest of us. "And the bear was prepared, stealing our stuff to make us feel at home."

"Monokuma is just a robot," I say. "Somebody built him, just like this place. He didn't kidnap us and bring our belongings here himself."

"Who do you think did this?" Miku asks, looking around. "There's no sign of anyone else being here. Everything is so neat and spotless."

"I have no idea," I sigh. "Maybe Kitty can make an educated guess. But whoever's behind this clearly wants us only interacting with that crazy robot, probably to drive us even crazier."

I walk into the bathroom. It's small, with a shower, a toilet, and a sink. There's even a washing machine.

"I wonder about the water supply in this place," I say, "and the electricity."

"The fact that we have running water and working lights proves we're not alone," Miku says. "Someone must be maintaining this place."

I walk back into the main room and look around. There's nothing particularly useful here.

"Well, let's keep exploring," I say. "There's still one more corridor to check."

I leave the room and follow the others. We reach the end of the corridor and find a set of stairs, blocked by a large metal gate. Steve and Naomi try to open it, but to no avail. Nearby, there's an unusual door.

"It's an elevator," Yvonne says, pointing to the buttons and a plaque above them. "It says, 'Dormitory Wing - Basement 1.'"

"Basement 1?" I say. "So, we're definitely underground, and there's more to this place."

"Maybe we'll find a way out," Steve says.

"Maybe," I say, pressing a button, but nothing happens. "Looks like the elevator is disabled. Seems like the bear doesn't want us going beyond the first basement."

"Probably," Yvonne agrees. "Still, it's strange that the dormitory wing is on the first basement level."

"As long as the stairs are blocked and the elevator's disabled, we can't explore any further," I sigh. "Let's head back to the gym. Maybe Kitty found something while examining Mrs. Collins' body..."

Nobody is happy about that being brought up, me included. But we have to reunite with the rest, after all.

We walk back to the gym and enter. The others are already leaving, and we see them in the hallway. Martin is trailing behind, seemingly making notes.

"Hey," I call out. "How's the examination of the crime scene going?"

"Kurt, you're back," Lily says, approaching us. "We were just about to leave."

"Why?" I ask. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Lily replies. "But the examination is finished, and..." She glances back at Kitty.

Kitty is standing ahead of the others with her arms crossed, looking at us with her usual serious, cold expression.

"I found one odd thing," she says slowly. "Mrs. Collins was wearing fresh, new clothes—everything looked like it had only been worn for a short while. No stains, no tears, nothing. Even her shoes were new."

"That is odd," I agree. "But why is that a problem?"

"Because," Kitty sighs, "I had a hunch and checked her underwear, too. It was old, worn out, even stained. It looked like she'd been wearing it for a long time."

"Wait..." I say, stepping back. "Just how long could she have been wearing that old underwear?"

"I can't be certain, since it's synthetic fabric, but based on its state, probably several months at least."

"Several months?!" I exclaim.

"Shush!" Lily says. "We don't want the bear to know we've figured this out!"

"It's too late to worry about that—cameras are everywhere!" I shout. "If Mrs. Collins had been wearing the same underwear for months, it could mean she was held captive for that long. But she had a public appearance just a week before I left home for the Academy!"

"Exactly," Kitty nods. "That's what I told the others, and it led us to conclude that we can't be sure how much time has passed since we were kidnapped."

"To be precise..." Riko says, "we can't be sure how much time has passed since our last memories before waking up here."

"So messed up," Kent sighs, looking up. Kevin only nods alongside him, with his arms crossed.

"But..." I look at Riko. "Are you suggesting there's nothing in your last memory to explain the kidnapping? Because it didn't happen at the time of our last memory?"

"Yes," Riko sighs. "I remember riding the bus with other students, everything calm and peaceful while I listened to my Clockwork Orange audiobook. Then I woke up in the classroom."

"And there's no way the kidnapping could have happened during the bus ride," Kitty adds, crossing her arms. "Several separate bus rides. So, it means we're missing some memories."

"We discovered dorms with rooms assigned to each of us," I say, glancing back at Miku and the rest of my group. "In my room, all the things I'd brought to Hope's Peak Academy were there—my books, clothes. But did any of you bring something specific you planned to finish at the Academy? Like a model you wanted to work on?"

"I was writing a book," Arthur says, looking up. "A book that's not yet finished."

"Do you remember the last part you wrote before your last memory?" I ask. "The last phrase?"

"Yes, I do," Arthur nods.

"Then check your room," I tell him, "and see if the manuscript is there—and if the last thing written matches your last memory. If it doesn't, it means you worked on that book during the time you can't recall."

"I see," he nods. "I'll check it out."

Arthur, the others, and I walk to his room in the dormitory wing and enter. We head to his desk and open one of the drawers. Inside, there's a notebook. Arthur takes it, opens it, and starts reading. His eyes widen as he looks at me.

"Kurt, you were right," he says. "The last page of this notebook doesn't match my last memory."

I take a deep breath. "How long could you have been writing this part you don't remember?"

He closes his eyes, seemingly making calculations. After a moment, he opens them and looks at me.
"If we assume I was writing daily," he says slowly, "it would have taken me about three months to write what's in this notebook."

When Arthur mentions the missing three months, Yvonne's face pales. "Three months?" she whispers, clutching her sketchbook tightly. "I could have drawn a hundred sketches I don't remember... It's like a part of me is gone."

"Three months?!" I exclaim.

"Could be worse," Kent sighs. "Still pretty bad."

"But can we be sure it isn't worse?" Lily asks, holding her book close to her chest.

Kitty steps closer and looks at the notebook. "Arthur," she begins, "would you continue writing if you were distressed?"

"Of course," Arthur answers, confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because," Kitty replies, "your handwriting doesn't show any signs of stress. It looks fluent, as if you were calm and composed."

"Does this mean we're missing about three months of peaceful memory?" I ask.

"Not necessarily peaceful," Arthur says, shaking his head. "I tend to write in stressful situations as a form of relief, but only when the situation is stable enough to allow it."

Naomi, who had been silent until now, clenches her fists. "We can't just sit around and wait to remember. If we've lost three months, who knows what they did to us in that time? We need to figure out what happened, not just sit here feeling sorry for ourselves."

"What about the tone of your writing?" Martin asks. "Wouldn't your story take a darker turn if you were under stress?"

"Good point," Arthur nods, examining the notebook. "I need to read it carefully, but at least the tone hasn't changed from what I remember. It's still an adventure novel, not a psychological horror or something similar."

"Three months," I repeat. "So how much time could have passed since Mrs. Collins' last public appearance—or rather, since we remember it happening? For all we know, we could have arrived at Hope's Peak and met her there."

"Yes," Kitty agrees. "We're missing at least three months. It could be even more, though judging by this notebook's condition, it can't be much longer since it's pretty new."

"Holy crap," I say, glancing at one of the ever-present cameras in the corner of the wall. It's a stark reminder that our every word and movement is being monitored. I can almost feel Monokuma's unseen eyes on us, waiting for us to slip up. "We're definitely being manipulated."

"Manipulated how?" Steve asks, crossing his arms.

"Think about it," I say, turning to him. "Riko has her audiobooks, proving she doesn't remember A Clockwork Orange past a certain point. Mrs. Collins had old underwear on her. Arthur has been writing this book for three months he doesn't remember." I glance at the notebook and frown. "We're only uncovering what they want us to find."

"What are you getting at?" Miku asks.

"I'm saying that whoever is behind this wants us to discover these things," I point at the notebook. "They want us to realize Mrs. Collins was held captive for months and that we have missing memories. They want us to feel lost and confused, to panic."

"Paranoia," Kitty adds, leaning against the wall. "They want to instill paranoia in us."

"Exactly," I agree. "They want us to be afraid."

"Not just afraid," Kitty says, shaking her head. "They want us to be suspicious of each other, to question everything and trust no one. They want to make us paranoid."

"But why?" Miku asks, looking at me. "Why would they want to make us paranoid?"

"Kitty can probably explain how a paranoid state of mind affects the likelihood of committing crimes," I reply.

"You're right, Kurt," Kitty says, opening her eyes. "They want us to be suspicious and insecure, making us easier to manipulate."

"Plus, not knowing how much time has passed since our kidnapping increases our desperation to contact our loved ones," I add. "That could make us more desperate to escape."

Martin puts his notebook in his pocket and crosses his arms. "Yes, and the bear will use that. He'll exploit our fears to manipulate us into doing something rash." He raises a finger. "But think about this: if our kidnapping happened at least three months after our last memory, why were our memories from that time erased?"

"Erased?" I ask.

"Somehow, yes," Martin shrugs, clearly calmer now than in gym. "Maybe through drugs, hypnosis, psychological tricks, or a combination. The method doesn't matter, but the fact it happened does." He looks at me. "The reason seems clear: to erase our experiences and bonds from those three months, making us strangers again, so we'd be more likely to kill each other."

"And so we wouldn't trust each other," Kitty nods. "If we knew each other for three months, we'd have formed bonds and been harder to manipulate."

"Stronger bonds?" Emma raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Even if we weren't friends," Kitty explains, "we were schoolmates, set to spend three years together at Hope's Peak. Over three months, we would have formed at least some sort of bond. That would make it much harder to manipulate us into killing each other."

Emma hesitates, looking at Kitty with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "I get it… But what if we were friends before?" she asks, almost to herself. "What if we knew each other well... and now we don't remember it at all?" Kitty meets her gaze. "Then we're all strangers again," she says flatly. "And that's exactly what they want."

"I see," Miku says, looking at me. "So our memories were erased, and we have no proof of our previous interactions, aside from a few vague memories like the one on the bus."

"We can check our belongings," I sigh. "I didn't find anything like that, and I doubt our kidnappers would leave any clues. Listen, we can't be sure of much, but I know none of us wants to be murdered. I mentioned this to Steve and others during our search, but I want to bring it up with everyone. We need to follow a few basic rules to maintain some level of trust. First, only be alone in your own locked room. Second, if you're with someone else, always be with at least two other people."

"Is that enough?" Emma asks. "We could still be killed even with two others present if they were both in on it."

"You're forgetting the rule of this killing game, Emma" Riko says quietly. "If someone kills and graduates, everyone else dies. The killer can't have accomplices."

"Right," I nod. "You can't commit murder and let anyone know because it would mean certain death."

"Ironically," Martin adds, "the fact our past bonds were erased makes us safer. The killer can't trust anyone to keep their secret. Even if someone was important to you in those erased memories, there's no reason to risk your life for them now."

"Emma has a point, though," I say, scratching my head. "There's a chance someone might help another, despite the risk. But that's not something we can fully prevent. We need to leave our rooms for food, to explore, if we want to find a way out."

Naomi nods. "And it's impractical to have everyone stick together. The bear might even forbid it."

"Still," I say, crossing my arms, "we need to minimize the risk of a murder happening."

"It'll buy us time to find a way out," Arthur says. "I agree with this idea; it could help us survive."

"I agree too," Yvonne and Martin say in unison.

"Regardless," Arthur continues, "we all need time to rest and think this through."

"Of course," I nod.

"We'll meet in the café at 8 pm tonight and at 8 am tomorrow," Arthur announces. "And from now on, I suggest we meet there every day at those times."

"Sounds good to me," I say, attempting a smile. "Remember, we're all Ultimates. If we work together, we can get out of this mess."

"Right," Steve says.

Kevin nods slowly, looking to the side and not saying anything. He seems stressed.

"I agree," Yvonne adds. "We should focus on exploring and finding a way out. We can't let this bear intimidate or manipulate us."

Naomi bites her lip. "Meeting up twice a day is a good idea, but... what if someone doesn't show up?" she asks, her voice tinged with anxiety. "What if they decide to do something on their own?" "Then we'll know who to keep an eye on," Kitty says coolly. "But we can't force everyone to follow the rules. It's a risk we have to take."

We all nod in agreement. I feel a little better. I'm not alone. I have friends here, and together, we will find a way out of this mess. I just need to stay careful and pragmatic, and we will survive.

After returning to my room, I decide to first test the ID reader lock on the door. I take out my ID card and wave it in front of the reader. The door unlocks, and I open it. I wave the card again, and the door locks. I try the same with a nearby reader, but as expected, nothing happens.

As I test the door lock, I notice the camera in the corner of the hallway, its red light blinking rhythmically. Is Monokuma watching my every move, or is this just a trick to make me feel observed all the time?

Still, I decide to run a little experiment. I unlock the door with my ID card, then open the door fully. I wave the card in front of the reader again to observe its reaction. The reader beeps, and the door remains open. The red light on the reader glows alongside the green, and a message appears: "Card ID recognized. Please lock manually, or the door will lock in 1.5 seconds."

I leave the door as it is and wait. After about a second and a half, the door closes and locks itself. It seems the lock is designed to automatically secure itself if it isn't manually locked. Interesting.

However, I still have questions about this system. Is it only meant for us, Monokuma, and whoever is behind him, or could there be more people with cards capable of unlocking these doors? I wonder if Monokuma could unlock them remotely with a command.

I return to my room and start examining it. Many items here are familiar: my books, clothes, and a few other personal belongings from home that I brought to the Academy. Yet, there are some things I don't recognize at all—a few books I don't recall reading and some other random items. I take a book from the shelf and look at the cover. It's an old, hardcover book titled "A Guide to Survival," written by James T. McNab.

I briefly skim through it. The book covers wilderness survival tips and practical advice. I close it and put it back on the shelf. I wonder how I acquired it—perhaps during the time I don't remember. Maybe I befriended Neomi and decided to learn more about survival because of her.

Some of my belongings are missing, though. My phone and laptop are nowhere to be found. I sigh, realizing I could have used my laptop to access emails and gather clues about what happened. It seems the kidnappers were thorough.

I sit down at the desk, feeling the gravity of the situation. Losing my mind over this is akin to admitting defeat, which could be fatal. I find a notebook and pen, then start writing a summary of the day. Day 0, as I've labeled it: sudden awakening, meeting other Ultimates, encountering Monokuma, witnessing Mrs. Collins' murder, exploring the basement, discussing with fellow captives, and finally, returning to my room.

I try to be optimistic, but as I finish my notes for Day 0, I jot down a few observations: Yvonne's nervous glances, Martin's calculating expressions, Kevin's tense silence. Each of us is dealing with this nightmare differently, and I can't help but wonder who will crack first. Or worse—who might already be plotting.

I need to stay calm and composed—easier said than done. Despite my earlier resolve, I'm acutely aware that I'm not some kind of superhero. As an Ultimate, I'm not particularly impressive. My claim to fame was interviewing the President last year, but that opportunity came through sheer luck. The President wanted to boost his ratings by being interviewed by a student journalist, and I was randomly chosen from applicants nationwide.

Though I was lucky to get the interview, I made the most of it. It was a great success, and I became a prominent figure in school journalism. I didn't waste the opportunity: the popularity of my interview opened doors for more chances. I conducted additional interviews, wrote for school newspapers, and even started a successful blog, which gained traction among high schoolers. This eventually led to me being recognized as the Ultimate Interviewer.

Still, I haven't broken any major stories like Martin did with his exposé on corruption. I sigh and refocus on the notebook. I need to stop dwelling on negative thoughts and start strategizing on how to escape, stay alive, and keep my sanity.

I reflect on my strengths. My talent lies in interviewing people—asking the right questions and making them feel comfortable. I'm good at noticing small details that reveal a lot about someone. The most crucial part is that I can get people to open up to me, to share their secrets.

If I use this skill, my best plan is to encourage others to talk to me, to reveal things they wouldn't normally share. Information is key in any situation, and if I could even get Monokuma to slip up, that would be a big win. Though, dealing with a robot is outside my expertise, I can still try. Monokuma seems to have a personality and enjoys interacting with us, so it's worth a shot.

I also have other journalistic skills, like the ability to write quickly. I read a lot across various genres—science fiction, fantasy, mystery—which helps me connect dots effectively. I consider myself a pragmatic and sensible person, traits that should aid in our survival. I've noticed that I'm starting to take on a leadership role, something I hadn't expected. Running the school newspaper was a much simpler task, but crisis brings out hidden abilities, I suppose. It's nice to be seen as reliable.

I glance at the clock; it's still some time before 8 PM. I decide to do something productive. Supposedly, we lived peacefully at Hope's Peak for three months before being kidnapped, along with Mrs. Collins. I wonder if I noticed any signs of trouble during that time. Did I anticipate danger? Could I have left a hidden message for myself somewhere?

I start examining my books page by page. It's a long shot, but finding any clue would be a huge breakthrough. After a while, I find nothing—no messages, no scribbles. It's disappointing but not surprising. I check the last book, the one about survival, out of obligation more than hope.

Then I notice a strange page with a note glued to it. It's in my handwriting: "You have to betray if you want to trust." I drop the book. These were the exact words Monokuma said earlier. How could I have known? Why did I write this?

I pick up the page and analyze my handwriting. It appears calm and composed, which only deepens the mystery. For a moment, my hand trembles as I hold the note. My chest tightens, and I force myself to take a deep breath. It's not just the message that unsettles me—it's the calm handwriting, the fact that it seems I predicted this twisted scenario without any memory of doing so. Did I somehow predict Monokuma's speech? Or did the kidnappers make me write this to mess with my head? The calm handwriting suggests otherwise. Perhaps I anticipated a scenario like this and left myself a hint in a subtle way, avoiding any clear clues that might be removed by the kidnappers. I hope so.

The phrase itself is paradoxical: betrayal as a prerequisite for trust. It's confusing, especially in this situation, where trust is scarce. I have no idea who I should betray or trust. It loops in my mind, a puzzle I can't solve. Is it a warning? A prediction? "Betray to trust"—in this killing game, does it mean exposing someone's secret to earn their confidence, or is it about making a sacrifice to gain loyalty? Whatever the intention, it's a mind game meant to throw me off balance.

I look at the clock and see it's 7:45 PM. I need to head to the cafeteria. The meaning behind the phrase may reveal itself later, but for now, I'll keep it to myself. I can't prove I didn't just write it now, and I don't want to confuse the others.

I unlock the door but remain inside, deciding to wait for others. It's safer to travel in groups, and we agreed to go in at least groups of three. I'll wait for the others before heading to the cafeteria together.

"You've got this," I mutter to myself, barely above a whisper. It's something I used to say before big interviews. But this isn't a press conference or a school event—this is life or death. I clench my fists, trying to hold onto that familiar confidence. I need to be strong, not just for me but for everyone counting on me.

The Cafeteria, 8:00 pm.

„So," Martin says, glancing around the cafeteria as we sit together at the main table, „What are we supposed to talk about?"

„I have a suggestion," Arthur says, raising a finger. „We should properly introduce ourselves. Not just our names and titles, but also a bit about who we are and what our goals are."

„Goals?" Emma asks, frowning. „I don't think I have any goals…"

„Oh, you don't?" Arthur raises an eyebrow. „Not even a simple goal like surviving?"

„I guess," she nods with a smile. „I want to survive."

„Well, that makes all of us," I say, smiling. „But we can ask questions to each other too, right?"

„Indeed," Arthur nods.

„What is the meaning of life?" Steve asks.

„Steve," Arthur shakes his head. „You're not serious."

„I'm not," Steve grins.

„Anyway," I sigh. „Who wants to go first?"

„I'll start," Arthur says. „I'm Arthur Nevermind, as you know, the Ultimate Prince. I was born in the Kingdom of Novoselic, a small nation in Eastern Europe."

„Eastern Europe?" Yvonne asks. „Isn't that a bit vague?"

„Yes," Arthur nods, „It's vague, but it's true. Novoselic is small and not widely known."

„It's between Poland and Belarus," Miku chimes in. „I've been there; the people are really nice."

„Really?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow. „You've visited Novoselic?"

„Yes," Miku smiles. „It's a lovely place. The people are friendly, and the food is great. But the language is tough, and the culture is a bit unique."

„Well, I imagine Arthur would love to hear more about your trip, Miku," I say with a smile. „But for now, it's his turn. You're an Ultimate Prince, which sounds impressive, but it's also quite vague. What skills come with that title, beyond elegance and good manners?"

„Well," Arthur starts, „I'm skilled in diplomacy. I've been trained since birth to be a diplomat and have lots of experience dealing with people. I'm also good at public speaking and a decent writer."

„We know you're working on a book," Martin points out. „This isn't your first one, is it?"

„No," Arthur shakes his head. „I've been writing since childhood and published a few books. I also write a political column for a Novoselic newspaper." He shrugs. „I'm also trained in fencing, horseback riding, and ballroom dancing."

„What are your goals?" Emma asks. „You wanted us to share ours."

„Well," Arthur says, „My main goal is to restore my honor and regain my place in the royal family. I was exiled, and I need to prove myself to return to the palace. I'm also trying to become a better writer."

„Okay," Emma nods.

„I know this might be a sensitive topic," I say, leaning in slightly, keeping my voice calm. „But as a diplomat, Arthur, I trust you understand that we'd all like to know why your country believes you've dishonored yourself."

„You're right," he sighs. „It's not a pleasant subject." He crosses his arms and stares at the table, as if searching for answers. „My twin sister, Sonia, is the heir to the throne. But, before this being set in stone, our father, the king, decided to give us a test to see who was more worthy to rule. We were each to lead our own domains, and whoever performed better would become the heir."

„That makes sense," I say. „What was the test?"

„When we were ten, he gave us each a newborn horse," Arthur explains, still staring at the table. „He said that when we turned fifteen, we'd have a race to decide the matter. We had to train and care for our horses ourselves."

„Is that a tradition?" Miku asks, tilting her head. „I didn't see anything like that when I visited Novoselic last year."

„It's not," Arthur sighs. „It was because we're twins, the first occurrence in the royal family. The king's test was wise. A monarch should raise their kingdom as they raise a horse," Arthur looks up at Miku. „I knew that, and I did everything I could to prepare my horse to win. It was supposed to show that I could lead the kingdom."

„And did it?" Kitty asks.

„I did everything," Arthur says quietly. „I trained my horse, cared for him, and fed him well. But Sonia was simply better. She was more careful, more patient."

„So she won?" I ask.

Arthur pauses, looking down. „No," he says softly. „She didn't. Because I sabotaged her horse by feeding it something that caused severe diarrhea during the race. My horse won, but Sonia's horse fell ill and died the next day."

„Oh my…" Miku gasps, covering her mouth.

„I wanted to prove my worth," Arthur says, closing his eyes. „But I did it in the worst way possible. I realized the extent of my mistake when I saw my sister cry for the entire day and night, mourning her lost horse."

„You did that to her, didn't you?" Kitty's voice is sharp, her eyes cold. „Did you at least confess, or did she have to find out from someone else?"

„You were still given a chance to restore your honor," I point out.

„I confessed," Arthur says, placing his hands on his knees. „And I acknowledged that my sister, who mourned her horse more than losing the crown, was more suited to rule. But the damage I caused couldn't be undone. My father exiled me to America, hoping I'd make up for my mistake and prove myself worthy of returning home." He sighs. „I wouldn't be surprised if Sonia never speaks of me to anyone."

Lily glances at Arthur, then at the others, biting her lip as if debating whether to speak. Miku shifts in her seat, looking down, while Kitty continues to stare at Arthur with a guarded expression. Emma is covering her mouth and looking to the side, while Steve, Kevin and Yvone are clearly surprised. Kent is just nodding while staring at the ceiling. puffing Naomi just looks to the side, thoughtfully. Martin is hard to read, as he's just taking notes, while Riko is, like usual, expressionless. The room feels heavier, the air thick with unspoken thoughts.

„You did a terrible thing, and I'm sure you know that," I tell him calmly. „But many would have followed the same dark impulse in the pursuit of power. What sets you apart is that you've recognized and admitted your wrongdoing."

„And you're still the Ultimate Prince," Lily adds with a smile. „I believe you'll find a way to restore your honor."

„Thank you for your kind words," Arthur says, offering a faint smile. „But I'm not sure I deserve them. I don't even know if I deserve a second chance."

„Let me ask you this," I say, leaning back in my chair. „Do you want to make amends with your sister for your betrayal?"

„Of course I do," Arthur says, meeting my gaze. „I want her to forgive me."

„Then this isn't just a second chance, Arthur," I tell him. „It's your obligation to her. You have firsthand knowledge of the deceit she might face when she becomes queen," I raise a finger. „You could be invaluable by her side. But to be there, you need to earn her trust."

„I… I never thought of it that way," Arthur says, rubbing his chin. „I'll think about what you've said, Kurt. Thank you." He looks around at the others. „So, who's next?"

"I can go next," Miku says, looking at us. "I'm Miku. I'm the Ultimate Lucky Student, so I don't have any particular talent."

"Every year, one random high school student is chosen to attend the Academy," Yvonne reminds us. "The lucky student gets to study alongside the Ultimates."

"I guess I'm the only one here without a real talent," Miku sighs.

"Still, you do seem pretty lucky," I tell her. "It wasn't just being randomly picked to come here—you also won a billion-dollar lottery."

"Well," Miku says with a smile. "I guess I am lucky. But those were the only two times in my life I got lucky. Otherwise, I'm just a normal girl."

"What happened to your lottery money?" Emma asks, raising an eyebrow. "You said earlier you no longer have it. Did you lose it all?"

"Umm..." Miku hesitates, looking away. "Yeah, it's all gone." She sighs. "When you have a lot of money, suddenly everyone wants to be your friend. There are many people with 'big, promising projects' that they claim will change the world," Miku looks down at her knees. "And they all just need a little capital—like, say, a billion dollars. They promise you'll make so much money, you won't be able to count it all."

Emma chuckles. "You can't be serious," she says. "There's no way you fell for that... right?"

Miku shrugs. "Well, I did."

"Seriously?" Steve asks. "You gave away a billion dollars to some random guy?"

Kitty frowns, tapping her fingers on the table. „If you're so careless with a billion dollars, how can we trust you to make smart decisions while we're trapped here?" she asks sharply. Miku flinches but meets her gaze. „I know I made mistakes," she replies calmly. „But I've learned from them. I'm not the same person I was then, I promise."

"And it wasn't the whole billion," the Ultimate Lucky Student rolls her eyes. "I used some of it to travel around the world, like visiting Novoselic. But, yeah, the rest is gone." She glances at Arthur, then looks at the rest of us. "I gave it away to that person. I don't really want to go into details, but the whole thing wasn't exactly a pleasant experience," she says, looking to the side. "To be honest... a part of me just wanted to get rid of the money. I had a billion dollars, and I hated every single one of them."

"Why would you hate your own money?" Steve asks. "You could have bought a private jet, a mansion, a yacht..."

"I was raised by my grandma," she replies, looking down. "My parents died in an accident when I was two. When I found out I'd won the lottery, I was in school, so I called her. I told her we could finally live the life we'd always dreamed of—that we could move to a better place, buy nice clothes, and never worry about money again... But my grandma," she pauses, taking a deep breath. "She had a heart attack from the shock, and she died."

"Oh..." Emma mutters.

"Shit," Yvonne says. "That's awful."

The mood in the room becomes somber, and everyone gets quiet. Sympathy is written on everybody's face. Kitty looks down, ashamed of her earlier words. Even Riko has a clear sorry expression, while Martin sighs with his arms crossed, as he looks at Miku.

„After my grandma passed, every time I looked at that bank statement, all I could think about was her face," Miku admits quietly. „I felt like that money had taken her away from me. It didn't feel like a blessing—it felt like a curse." She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," Miku says, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Miku forces a smile, but her voice trembles. „I'm just really lucky, I guess," she says, laughing weakly. But the laughter quickly fades, her eyes glistening with tears she can no longer hold back. „I just... I don't want to be lucky if it means losing the people I love." She sighs. "I don't have a good track record with luck. Just look at what happened to us after I got selected as the Lucky Student and how we ended up in this situation," she says, closing her eyes. "Even my ID number is 13, and—"

I slam my hand on the table to interrupt her. She opens her eyes and looks at me.

"None of what happened to your grandma or to us is your fault," I say with a smile. "You understand that, right? Your grandmother was simply prone to a heart attack from excitement; something else could have triggered it. And whether you were enrolled in the Academy or not wouldn't have changed the plans of whoever is behind Monokuma."

"I... I guess you're right," she says after a moment of hesitation. "Without me winning the lottery or being chosen as an Ultimate, nothing would have changed."

"Exactly," I nod. "And there's nothing wrong with being normal. I'm not that different from you. My interview with the President was just because I got randomly selected among school journalists who applied," I shrug. "I just took the opportunity given to me. And so did you when you agreed to join the renowned Hope's Peak Academy."

"Right," she nods. "I agree. I should focus on what I can do right now. If there's anything I've learned in my life, it's to never give up. To keep moving forward."

"That's the spirit," I say with a smile. "So, will you tell us about your goals?"

"Sure," she nods, her smile returning. "Well, I'm not sure if it's a goal or a dream, but... I want to see the future," she says. "I want to experience the world of tomorrow. I want to see the world of our children."

"That's actually a pretty neat goal," I admit. "What do you want to see?"

"Everything," she says. "I want to see the future of the world and humanity. I want to know what awaits us," she pauses. "Do you think humanity is on a path to destruction? Do you think we'll destroy ourselves before the end of the century?"

"People thought the same way last century," I reply, raising an eyebrow at the sudden question. "Nobody believed the Cold War could end peacefully, let alone with one side just giving up. We can't know what's ahead, and that applies to both those who predict doom and those who foresee a bright future."

"Yeah, you're right!" she exclaims. "That's why I want to see the future! I want to see if we will have peace or not, if the world will become a better place or worse, if we'll expand into space or stay on Earth." She looks to the ceiling. "I want to see if we'll create a better world or if we'll destroy it first," she says softly, almost to herself. "Who knows what we're capable of..."

"You're a brave person," I say, crossing my arms. "You've experienced both great fortune and great misfortune, yet you're still curious about what life will bring next."

"Yeah, that's right," she nods. "And, well... I'm not really talented at anything, so I don't know what else I can do," she shrugs, looking at us. "But I'll do my best to help us survive this situation."

"Of course," I say, looking around the table. "Who's going next?"

"Well, I'll go," Steve says. "I'm Steve, the Ultimate American Football player. I was chosen by Hope's Peak Academy because of the championship I won last year with my team, the Lions."

"Steve, wait," Arthur interjects. "Why is it called American football? Isn't it only played in America?"

"Well, it's football, isn't it?" Steve replies. "It's an American sport, so it's called American football."

"No, it's not really football," Arthur counters. "It's not even a ball! It's an oval!"

"Maybe it used to be round," Steve speculates. "Maybe they made it oval so it wouldn't roll away?"

"Anyway, Steve," I interrupt, "you won the final match for the Lions, but you were a substitute for their main player, right?"

"Yeah," Steve nods. "Bob was the quarterback, but he had to leave the team due to family issues, so I stepped in."

"And you were successful," I add.

"Yeah," he nods again. "I remember sitting in the stands with my mom," as he says this, a faint smile appearing. "She'd cheer louder than anyone when the Lions scored. I wanted to be out there on the field, making her proud."

I lean towards the table, tilting my head slightly. "I just can't understand one thing, Steve," I say. "Why wasn't your talent noticed before the final match? Both you and Bob should have been on the main team from the start."

Steve looks away, a hint of discomfort in his demeanor. I start to wonder if there's more to his story.

"I'm not sure," he shrugs. "Maybe I just wasn't giving it my all until that final match, and when I did, my talent finally showed."

"Right," I say. "So what are your goals, Steve? Beyond escaping this situation, of course."

"I want to become a pro player and win a championship again. And I want to make my mom proud."

"Your mom?" Miku asks.

"Yeah, my mom," Steve says, crossing his arms. "Is that so unusual? I'm not ashamed of wanting to make my family proud."

"Did she always want you to be a football champion?" I ask in a neutral tone.

"Ever since I was a kid," he nods. "We'd go to the stadium together and cheer for the Lions."

"You and your mom," I echo, nodding.

I take a sip of coke to mask my reaction, glancing at the others to see if anyone noticed the oddity. The likes of Miku, Kevin, and Yvonne seem oblivious, but Kitty has her eyes on me—she's figured it out, just like I have. Meanwhile, Martin is smiling strangely, fiddling with his pen. I'm not sure what to make of his behavior.

I put the glass down and look at Steve. It's clear he's lying, but given the tense situation, there's no point in dragging unrelated issues out. Still, it's worth checking if it's really unrelated.

"It's great that you finally got a chance to give it your all, Steve," I say with a smile. "The Academy chose you over Bob, the star player in every game except the last. That says a lot. How do you think Bob felt about it?"

"I don't know," Steve replies, crossing his arms. "It wasn't up to me who got chosen."

"Of course," I chuckle. "Your story is like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer or the Ugly Duckling. I just hope Bob doesn't hold a grudge and become your biggest hater."

Steve shakes his head, meeting my gaze. "Bob was a cool guy. I'm sure he doesn't hate me."

"He probably doesn't," I say, nodding.

I take another sip of coke. It's clear that Steve was the team's substitute while Bob was the star player. The Academy wouldn't make a mistake—Steve is undoubtedly more talented. The real question is why Steve was on the bench for so long. What took so long for his chance to come? And why does he seem ashamed of his past? His mother clearly motivated him to become a champion.

I look at him again; he appears uneasy. My initial theory was that Bob forced Steve to stay in his shadow, but that doesn't seem right anymore. Steve defended Bob sincerely, so perhaps someone else was involved...

"Every parent wants their kid to be recognized as an Ultimate..." I begin, watching Steve's reaction. He tenses up slightly, staring at his hands. I've hit the jackpot. I smile warmly and continue as if nothing happened. "You're definitely making your mom proud, Steve." I stretch back in my chair, briefly glancing at Kitty. "It's an unbelievable underdog success story, but nothing we need to worry about right now."

Kitty nods in agreement, understanding my implication. I just hope we don't have to dig deeper into Steve's story; it could complicate our situation. It seems like someone else, possibly a parent of Bob's, pushed Steve into the shadows. Bob himself doesn't seem to be the cause; Steve doesn't resent him and even defends him. It looks like Steve was afraid that speaking up would harm the reputation of the Lions or Bob.

"Okay," Arthur says, looking at Steve. "If it's not too much to ask, could you tell us more about the sport? I've never seen it, but I'm curious."

"You'll get your chance to learn more about American Football from Steve later, foreigner," I joke. "Who's going next?"

"I can go next," Lily says with a shy smile. "I'm Lily McGuire, the Ultimate Librarian," she introduces herself. "I was chosen for my strong memory and organizational skills with books, but I'm mostly recognized for my Book Rediscovery Program."

"Book Rediscovery Program?" Arthur asks. "What's that?"

"It's a project of mine," she answers, blushing. "It might not be the most practical thing in the world, but it addresses a specific problem that people sometimes encounter."

"And what problem is that?" I ask, curious.

Lily adjusts her glasses, picks up a book lying on the table next to her, and opens to a random page.

"Imagine that instead of having the entire book, you only have a small torn fragment of this single page, containing just a few letters," Lily explains. "Do you think, with the help of technology and the internet, you could identify the original book?"

"Of course," Arthur replies. "Why wouldn't it be possible?"

"It is possible," she nods. "If we digitize all books, we can develop a program that matches a torn fragment to its source book. The challenge is that such a program would need to compare pages across millions of books, which requires a lot of computational power. But I've been working on optimizing this program to reduce those demands."

"Sounds interesting," Kevin comments. "But who would actually need something like that?"

Lily giggles nervously, covering her mouth partially with the book. "Well," she admits, "I'm not sure. I created it because I thought it was a nice idea. But, for instance, if someone has an old piece of paper from a book and doesn't know its origin, they could use the program to identify the book. It could also be useful for libraries with damaged or incomplete books. They could find the full book online and print it to replace the missing parts." She shrugs. "The program uses artificial intelligence and an evolutionary algorithm to narrow down the search."

"I don't quite get it," Steve says, scratching his chin. "But it sounds cool anyway."

"It does," Lily smiles and looks down down at the book in her hands. "When I was little my grandmother had this old book of poems. It was her favorite, but it got damaged over the years, and we lost some of the pages. And the book was old and no longer being published. I always wished there was a way to recover those missing parts. That's what inspired me to start the Book Rediscovery Program." turning to me. "What do you think of it, Kurt?"

"I think it's a handy tool to have," I say, smiling slightly. "But what do you need to submit the torn page to the system?"

"Oh, just a phone with a camera would be enough," Lily replies. "But I doubt anyone here has a phone..."

"Right," I nod. "So, you're also a programmer, then?"

"Sort of," she blushes. "I'm not an expert... The Ultimate Programmer has already been chosen by Hope's Peak in Japan, and I hear she's amazing. But yes, I can write programs." She shrugs. "And, being a librarian, I decided to create a program to help recover books."

"You mentioned your program uses artificial intelligence," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think you could figure out how Monokuma works?"

"Umm, I don't know," she says hesitantly. "I would need to examine him first. I don't think we could just open him up to check, right?"

"That would be difficult," Kitty says, crossing her arms. "There's no way to do that without him noticing."

"But what about understanding the theory behind his artificial intelligence?" I suggest. "It's not like in Star Trek, where you could confuse an AI with a paradox. But maybe some established programming principles could help you identify his weaknesses?"

"Well..." she pauses, looking at me thoughtfully. "As you pointed out, it's possible. But I'd need to study him first."

"And we don't have time for that right now," Kitty says, glancing around the table.

"I wouldn't dismiss this idea entirely," I say, trying to be encouraging. "We'll have plenty of chances to observe his behavior. It might be a long shot, Lily, but you could try to figure him out during those moments, right?"

Lily sighs. "I suppose so. It's worth a try, at least."

"There's another question I have," Martin interjects. "Do you have any long-term goals?"

"I want to expand the Book Rediscovery Program," she replies, resting her hand on her cheek. "And I'd love to have my own library someday. I could spend my entire life there and be happy." She smiles.

"Expand the program?" I raise an eyebrow. "Do you mean beyond just books?"

"Yes," she nods. "I'm currently working on applying it to music. But in the future, I'd like to extend it to other fields as well. For instance, you could identify a full song from just a few milliseconds of recording."

"Or reconstruct someone's whole face from just their eye," Kitty jokes.

"That's a creepy idea," Yvonne says, frowning.

"Hey, it could help the police," Kitty argues. "Imagine a security camera catches someone in a mask, but the mask doesn't cover their eyes. You could extract the eye details from the footage, and if the person is in a database, the program could match them to their full face."

"I'd still prefer it being used for music rather than faces," Yvonne mutters.

I shrug. "Anyway, Lily, it's a noble goal. I hope that once we're out of this situation, we can see you achieve it." I glance around. "Any other volunteers?"

"I'll go next," Kevin says, raising his hand. "I'm Kevin Shin, and I'm the Ultimate Marathon Runner."

"You run marathons?" Steve asks. "Why would you do that?"

"To win them," Kevin replies. "That's the whole point. Anyway, I was the youngest winner of the Boston Marathon. I also won the Chicago and London ones."

"So, you're in it for the competition?" I ask. "I mean, it's not much different from Steve wanting to become a champion in American football."

"It's a bit different," Kevin says, "but yes, I do like to compete."

"You've told me you're an outdoorsy type," I remind him, with a hint of concern in my voice. "And you seemed pretty tense when we were in Arthur's room. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm used to wide-open spaces," Kevin admits, glancing around the room. "The thought of running in circles down here, with no finish line in sight... It feels suffocating." He sighs and shakes his head. "But being locked in some underground facility has turned out to be the least of our problems," he points at one of the cameras. "We have Monokuma and months of memory gaps…" Then he looks back at me and nods. "I'm just pissed at the bear."

"We all are," Kitty smiles at him.

"Right," Kevin chuckles, raising his middle finger at the camera before putting his hand down. "This place sucks, but screw him if he thinks it's enough to turn me into a murderer." He crosses his arms and smiles. "Patience and consistency are what make a good marathon runner, and I never quit a challenge."

"Good to hear," I smile back at him. "So, what about your goals beyond escaping this situation?"

"I don't know," he says with a shrug. "I'd probably like to compete in more marathons. I haven't run the New York Marathon yet, for example. I'd also like to run the Berlin and Tokyo marathons."

"But have you traveled the world to run?" Miku asks. "It would be a great opportunity for you to see new places."

"I've been to some cities and countries because of marathons," Kevin says. "But honestly, I was always focused on the race itself, not the sights. I don't really enjoy sightseeing. I prefer running."

"You said you don't like sightseeing," I point out, tilting my head. "But maybe there's something else you're running from?"

Kevin's smile falters for a split second before he quickly recovers. "Maybe," he says, shrugging it off. "Or maybe I just really like running."

"Then what motivated you to run?" I ask, deciding to not push it further. "I get that you want to keep doing marathons, but is there a reason why they're your passion?"

"Not really," he shrugs. "I've liked it since I was a kid. I just enjoy running. And I'm pretty good at it," Kevin says with a small smile. "When I was a kid, my dad used to take me to the park every Sunday morning. We'd run laps together, and he'd time me to see how fast I could go. I guess it just stuck with me. It's when I feel most at peace." He sighs. "And I really like outdoors more than indoors."

"Seems pretty straightforward," I chuckle. "Ultimates are known for being a bit wacky, but you seem pretty down-to-earth."

Kevin shrugs. "I'm not sure what to say about that."

"Then I just have one more thing I'd like to ask," I say, maintaining a friendly smile. "Do you think you could outrun Monokuma?"

"Umm, I don't think so," he says. "He's a robot, after all. I have no idea what his speed is, but I'm sure he's faster than me, and he could probably run for much longer," he says with another shrug.

"But could you estimate his minimum possible speed?" I ask. "Based on his movements that you've observed. I'm not asking you to decide right now, but with some time for further study?"

"Well," Kevin says, thinking for a moment. "It's hard to say, but I guess it's possible, yeah."

"Good," I nod. "It's a skill we might need in the future."

"But what if Monokuma decides to chase one of us down, over such attempts?" Yvonne interjects, her voice tinged with fear. "He's not just a machine. He seems to enjoy making us suffer."

"That's why we need to be prepared," Kitty says calmly, meeting her gaze. "If anyone could estimate his speed and help us plan an escape, it's Kevin."

I look around, waiting for the next person to speak up. The ones who haven't spoken yet are Emma, Kent, Riko, Yvonne, Martin, Kitty, Naomi, and me, I suppose.

"I'll go next," Yvonne says. "I'm Yvonne LeBlanc, the Ultimate Sketch Artist. I was chosen as the Ultimate Sketch Artist because of my talent for drawing. I'm very proud of this talent, and I'm always trying to improve my skills."

"We've all seen your ultra-realistic portrait of Kent," I nod. "How long have you been drawing?"

"I've been drawing since I was a kid," Yvonne says, glancing to the side. "I had an accident when I was very young, and I was paralyzed below the waist. I had plenty of time to draw until I was cured a few years ago," she sighs. "Drawing was my escape," Yvonne says softly, looking down at her hands. "When I couldn't move, my pencil did all the running for me. It was the one thing that made me feel... free." But then she shrughs and smiles. „Since I'm cured, I've just stuck with the habit."

"You were paralyzed for most of your life?" I ask, clearly surprised.

"Yeah," she says, looking down at her legs and swinging them slightly. "Medicine is truly amazing these days, largely thanks to various Ultimates."

"A talented individual can impact the world tremendously," Martin nods with a brief smile. "It really shows our importance to the world."

"Right, Ultimates can be amazing," she smiles. "And yes, my sketch of Kent was pretty realistic. But I can draw in any style—cartoonish, realistic, hyper-realistic, or whatever the situation calls for."

"I noticed something while you were drawing," I say, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't look at Kent at all while sketching. Does that mean you have a photographic memory?"

"Um... not exactly," she replies. "I wouldn't say it's photographic," she explains. "But I can remember details pretty vividly for a few minutes, especially when I'm in the zone. It's like I can see the subject in my mind's eye as if it's right in front of me."

"And what are your goals, Yvonne?" Kent asks in a friendly manner. "You're really talented. Your sketch made me look better than any photo ever could."

She smiler happily to those words. "When I draw someone," Yvonne explains, "I try to capture more than just their appearance. I like to think about their personality, their mood. It's like putting a piece of their soul onto the paper. That's why I can draw without looking—I'm not just copying their face; I'm recreating their essence." Then she looks up. "I'm not entirely sure about the goal, though," she says with a shrug. "I think I'd like to become a professional artist, maybe work as an illustrator or something like that. But I haven't decided if I want to turn it into a full-time career." I notice her cheeks turning pink as she speaks.

"So, can your sketches help us out of this mess?" Kitty asks skeptically, crossing her arms.

Yvonne hesitates but then meets Kitty's gaze steadily. "Maybe not directly," she admits. "But if there's something we need to remember or recreate, I'll do my best to help."

"Drawing is a great talent," I say quickly to lower the tension, smiling. "I'm glad Hope's Peak recognized yours. It's a skill that seems to have many practical uses."

"What's your most famous drawing?" Miku asks. "Have any of your sketches been displayed in a museum or sold for millions at an auction?"

"Um, no," Yvonne replies with a chuckle. "But some of my drawings have been exhibited in galleries. I've sold a few sketches, though not for millions of dollars. I'm not that famous yet."

"I'm sure you're capable of creating a multimillion-dollar masterpiece, Yvonne," Miku says with a smile. "I just know it!"

"Maybe, but not right now," Yvonne says, shaking her head. "I still have a lot to learn. But thanks anyway, Miku."

"I'll go next," Kitty says. "I'm Kitty Kim, the Ultimate Criminologist."

"So, you study criminals and their crimes?" Miku asks, tilting her head in confusion. "I thought we already had an Ultimate Detective for that."

"No, I don't study criminals or their specific crimes," Kitty replies. "My job is to study criminal behavior and the reasons behind it. For example, why do people commit crimes? What are their motives? What are the causes and effects?"

"And what are your general answers to those questions?" I ask.

Kitty shrugs. "I don't have any. Every crime is unique, and every criminal is unique too. There are many different motives, reasons, and outcomes," she says, shrugging again. "You see, the subject is often politicized and oversimplified by the media to fit the narrative of the day. But the reality is far more complex, and solutions are not easy to find. You can't just lock everyone up or execute them. But at the same time, simply providing criminals with education or healthcare isn't enough to solve the problem. The proposed solutions often fail to address the root causes and don't effectively solve the issue."

"You sound like a centrist," I respond with a smile.

Kitty crosses her arms. "I'm not a centrist," she says. "But I'm not an extremist either. My job is to study criminal behavior, and I'm not interested in politics or the political games people play," she continues, shaking her head. "Some people commit crimes because of their struggles, while others do it because they enjoy it. I'm not saying one group deserves more sympathy than the other, but they definitely need to be treated differently. Solutions should be tailored to their individual needs and situations, not blindly applied." She raises her hand. "For instance, I once studied a case where two teenagers committed the same crime—burglary. One did it out of desperation, trying to help their sick parent. The other did it for the thrill. If you treated them the same way in court, you'd miss the opportunity to address their distinct underlying issues."

"In other words, you support a case-by-case approach?" I ask.

Kitty nods. "Yes. That's the most effective way to handle the problem. One-size-fits-all solutions don't work. The issue is that society doesn't like this kind of nuanced thinking. Politics often boil down to a sports team mentality, with two opposing sides trying to prove their superiority," she sighs. "And then there's the media, which is the least interested in uncovering the truth. No offense to Martin and Kurt."

"None taken," Martin says, waving his hand. He looks relaxed, even bored, but continues writing in his notebook. He's probably taking notes on everything being said.

"Same here," I say with a smile. "I don't think I'm above your criticism. But pluralism exists to allow people to hear multiple perspectives on an issue. And yours is quite valuable, Kitty."

"Thanks," she says, smiling. "I'm glad someone appreciates what I have to say. I hope that once we're out of this situation, I can share more of my thoughts with you."

"Not to interrupt the intellectual exchange," Emma interjects, raising a finger. "But I'm curious—what are your goals in life?"

"Goals in life?" Kitty repeats, shrugging. "I'm not sure. I suppose I'd like to continue my studies. The academy promised to help me develop my talent, so I expect they'll teach me more about criminology. And, of course, I want to get out of this place alive."

"You and the rest of us," Emma agrees.

"Still, you sound like you're making excuses for criminals," Steve remarks, crossing his arms. "Some people are just bad, plain and simple."

Kitty meets his gaze without flinching. "It's not about making excuses. It's about understanding why they do what they do so we can actually prevent it," she replies coolly. Then she looks to the side. "Once my talent is developed further, I'd like to start a program that focuses on early intervention," she admits. "Identifying at-risk youth before they turn to crime and giving them the resources they need. If we wait until people have already committed crimes, it's often too late."

"That's quite considerable," Arthur notices. "No offense, but I thought of you as more judgmental and suspicious of everyone."

"I'm tense, because I'm an expert at recognizing that calling this situation awful is an understatement," she sighs. "And you did an awful thing for awful reasons."

"Me and my entire nation agree…" he looks down.

"You must have some thoughts on the people behind this whole situation," I suggest.

Kitty smirks slightly. "I've got a few ideas," she says. "But I'd need more time to observe the behavior patterns here." She tilts her head. "Sociopathy and sadism seem like an obvious answer, but I don't want to rule out anything yet. Not that early."

Kent slowly raises his hand and sighs. "I guess I can go next."

"Then do so," I reply with a smile. "We won't bite."

Kent sighs again but complies. "Hello, everyone," he says in his usual calm tone. "I'm Kent Diamonde, the Ultimate Fashion Model. I was chosen as the Ultimate Fashion Model because of my good looks and my talent for modeling in front of a camera, and not just that."

"Are you also a fashion designer or something?" Martin asks.

"No," he replies. "But I'm a good fashion stylist. I can create outfits for others, and I'm also a good fashion critic."

"What made you interested in fashion?" Yvonne smiles. "Were you just picked by magazines for being pretty?"

"Besides that... Ironically, given my last name, I was born into a poor family," he sighs and looks up. "Like, wearing your older brother's hand-me-downs from dad poor. I had to figure out how not to look like a total embarrassment with what I had. Maybe frustration and envy aren't the best kinds of motivation, but," he shrugs. "It worked out for me."

"But now you have a more positive outlook, right?" Miku asks hopefully.

"I took off those rags years ago," he shakes his head. "And yet, I still feel them on me. This is why I can't stand doing live shows, and I feel uneasy around people." He smiles a bit. "I prefer photo sessions. I can see myself looking good right away. I enjoy curating the appearance of myself or others," he sighs and looks up. "But those rags are still there whenever I close my eyes."

"What is the difference between an Ultimate Fashion Model and an Ultimate Fashionista?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from his still-painful memories of poverty. "I've heard she's almost guaranteed to join the Japanese Division. Is it just a gender-based title difference, like Prince and Princess?"

"Umm, no," Kent replies. "The Ultimate Fashionista is essentially the Ultimate Fashion Designer. She designs clothes, models them, and wears them." He sighs. "I've heard of Junko Enoshima and her talent. She's a very gifted girl, and I admire her. I wish I could meet her someday."

"You're a fan of hers, then?" Emma asks, clearly curious. "Or do you just admire her work?"

"I'm a fan," he admits. "I've seen her work, and I think she's amazing. I'd love to meet her and talk about fashion." He smiles. "Junko's ability to blend chaos with elegance is what really gets me," Kent says, his eyes lighting up. "She breaks the rules, but it never looks out of place. I want to learn that kind of boldness in my styling." He nods, still smiling. "Not to mention, it's almost like she's predicting all the upcoming trends."

"Be careful," Miku adds with a slight smile. "As the saying goes, never meet your heroes."

"Why not?" Kent asks. "I'm sure she's a nice person, and I'm sure we could have a great conversation about fashion."

"I'm not implying anything," Miku replies, raising her hands. "But remember, I was scammed by people I thought were nice. So just take it as general advice: you shouldn't trust anyone blindly."

Kent frowns slightly. "I get what you're saying, Miku, but isn't it a bit sad to assume the worst in people?"

Miku shrugs, her smile fading. "Maybe. But it's safer that way."

"Anyway," Emma intersects, rising her eyebrows. "What do you think about my waitress outfit, Kent? It was designed by TV folks, you know."

"Emma," Kent says, glancing at her outfit, though his cheeks turn red a bit "I like the vintage look you're going for, but you might want to try pairing this dress with a shorter necklace. It'll draw attention to your collarbones and make your whole look feel more balanced."

"Besides meeting Junko and getting out of here," I say, "what are your goals, Kent?"

"To be a famous fashion model and a stylist, obviously," he replies. "And to make everyone look good. I'd like to create a fashion line that's affordable but stylish—something that kids in the situation I grew up in could actually wear with pride… And I want to forget my childhood," he sighs. "Maybe I should put my hands on whatever it is that erased our memories."

"We'll figure that out once we get out of here and have our tormentors imprisoned," I reply with a smile. "Anyone want to go next?"

"I'll go," Martin says. "I'm Martin Jimenez, the Ultimate Journalist. I earned this title because of my exceptional skills in writing articles and reporting on events. Not to mention, my ability to uncover hidden truths and bring them to light is unmatched."

"Is that why your ID number is 1?" I ask with a slight smile. "Because you're the best?"

"Indeed," he replies. "That's why I'm number 1. And that's why I'm the leader of this class."

"You're not the leader," Kitty retorts with a serious tone. "You have no authority to lead us."

Martin simply taps a pen against his temple and chuckles. "Soon enough, you'll see, my dear, that I am indeed the leader of this class," he says confidently, smiling at her. "Though, I do acknowledge you as one of the most capable among us. But every potential candidate is given a fair chance by me. You're still in the testing phase."

"Testing phase?" Miku raises an eyebrow.

"I'm gathering data," Martin says nonchalantly. "Figuring out who among us is a threat, who's a potential ally, and who's just dead weight. It's what I do best—uncovering the truth, even when people try to hide it. And a good leader must be aware of those things, especially in our situation."

"Martin, I don't think anyone is going to take your nonsense seriously," she responds. "You're not our leader, and you have no authority to lead us."

"My goal is to expose the truth," he says, ignoring her remark. "I grew up in a neighborhood where politicians promised change every election cycle," Martin says, his voice dropping to a rare, somber tone. "And every time, they took what little we had left. Maybe I started this job just to make them pay for their lies. And Kitty is right that the media often disregards the truth, but I've always fought against that. My articles are honest, and my interviews are direct and unflinching. No politician, businessman, criminal, or athlete is safe from my pen."

"Like those corrupt Congress members you exposed that made you famous," I comment, maintaining a neutral tone.

"Exactly," he nods. "They never expected a journalist to reveal their corruption and embezzlement. The American public didn't expect it either. I was even offered an award by a journalist organization, but I declined it."

"Don't act like the Pulitzer is beneath you," I say, rolling my eyes. "It's still the most prestigious prize for a journalist. No matter how good you are, you can't afford to turn it down. It's a recognition that will help you in your future work."

"Maybe," he says with a shrug. "But here's my take: even a child could have exposed that corruption. I objectively proved it by uncovering their lies. I didn't want an award for something so simple." He smirks. "Besides, awards are for those who crave validation," Martin continues. "I'm not here to be celebrated. I'm here to do the work others are too afraid to touch. If I wanted applause, I'd write puff pieces, not expose the rot at the heart of this society."

"Okay..." I say. "But speaking of your goals, how do you envision your future career?"

"I'll continue exposing the truth and fighting against corrupt politicians," he replies with a smile.

"But do you think every truth should be exposed?" I ask. "People have a right to privacy."

He shrugs. "Everyone has a right to privacy, but not everyone deserves to keep it. If a politician is stealing from the state budget, they don't deserve to keep it a secret. And I will expose it." He raises his pen towards Kitty and me. "I know that both of you have already uncovered a secret among this group and decided to keep it quiet. I agree it's harmless and can be ignored for now," he crosses his arms. "But let's see how you handle the next secret."

I muster all my willpower to keep my eyes away from Steve and focus on Martin. "Are you implying that someone we haven't questioned yet is hiding something dangerous?" I ask.

He shrugs again. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'm throwing you a curveball and actually referring to someone we've already interviewed. Either way, we should move on. I believe Riko should be next." He smiles and nods at Riko, inviting her to speak.

Riko sighs. "Okay, okay... I guess I can go," she says in her usual quiet voice, barely audible. "I'm Riko Christo... and I'm the Ultimate Memorizer."

"Ultimate Memorizer?" Kent asks. "What does that mean?"

"It means she can memorize anything and everything, obviously," Martin answers, giving Kent a look, as if he's being dense.

"Umm... yes," Riko replies. "I can remember anything and everything. I recall all the books I've read, the movies I've watched, and the songs I've heard," she sighs. "Except for what happened between our last memory and waking up here."

"Are you going to wear those headphones during every conversation?" I ask with a smile.

"I'm always listening to my audiobooks," she replies, looking up at them. "It's enough for me to hear them in the background, and then I'll remember them forever." She tilts her head. "Don't worry, I can divide my attention."

I look up while keeping an unbothered smile, but I think it would be more polite if she gave her full attention to the people she's speaking with.

"Since you're an expert on memory," I ask, "do you know how ours could have been erased?"

"Well," Riko pauses, as if deep in thought. "There's a lot of ongoing research on memory, but the results are inconclusive. I can't say for certain how it happened to us. Certain drugs, like benzodiazepines, can induce short-term memory loss, but they're not suitable for erasing long-term memories. There are other methods, like electroconvulsive therapy, hypnosis, or even brain surgery..." She sighs again. "There's also research on memory manipulation and implantation. But there are too many unknowns. So... I can't really help here." She looks to the side. "The scariest part?" Riko says, voice trembling slightly. "I've read every study on memory erasure. And I still can't figure out how they did this to us. It's... terrifying."

"Well then," I say, trying to lighten the mood, sensing her distress. "What's your first memory?"

"Umm... well... it's nothing special," she replies, raising her head. "I remember a bright white light, lots of people around me, and someone holding me. It was probably my mother. Then I recall being carried away, placed in a crib, fed a bottle of milk, changed, and put to sleep..."

I gape at her, unsure if she's joking.

"What are your goals, then?" I ask.

"Goals?" she repeats. "I... I'm not sure if I have any." She sighs. "I guess I'd like to help people with my talent. Maybe in a courtroom, an investigation, or a hospital. But I don't have any specific goals," she shrugs, looking down. "Everyone says my talent is amazing, but I feel like I was born too late. A century or two ago, it would've been useful. But today?" She shakes her head. "Technology can easily replace me. I don't feel useful in today's society. Sometimes I wonder," Riko murmurs, looking down at her hands, "if my talent is just a relic of a time when people needed to rely on their minds more. Now, anyone can Google the answer in seconds. Where does that leave someone like me?"

"I wouldn't say that," I respond. "Your talent has practical uses. It could be helpful in many situations, I'm sure." I scramble to think of an example. "Like... a restaurant might want to know if the new chef is better than the old one." Yeah, that sounds silly, but it's the first thing that came to mind.

Riko raises an eyebrow. "At least you're trying to be supportive, Kurt," she says with a shrug and another sigh. "But I'm not sure it'll make a difference. I appreciate the effort, though."

"The Academy must have seen potential in you," I reassure her. "I'm sure they have plans for your abilities."

"Have you forgotten the Academy was blown up?" Riko asks, her voice tinged with sadness.

"Huh?" I respond, confused.

She tilts her head, looking at me. "Monokuma said so," she explains. "He mentioned ending Mrs. Collins the same way her Academy was ended. Then he blew up her head." She looks away, her expression pained.

It hits me like a ton of bricks. "Jesus Christ," I mutter, putting a hand on my forehead. "Miku, give her a hug!" I say urgently.

Miku doesn't need to be told twice. She jumps up, runs around the table, and wraps Riko in a tight hug. When Miku wraps her arms around her, Riko stiffens for a moment. It's as if she's not used to being touched, to receiving comfort. She looks startled, glancing between Miku and me. Then, slowly, she relaxes into the embrace, her eyes closing as if trying to savor a rare moment of solace.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. "I didn't think about it."

"Neither did any of us," Kitty adds, standing up. "Sorry, Riko."

"Yeah," Miku sighs. "I just realized why you're so upset. I'm sorry."

Martin taps his pen against his forehead. "Empathy isn't my strong suit. I'm sorry, Riko. I didn't consider it either."

"Guys..." Steve scratches his head. "I'm lost. Why is Riko so upset?"

"Steve," Emma sighs. "You're such an idiot."

"No, wait," Yvonne interrupts, standing up. "I didn't realize it either. What's going on?"

"She has perfect memory," I say, closing my eyes. "And she witnessed Mrs. Collins..."

"...being killed in the most gruesome way possible," Kitty finishes. "Right in front of her."

"Oh shit," Steve mutters, looking at Riko. "I'm sorry, Riko. I had no idea."

"It's alright," Riko says quietly. "I'll be fine. I just... need time to process it. I've seen plenty of movies with similar scenes, but I never expected to witness it in real life." She opens her eyes and sighs. "I guess I was naive."

"Will you be okay spending the night alone?" I ask gently. "We could have someone stay with you."

"I'll stay with her," Miku offers. "I'll keep an eye on her."

"I'll help too," Lily adds, raising her hand.

Riko sighs. "I'll be fine," she insists. "Don't worry about me."

"I think we should move on," Miku suggests. "Who's next?"

"Naomi, go ahead," I say to her with a friendly smile. I realize she has spoken the least so far. She seems to be focused on something, but her gaze quickly returns to me.

"Me?" Naomi says. "I'm Naomi Williams, the Ultimate Survivalist. I can survive in any environment. In fact, I've done so many times before," she says with a smile.

"Where have you had to survive, Naomi?" I ask.

"Mostly in the wilderness, urban areas, and abandoned places," she replies. She then looks down. "I know how to survive in any environment," Naomi says, but then she pauses, her smile faltering for just a second. "But this... this is different. I've never faced anything like this before."

"It's not like some wild jungle, right?" I ask while nodding with understanding.

"Surviving in the wild is simple," Naomi reflects. "The rules are clear—find shelter, water, food. But here? It feels like a different kind of jungle. One where the biggest threat isn't the environment, but the people trapped in it with you. And we don't know how long we'll be stuck here," She raises her head. "Anyway, I was trained by my dad to survive in any situation, and I've done so many times."

"How did that happen?" I ask.

"My dad is a former soldier," she explains. "He served in the US Army in Afghanistan and Iraq. He was a survival expert, and he taught me everything I know. I've been training with him since I was a kid."

"Oh, that explains it," I say. "I was curious why you became a survivalist, especially since you mentioned you come from a wealthy family," I say, scratching the back of my head. "Is your dad a high-ranking officer?"

"He's actually a general," she replies with a smile. "I guess I'm lucky he was there for me. Not every father would teach his daughter to survive in the wilderness, urban areas, and abandoned places."

"Don't you think that was a bit..." I search for the right word, then decide to be straightforward. "Overprotective? I understand teaching your daughter to camp and shoot, but it sounds like he trained you to outperform professional soldiers."

Naomi shakes her head. "He didn't do it because he was overprotective. It was to make me stronger, so I could handle anything life throws at me. He taught me to be independent and not rely on anyone else to save me," she sighs. "He's seen war and witnessed people die, including children. He wanted to ensure I would survive, no matter what. I can handle any situation, no matter how tough." She shrugs. "I used to resent him," Naomi admits, a distant look in her eyes. "All those days spent in the wilderness instead of hanging out with friends... But now, I understand. He was trying to protect me the only way he knew how."

"Is that your goal in life?" I ask. "I get wanting to survive, but is it just about survival for survival's sake?"

"Umm, no, not really," she says. "I want to teach others to do the same—to be able to survive, no matter what. To take care of themselves and their loved ones without relying on anyone else for help. I've heard about the Japanese Academy and their Reserve Course. They have a survival course too. I want to teach people how to survive and how to provide their own food, water, and shelter," she says with a smile.

"What's the Reserve Course?" Steve asks.

"The Japanese Division of Hope's Peak Academy offers educational courses for ordinary students," Martin answers, writing in his notebook. "It's called the Reserve Course."

"So... they're not Ultimates?" Steve asks.

"That's correct," Martin nods. "They pay tuition to receive a Hope's Peak-level education. It's very expensive but, in a way, worth it."

"The Reserve Course is a great idea on paper," Naomi says thoughtfully. "But I wonder... how many of those students actually get what they're promised? It's easy to exploit people who are desperate to be seen as more than average."

"True," Miku says, looking to the side.

"Interesting," I say, pondering for a moment. "Naomi, do you think you could handle Monokuma on your own? He's a robot, after all."

"I don't know," she shrugs. "But I'm not sure if he could handle me either," she says with a smirk.

I smile at her. "Then we've got a chance," I nod and glance at Emma. "Anyway, what's your story?"

Emma smiles and stands up, stretching her arms. "I'm Emma Gerlach, the Ultimate Waitress. The Academy chose me because I have the best waitressing skills in the world," she says with a wink. "In fact, I even won a TV competition for the best waitress in America!"

"And you have your own TV show," I add with a smile. "You've turned waitressing into a spectacle."

Emma nods. "That's right," she replies, grinning. "And it's a popular show! I've even met some celebrities, and they've told me they're big fans."

I blink twice but maintain my composure. "So, what's your goal in life?" I ask.

Emma winks at me again. "To become a famous waitress and make a lot of money, of course."

I smile at her—a well-practiced smile. But something feels off. From the moment I first saw Emma, there's been something troubling me. It's not that she's hiding anything, but there's a sense that something is very wrong.

"Is something the matter?" Emma asks, tilting her head. "You've been staring at me for a while, and you're frowning."

"Ah," I respond. "Sorry, I'm just trying to figure out how a waitress, even one as spectacular as you, can help us here."

"Well," Emma says, pausing to think, "I can cook, clean, serve food, and entertain people with my singing," she laughs.

I glance to the side and notice Naomi. She's studying Emma closely, observing her hands, feet, hips, chest, and head. Her frown deepens as she examines every movement. I'm not sure if Emma has noticed this.

Then, my heart skips a beat. I finally realize what my subconscious has been screaming all along. Emma's shows, the spectacular performances that earned her a TV deal, all centered around her waitressing skills. One of her signature moves involves a table with plates set, but the cutlery—forks, spoons, and knives—are all holstered on her belt. She spins, her dress fluttering, and the cutlery flies from her belt, landing perfectly on the table every time, without bouncing off.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. Sitting across from her, I realize she possesses an incredible throwing accuracy, comparable to a trained marksman. She's not just a waitress.

I glance at the table in front of us. It's a large, oval, wooden table with a glass plate, a fork, a knife, and a glass in front of each person. My fork lies to my right. Could she kill us if she wanted to? No, she wouldn't—right? But she could. I glance at Emma, who is smiling at me. My fingers twitch near the fork. It's just a utensil, but in Emma's hands, it might as well be a weapon. I glance at Naomi; her eyes flicker, and she subtly adjusts her stance, ready for whatever might come next.

"Don't you think your shows are a bit absurd?" I ask, keeping my voice calm. "There's no way half of the things you do aren't special effects."

Emma smiles, picking up a fork from her left. She tosses it in the air, as if juggling. "You're right," she says, smiling wider. "There's no way I could do all that without special effects. I'm not a circus performer, after all."

Oh God. Her shows are performed live, witnessed by people who've written entire articles about their experiences. MY OWN MOTHER SAW HER LIVE! Naomi seems to understand too—she's staying silent, realizing the danger. Kitty, who earlier boasted about her fighting abilities, now appears worried. I glance at Martin, who is scribbling something in his notebook, a serious look on his face.

Let's stay calm. Even if Emma could kill us on the spot, she hasn't done anything yet. Her record is spotless. I smile at her, trying to appear relaxed. "I'm sure you'll show us how you do it without the special effects," I say casually. "Even if it's not as exciting."

Emma beams at me. "I'm sure you'll love it, Kurt," she says with another wink. "It's going to be great."

I look around the room. Naomi is silent, Kitty takes a deep breath and stares at her plate, while Miku and Lily are comforting Riko. Arthur and Yvonne, being foreigners, probably don't catch the subtext. Kevin is busy eating, and Steve is watching him. Kent looks worried, while Martin has a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Anyway, Emma," I continue with a smile, "your shows are truly spectacular. Do you have any new plans?"

"Yes," she nods. "I'm planning to open my own restaurant in Manhattan."

"No more questions," I say, raising my hands. "I suppose it's my turn now."

Suddenly, Martin slams his palm on the table, startling everyone. I close my eyes as the others turn to him. Emma raises an eyebrow at him, and he smiles back before addressing the room.

"It's a saying: 'Hit the table, and the scissors will make a sound,'" Martin says, placing a pen beside his head. "Does anyone know what it means?" He glances at me, then at Emma, before turning to Kitty. "Kitty, Kurt, please explain."

Kitty takes a deep breath and folds her arms. "It's a Polish proverb. It means when someone talks about a subject related to someone's guilty conscience, that person reacts suspiciously."

"Exactly," I sigh.

"Do you feel like someone is hiding something dangerous?" Martin asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Martin," Kitty interjects, "I think you should drop it."

"Do you have a death wish?" I mutter, shaking my head.

Martin stands and starts pacing around the room. "No, I don't have a death wish. But I won't let anyone hide something that could get us killed." He stops and looks at Emma. "Emma, I'm not accusing you of anything, but you need to be honest. No secrets," he insists.

Emma sighs, closing her eyes briefly before looking at me. "You're right. I shouldn't hide it. I'm sorry." She stands and moves to the center of the room, holding a spoon, knife, and fork. "I am the Ultimate Waitress," she begins. "But I could also be called the Ultimate Thrower."

She throws all three items. They fly toward the table, landing perfectly in their respective places. The spoon on the right, the knife, and the fork on the left, just like in an American restaurant.

"Holy fuck!" Kevin exclaims.

"Language!" Yvonne scolds him, but everyone is staring at Emma. Holy fucking fuck.

Martin leans forward. "You don't use special effects in your shows, do you?"

Emma sighs. "Not when I'm throwing cutlery. I just didn't want to cause a panic." She looks to the side. "I didn't want anyone to know," Emma says quietly, looking down. "I've scared people before. They look at me like I'm a monster, even though all I wanted was to make them smile during my shows."

"I get it," Martin replies. "But you're essentially like the comic book villain Bullseye, aren't you?"

Emma nods. "Yes, I am. I'm sorry."

"Are you serious?" Arthur asks, stunned. "Are you saying you could kill us with a spoon and fork?"

"No," Martin corrects. "She's saying she could kill us with practically anything she can throw." He turns to Emma. "Isn't that right?"

Emma nods again. "I'm sorry. I just want to help us survive this game."

Martin sighs. "Then we trust you. You haven't harmed us so far."

Kitty shifts uncomfortably, her usual bravado fading. "Well, it's good to know you can protect us," she says, though her voice lacks its typical confidence. Meanwhile, Kent swallows hard, eyes darting nervously between Emma and the cutlery on the table.

"Well…" Yvonne nervously smiles. "We shouldn't be prejudicing others over their abilities."

"R-right…" Lily adds, slowly stopping covering her face with her book.

People here seem to have mixed feelings. Some clearly prefer to hope that Emma won't do anything wrong, like she didn't earlier. Others seem still bit skeptical.

Martin addresses the room. "The silver lining is she could be our best defense against Monokuma if she gets a weapon. But we'll need luck to find light, sharp materials in the supplies."

Emma shakes her head. "I don't have superhuman strength. I can't make a plastic knife stick in a wall."

Martin nods slowly. "But I trust you, Emma. You've done nothing to harm us yet." He says so again, but there's a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a silent promise that he'll be watching her closely.

"Neither has anyone else," Kitty points out.

Martin sighs. "It's not by a choice, to be frank" he says, nodding at Emma, who bows her head. "Killing her is out of the question. But we'll trust her. Given she could probably kill us all on the spot and not bother with any Class Trial anyway," he smiles, though bit forcefully "It's a good sign she didn't try when most of us were unaware of it."

"So, who's next?" he asks.

"Me," I sigh, bracing for what's to come.

"I nearly forgot about you," Martin says, raising his hand. "Kurt Blake, the Ultimate Interviewer. You've interviewed the President and became famous, but you were just randomly picked from a group of school journalists. Still, you have good people skills, a decent level of intelligence, and an impressive poker face—since almost nobody noticed you were close to losing your shit in front of Emma," Martin smiles at me.

"Just get to the 'but' already," I say.

"But it seems you don't know the difference between telling people what they want to hear and what they need to hear," he continues. "So I'll give you a chance—tell us the difference."

"You tell people what they need to hear when you want to help them," I say, closing my eyes. "You tell people what they want to hear when you want to help yourself."

"Very good," he replies, smiling at me. "I see you understand this well, but it seems you can't apply it. Why? Do you lack the backbone?" he asks, shaking his head.

"I'm not the only one who saw through Emma," I say calmly. "Kitty and Naomi realized what she was up to as well. I was pretty sure you knew it too," I sigh. "I preferred to discuss things with you all first so we could decide what to do about it together. I didn't want to risk escalating the situation."

"Because you couldn't have done what I did," he replies. "You couldn't have talked her into confessing. If it weren't for me, we'd either still be in the dark or, in the case of the three of you, trembling in fear. That could have led to someone doing something reckless," he points at Emma, who is looking away. "Look, she was also in the dark about how we felt about her. She thought if we knew, we would turn against her. And do you think she was too naive to realize you wanted to talk to us behind her back? She was scared of being exposed, which could have led her to panic and escalate things herself."

"I get it," I say slowly. "You're showing why you're the leader, not me, just like you said during introductions."

"Yes, but there's more," Martin says, placing his pen beneath his chin. "Has it crossed your mind that you could use your talents to make us like you more?"

I flinch. I don't even need to say anything for him to notice.

"You have, haven't you?" he asks with a smirk. "Well, it's not a crime. It's human nature to want others to like us." He glances left and right, then looks up at the ceiling. "You were the one who told us we should act with limited trust, right?"

"Right," I say.

"How does that apply to your acts of kindness?" he asks, looking at me. "Giving us good advice, following Steve when he walked away alone, comforting Arthur about his dishonor, telling Miku she's not responsible for the misfortune around her, comforting Riko, and so on?"

I take a deep breath. "You should know that, ultimately, all of this could be self-serving," I admit.

Martin shrugs. "Maybe, but even if you're a manipulator, at least your advice is good." He looks at the rest of us. "I'm not claiming to be more trustworthy than any of you. You should be aware that me deescalating things with Emma could also be self-serving."

"Well," I say, looking at him. "I appreciate you doing it anyway."

"You're welcome," he replies. "The thing is, we either need leadership or we don't. The follow-up question is: if we need a leader, who should it be?" Martin looks at me and then at the class. "I believe it should be me, and I think I've proven that today. But you're free to disagree—I can't force you into anything."

"I get your case against me," I say. "What about Kitty?"

"She's proven to be reliable," Martin says. "She could make a good co-leader and has a strong grasp of the situation. However, in the long run, I think she might end up like you," he glances at Kitty and sighs. "No offense, but you also thought of holding secret emergency meetings behind Emma's back."

"No offense taken," Kitty replies, then looks at the others. "Anyway, I agree with you, Martin. I won't take charge, but I'll still act independently when I feel it's necessary."

"We should all strive to act independently," Martin says, nodding. "But we also need to cooperate when the time is right." He looks at the rest of the class. "Any objections?"

No one speaks. Martin smiles. Naomi's eyes narrow slightly as she studies Martin, a flicker of distrust crossing her face. Meanwhile, Kevin scratches his head, a slight frown on his lips. He isn't sure he likes the idea of following orders, but right now, he can't argue with Martin's logic. On the other hand, Arthur nods, clearly impressed. A visible approval from a royalty seems to convince the group further.

"Then it's settled. I'll be the leader of our class, at least for now," he says. "If you want to question my decisions or have suggestions to improve our situation, you're free to come to me anytime. I'm your leader, but not a tyrant."

"Sure," I say. "What's our plan of action, then?"

"Rest," Martin replies. "We've done all we can for now, and we're exhausted. We need sleep. Tomorrow, we'll meet and discuss our next steps. As Arthur suggested earlier, meetings at 8 am and 8 pm are a good idea, but until we figure out our plan, we should focus on surviving day by day."

"Sounds good to me," I say, shrugging.

"We should also stick to Kurt's rule of traveling in groups of at least three," Martin adds. "I know it's annoying, but it's better to be safe than sorry, at least until we're sure no one will try anything. But, after what happened with Emma, we can be pretty confident no one is planning anything."

"Fair enough," I say. "But we can't be sure no one will change their mind."

"I agree," Kitty adds. "We shouldn't travel alone or in pairs."

"How does everyone else feel about it?" I ask.

"Groups of three, huh?" Steve mutters, rubbing his chin. "Feels like we're admitting someone might turn on us any second. Doesn't sit right with me." He exchanges a look with Kent, who nods slowly, his expression unreadable.

Miku raises her hand. "I'll keep an eye on Riko tonight," she says. "I can sleep with her if that makes you feel better. I'll stay with Lily in Riko's room tonight."

"Please do," Martin says. "It's for everyone's safety." He turns to Riko. "I don't see you as weaker than us, but you're our age and have just witnessed a horrific murder. It's normal to suffer from PTSD, depression, or anxiety. If you ever want to talk, just say the word—we'll listen."

Riko sighs. "I guess that's the best I can get," she says. "But I'll be fine. I just have to deal with it."

"I'll keep an eye on her anyway," Miku adds, smiling at Riko, who smiles back weakly.

"Does anyone else have anything to say?" I ask.

No one speaks. "Then I suggest we head to bed," Martin says, nodding. "Tomorrow, we'll discuss our next steps. Good night, everyone."

It is past 9 p.m., and I am standing in my bathroom, looking in the mirror and thinking. I stare at my reflection, and for the first time today, I let myself feel it all—fear, anger, the gnawing sense of helplessness. My hands tremble slightly as I brush my hair back. I can't let them see me like this, but here, alone in my bathroom, I can't hide from it.

God, that was one hell of a rollercoaster of a day. I hadn't even realized how much time had passed. So much has happened, and so many people have introduced themselves to me, sharing their stories. I'm surprised I managed to remember all that information.
After taking a shower and brushing my teeth, I sit at my desk and jot down the details in my journal.

Arthur's idea of properly introducing ourselves was a good one. It helped us get to know each other better, and I'm glad everyone cooperated. It even led to several bombshells being dropped on us. Arthur's past crime against his sister, which has left him dishonored. Miku's tragic loss following her lottery win. Steve being blackmailed into hiding his talent, though we managed to keep that one under wraps. Riko's obvious struggle with having a perfect memory in a killing game—something we were too dumb to realize right away. And last but not least, Emma's... bullseye-like throwing skills that she was hesitant to show off, for obvious reasons.

I have to give Martin some credit for taking charge, though. He called me out for my lack of backbone and was able to get Emma to confess. It was a risky move but a calculated one, considering we already knew about her skill. He was also aware that she wouldn't kill us all on the spot and that trying to feign friendliness with her could be even more dangerous than confronting her directly. He took on the responsibility of doing this, and even though I wasn't the only one who realized Emma was dangerous, I was too much of a coward—or perhaps too much of a diplomat—to act.

I guess I'm not so decisive in extreme situations. Meanwhile, Martin openly declared he was going to take the lead in our ongoing crisis and showed us why he should.
I guess I never stood a chance of taking his spot as the Ultimate Journalist. I wonder what our relationship was like during the time we can no longer remember. If I had to guess, he probably schooled me. Repeatedly.

Speaking of forgotten relationships, there's also Miku, the girl who sat next to me on the school bus. She's really cute, and nice, and somehow manages to be both tragic and cheerful. I wonder if we became friends... I won't deny she's my type. She's also a very interesting person. I can definitely see myself wanting to date her. If we were a couple, it makes me hate even more whoever has reduced us to strangers and robbed us of our shared memories.

When Miku smiled at me earlier, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—recognition, maybe? I can't tell. But it felt like she knew me, the real me, for just a second before it vanished. Did she feel it too, or am I just desperate to believe we had something more than this twisted game?

I take a deep breath. Considering the purpose of this place... Yeah, I don't even want to go there.

I lie on the bed and look at the stupid camera in the corner. I know Monokuma is watching. I know we won't be able to do anything without him seeing it.
I turn around so I can't see it and try to sleep.

I close my eyes, but sleep doesn't come. Instead, a parade of worst-case scenarios floods my mind. I see blood, hear screams—imaginary yet so vivid I have to force myself to breathe slowly, to remind myself it hasn't happened. Not yet, anyway.

I am turned away from the camera, but I can still feel its cold gaze on my back. I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but as I drift off, one thought echoes in my mind: If I want to survive, I need to start making decisions—real ones. And soon.

I am standing on a stage, in front of thousands of cheering people. I have just won the election and become the president of my country. The crowd is ecstatic; they love it.

I raise my hands in victory, and the cheers grow even louder. They are joyful because I have promised to make their lives easier, better, and safer.

As I step off the stage and walk through the crowd, people continue cheering and clapping. I shake hands, hug them, and smile. I feel a surge of happiness—I am the president, a leader, a hero.

Suddenly, the crowd parts, and I see someone approaching me. She walks gracefully. She is beautiful, and I feel an immediate attraction. I want her.

She comes closer, hugs me, and kisses me. I embrace her, kiss her back, and smile as I feel her body against mine. She smells like flowers—sweet and captivating.

She pulls away slightly. "I love you," I say, and she laughs. She is so beautiful, so alluring, that I can't help but love her.

She leans in and whispers in my ear, "Such despair..." Her voice is soft. "Such despair..." Then she kisses me again.

I wake up.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, my heart races, my hands are sweaty, and I am breathing heavily. What was that? A nightmare?

I get up, walk to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and look in the mirror. I'm still trembling. I can hardly recall the details of the dream, but for some reason, I can't stop thinking about it, even after waking up. It feels like I've been dreaming about a woman I loved and lost. Yet something inside me insists that there's more to it—that there's a reason this dream bothers me so much, and that I shouldn't dismiss it.

I glance at the clock. It's 6 a.m. I've slept for seven hours, but I'm unsure why I woke up so abruptly.

I head to my desk and decide to write this down in my journal. I need to monitor my mental health, and documenting my dreams is part of that process.

"Day 1," I write. "Some sort of nightmare about a woman I loved and lost, I guess. Can't remember much else. Somehow, it feels like something terrible has happened—like the world has been destroyed."

I read over my writing. It doesn't make much sense to me. I don't recall any specific details, just a vague feeling of catastrophe from the dream. It lingers like smoke, curling into the corners of my mind. The sense of loss is overwhelming, like standing on the edge of a cliff and watching the world crumble beneath me. It feels real, as if somewhere out there, something has already been broken beyond repair.

I close my notebook and start exercising. I do some push-ups, sit-ups, stretches, and squats. I'm not a fan of sports; I prefer using my mind. But I know that to maintain good mental health, I need to stay in good physical shape too. Exercising also helps clear my head.

There's still an hour and a half before our meeting. Most people are probably still asleep, and I was the one who insisted that we shouldn't walk around alone. I suppose I'm stuck for at least another hour. I sigh and glance at the books in my collection. I decide to read one on survival. I grab it and lie back down to read.

It is past seven o'clock in the morning when the doorbell rings. I stand up from the bed and put the book down on the nightstand. I've read about a quarter of it so far. I've learned that the most important thing in a survival situation is not to lose your cool. The most dangerous thing is to panic. You have to focus your mind on things you can control, not on what you can't. I kind of knew this already, but it's always reassuring to have your knowledge validated.

While reading, I glanced again at the memo I found in the book earlier, written in my handwriting: "You have to betray if you want to trust." This cryptic message, echoing Monokuma's words, left by my forgotten self, remains a frustrating mystery.

I ponder for a moment about the risk of opening the door here. At this hour, everyone should be awake. However, I forgot to check if the rooms are soundproof. Still, it's a bit too late in the morning to commit murder right in our living area.

I open the door to see Miku standing there. "Oh," she says. "Good, you're already awake." She glances at the book in her hands. It's titled The Art of War. I raise an eyebrow.

"It's not mine," she explains quickly. "Well, it kind of is now since I took it from my room before moving to Riko's, but I don't remember buying it."

I smile. "I'm not judging. I'm reading a survival book," I say, gesturing towards the book on the nightstand. Miku looks at it and nods slowly. Behind her, I notice Riko and Lily have joined her. They seem to be in better spirits than yesterday.

"Morning, Kurt," Riko greets, still with her headphones on.

"Good morning, girls," I smile. "How are you feeling?" I ask, looking Riko over.

"Better," she replies with a small but sincere smile.

"I'm glad to hear that," I say, returning her smile before turning to Miku. "So, any reason for you three visiting me this morning? Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"Riko wanted to thank us for keeping her safe last night. And you suggested we keep her under watch," Lily explains and smiles at Riko. Riko blushes and nods, and I smile in return, while Lily continues: "So, we thought we'd come by to say hi and invite you to breakfast."

"Thank you," Riko says softly. "I really appreciate it. I'm sorry for being so much trouble."

"It doesn't seem like Miku and Lily are complaining," I reply with a grin. "Nor am I. And sure, I'd love to join you for breakfast."

"Yay!" Miku cheers, smiling at Riko and Lily.

I close the door behind us, and we start walking towards the dining room. On the way, I glance at The Art of War in Miku's hand.

"Any particular reason you brought it with you?" I ask.

Miku nods. "It's a quick read, and I'm almost done with it. I figured I could finish it during breakfast and then put it back in my room."

I nod slowly.

"Besides..." Miku pauses, tapping her chin. "Kurt, about your survival guide..."

"What about it?"

"Did you find a handwritten note in it?"

I stop, surprised. "You did too?"

Miku nods and opens her book, showing me a note taped inside: "You have to betray if you want to trust." It's the same message I found in my survival guide.

"Betray if you want to trust," Miku reads aloud. "What do you think it means?"

"I have no idea," I say, looking at Riko and Lily. "Did you two find a similar note in books you didn't bring from home?"

"Yes," Riko says. "Mine was in Introduction to Psychology. It was the only book in my room since I mostly listen to audiobooks."

"Mine was in a history book about the United States," Lily adds.

I sigh. "So we all found the same message in different books, written by ourselves during the time we can't remember." I start thinking, chewing on my thumb.

Riko's eyes widen, her hand trembling slightly as she grips the edge of her sleeve. "So, we all wrote this... even though we don't remember," she whispers, her voice barely audible. Miku's grip tightens on The Art of War, her knuckles turning white. "But why would we leave ourselves a message like this?" Riko mutters, almost as if speaking to herself.

"I discovered my note before moving to Riko's room," Miku explains, with tense expression. "I asked her to check her books, and she did."

"After waking up, we went to my room," Lily continues, "to see if I had a similar note."

"I see," I nod. "I thought I was the only one who left myself a secret memo. I found it before yesterday's meeting but didn't mention it because I wasn't sure what it meant."

"Should we ask the others about this?" Lily wonders, glancing at us.

"We should bring it up during the meeting," I sigh. "But we also need to warn everyone not to dwell on it too much."

Riko looks confused while Lily frowns. "Why not?"

"Think about it," Miku says, looking at the note and then at the others. "These are the same words Monokuma used during our introduction to this school." Riko and Lily gasp. "If we wrote them to ourselves during our lost memories, it's possible we knew Monokuma's plan and tried to prepare ourselves."

"To prepare for a killing game," Riko whispers.

"This is exactly what Monokuma wants us to believe!" I exclaim. "He wants us to think we are the ones responsible for this game. But all we know is that these notes seem to be written by us. For all we know, they could be the work of an Ultimate Handwriting Forger. We can't let this mess with our heads."

The girls look at me with wide eyes but then relax a bit. "You're right," Riko says. "We can't let him manipulate us."

"But we still need to inform everyone," Miku insists. "We can't keep this secret, even if we shouldn't let it consume us."

"Yes, but we shouldn't make a big deal out of it either," I agree. "Monokuma knows about these notes and is probably watching our reactions. This is a trap, and we shouldn't fall for it."

Lily nods slowly, then looks at Miku and me. "You two should bring it up at the breakfast meeting. You have the most experience and the best chance to convince everyone that the notes are a trap but not to be ignored."

Miku looks surprised. "Why us? Shouldn't we all talk about it together?"

Lily shakes her head. "No. You two understand the situation best. You're more equipped to guide the conversation and help everyone see the bigger picture."

Riko nods in agreement. "I don't think I can handle another emotional rollercoaster right now," she admits.

"Then it's settled," I say with a smile. "Let's enjoy our breakfast and wait for the others. We'll bring up the notes during the meeting."

As we walk towards the dining room, I can't shake the feeling of eyes boring into my back. I glance up at the surveillance cameras, their red lights blinking like watchful eyes. He's watching us, and I feel a chill run down his spine. He's waiting to see how we react.

We arrive at the cafeteria, taking our usual seats and waiting for the others. Miku and Lily are engrossed in their books, while I'm in the kitchen, watching Riko and lost in thought. She's making us breakfast.

I wonder what she's thinking right now. Riko has a perfect memory and recently witnessed a murder. I can't imagine that being an easy experience for anyone, especially someone who can recall every detail vividly. I'm glad Miku and Lily were with her last night. They don't seem to have had bad dreams or anything, but still, it's better to keep Riko's mind occupied.

"Do you like cooking, Riko?" I ask.

Riko looks up from her pan of frying eggs. "I do," she nods with a smile. "It helps clear my head. It's a good way to relax."

"Good," I reply, smiling back. "You must have memorized tons of recipes then."

She chuckles and shakes her head. "I don't need to memorize them. I just know them," she says. "I can remember everything I've seen, heard, or felt."

"Wait," I raise an eyebrow. "Does that mean, just by tasting food…"

"Yup," she smiles, flipping the egg with a spatula. Placing it on a plate, she looks back at me and grins. "Just by tasting the food once, I can tell you exactly which ingredients were used and in what amounts—as long as I've tasted those ingredients before and remember their flavors," she explains, shrugging. "If it has some exotic spice I've never had, then I wouldn't know."

"Wow," I say, genuinely impressed. "And you're worried your talent isn't useful? You're practically a genius."

She sighs. "I'm not a genius. I'm just someone who remembers things," she says, flipping the third egg. "I can't solve complex equations or even draw a straight line," she adds, tilting her head. "Remember Lily's program?"

"The one using artificial intelligence and algorithms to identify books from a single torn page?" I ask. "What about it?"

"I could do it too," she shrugs, "but only for books I've read before. When I'm fully focused, my reading speed is ten times that of a regular reader, and I can recall any part of it. But that's it."

"You can read ten times faster and remember everything you've read?" I ask, astonished.

"I read about 2,380 words per minute," she continues. "A typical hundred-page book has around 25,000 words, so it would take me roughly 10 minutes to finish it."

"Wow," I reply, amazed. "That's incredible."

She flips the last egg, turns off the gas, and places her hands on her hips. "It's impressive, sure, but when you consider modern technology, it's not that special," she says. "These days, every book is digitized before it's printed, including every translation and edition. A computer can download any book in any language in less time than it takes a human to read a page," she explains. "No matter how fast I read, I can't keep up with the sheer volume of information available to computers."

She looks at me, her smile fading. "And that's just one way I'm outmatched by modern technology. Computers can process data in far more sophisticated ways and at much higher speeds…"

"We don't have access to computers around here, Riko," I interrupt. "We don't have a better source of memory and information than you."

She pauses, then nods. "I suppose that's true. But I'm still not a genius. I'm just a walking encyclopedia," she says, sighing. "And even then…"

"An encyclopedia wouldn't be able to identify ingredients and their amounts just by tasting food," I point out. "You're underestimating yourself by comparing to advanced machines. Compared to us, your memory and analytical skills are unmatched."

Riko picks up the plates, sighing. "Maybe my memory is unmatched, but I don't think my analytical skills are," she says, handing plates to the others. "I couldn't even qualify as an Ultimate Analyst…"

"Oh?" I ask, carrying two more plates. "Is it like when Martin and I were competing for Ultimate Journalist? Was someone else chosen as the Ultimate Analyst?"

"No," Riko replies, shaking her head. She sets a plate in front of Lily, who smiles at her in thanks. "The Academy is still searching for one. They considered me a candidate and tested my analytical abilities," she explains, placing a plate on Miku's desk.

"And you failed?" Miku asks.

Riko nods, sitting down and avoiding their gazes. "I failed the tests," she admits. "The Academy had two criteria: the ability to analyze and the ability to synthesize data," she continues. "I could analyze data, but I couldn't synthesize it. I couldn't make conclusions based on what I had seen, heard, and read. I couldn't identify patterns."

"In layman's terms?" I ask. "Can you explain how the Academy determined you could analyze but not synthesize?"

Riko nods, taking a bite of her fried egg before continuing. "The first test involved studying recordings of students using their talents. I had to observe and then replicate their actions," she explains.

"Did you manage to replicate them?" Miku asks.

Riko nods. "Yes, I could learn and reproduce their actions just by watching."

"That sounds like a genius to me," Miku remarks with a smile.

"Maybe," Riko sighs. "But the second test required me to develop a new technique based on what I saw in the recordings. I wasn't just supposed to replicate the actions—I had to create something new."

"And you couldn't do that?" Lily asks, surprised. "I don't blame you. That sounds like an unrealistic expectation."

"The tests were grueling," Riko admits, her eyes distant as if she's reliving the memory. "They placed me in a room full of monitors, showing clips of other students performing their talents. I watched as an Ultimate Sculptor shaped marble with perfect precision, as an Ultimate Pianist played a flawless concerto," she pauses, taking a deep breath. "They expected me not just to replicate their skills but to take what I saw and push it further. To innovate. But I couldn't. I froze."

"Lily is spot on, this was unreasonable," I chime in, starting to eat. "The Academy set impossible standards for an Ultimate Analyst. They should have given you the title after the first test, Riko, instead of expecting something no one could achieve." I take a sip of my glass and give out a dismissive snort. "It's like finding something with a half of capabilities of the Philosopher's stone, and throwing it away simply because it lacks the other half."

"Half of a Philosopher's Stone?" Miku raises an eyebrow.

"Something that can transmute gold but can't grant immortality," Lily explains. Miku nods, understanding.

"Right," I agree. "Imagine an alchemist finding such a stone but discarding it because it isn't the mythical true Philosopher's Stone. You're a living miracle, Riko, and it's absurd that the Academy dismissed you for not being as perfect as something that doesn't even exist."

"Thank you," Riko smiles softly. "I'm still not convinced about being a genius, but it's nice to have friends who support me, even when I doubt myself."

"Or when your self-doubt gets ridiculous," Lily adds with a smile.

Riko blushes, looking between us. "I'm glad I met you all," she says.

"Do you think we've had this exact conversation before?" I ask, stretching in my chair. "In our forgotten past."

"I believe we have," Miku replies with a warm smile.

We finish eating our breakfast, and Riko starts putting the dishes back on the counter. Meanwhile, others begin arriving at the cafeteria, greeting us as they enter. Emma is the first to arrive, followed by Martin, Kitty, and Yvonne.

Emma and Yvonne are chatting and laughing together, while Kitty and Martin seem to be discussing something serious. I notice Emma is wearing her waitress uniform. Her long blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail, making her look quite cute and attractive. It almost makes you forget that she's likely the most dangerous person in this room, and probably in the entire Academy.

Martin, on the other hand, looks like a stereotypical journalist with a notebook in hand. Kitty is wearing the same long brown coat she had on yesterday. It reaches the floor, covering her legs and shoes, concealing her figure entirely. Yvonne is dressed casually in a black hoodie with a zipper and blue jeans, and she seems to be in a very good mood.

"I see you've already finished breakfast," Kitty observes as she approaches us, smiling and nodding at Riko, Miku, and Lily. "How did you sleep, ladies?"

"I had a good night," Miku replies with a smile. "Riko was a bit nervous at first, and I think she had some trouble sleeping. But we talked a lot, and she eventually calmed down," she adds, glancing at Riko.

"Glad to hear it," Martin nods before moving toward the kitchen to start preparing food. Emma and Yvonne follow him.

"Good morning," Arthur greets us with a wave, and we greet him in return. He's wearing the same fancy clothes as yesterday. "I hope everyone slept well?"

Arthur is accompanied by Naomi, Kevin, Kent, and Steve, all dressed in the same outfits as before. They greet us and head to the kitchen.

"Good morning, everyone!" Steve shouts enthusiastically. He's in his football uniform, looking like a typical jock, but his wide smile suggests he's excited about something. "Guess what I found in my room!"

"An old football?" Miku asks, shaking her head and looking away, back at her plate.

"Nope! Something much better," Steve grins as he pulls a magazine from under his shirt. "It's an American Football magazine! I found it in my drawer, and it's from after the time we remember!" He nods, still grinning. "But that's not even the best part!"

Miku and I exchange glances. We both know what the best part is but decide to let Steve continue.

"The best part is," he says, "it has a hidden note inside. It's written in my handwriting, but I can't recall writing it!"

"Something about having to betray in order to trust?" I ask with a sigh.

Everyone goes still, staring at Steve and me. Steve looks at me, puzzled.

"Yeah..." Steve nods slowly, raising his eyebrows. "How do you..."

"Miku, Riko, Lily, and I also found similar notes," I explain, glancing around. "Did everyone else find them too?"

"I did," Arthur confirms, pulling a small book from his coat pocket. "I found a note in a book about character archetypes in stories."

"Martin and I found notes in our books as well," Kitty nods. "We compared them, and they all had the same message."

"Betray to Trust?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes, and they were all in books we don't remember bringing to the Academy," Martin adds.

"I found one too," Yvonne chimes in.

Emma's smile falters for a split second, her fingers lightly brushing over the hem of her apron. She glances away, her eyes momentarily clouded with an unreadable expression. "I haven't checked my books," she says, her voice softer than usual. "Sorry..."

"It's okay," I reassure her. "It just means we were all supposed to find these notes."

"I found one in a book about the history of firearms," Naomi says, nodding.

"And I found one too," Kent confirms.

"I didn't," Kevin frowns. "Probably because I don't read books. I didn't bring any with me to the Academy."

"But do you have any books in your room?" I ask.

He pauses. "Yeah, just one. I haven't checked it yet. I'll look later."

I nod and then address everyone. "So, it seems we were meant to find these notes."

"That's why they were placed there in the first place," Martin agrees, crossing his arms. "In books we don't remember owning."

"Isn't that exciting?" Steve exclaims, still holding the magazine. "We were meant to find them! They're messages from our past selves, from a time we can't recall!"

"Steve," Kitty sighs, "have you thought about those words? 'You have to betray if you want to trust?'"

Steve scratches his head, clearly puzzled.

"Monokuma said those exact words," Martin explains. "I planned to discuss this after breakfast. It could be a trap set by Monokuma, or it might genuinely be a message from our past selves. Either way, we can't ignore the possibility of it being a trap or a real warning."

Steve's grin fades, replaced by a look of genuine confusion and hurt. His hands tremble slightly as he grips the magazine, the excitement draining from his face. "I... didn't realize that," he mumbles, staring at the ground as if it might hold the answer he's searching for.

"Don't worry, Steve," Martin smiles reassuringly. "No one's accusing you of anything. We're glad to see you so enthusiastic about discovering something new," he says, patting Steve's back. Then his expression turns serious as he looks around. "But we have to stay vigilant. Let's be careful."

"Maybe it's a warning," Miku suggests, her brows knitted in thought. "Like, we're supposed to be cautious about trusting each other."

"Or it's an instruction," Kitty counters, her tone icy. "Like we have to betray someone in order to find out who we can truly trust." The room falls silent at this, a heavy tension settling over the group as the weight of her words sinks in.

Martin sighs before adding, "For now, let's finish our breakfast." He heads toward the kitchen, and the others follow.

The mood remained tense, with little conversation. It seemed everyone had a lot on their minds, especially regarding the notes. I wondered what they were all thinking and how they interpreted the notes, considering they were written in each of our handwriting. Once everyone finished eating, I decided to cut to the chase.

"Here's my take," I say. "Those notes are Monokuma's forgery. He simply wants to mess with us."

"Maybe," Martin nods, glancing at me, "but maybe not."

I look at him as he turns to the others.

"Let's assume the notes are fake and part of Monokuma's game," Martin begins, then looks back at us. "What's the goal of this game? Why would he give us these notes?" He pauses, waiting for someone to respond, but no one does. Martin nods and continues. "To make us believe that we are responsible for the killing game."

"Exactly," I say, crossing my arms. "That's the only explanation. There's nothing else Monokuma would want us to believe. But it's absurd—we shouldn't buy into it."

Martin nods, lost in thought for a moment.

"I agree," Riko adds. "It's the most obvious conclusion. Monokuma is trying to manipulate us into thinking we're the ones who set this up, that we agreed to participate."

"Right," I say, scanning the room. "But we shouldn't fall for such obvious manipulation. We can't let ourselves be controlled by a robot bear."

"Maybe," Miku replies hesitantly, tilting her head as if unsure what to say. "But what's the alternative?"

"Alternative?" I ask.

"An alternative explanation for the existence of the notes," she clarifies.

I pause. "Other than us actually agreeing to participate?" I sigh. "At first, I thought it might have been a hint left by my past self... something vague enough for Monokuma to let it slip by unnoticed."

"Like what?" Miku raises an eyebrow. "What would the 'past you' have wanted to tell the 'present you'?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe something about how to survive this."

"That could work if only one of us found a note," Kitty points out. "But all of us found one."

"Maybe we all sensed something was coming and tried to prepare," Miku suggests. "And Monokuma let it slide because the message was vague enough for him to think we wouldn't figure it out."

"That's possible," I agree, sighing. "But the wording matches exactly what that bear said, so I'm inclined to believe it's not anything good."

"Maybe it's a prank," Arthur suggests with a shrug.

"A prank?" I repeat, deadpan.

"Yes," Arthur explains. "Maybe one of us, or someone else, slipped the notes into our books as a joke. And then Monokuma used it against us, trying to manipulate us into believing we're responsible."

"Perhaps," Martin acknowledges, raising a hand to his mouth, thinking. "But there's this thing called bias."

"Bias?" Arthur echoes, confused.

"We're biased toward believing in our own innocence," Martin explains. "It's hard to even consider the possibility that we might be guilty or have agreed to participate."

"You're not suggesting we are our own worst enemies, are you?" I ask, incredulous.

"No," Martin replies, shaking his head. "I'm just saying we shouldn't dismiss any possibilities outright, even the uncomfortable ones."

"Survival means preparing for the worst," Naomi nods. "If you aren't ready to face the worst-case scenario, you won't survive when it happens."

"Kitty, you examined Mrs. Collins' body," Martin says, looking at her. "We all know she was killed by a sticky arrow bomb. But did she have any other injuries? Signs of struggle?"

Kitty is silent for a moment, then sighs. "Yes. Her wrists were bruised, and there were traces of blood and skin under her nails. She had a few other bruises as well."

"Which means she was restrained," I conclude.

"Do any of us have signs of struggle on our bodies?" Martin asks, looking around. "We all took showers yesterday, right?"

Silence fills the room as everyone exchanges uncertain glances.

"I see," Martin murmurs, staring at the ground. "No one noticed anything unusual." He then looks at me. "Did you notice anything unusual, Kurt?"

I blink, confused at first, but then I understand his point. "Martin, just because we didn't struggle doesn't mean there weren't kidnappers. They could have used knockout gas on us."

Martin sighs. "I'm not saying we're behind this," he clarifies. "I'm just saying we have to be ready for that possibility."

"Mrs. Collins was kept in poor conditions for months," Kitty adds, and Martin nods.

"Right," he agrees. "But we don't show signs of that kind of mistreatment. We're in better condition than she was. We've all seen our bodies; we look fine. I'm just trying to be objective here."

"I get it," Arthur says. "But we're just speculating."

"True," Martin concedes. "But if the possibility exists, we need to do one thing."

"And what's that?" I ask, already dreading the answer.

"Establish our allegiance," Martin says, leaning back. "Kitty, as an Ultimate Criminologist, what level of sociopathy would it take to set up something like this?"

"Extremely high," Kitty replies. "Just the way Mrs. Collins was killed—it's straight out of a comic book villain's playbook. Akin to the Joker."

"Even I know this one," Arthur intersects, looking down.

Martin nods thoughtfully. "If, and I mean IF, it were just one of us with such tendencies, the Academy would have likely caught it during their selection process. But if it's all of us, then it must be something that changed after we arrived—a shared experience that altered us." He says, and then he pauses again, and looks at us. "It'd not be our nature that was responsible for it. It'd be the result of a nurture that we have all shared in the time that is now forgotten to us." Martin finishes his thought.

"So you want to establish allegiance," Arthur notes.

Martin looks at him, and then at everyone in turn. His eyes are tense, bit of fearful. But he finally nods, and then he stands up.

"I, Martin Jimenez, swear that I am not knowingly responsible, nor aware, nor in league with anyone behind this killing game. I speak as the same person as the one I was before arriving at the Academy. I pledge allegiance to a peaceful and civilized society, even if it costs my life. And I ask you all to make the same pledge."

Martin looks around. Nobody says a thing. They all look at each other, including me. A bits of my nightmare from tonight flash before my eyes. A vague dream of a heroic triumph that felt like a world ending catastrophe. I take a deep breath and stand up.

"I, Kurt Blake," I begin, "swear that I am not knowingly responsible, nor aware, nor in league with anyone behind this killing game. I speak as the same person as the one I was before arriving at the Academy. I pledge allegiance to a peaceful and civilized society…" I nod slowly, taking a look at everyone around. "Even if it costs my life."

I look around, and I see that the rest are still hesitant. But then Miku stands up. She is smiling, but she seems nervous, and she is blushing. But then a sudden resolve appears on her face.

"I, Miku Noone," she says and pauses, to take a breath. She briefly looks around, but then nods and continues. "I swear that I am not knowingly responsible, nor aware, nor in league with anyone behind this killing game. I speak as the same person as the one I was before arriving at the Academy. I pledge allegiance to a peaceful and civilized society," She smiles. "Even if it costs my life."

Slowly, one by one, the others stand and make the same pledge. Arthur, Lily, Naomi, Riko, Kitty, Yvonne, Steve, Kevin, Emma, and finally Kent.

Martin looks around and smiles. "Thank you. I hope we never have to fulfill that promise, but if the time comes to choose a side, we must stand against whoever is behind this game. Be that even us." He crosses his arms and sighs. "As the Ultimates, it's our duty to not turn rogue and become some sort of monsters." He sists back on his chair. "Being behind this game is worse than even cracking and killing in order to escape."

I look at Martin, impressed. He is a natural leader, and his words give us a sense of unity. I glance to the side, as I realize that he also wanted to give it to himself. By hearing us all repeat the oath. He seriously was considering the worst case scenario.

Could I be not the only one… who had a bad dream tonight?

"Now, we should discuss how to proceed," Martin continues. "We need to find a way out of here, but we also have to identify who is responsible for this," he says, looking directly at me. "Kurt, yesterday, you and your group explored this underground school. Which areas did you visit, and what did you find?"

"Well," I begin, "besides the gym, our living rooms, the entry hall, this room, and the kitchen, we also found an infirmary, a bathroom, a storage room, a janitor's closet, a room with a large monitor, an auditorium, and 14 identical classrooms."

"We searched the gym thoroughly yesterday, as well as the entry hall," Kitty says. She sits beside Martin on the opposite side, looking at me and nodding. "We didn't find any exits there, nor did we find anything useful to combat Monokuma. We can consider the storage room and the janitor's closet as one, and exclude our living rooms. That makes a total of 21 rooms."

"We should move in groups of at least three," Miku adds, looking around. She sits next to me. "It's safer that way, and we can cover more ground simultaneously."

Martin nods and then looks at us. "We can split into four groups, with one group having four people," he suggests. "The group of four will cover six rooms, while the others will handle five each. One room per hour. We'll regroup at the cafeteria for dinner to share our findings."

"I agree," I say, crossing my arms and leaning forward. "So, who goes where, and who pairs up with whom?"

"I want to go with Kurt," Miku says, glancing at Martin before blushing and looking away. "Just because..."

I smile, feeling the same way. She's both a nice and interesting person.

"We won't be deciding who goes with whom. We'll do it quickly and fairly," Martin states, shaking his head. He takes his notebook, rips out a page, and tears it into 13 pieces. He writes a number on each piece, folds them, and drops them into an empty glass. "Everyone, pick a paper."

We all take a piece. I look at mine—it's number 3.

"Number one," Martin announces. "Raise your hands."

Lily, Naomi, and Yvonne raise their hands.

"Number two," Martin continues.

Emma, Arthur, and Kevin raise their hands.

"Number three," the Ultimate Journalist says.

I raise my hand, as do Miku and Kent. Miku giggles when she sees we are in the same team.

"I guess I am the Ultimate Lucky Student, after all," she smiles and winks.

Martin raises his hand. "Number four," he calls out.

Riko, Kitty, and Steve raise their hands.

"Alright," I say. "We have our teams." I glance at Miku, who smiles and nods, clearly excited. I feel the same, though I try to stay focused. Kent, however, seems distant, lost in thought. I turn back to Martin. "But what about the rooms? How do we decide who goes where?"

"Let's see," Martin replies. "Team four will take five classrooms, while the others take three each. Check the classrooms where you first woke up. Team four will also handle the storage room and the janitor's closet. Team one will take this room and the kitchen. Team two will cover the infirmary and the bathroom. Kurt, your team will explore the monitor room and the auditorium."

"Sounds good," Arthur nods.

"Alright, everyone," I say. "Let's get moving. We'll meet back at the cafeteria for dinner and share what we've found, agreed?"

"Agreed," Martin confirms with a nod.

I turn to Naomi and her group. "Don't forget to check the fridge," I remind her, recalling how Monokuma entered the kitchen. She nods in acknowledgment.

We all head out. I make my way toward the monitor room, with Miku and Kent following behind. I glance over at Miku as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Despite her smile, there's a hint of nervousness in her eyes. We're all trying to put on a brave face, but the uncertainty of what we might find—what we might learn—hangs over us like a dark cloud.

But I can't quite read what Kent is feeling, as he is trailing a few steps behind. He remains quiet and introspective, giving away nothing. Well, he is the gloomy one, but… I think something is bothering him.

"Remember to take notes on everything you find," Martin calls out. "Secret passages would be great, but we also need to document everything in each room."

We begin in the first of our three assigned classrooms, starting with the one where I woke up. We enter and look around. I didn't really explore it much the last time I was here. It's a standard classroom with a blackboard, a teacher's desk and chair at the front, and several rows of desks and chairs facing forward. There's also a storage cabinet, some lockers, and a trash can in the corner. As expected, there are no windows, just some cameras and a turned-off monitor.

The search reveals a standard set of equipment. The storage cabinet contains chalk, a ruler, a pointer, and a few other teaching tools. The desks and lockers are empty, as is the trash can. It doesn't seem like a specialized classroom—no signs of a chemistry lab, biology lab, or computer room. Just a generic classroom with no distinguishing features. We search it thoroughly but find nothing out of the ordinary, nor any secret passages or hidden compartments.

Despite this, we are supposed to search each room for at least an hour, so we continue. I decide to check the lockers again and open the one closest to the entrance. It's empty. Just as I'm about to move on to the next one, I hear something—a faint, clearly frustrated sigh coming from Kent.

"After this, we'll head to the monitor room," I say. "Let's switch things up instead of doing three classrooms in a row."

I glance at Miku and Kent. Miku smiles and nods. She's sitting at a student's desk, staring at the blackboard, lost in thought. Kent stands near the entrance with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on me. His silent stare is unnerving.

"Kent..." I say. "I know this situation is stressful, and nobody would blame you for struggling with it. We all are," I add, looking at him. "But bottling things up isn't healthy. It's better to talk about what you're feeling."

Kent's gaze remains cold and distant. "I'm fine," he says.

For a moment, as Kent glares at me, I feel a shiver run down my spine. His eyes are dark, unreadable. It's probably just the stress getting to me, but I can't help but wonder—what if he's hiding something? But I shake my head. It's not the time for paranoia, when the clear issue is with the morale.

"Are you really, Kent?" Miku asks, tilting her head as she looks at him.

"Yes," he replies, his expression neutral and unchanged.

I sigh. "You seem bothered by the oath we took earlier. You were the last one to agree, after all."

"I felt pressured by everyone already having made the oath," he says, his face contorting into an angry frown. "I didn't have a choice."

"We all have a choice," Miku says calmly.

"Sure," Kent snarls. "But if I'd refused, it would have been like admitting I was the traitor—or at least, in cahoots with whoever is behind this."

"Not taking the oath wouldn't make you a traitor," Miku insists, standing up and walking over to him. "I know it felt overwhelming, but it was the best idea Martin could come up with under the circumstances."

"Really?" Kent raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"I understand why Martin didn't want us to dismiss the memos as mere fabrications," I say. "Considering we have no obvious signs of being kidnapped or held captive, it's not entirely unfounded to think we might be involved in this somehow. It's absurd, but ignoring the possibility won't help us in the long run."

"I just don't see the point," Kent mutters.

"Think from Martin's perspective," Miku explains, "He's an elitist, but he genuinely cares about the world. For him, the idea that the Ultimates could be behind something as monstrous as this killing game is unacceptable." She pauses, still smiling gently. "Whether he's a good guy or not, we can understand the sentiment."

"Yeah," I nod. "Martin wants us to grasp the seriousness of the situation. The thought of Ultimates, who are supposed to shape the world, going bad? Even if it's a slim possibility, it's not a joke," I sigh. "I agreed with him because it felt real to me in that moment—the responsibility of not becoming a monster."

"Monsters aren't born; they're made," Miku says, looking at Kent. He still seems unconvinced.

"I get that," Kent shrugs. "But it doesn't change the fact that I was forced into that oath."

Miku's smile falters for just a second, her gaze shifting to the blackboard. "It's just... I get it, Kent. I really do. This whole situation is overwhelming," she admits, her voice softer, almost as if she's talking more to herself than to us.

I cross my arms and look at him. As an Ultimate Fashion Model, he probably doesn't see his talent as particularly dangerous. Even those with physical prowess, like Kevin, Naomi, and Steve, could be seen as more of a threat. Miku might be lucky, but her ability to win lotteries could fund dubious activities. Yvonne could forge any artwork, Lily could hack into national databases, and Kitty, Martin, and I hold significant societal roles. Arthur, disgraced or not, is still a prince, and Riko's genius has unparalleled potential. And Emma... I don't even want to imagine her going bad.

But Kent? His talent is his good looks and a keen eye for fashion. The worst he could do is become a propaganda poster boy. Maybe if someone like Junko Enoshima went rogue and designed uniforms for a twisted cause, he'd be a problem. But that's so far-fetched I don't blame him for seeing the oath as unnecessary.

"The oath isn't about giving up our lives if we turn out to be the culprits," I tell him. "It's about being willing to stop ourselves if it means saving others. Even if there's a dark side lurking within me, I believe I can get ride of it. Then, we can walk out of here free."

Miku nods. "The oath isn't about accepting our deaths. It's a promise not to become the monsters behind this."

Kent is silent, deep in thought. His expression softens a bit, though he still seems unsure.

"Listen, Kent," I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Surviving this is hard enough. Adding the fear of becoming a monster on top of that? It's a lot. But look at it this way: whoever put us here, you want to stop their sick plans, right?"

"Of course," he replies.

"Good!" I smile. "The oath just reinforces that as our top priority. Survival is important, but it's not like we are turning into murderers for the sake of it, right? Martin wanted us to draw a mental line between us and whoever's behind this."

"Right," Kent nods slowly. "I guess it makes sense. It's better to know what you're fighting for." He looks down. "But it's still overwhelming, this whole situation. "

"It just sucks, what can we say," I smile to him. "But we can't give up. Even if it's just to spite whoever's doing this to us," I say, looking at both him and Miku. They smile, and I feel a bit more at peace. "Let's finish searching this classroom, then head to the monitor room. After that, another classroom, the auditorium, the last classroom, and then dinner. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!" Miku replies, excited.

"Yeah, that's the plan," Kent nods.

I nod back and move towards the lockers, ready to continue our search.

We finished searching the rest of the first classroom and moved on to the large monitor room. The room features a big monitor on the wall, with several rows of chairs facing it, resembling a small movie theater. There are no windows here either, but there is a door in the corner leading elsewhere. The room is equipped with cameras and a smaller monitor off to the side.

I approach the door and open it. Inside, I find a small room with a projector, a control console, and a few other devices like a VCR player and a DVD player.

"Hey," I hear Kent's voice. I turn around to see him entering the small projector room, followed by Miku. They both look at me. "What do you think we should do?" Kent asks. "Should we check out the projector, or watch a movie?"

"Maybe there's some kind of clue in a movie?" I suggest, uncertain if it would work. "Or perhaps the projector itself hides a secret."

"Or maybe we're supposed to watch the movie first, and then use the projector as a hint for what's going on," Miku adds with a smile.

"I mean, the room is pretty empty except for the monitor and the equipment here," I say. "Let's see if we can turn anything on."

I approach the control console and try to turn on the projector and screen. I manage to get them working, but they both turn off again shortly after. I try once more; they stay on for a few seconds before shutting down again.

"What's going on?" Kent asks, looking puzzled.

"I'm not sure..." I reply.

"Maybe you're turning them on incorrectly?" Kent suggests.

I shake my head. "No, it doesn't seem like that. They work fine initially but then shut off on their own," I pause, thinking. "Maybe it's a security measure. It could be programmed to turn off if there's no proper disc inserted."

"Or perhaps we need to turn on the projector and the big monitor in a specific order," Miku suggests with a smile.

"That could be it," I nod. "Let me try."

I switch on the big screen first, then the projector. Surprisingly, it works. The screen displays an empty desktop of the projector's operating system. It looks like a standard OS with a file explorer and a few unfamiliar program icons.

"Well," I say, "we should have Lily check this out. She's the most knowledgeable about computers among us."

"Right," Kent agrees, nodding. He looks around, approaches the VCR and DVD players, and examines them. "Hmm..."

"What is it?" Miku asks, moving towards him. I join them, curious about his discovery.

"Both have a slot for inserting a disc," Kent says.

"So?" I raise an eyebrow. "They're a VCR and DVD player."

"But they also have disc slots," he points out, glancing at the projector. He then opens the DVD player drawer, takes out a disc, and looks at us.

"Are there any movies?" I ask.

"No, just discs," Kent replies.

"Are they blank or do they have something on them?" I inquire.

Kent hesitates. "I'm not sure. They could have something, but we can't tell just by looking."

"We could try inserting a disc into the projector," I suggest.

"Let's do it," Miku nods eagerly.

"Alright," Kent agrees, inserting a DVD into the projector's drawer. I approach the controls and start the disc. The big monitor changes to a black screen with white text: "Insert the password."

"Great, it's password-protected," I sigh, glancing at the others.

Kent sighs loudly, rubbing his temples. "A password? Of course there's a password. This feels like a wild goose chase," he mutters.

Miku frowns but then forces a smile. "Maybe we're not supposed to figure this out just yet," she says, though her voice wavers. "Maybe we need more clues first." I glance at her, noticing her fingers tapping nervously on the desk. Even the ever-optimistic Miku is feeling the pressure."Maybe the password was on a DVD cover," she speculates, "but we don't have the cover."

"Let's first check if there's a character limit," I say, typing a few random letters. The password field accepts them all. "No limit. So we have endless possible combinations and no hints, except that it's a VCR and DVD player."

I sigh. "I think it's best to ask Lily to see if she can run a brute-force program on this."

"Right," Kent nods and glances around the room. "So, what now? Do we keep examining the projector?"

"I'm not sure," Miku responds, then looks at me.

"Two of us can check the walls and such," I suggest. "One of us can look through the computer folders for any text files. I wouldn't risk running any other programs without a computer expert, and ours isn't here."

"Okay," Miku agrees with a smile. "I'll check the computer, if Kent is fine with that."

"Go ahead," Kent nods.

We get to work. Miku sits in front of the projector, while Kent and I search the room. We spend an hour combing through everything but find no hidden passages, clues, or anything noteworthy. The room seems empty, aside from the big monitor, the VCR, and the DVD player. As for the computer, Miku finds a few text files, but they're just manuals for using the system and some other unimportant documents. No valuable information or clues appear.

After an entire hour passes, I tell everyone to move out and search the next room, which turns out to be another classroom. It's similar to the previous one—desks, chairs, a blackboard, the teacher's desk, lockers, the ever-present surveillance cameras allowing a sadistic bear to watch our every move, and turned-off monitors. At first glance, there's nothing unusual.

"This is the one I woke up in," Kent says, glancing around the room.

"I see," Miku nods.

"Yeah," he replies, walking over to the lockers. He opens the one in the corner, staring at it for a few seconds before closing and reopening it repeatedly. "Huh..." he mutters. "I think there was something in here, but I'm not sure..."

"What was in the locker?" Miku asks, moving closer.

Kent opens it again and pauses, deep in thought. "I'm not sure... It was dark. I think there was a book," he says. "Or maybe a notebook." He furrows his brow. "I don't really remember. It was dark, and I was confused. I didn't pay much attention at the time." He sighs and adds, "The locker caught my interest because it was wide open, but back then, I still thought this was a normal school. I just closed it after checking what was inside."

"Alright, let's search this room," Miku suggests.

I nod and approach her and Kent. I peer into the locker. It's empty, but there are traces of dust inside. I glance around and notice the rest of the lockers are clean. In the corner of the room, there's a trash can, and a few books lie in the storage closet. I look back into the locker; there are marks on the shelf, as if something had been dragged out and then taken away.

I pull out my notebook and jot this down. "So, what's in those books?" I ask while writing. Once I finish, I close my notebook and survey the room.

"Nothing special," Kent replies. He's looking through the storage cabinet with Miku by his side. She glances at the cabinet, then at the trash can. "Geography and history books," he adds, pulling one out. "And a few math and physics ones." He puts it back. "Nothing interesting."

"A bit disappointing," Miku says.

We spend another hour searching the classroom thoroughly, but find nothing of note.

"Too bad you didn't take that notebook with you when you had the chance, Kent," I sigh, giving up on this room. "But I get it; waking up here must have been disorienting." I cross my arms. "Are you sure you didn't take anything from that locker with those traces?"

Kent thinks for a moment. "No, nothing. I was confused. I remember putting in my hand into an open locker and feeling around inside," he says, shaking his head. He looks at Miku, who's still examining the books. "I felt something like a notebook, but I didn't take anything."

"Alright..." Miku responds. "Let's continue the search."

"Yeah" I nod. "But Kent, when we were all gathering in the main hall... How many people were already there when you arrived?"

"Hmm," he pauses, deep in thought, then looks up at me. "I think I was the tenth person to enter."

"And nobody left until we all did together, right?" I ask.

"Yes," he nods. "Everyone just gathered, and no one left until we decided to check the gym together."

"Who was the next person to enter after you?" I inquire, looking aside.

"Riko," he answers. "She came in soon after me. Then you, and then..." he nods toward Miku. "Her."

"Right..." I say, crossing my arms, keeping my voice calm. "There's still a chance that Monokuma came in and took something."

"Right..." Miku agrees, scanning the room again. "But we searched this place thoroughly. If there was anything else, we would've found it. Let's move on to the next room."

She steps out of the classroom, followed by Kent. I watch them leave, shaking my head with a sigh before trailing behind.

I can almost hear Martin criticizing me for being indecisive and avoiding a clear problem...

The auditorium has a stage with a curtain, a central podium, and chairs with tables. There's a large screen in one corner, a few rows of chairs arranged like in a theater, a projector at the back, and a smaller monitor on the side. There are also cameras, but no windows, of course. This time, we noticed something curious. A thin slot or slit runs around the floor of the stage, making it seem like the stage might be a moving platform. However, we couldn't find any way to control it, so it could just be a decoration or something like a trapdoor without an obvious mechanism to open it. Or perhaps there's a hidden mechanism we're missing.

"I'm kind of curious how deep it goes," I say, looking at the stage and the slit surrounding it. "I think the last classroom had a ruler longer than the height of the stage; it might still reach down there."

"I'll go get a ruler," Kent offers.

"No," I say. "We have to stick together, remember?"

"Right, right..." He nods, sighing. He looks around thoughtfully, then turns his gaze to the chairs and tables. "Maybe we could use a table leg?"

"Too short and too thick," I reply, scanning the room. "The ruler is our best bet. We just need to go back to the last room together and get it." I glance at the slot again.

"Alright, let's go," Miku nods. "It's nearly the last place for today, and it's almost dinner time."

"Yeah," I reply, heading toward the door, with the other two following behind.

We retrieve the ruler and push it down into the slot. It goes all the way in before we pull it back out.

"Hmm, I guess we need another way to see what's down there," I say. "It goes deeper than the stage is above the ground."

"Right..." Miku mutters, glancing around.

"Hey, guys," Kent speaks up. "Do you think there's a way to move the stage? Maybe there's something here that could help us."

"Like what?" I raise an eyebrow. "There's no control panel in sight," I say, scratching the back of my neck as I look at the stage again. "This thing might go down rather than up, and it looks spacious enough for all of us. Maybe it's an elevator?"

"Maybe," he muses, looking at Miku and me, "but if that's the case, it doesn't seem to be working. We can't use it even if it is an elevator."

"Class Trials are supposed to happen somewhere," Miku says, eyeing the stage. "Maybe they take place below it. But we have no way of getting down there, so it's pointless to speculate."

"True," I agree, sighing. "Let's just hope we never end up down there if it's for the Class Trials." I cross my arms, deep in thought.

"What is it, Kurt?" Miku asks.

"I was thinking about the motive," I reply. "Why would the mastermind want us to kill each other?"

"I don't know," she says, shaking her head.

"I have a theory," Kent interjects, pausing for a moment. "Maybe the mastermind holds a grudge against Ultimates and wants to prove that we aren't special. Maybe this game is being broadcasted over the world."

"Huh," I say. "That fits the narrative. This whole game seems designed to push us into committing murder. It might also explain the gruesome murder of Mrs. Collins, the face of the Ultimates Program in the U.S."

"Maybe," Kent nods, though he looks unconvinced.

"It's just a theory, but it's the best one we have so far," Miku adds, smiling. "But how does it tie in with the possibility that we're behind it?"

"I don't think it does," Kent replies. "We rather wouldn't use ourselves as the example of failing Ultimates. It's rather stupid."

And then the dream, the nightmare, flashes in vague fragments before me again. A heroic triumph that is in fact a world ending catastrophe… Could it be?

"Right..." I say slowly and blink twice. Then I smile in a well-practiced way. "These two theories clearly clash with each other."

"Kurt," Miku says with a smile, "didn't you tell Kent earlier that we shouldn't bottle things up?"

"True," Kent acknowledges, looking away.

I glance at Miku and cross my arms. "Be careful about encouraging me to share my thoughts," I warn her. She just smiles back, undeterred. Damn, she is good. I look up, giving up here. "Not talking about issues is different from not sharing crazy, unsupported theories. Especially if you prefer to unthink them."

"Keeping theories to yourself in a killing game isn't wise," she explains, still smiling.

"Fine, fine, I get it..." I sigh.

I step onto the stage, feeling like it's appropriate to be this dramatic about it. Then I turn towards them. Kent scratches his back, while Miku gives me an encouraging smile.

"Let's assume everything we've heard is true. The Academy was destroyed, killing everyone except us and Mrs. Collins, until Monokuma murdered her. And we are behind this killing game, with rules designed to show that Ultimates can break under pressure. Are you following?"

Kent nods, though he still looks doubtful. Miku looks excited. "Yes, Kurt, please continue," she says.

"So, in our forgotten past, we became psychotic and decided to kill all the other Ultimates and staff but not ourselves. The issue is that as the only survivors, we'd be the prime suspects."

"Right..." Kent replies slowly, frowning. "But what about the motive? The one behind the rules?"

"The motive is fake," I say. "The purpose of this game isn't to show the world that we are going to crack. If that were the goal, why would we erase our memories? Couldn't we just act it out? Or better yet, kidnap some other students and make them break down in front of cameras?" I cross my arms. "We'd have no reason to run a game just to prove that the Ultimates will fail. But we might have a reason to run a game that pretends to be about that."

"What would be the purpose of that?" Kent raises an eyebrow, looking at me and then at Miku. He seems unsure. Miku, on the other hand, is watching us intently, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Think about it," I continue. "We're the prime suspects. How can we evade all suspicion?" I point towards the camera in the room. "By making ourselves the victims! By convincing the world that we are forced to participate in this game by some evil mastermind who wants to prove that the Ultimates aren't special and can crack under pressure."

Kent shift uncomfortably upon those words. He starts getting where I'm going with it. But Miku only listens in silence, remaining calm and focused on me. Regardless, I go on. I clench my fist and bring it to my face.

"To make it believable, some of us will die," I utter through my teeth. "As the psychos we no longer remember being, we'd find that acceptable. But not everyone is meant to die. And I doubt we'd want one of us to emerge as a murderer." I spread my arms. "No, this game is designed to be won by a group of us. The plan is for us to beat the game, so the survivors can blend back into society, free from suspicion!"

"Wow..." Kent mutters, his expression shifting to a frown as he processes the idea. "That's..."

"Brutal," I sigh, with my fists clenched, trying to take a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Genius," Miku says, clearly impressed.

"NO, THAT'S BULLSHIT!" I shout at her. I pause, taking a deep breath. Miku smiles, unfazed by my outburst. Kent looks startled. "Sorry for that. I just really don't like this theory." I glance away, then back at them, focusing on Miku. "And I already see a flaw in it."

"What is it, then, Kurt?" Miku asks, tilting her head with a smile as she waits.

"It's right in front of you," I say, raising my hand. "If this theory is true... I've just ruined the entire plan by spelling it out."

"Right..." Kent nods, frowning.

"I could believe everything I just said," I continue, raising my hands. "Except for the fact that, if this were true, we would have sabotaged ourselves. We left those memos that led us to suspect we might be the masterminds behind this killing game." I chuckle, relieved at the absurdity of it. "In this theory, those memos serve no other purpose than to immediately sabotage the plan. That's why what I just said makes no sense at all."

"True," Miku agrees, nodding as she looks to the side. "Your theory has one glaring hole: those memos. It would be a suicidal move on our part." She smiles, watching us with a satisfied expression. "But admit it, Kurt—you don't like this theory because it's too horrible, right?"

"I mean, yeah," Kent admits.

"Yeah..." I murmur, uncertain, glancing away.

"I understand, Kurt," Miku says gently. "It's a brutal and cruel theory. But it's still a possibility," she adds, smiling. "You have to acknowledge that, even if you hate to."

"A possibility with one huge flaw," I remind her, growing annoyed.

"Maybe there's something we're overlooking that could patch the hole?" Miku suggests, tilting her head. "Maybe the memos still fit into the theory somehow?"

"Like what, Miku?" Kent asks, looking at her.

"I don't know..." She shakes her head and glances around. "I'm not sure, but it's worth considering. Maybe we're missing a part of the puzzle," she says with a smile.

"Maybe," Kent concedes. "We could be missing something."

"Or maybe this theory is wrong, and we should stop considering it," I argue. "Because if we seriously entertain this idea, then..." I close my eyes. "None of us deserves to live."

"Kurt," Miku says, stepping up onto the stage. "You're forgetting one thing. The oath you swore," she reminds me with a smile.

"I'm not forgetting," I shake my head and look down. "But... Miku, if all of this is true... what are we supposed to do?"

"Stop ourselves from becoming monsters, of course," she says confidently. "We can do it. We have the strength to fight the evil within us, if we believe in it. And think about it this way..." She taps a finger on her chin. "Assuming this theory is true and you've just ruined the plan, how does that change things for the rest of the world?"

I'm taken aback. I look at her, then move my head side to side, studying her.

"The world has been warned," I say. "Even if we go through with the plan and some of us escape to blend into society... it won't work anymore. The world won't trust us."

"Right," Miku nods, still smiling. "So no matter what the truth or motive is, the best thing to do is to not kill each other and to survive. We don't need to worry about the rest. Our focus should be on surviving. And if we are behind all of this, we should survive to make amends and prove that we can overcome our darker selves."

I blink a few times, my mouth slightly open. Then I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

"The most important thing in a survival situation is to keep your cool," I say slowly. "The most dangerous thing is to panic. We have to focus on what we can control, not on what we can't."

"Right," Kent agrees. "We should focus on surviving."

"Yes, that's the right approach," Miku says, smiling as she looks at both of us and then glances to the side.

I look around, thinking. It's a bit reassuring that if this twisted theory of us being behind everything is true, then our forgotten selves' plans have just been thwarted. I sigh. Though, this would mean we're getting arrested the moment we leave this place.

Whether or not we're responsible, we might be blamed anyway. If the mastermind is someone else, they'd love to see us taking the fall. That might be why Monokuma didn't punish me for revealing this theory. The memos could easily be forgeries meant to make us accept the blame.

Still, the possibility that we're the culprits can't be ignored. Denying it would only haunt us, like giving us nightmares as our subconscious tries to process the guilt.

I sigh. "Let's focus on something other than the stage for now," I say. "We still have time before moving to the last classroom."

"Alright," Kent agrees, though he seems deep in thought, still pondering the theory I just presented. He doesn't seem convinced, but he isn't dismissing it either.

As for Miku... she looks satisfied. Almost like she found the answer she was hoping for.

I sigh again. She'd make a great actress, I think. But I suppose that doesn't matter now. Better to just survive, at this point.

We have finished searching the auditorium without any results, aside from confirming that the stage is some kind of platform that can descend. However, we haven't found the mechanism to control it, so it's not a particularly helpful discovery.

We move on to the last classroom, the one where Miku woke up. It's a standard classroom with rows of desks and chairs facing the teacher's table, a large blackboard, a storage closet, a trashcan, and no windows. And, per the universal standard, with cameras and a turned off monitor.

Miku walks over to a desk, smiling.

"This is where I woke up," she says, still smiling and clearly excited.

"Right," Kent nods, looking at the desk. "And then you met us."

"Yep!" Miku nods enthusiastically. "I went straight from here to the entry hall."

I tilt my head, crossing my arms. The classroom I woke up in is the closest to the entry hall among the three of us, while Kent's is the farthest. This one is in between.

Am I being tested?

"Let's just get this over with," I say. "The classroom won't search itself."

"Right," Kent agrees, while Miku nods, still smiling.

We begin our search, spending an hour combing through every detail. We check the trash can, the storage cabinet, all the desks, the walls, and the floor. But there are no secret passages or hidden clues.

There's nothing.

"Nothing," I sigh, feeling frustrated. "How unexpected."

"Yeah," Miku replies, still cheerful. She doesn't seem bothered by the lack of findings.

"Let's head to the cafeteria for dinner. I'm sure the others are already waiting."

"Alright," Kent nods.

"Yeah," I agree with a sigh, glancing at the blackboard and the teacher's desk. My thoughts wander. I wonder what kind of classes were held here, but then I slap my forehead as a thought strikes me.

"Hey, Miku, Kent!" I call out. "Which one of you checked the chalk in each classroom?"

"I did!" Miku raises her hand, smiling brightly, her eyes sparkling with a slight blush on her cheeks. "Why, Kurt?"

"And the chalk? Completely untouched?" I ask.

"Yep, not used at all," she shakes her head, then tilts it slightly, thinking. Her smile remains, but she looks more focused.

"So, the blackboards have never been used," I conclude.

"Right..." she replies slowly, nodding as her expression shifts. She glances at us, serious now, though the spark in her eyes remains.

"So, the classrooms weren't used," she says, looking around, her expression turning more serious and calm.

"Does that surprise you?" I raise an eyebrow. "We know this isn't likely to be Hope's Peak Academy, even if it wasn't really destroyed. There were photos of the Academy's interior online, and no reports of underground classrooms. It makes sense that this was never a real school."

"Right," Kent adds. "But why build it? And why include classrooms? Why create a fake school?"

"To make the killing game more interesting?" Miku suggests, glancing aside.

"Twisted logic," I reply. "It's odd that someone put in this much effort. I can understand the sick reasoning behind setting up a fake school for a killing game starring students, but they went so far as to make it look functional."

"True," Miku agrees, looking around before smiling again. Her eyes shine once more.

"Maybe this was a real school at some point?" Kent wonders, looking around. "Only, it was never used?"

"Maybe," Miku says, glancing at us.

"So, someone set up an actual underground school," I scratch my head. "And before it was used, the mastermind hijacked the place for the killing game."

"Monokuma did mention something like that," Kent points out. "He said he 'took over this school,' or something similar."

"Right..." Miku frowns thoughtfully. "It is strange that the school was built underground."

"I mean, it's not that strange," I say. "Remember Abo Elementary School?"

"Oh, the Cold War shelter school," Kent recalls. He looks around, thinking, his expression uncertain. "But that was a shelter, not meant as a regular school, right?"

"No, it was designed as a fully functional underground school," I explain, crossing my arms. "It had enough space and supplies to shelter over two thousand people. I don't think this is Abo, but someone could have prepared something similar." I tilt my head.

"Maybe Naomi would know something..."

"Naomi?" Kent asks, surprised, his eyes widening.

"Yeah," I nod, looking at the blackboard and the desk. "Her dad is a General, and she's the Ultimate Survivalist. She might know if the government, or someone else, has been building shelter schools recently."

"Maybe..." Kent nods slowly, still uncertain. "Anyway," I say, "we can discuss this later with everyone. Let's head to the dining room."

"Right," Kent agrees, and we leave the classroom. Miku follows, glancing back at her desk. Her thoughtful expression lingers, and her smile has faded slightly.

We are in the dining hall, and everyone is here. But there is one unexpected guest. Or rather, an unexpected animal. Or rather, a robot.

Wearing a chef's hat and apron, Monokuma is cooking near a stove. He stirs a big pot of soup, adding spices and humming to himself. The delicious aroma fills the air, and I can't deny how good it smells. However, my mouth is agape not from the scent but from shock. The rest of us look equally surprised and confused, except for Miku, who just glances around with a slight smile.

"Welcome, kiddos!" Monokuma says. His voice is as cheerful and excited as always, but there's something different about it today, and it's not just because of the hat and apron. "Since you've spent hours searching, you're probably all hungry," he says, looking at us with eyes that seem almost... gentle.

"Monokuma?" Kent asks, pausing as he looks at him.

Sitting at the table, Martin sighs. "You won't persuade him out of this," he says without looking at us. "He's been here since we came in."

"Right..." Lily murmurs, sitting at a different table. Her eyes are closed, her expression turning into an annoyed frown.

"I guess we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth?" Steve remarks from the corner, not meeting our eyes. "We're all too tired to cook anyway."

There's some logic in that... Then I notice Steve's left leg is in a cast. "What happened to you?" I ask.

Steve sighs and looks down, but before he can answer, Kitty chimes in with an ironic smirk. "In the janitor's closet, our big, manly Steve tried to grab a box of tools from a shelf, and the whole thing fell on him. He's lucky his leg isn't broken."

"I was just trying to help," Steve moans. "You don't have to make fun of me for it."

"You wanted to show off," Riko says. "When Martin opted for a ladder instead of asking you, you decided to prove yourself."

"I was trying to help!" Steve insists. "I wasn't showing off!"

"Sure, sure..." Riko sighs.

"Anyway," I interrupt, turning back to Steve, "who put the cast on you?"

"I did!" Monokuma says cheerfully, looking at me with a smile. "I'm obligated to provide you kids with everything you need to live here—and maybe even kill each other," he chuckles. "Oh, and if you're curious, I was the first to sign the cast."

I take a closer look at the cast and see a marker scribble: "Monokuma for the current easiest target." I sigh and facepalm. No wonder Steve's in a bad mood.

"I'll take the cast off in two days," the bear says cheerfully. "Until then, no running or heavy lifting for our big boy here," he laughs before turning back to his cooking.

"Alright," I mutter, looking at Martin. "Are we supposed to discuss our findings with Monokuma hanging around?"

"He watches us all the time," Martin shrugs, eyeing the bear. "And he doesn't seem to care. It's fine. He won't tell us anything anyway. Just ignore him."

I sigh and sit in one of the empty chairs.

"Alright," Kent says, sitting down as well. Miku takes a seat next to him, still smiling and looking relaxed.

"Let's go in order of the teams," Martin suggests. "Lily, Naomi, Yvonne?"

"First, we checked the entire cafeteria and the kitchen," Naomi reports, looking around. "We found a few things of note, but nothing that could help us escape. At least there's plenty of food—enough to last us for months."

"Monokuma assured us he would restock supplies, so there's no need to worry," Lily adds, her eyes still closed.

"What about the fridge?" I ask, referring to the hidden passage behind it that Monokuma used yesterday.

"I tried to move it, even with Yvonne's help, but it wouldn't budge," Naomi sighs. "Then Lily..."

"I asked Monokuma," Lily says with a smile. "And he took pity on us, showing us what was inside."

"See how nice I can be?!" the bear exclaims from the stove. "I'm not a total jerk!"

"Right..." I nod. "What did you find in the passage?"

"There's a small room with an open pipe," Naomi sighs. "But only Monokuma can fit into it."

"Yep!" he chirps. "It's my private passage. No one else gets to use it. You'll have to find your own way out!"

"Figures," I sigh. "Anything else of interest?"

"Not really," Lily replies, shaking her head. "No windows or other hidden passages that we could find."

"After that, we searched the three classrooms where we woke up," Naomi continues. "No hidden passages, just some books in storage closets and lockers."

"Anything interesting? Like a book on lock picking or information about the Academy?" Emma asks.

Naomi shakes her head. "Mostly history and geography books," she says uncertainly. Then she brightens. "But I made an educated guess about what kind of place this might be."

"An underground shelter school, like Abo Elementary?" I ask.

Naomi blinks and then smiles, nodding. "Yes! I thought this could be a shelter. It makes the most sense," she adds, her expression turning serious. "But I hadn't considered Abo."

"Abo was shut down in 1995," Martin interjects. "It was built during the Cold War but closed after the USSR's collapse. It's now a historic site and storage facility."

"So our kidnappers wouldn't use it unless they were the government," Yvonne reasons. "Which is unlikely, since we're playing a killing game."

"Naomi," I say, turning to her, "you're an Ultimate Survivalist, and your father is a General. Have you heard of any underground shelter schools being built recently?"

Naomi nods slowly, deep in thought. "Yes, I have," she admits. "I remember reading about a new underground school project in a magazine. It didn't catch my attention much, but I did recall the name: Hope Shelter, part of the Project Buried Last Hope."

"Last hope..." I mutter, contemplating the name.

"Hope's Shelter," Yvonne says, glancing up. "Is it related to Hope's Peak Academy?"

"No, actually," Naomi replies. "From what I remember, Project Buried Last Hope asked the Academy for sponsorship, but they were turned down," she says with a shrug.

"I see," Martin mutters, looking around, lost in thought.

"Any reason why the Academy would reject them?" Yvonne asks.

Naomi shakes her head, still smiling slightly. "I'm not entirely sure about it," she admits, her uncertainty showing.

"I might have an idea," Emma says seriously, her focus shifting as she crosses her arms. "I'm not sure if it's related, but..." She glances to the side. "When Mrs. Collins wanted to scout me as the Ultimate Waitress, she asked me to serve a table for her and some guests," she explains, looking at us. "I overheard some interesting conversations," she adds with a faint smile.

"Go on," I say, nodding. I'm curious but skeptical.

Emma hesitates. "The one thing I remember is Mrs. Collins mentioning a shelter," she says, trying to recall. "She apologized for not being able to convince the Academy's board..." Emma speaks slowly. "That's all I heard before I left to bring the order," she adds with a shrug. "I think it might be connected."

"Possibly," Martin nods. "It sounds like Mrs. Collins was trying to get the board to support this shelter project, but they refused."

"Right," Emma agrees, looking at the rest of us.

"But it still doesn't explain why," Martin raises an eyebrow. "Emma, do you remember any of the guests' names?"

"Just one," Emma says, looking thoughtful. "A man in his forties. His name was... Mr. Robert Rodman Senior."

"MR. RODMAN?!" Steve suddenly exclaims, jumping up before wincing in pain and sitting back down, clutching his cast. "Damn..."

"Steve, are you okay?!" Miku asks, her face etched with concern.

"Be careful with this leg, bro," Kevin warns him, leaning on his sit in his direction.

"What's going on, Steve?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. The others are equally confused, but they stay silent.

"Sorry," Steve mutters. He looks away, clearly unsettled. "I've heard of him... He's been on TV, right?"

"Robert Rodman Senior is a philanthropist," Martin explains, glancing between me and Steve. "He sponsors many projects, especially those involving young people," he says, his expression turning more serious. "But he's a bit eccentric. He avoids TV interviews and prefers to stay out of the spotlight."

"Oh..." Steve trails off.

Martin continues, "He also has a younger son, Robert Rodman Junior," he sighs. "I've heard he's around our age and was a football champion at his school."

"Wait..." I say slowly, looking at Steve with raised eyebrows. "The shortening for Robert is..."

Steve lowers his gaze, his face reddening. "Yes," he admits. "He liked to go by Bob."

"Bob," Martin muses, looking up with a wry smile. "The same Bob who was supposed to be the Ultimate American Football player, before you replaced him," he says, pausing to look at Steve. "I'm sorry, but this secret of yours might be crucial for us to understand what's happening."

"I get it..." Steve sighs, trying to calm himself. "There's a reason I was just a substitute player until my last season in high school." He looks up at us, visibly uncomfortable.

"Bob's father?" I ask.

"No, he didn't threaten me or anything," Steve explains, shaking his head. "But I needed money for... my mom's cancer treatment."

"What?" Kitty exclaims, shocked. "Did Mr. Rodman take advantage of your situation to make you step down?"

"No!" Steve insists, looking conflicted. "Well... yes, in a way. But I don't blame Bob for what his dad did," he adds quietly.

"Steve, what's the story here?" I press him.

"I wasn't showing off my talent," Steve sighs. "Mr. Rodman just paid me to hold back. That's it. He never threatened me."

"So, Mr. Rodman bribed you to let his son become the champion?" Kent asks with a smirk. "That's pretty low, even if it was for your mom."

"Hey, don't say that!" Miku snaps, frowning at Kent. "He did it to help his mother."

"Anyway," I steer the conversation back, "he wanted you to let his son become the Ultimate American Football player?"

"Before the last game, Bob and Mr. Rodman had to leave the country," Steve explains. "I don't know why. But Mr. Rodman called me and said that since his family would be away for a while, I didn't need to hold back anymore." He looks up with a shrug. "So, I won the last game, and Hope's Peak Academy scouted me as the Ultimate American Footballer."

"One thing I don't understand," Arthur chimes in, raising his hand. "If Mr. Rodman is rich, why did he need the Academy to fund his project?"

"I don't think it was about money," Martin replies slowly. "Naomi, are you sure the Project asked the Academy for sponsorship and not for a partnership?"

Naomi thinks for a moment. "I'm not sure. I think they wanted to partner with the Academy," she admits with a sigh. "I only skimmed a few articles about it."

"It was probably about partnership," Martin theorizes. "There's only one reason to ask Hope's Peak Academy for help in building a school—for their expertise in training Ultimates." He pauses, looking at Emma. "If that's true, then this shelter was intended to be an underground school for Ultimates. The Project wanted the Academy's support, but the board declined, despite Mrs. Collins' efforts to convince them."

"Couldn't Mrs. Collins have helped them on her own?" Kent asks, looking puzzled.

Martin shakes his head, troubled. "The late Mrs. Collins had some general expertise, mostly in organizing programs prepared by the Academy's Talent Research and Development Department. But she was more of an administrator than an educator. Without the Academy's support, she couldn't help them effectively."

"So," I conclude slowly, "the Academy didn't want to share their trade secrets?"

"Probably, but that's just a guess," he admits, looking at us. He doesn't seem certain, but there's a hint of conviction in his voice.

In the meantime, Monokuma begins to serve us a meal of soup with bread. We eat in silence, lost in our thoughts.

"Alright..." I say slowly. "So, the Academy rejected the proposal to help build an underground school for the Ultimates." I scoop some soup onto my spoon and glance at Naomi. "But this Hope Shelter was built anyway?"

She nods. "Yes, it was. Or at least, it was in the process of being built. From what I remember before we got here, the project still needed another year to be completed," she explains, looking around at us.

"So, it's not Hope Shelter?" Lily asks. "Our last memory from before waking up here was three months ago, right?"

"Right, though the first underground level could be completed by now..." Martin nods, looking off to the side, clearly bothered by something. "But why did construction start without the Academy's partnership?"

"I don't know any more details," she admits, lowering her gaze in thought. "But I think the project found another partner," she adds. "Though I can't recall the specifics."

"Another partner?" I ask. "Who else but the Academy could develop the talents of the Ultimates? The government?"

"Yes," Martin slowly nods. "But that's unlikely in this case. Mr. Rodman is known for being... eccentric. He has very libertarian views. He's not a fan of the government and wouldn't want their involvement. I doubt he'd allow them any influence over his shelter." He takes another spoonful of soup, deep in thought.

"In theory..." Kitty says, looking aside. "The Talent R Department has retired members who could be hired as consultants, right?"

"That's a good guess, Kitty," I nod, and she smiles at the compliment.

"One problem," Riko interjects suddenly. "The Talent R Department at the Academy is the most advanced of its kind. It doesn't just require expertise; it needs specialized equipment," she says seriously, lifting her head. "Even if someone from the Talent R agreed to help, Mr. Rodman would need to build his own department from scratch."

"He's quite wealthy," Steve points out, though he seems unsure.

"Not that wealthy, I'm afraid," the Ultimate Memorizer shakes her head. "The Talent R at Hope's Peak Academy has top-tier facilities. Mr. Rodman's net worth is in the billions, yes, but even he would need additional funding to set up a comparable research department."

"Right, and he wouldn't ask the government for help," Martin agrees. "Not him."

"He could find other partners," I suggest. "That shouldn't be an issue, right?"

"It might be," the Ultimate Journalist sighs. "Did I mention he's known for being eccentric?"

"Repeatedly so," Miku nods, finishing her soup.

"Exactly," he continues. "And he's also known for not wanting to share control of his projects. The Academy was the only institution he respected," he says, crossing his arms. "But... if pushed into a corner, I suppose he'd make some compromises."

"Since the project started, he must have," Lily adds, nodding.

"We have to accept this as a fact," Martin concedes. "But I see why Naomi doubts we are actually in the Hope Shelter, even if it was completed."

"Because we'd have been rescued by now?" I ask. "The location of the Hope Shelter should be publicly known."

"Not exactly," Naomi shakes her head. "I believe it was meant to have an address as a public institution, but its exact coordinates were kept secret for obvious reasons." She sighs. "However, Mr. Rodman knows the coordinates, as do his sponsors and the government. If they knew about our situation, we'd have been rescued already."

"True," Martin agrees. "Mr. Rodman may have hated the government, but he still had to follow its laws. He couldn't have built his shelter without the necessary permits. So, the government would have had the coordinates and would have sent a rescue team by now."

"Right..." I cross my arms. "Unless we're missing something major, it's unlikely that the U.S. government wouldn't be able to locate and rescue us from a known site."

"True..." Naomi says, looking aside. "But if this isn't the Hope Shelter... then what is it?"

"Maybe it's not the Hope Shelter itself," Arthur suggests slowly. "But a replica?"

"A replica of the Hope Shelter..." Martin repeats, looking at Arthur. "I'm not sure I follow."

"It's just..." Arthur hesitates. "There was an incident in Novoselic back when photography was first invented." He places his hands on the table as Monokuma clears away the empty dishes. "In short, it involved a king and three nobles. One was a close friend of the king and his trusted advisor, another was a rival for his position, and the third was a traitor wanted by the king."

Alright..." Martin nods slowly, still skeptical.

"One day, the rival sent the king a photograph showing the traitor in the advisor's mansion," Arthur continues, shrugging. "But it turned out the rival had staged everything. The photo was taken in a replica of the mansion, built by the rival to resemble a part of it. The rival conspired with the traitor to discredit the advisor."

"I see," Martin nods.

"So...," I say, looking at Arthur, "you're suggesting something similar happened here? That the mastermind built a fake Hope Shelter to force the government's hand against the real one?"

Arthur nods, clearly pleased with himself.

"It's a bit far-fetched..." Kitty comments. "But if done correctly, it could force the government and Mr. Rodman to reveal the real location of the Hope Shelter. Maybe that was the mastermind's goal."

"Then why are we still being held here?" I shake my head in confusion.

"It's the most plausible theory we have so far," Martin sighs. "But it assumes this place looks like the Hope Shelter. And since none of us knows what it actually looks like, we can't confirm that."

"Right," Naomi agrees.

We fall silent as Monokuma serves the next course—steak and vegetables.

"Alright, let's continue the discussion," Martin says. "Team two—Emma, Arthur, and Kevin. Did you find anything in your rooms?"

"We started with the infirmary," Arthur begins. "We found a lot of medical supplies," he says, glancing at Emma and Kevin. "Kevin was particularly impressed with the stock."

"Yeah," Kevin nods. "There's a good supply of Allergy Stopper."

"You have allergies?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "As the Ultimate Marathon Runner?"

"Dust mites," Kevin shrugs. "Not an issue outdoors, but in here..."

"Right," Martin acknowledges. "Anything else?"

"There were also plenty of bandages and other medical supplies," Emma adds, her expression turning into a thoughtful frown as she speaks.

"Anything of note, Emma?" Miku asks.

Emma looks up, her expression serious. She hesitates briefly, then gains confidence and nods.

"There was a lot of medical equipment," she explains. "And in one of the drawers, I found some medical records."

"Medical records?!" I exclaim. "Whose?!"

She shakes her head, her face apologetic. "They were all anonymous," she says.

"Right," Martin nods, unsurprised.

"But I think I know whose records they are," she continues.

"Whose?" Kent asks, looking at her with uncertainty and concern.

"Ours," she replies, scanning our faces. Though confident, she seems troubled. "There was a record for someone with a dust mite allergy, like Kevin. The height and weight matched his exactly. I also found records for people with the same gender, height, and weight as me and Arthur."

"And the details were accurate," Arthur adds. "Mine even mentioned having a twin sister, for example."

"Right," I nod slowly, glancing around.

"Also..." Emma hesitates, sighing as she looks down, clearly unhappy about what she's about to say.

"Emma?" Kent prompts gently.

"I think..." She pauses, staring at the wall to her left, her eyes focused. "I found a medical report that likely belongs to Steve."

"Because it was for the tallest person?" he asks.

"Yes," she nods. "And... it mentioned severe depression." She avoids looking at Steve, and so do Kevin and Arthur.

"Well, that can't be me, right?" Steve laughs, glancing to his left. "I'm not depressed." He smiles.

"It says it's due to..." Emma covers her face with her hand. "An orphan syndrome."

The room falls silent. Everyone looks from Emma to Steve, who still isn't meeting anyone's gaze.

"Steve?" I ask slowly, watching him.

"Steve, are your parents..." Riko starts hesitantly, not looking directly at him. "Are your parents...?"

"They're fine," he says. "They're alive, healthy, and happy."

I glance away, biting my lip. Steve can't possibly know his parents' current state. He only remembers them from before we ended up here, which was at least three months ago. I shift my gaze to Monokuma in the kitchen, who's chuckling behind his paws, clearly amused by the situation. I look back at Steve, who is still staring at the wall.

"What was the date on those records?" Kitty asks carefully.

"We don't know," Emma replies, shaking her head. "The date section was cut out of every file."

"Right," Martin nods, then looks at me, signaling towards Steve with a meaningful expression. I sigh and nod back.

I stand up and walk over to Steve, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Steve," I say gently. "These records might be fake, or they might be real. Either way, they seem designed to suggest the worst-case scenario for you. Do you understand that?"

He nods. "Yes, yes..." he murmurs, still looking away, sadness clouding his expression. Despite his sadness, he seems a bit calmer.

"We can't know what happened to us during our lost memories," I continue in a soothing tone. "That uncertainty is supposed to unsettle us. But for now, we can't control what's happening outside. What we can control is how we react to our current situation and how we use our opportunities to survive and escape this together."

Steve sighs, his eyes still fixed on the wall. "I understand, Kurt," he says quietly. He's calmer, though I can tell he's still deep in thought, not entirely convinced by my words.

I pat his back. "When you need to talk, we're here," I tell him. "Can you stay with us for now?"

He finally looks at me and nods. "Yes," he says, his gaze steady. "Thank you, Kurt. You've helped a lot."

"You're welcome," I smile and return to my seat.

"You have the records with you, right?" Martin asks, looking at Emma, who nods.

"Yes," she replies, taking a stack of papers from her bag. "I think I can tell whose is whose. I'll hand them out now." She starts distributing the records.

"Kurt, I think this one's yours," Emma says, handing me a sheet.

I look it over and nod. It lists my height, weight, blood type, and even mentions a younger sister and my history with tuberculosis. "Everything matches."

The others confirm the accuracy of their records as well. Even Steve, though he seems disturbed by what's written about him.

"Alright, let's move on," Martin says after everyone has checked their papers. "Was there anything else of note?"

"Yes, a defibrillator," Kevin mentions.

"A defibrillator?" Kent raises an eyebrow.

"It gives a supercharged adrenaline boost," Kevin jokes.

"It's a device used to restart the heart with an electric shock," I explain. "It treats patients in cardiac arrest."

"Right," Naomi nods. "We saw it yesterday."

"I see," Kent says thoughtfully.

"That's all we found in the infirmary," Kevin concludes, crossing his arms. "Next, we checked the bathroom."

"It's a nice place," Emma smiles. "There's a sauna, a large bath, and lots of showers."

"And plenty of mirrors," Kevin adds. "Plus a ton of towels, soap, shampoo, and conditioner."

"Well, at least we'll be clean," Martin says with a hint of sarcasm. "Anything else?"

"Not much," Arthur sighs.

"It's good we have a place to relax," Kitty remarks. "It might help relieve some stress."

"Agreed," Emma nods with a smile.

"Alright," Martin continues. "Any luck in the classrooms?"

"We didn't find much," Emma shrugs. "Just some books and trash."

"Trash in a shelter?" Miku remarks, glancing to the side.

"What kind of trash?" I ask.

"Nothing special," Kevin replies. "Just some empty food packages, like chip bags, a lot of empty plastic water bottles, and some soda cans," he explains.

"Which one of you woke up in that classroom?" I ask.

"Kevin," Emma responds, glancing to the side, thinking. "Maybe he ate that stuff before waking up and just forgot about it?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Martin says, also looking contemplative. "What about the production dates?" he asks.

The three of them exchange uncertain glances, clearly clueless.

"I don't think any of us checked," Emma admits after a moment. "But we did bring the trash. We can look now."

She pulls out some plastic bags from her backpack and hands them to us. The production dates are from... the last quarter of 2010.

Everyone falls silent.

"2010," Martin says slowly, staring at the trash. His expression turns serious, and he seems disturbed. He clenches the chip bag in his hand, crumpling it into a ball. After a moment, he calms down, his face becoming neutral but tense.

"These are from the end of 2010," Arthur echoes, staring at his plastic water bottle. His hands are trembling.

"That could be fabricated," I say, looking down, suddenly unsure.

"Upupupu..." The bear chuckles from the kitchen, watching us with a smirk. He looks amused but stays silent.

We don't need to say anything. We all understand the implications.

We joined the American Division of Hope's Peak Academy in the last quarter of 2009. We thought we had lost three months of memories at the Academy. We assumed we were kidnapped, possibly held captive for a few more weeks, and then brought here. But if these dates are accurate and the trash was indeed produced in late 2010... we have no idea what's going on.

"Arthur..." Martin takes a deep breath. "We estimated the three months based on how long you thought it would take to write the forgotten portion of your book," he sighs. "And you assumed you'd be writing daily." He turns to Arthur. "Would it normally take you a year to complete three months' worth of writing?"

Arthur shakes his head slowly, his face pale and his hands still trembling. "No," he begins. "I don't write every day, but I do write frequently. Usually, I might stretch it to four months at most. A year would mean I barely wrote at all." He stares at his bottle. "And that's impossible."

"Alright..." Martin closes his eyes. "Can you think of any reason why you'd stop writing for over half a year?"

Arthur considers this, his hands steadying but his face remaining pale and serious.

"No," he says with a shaky voice but a determined expression. "Even after being exiled from my country," he continues, lifting his gaze to us, "I still wrote the book. And it's a good book."

"I see," Martin nods thoughtfully, clearly displeased. "One explanation could be that someone stole your manuscript over half a year ago and planted it here before we woke up. IF those production dates are real," he says, looking down.

"IF they're real..." Emma repeats slowly, staring at her bag uncertainly. "But..."

"But that would mean we've been missing for a year," Kitty finishes for her.

"It would also suggest someone planned this for a long time," I add. "But why would they try to mislead us about the dates? Just to confuse us?"

"It seems far-fetched that Arthur's manuscript was stolen," Martin admits with a sigh.

"Another possibility is that something drastic happened to him—something more significant than betraying his sister or his exile. Something that stopped him from writing for a long time," he suggests, glancing at Arthur, clearly unhappy with this theory as well. "Something that could have changed him deeply, possibly even enough to orchestrate this killing game." He nods slowly. "And maybe something similar happened to all of us."

"Either way..." I say. "We've already made an oath."

"Yes," Martin agrees. "But if this is true..." He looks down. "We might be in far greater danger than we initially thought."

"Right," I say slowly, lost in thought. "If those dates are correct, it means our families and friends have been searching for us for as long as Mrs. Collins was held captive. For several months," I say, glancing at everyone. "And yet, it wasn't enough time for them—or the Academy or the government—to find us."

"Indeed," Martin nods. "It's a grim possibility," he admits with a sigh, shaking his head. "Let's take a ten-minute break to gather our thoughts." He looks around at everyone.

We all nod and stand up. Monokuma, meanwhile, starts collecting the empty dishes and disappears into the kitchen.

I walk over to Steve, putting my hand on his back. He's still sitting because of his leg injury.

"Are you alright?" I ask, sitting next to him.

He sighs, nodding slightly, offering a weak smile. "Yeah, thanks," he says, but his expression remains troubled. Miku comes over to his left, her face full of concern.

"Thanks, guys," Steve says, smiling at us briefly before looking away. "The situation isn't good. And if it's true..." He glances at his medical records. "My parents might be dead."
Miku places a hand on his shoulder. "We don't know that," she says, shaking her head.

"But even if it's true, you have to endure this, Steve. You're the strongest among us, so you should be the last to lose hope."

Steve nods and smiles weakly. "Thanks," he says, looking away.

"Are you optimistic about our future, Miku?" I ask.

She tilts her head with a small smile. "I think I've already shared my thoughts on the future," she replies. "We can't know for sure, but I believe it has its ups and downs," she says. "I want to believe the downs are temporary, though I know they might last a while. And if that's the case, we should prepare ourselves to endure them."

"But doesn't that mean the ups are also temporary?" I ask.

She smiles thoughtfully, then looks at me with a gentle smile. "Even if that's true," she says, "it's why we need to appreciate them whenever they come."

Steve looks at us and smiles, though he still seems pretty down. However, his expression is more relaxed, and his smile feels more genuine. I'm glad he's feeling a little better. He's clearly very attached to his parents. After all, he was willing to give up becoming an Ultimate for his mother's sake.

"After my grandma passed away," Miku begins, "I used my lottery money to go on an aimless trip around the world. I wanted to escape the pain, but it didn't help," she says, sighing. She looks at us. "But then I realized that no matter what happens in life, I have to keep moving forward. Otherwise, I'd be acting selfishly, disregarding my grandma's efforts," she adds with a smile.

"Her efforts..." I repeat. "You mean how she raised you, even after losing her own child—your parent?"

She slowly nods, looking down, then smiles softly.

I pat Steve on the back and smile. "See, Steve?" I say. "I know your situation isn't exactly the same, but..." I pause, sighing, and then lower my voice to say what he needs to hear. "Forget it. Your situation is all messed up because of that damn Monokuma." I tilt my head toward the bear in the kitchen. "Tell that stuffed bastard he can go screw himself, on behalf of your parents."

Steve looks at me, then at the Monokuma, who's casually washing our dishes, humming a tune. He glances at his medical report, then back at me, his gaze serious and focused. Suddenly, he tears up his medical record and defiantly throws the pieces onto the floor. He turns to face the bear. "Monokuma!" he shouts.

The bear looks at us, expression neutral—not amused, not displeased. He remains silent.

Steve stares at the bear, then lowers his head. A moment later, he lifts it again, forming a fist as a determined smile spreads across his face, his eyes filled with a newfound strength.

"Fuck you, Monokuma!" he shouts, loudly and clearly.

Monokuma stays silent, his expression unchanged. Then, unexpectedly, he lets out a giggle before turning back to the dishes.

I watch him, smiling, feeling relieved. I pat Steve on the shoulder. He looks at me and smiles, seeming a little better. The others are watching us too—some nod, some smile, while others remain expressionless.

Miku, however, is smiling brightly, clearly happy we've helped Steve feel a bit better. "That was a bit too vulgar," she says with a grin. "But honestly... Fuck you too, Monokuma!"

The break is over, and we're all seated at the table. Martin taps his fingers on its surface while Monokuma starts serving us dessert—ice cream.

"Time for Team Three," Martin announces. "Kent, Kurt, and Miku."

"Right," I begin. "Let's start with the monitor room. We managed to activate it but decided not to tamper with the computer further. We thought it'd be better to leave it for Lily to handle later."

Martin nods. "I see. That was the right call."

"One thing to note about the monitor room," I continue. "There's a disk in there, but it's password-protected." I turn to Lily. "Think you could create a program to brute-force it?"

She considers it, then nods. "Yes, if the computer has a compiler and a programming language."

"Good," I nod.

"We also checked out the auditorium," Kent adds. "The stage appears to move and descend."

"Yeah, we suspect it's some sort of elevator," I say. "We measured it using a classroom ruler and found that the slot around the stage goes deeper than the stage itself. But we couldn't locate the control panel."

"Alright," Martin says, nodding. "Anything else of significance?"

I hesitate, looking aside. "Does speculation count as noteworthy?" I ask. "We've just learned we might have lost a year of our memories, so I'm not sure if we should pile on more theories."

Martin raises an eyebrow, looking at me uncertainly. Then, he sighs and nods. He seems troubled but serious. "I suppose we should. We can't get anywhere if we avoid thinking about these possibilities."

I sigh and nod, glancing at Kent and Miku. "Kent suggested that this game might be designed to prove that Ultimates aren't the Symbols of Hope for society and might resort to murder," I explain. "The rules seem to be aimed at making us crack. Then I considered the possibility that we might be responsible for all this ourselves." I sigh again, looking up. "That suspicion has only grown now that we've realized we might have lost a full year of memories."

Martin is deep in thought, his expression grim as he looks away. After a moment, he faces us again. "I agree that it's possible," he says, sighing heavily.

"This assumes everything we've been told is true," I continue. "If the Academy really was destroyed and we were the only survivors, we'd be the prime suspects. According to my theory, we might have set up this killing game to clear our names. Some of us would crack, some would die, but a few would survive together, proving ourselves to society as true Ultimates—victims who overcame this hell."

"It would make us appear as the real Ultimates, wouldn't it?" Lily asks, glancing away. "If we're suspected of blowing up the Academy and then killing each other, surviving together against our own will might make society accept us as true Symbols of Hope."

I nod at Lily, and she nods back, lost in thought. The room is silent as everyone contemplates.

"I wouldn't say this is the most likely explanation," I admit. "One big issue is why we'd leave clues leading us to think we were responsible. If my theory is right, just saying it out loud might have ruined the entire plan behind this killing game."

Suddenly, Emma bursts into laughter. I look at her, confused, as she laughs and covers her mouth. Then she turns to me, still smiling. "Sorry," she says. "It must be the stress."

"What's so funny?" I ask, puzzled.

"Isn't it hilarious?" she chuckles. "The idea that after all the preparation and scheming, the masterminds' plan could be thwarted just because you figured it out so quickly?" She laughs again before calming herself. "It's only been twenty-four hours since we woke up!"

I see her point, and a few others start laughing nervously too. The ones who aren't laughing—Martin, Lily, Kitty, and Arthur—remain serious. Martin watches Emma intently, while Kitty stares at the wall. Lily and Arthur look at me with worried expressions. Kent and Miku, who have heard this theory before, stay calm, though Kent has a faint smile.

"So, are you dismissing my idea?" I ask Emma.

"No," she grins. "I actually love hearing it. I'm even open to the idea that the memos might still be explained." She then turns to Monokuma, who's standing at the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed. "Hey, teddy bear!" she shouts mockingly. "What do you think about your masters' plan being ruined already?"

Monokuma stares at her expressionlessly for a moment. Then, he tilts his head and begins to giggle.

"Let's clear up a couple of things," he says slowly. "First, I'm obligated to not comment on your investigation or theories," he explains, looking at Emma. "Second, I don't care about any plans, schemes, or masterminds. I'm sticking to my own lane. My only job is to oversee the killing game and make sure it's fair and fun for everyone involved." He giggles again. "And third—well, there's no third anymore," he cackles, looking at Emma. "But I can tell you this: the mastermind heard your words, and they're not amused."

With a final giggle, he disappears into the kitchen. I watch him leave, while Emma raises her hands, blowing air out of her cheeks before smiling at me.

"Anyway, Kurt," she continues. "The memos are the biggest issue," she says, raising a finger. "If we were responsible, why would we leave them behind?" She glances around. "Any ideas? Miku, anything come to mind? You were on Kurt's team."

Miku shrugs while eating her ice cream. After swallowing, she turns to Emma, raising her eyebrows. "Nope," she admits. "I've got nothing."

"I guess," Emma says thoughtfully.

"I have a theory," Kitty suddenly speaks up, drawing everyone's attention. "What if one of the masterminds is a traitor? They could have left the memos to sabotage the scheme."

"A traitor?" Arhtur repeats after her. "You think the group wouldn't be unified?"

"Criminal organizations rarely are," she shrugs. "Not just because some member can develop a conscience. They can sabotage other members' plans out of sheer personal grudge. Or for the sake of their own power play within the group."

Martin looks at her, then down, deep in thought. He slowly nods, seeming slightly less skeptical. "That's a valid possibility," he admits. "It's even somewhat reassuring. If there's a traitor among the masterminds who isn't fully committed to this killing game, it might increase our chances of survival."

I cross my arms, looking away. "But it's still a mystery how the traitor managed to create memos with our handwriting," I say slowly. "Though, earlier, I suggested the memos could be forgeries. The traitor wouldn't need us to write anything. As long as they planted the idea that we orchestrated this, they've sabotaged the whole plan."

Martin sighs. "Kurt, and everyone else," he begins slowly. "Even if we assume that the masterminds are who we were during our forgotten memories, do not refer to or think of them as us," he explains, looking directly at us. His gaze is serious and focused, but his tone remains calm. "I said it earlier today. They are not our true selves—only a product of whatever happened during that forgotten year. Not our nature, just a result of a forgotten nurture. And if they did commit the atrocity of blowing up Hope's Peak Academy, they must be stopped. We must stop them." His piercing, determined eyes meet each one of us. "Of course, we all want to survive, but not on their terms. The masterminds must be utterly defeated."

Naomi hesitates. "If... If the masterminds wanted some of us to escape and not as murderers," she takes a deep breath, "then it's possible that if we make it outside, we might end up becoming the masterminds again."

"Our memories shape who we are," Riko says quietly. "If we regain those lost memories, we could be reshaped back into the people we were before waking up here."

"We can't let that happen," I say firmly. "If this is true, we must stop ourselves, no matter what."

"Right," she nods, her expression serious.

"Remember the oath," Martin says, crossing his arms. "And keep the distinction between 'us' and 'them.' I can understand if someone here cracks and tries to become a murderer to escape. But it's not just unforgivable to let the masterminds roam freely in our place—it would also be a mental death for our current selves," he says gravely. "The masterminds must be stopped, at all costs." He lets out a long sigh. "For all we know, the mastermind could be trying to pin everything on us. That would explain the memos as well," he pauses, nodding slowly. "We need to stay vigilant and learn more.

The room falls silent at those words. Naomi bites her lips, Kent sighs deeply, and Yvonne nervously fiddles with her hair. Miku looks down, Steve clenches his fists, and Kevin glances around in frustration. Kitty's eyes show anger, Emma taps her finger on the table, Riko closes her eyes with a sad expression, and Lily nervously gazes up at the ceiling. It's clear that everyone views the possibility being discussed as a grim one. Martin sighs, then turns to me and asks, "Did anything else happen during your search, Kurt?"

"Classrooms were generally normal, nothing odd or useful," I say. "But there was one strange thing in Kent's classroom." I turn to Kent and nod.

"Yeah," Kent sighs. "When I first woke up in a dark classroom, I noticed an open locker. I reached inside and felt what seemed like a book or a notebook, but I closed the locker without taking it."

"Why did you just close it?" Yvonne asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kent sighs, looking away. "I still thought this was a normal school back then," he replies. "I hate stealing. I wasn't going to take anything from the school."

"Did you check it today?" Martin asks.

"That's the thing," I say. "We couldn't find it. There were traces in the dust, as if something had been pulled out of one of the lockers."

Everyone exchanges glances before looking at Kent.

"Are you sure there was something, man?" Steve asks. "And you didn't take anything?"

"I swear I just closed the locker," Kent insists, shaking his head with frustration.

"Then who took the notebook?" Emma asks, looking aside.

"I guess it was Monokuma," I say, shrugging. "Think about it. What are the odds that a locker in Kent's classroom had something important inside? Monokuma probably noticed that Kent knew there was something in the locker without examining it fully and took it just to make us suspicious of one another."

"Upupupu..." Monokuma laughs as he collects our empty dishes again. "I have no comments on that."

I roll my eyes and look at Martin. "That's all we have to report. How about your group? You had six rooms to cover. Did you manage it in five hours, like we did?"

"We had four people," Martin nods, "and Riko."

"Riko?" I raise an eyebrow at her. She sits quietly, looking down to her left.

"It was my idea," Riko suddenly says. "To help Martin's group. I needed only ten to fifteen minutes to memorize each classroom. Then I noted down every item there, and Kitty, Steve, and Martin confirmed everything was accounted for," she explains. "It was much faster that way. We finished in four hours and spent the last hour searching the storage room and janitor's closet."

Monokuma returns from the kitchen, serving each of us an apple.

"The storage room has various items," Martin continues. "Mostly harmless things like school supplies—rulers, glue, and so on."

"But we also found some chemicals and drugs," Kitty adds, turning to Emma. "Did you find any anesthetics in the infirmary?"

"No," Emma says, tilting her head as she pulls a paper from her bag. "We noted everything down. It was all over-the-counter stuff."

"We did," Kitty confirms.

"Martin decided to destroy anything potentially dangerous," Steve explains. "There was an incinerator in the storage room, so we used that."

"Afterward, we searched each other to ensure no one took anything," Martin adds. "Especially the anesthetic."

"Good call," I nod.

"But there's one problem," Martin sighs, placing his hand on the table. "One bottle was missing from a box of anesthetic."

"Was it there earlier?" Kent asks. "Maybe it was used by the mastermind to put us to sleep."

"I hope that's the case," Kitty murmurs, looking down. "Otherwise, it means someone among us has a bottle of anesthetic."

She scans the room, but no one says a word. I also look around, trying to read everyone's expressions. My eyes linger on Miku before I quickly look down. Did I make a mistake? But accusing someone without evidence...

"How much could be in such a bottle?" I ask. "Could it put an entire room to sleep?"

Martin shakes his head. "Fortunately, it's enough for just one person," he sighs. "Maybe the masterminds needed one extra dose to put all of us to sleep. Each box had twelve, and there are thirteen of us."

"But that's wishful thinking," Naomi says quietly, looking down.

"Still, if it's just one dose, it's not a huge issue," I say, looking up. "We've agreed to move in groups of at least three."

"Right," Martin agrees.

"Anything else to report from your search?" I ask, glancing at his team. "You mentioned the janitor's closet..."

"Just tools, mops, and so on," Martin says, looking at Steve. "And a minor accident, I suppose."

Steve, looking a bit down but focused, glances at Martin and then at me. "I was careless," he admits slowly. "But yeah, it's a normal janitor's closet."

"We also found a fire ax," Riko notes. "It's in a locked case."

"It's still locked," Kitty adds, "but we could remove the lock with a hammer."

"I suggested leaving it for now," Martin, the Ultimate Journalist, nods. "It's a weapon, yes, but so are kitchen knives. I don't think anyone will need an ax right now. It might come in handy if we need to break a door or wall. So, for now, it stays there."

"Alright," Naomi nods. "Then we know the layout of our prison."

"Yes, at least for this floor," Kevin sighs. "The elevator is still disabled, the stairs are blocked by a metal gate, and the stage elevator doesn't seem to work."

"The stage elevator?" Martin raises an eyebrow. "Oh, right, the slot..." He sighs. "It was wishful thinking to find a way out on the first day, but it's unfortunate."

"We did find some clues about our situation," Kitty adds. "But no one likes where they seem to be pointing."

"Right," I nod.

"We still have the computer to check," Martin crosses his arms. "Lily, are you up for it?"

Lily looks down, thinking. "Yes," she finally says, looking up. "But it will require me to spend time in the monitor room."

"You won't be alone," he replies with a weak smile. "I'll go as well." He turns to me, Kent, and Miku. "It'd be good if at least one of you joined us. After all, you were the ones who examined the monitor room first."

"I can go," Miku smiles. "Lily and I already became friends last night."

I turn my head to the side, scratching the back of my neck. I'd like to have a private talk... But how can I do that when I was the one who set the 'at least three people' rule?

"So, what will the rest of us do?" I ask.

"Everyone has free time until the next scheduled meeting," our leader nods. "In case anything happens, you can treat Kitty as my substitute." He stands up. "I also want to congratulate everyone on how we handled the search. We worked together efficiently, and it gives me hope for our survival." He smiles. "Even if it's unpleasant, at least we're learning more about our situation."

"You could say..." Monokuma adds from the kitchen entrance. "You kids make quite a team. Upupupu..."

He cackles. Martin doesn't seem to appreciate the comment; he sighs and looks at Monokuma. "Monokuma," he says sternly. "We still don't know much about our situation, and we don't know who you and your masters are. But we are the Ultimates, not some helpless kids for you to torment. You'd better remember that."

Monokuma's left eye flashes red before he giggles. "Of course," he replies, giggling again. "That's what makes this killing game so special. You're not just ordinary high school students. You're the Ultimates, the Symbols of Hope for your society!" He giggles. "Upupupu..."

Monokuma then approaches the refrigerator, which moves aside to reveal a small room behind it. Before the fridge closes, we see him jump into an open pipe and get sucked up, giggling all the while. Then he's gone.

Martin watches where Monokuma disappeared, then sighs and shakes his head. "Anyway," he says, turning back to us. "Good luck, everyone. It's free time until 8 p.m. Just remember to move in groups of at least three."

"About that," Steve says. "With my leg injury, I'll be staying in my room."

"Before we all go," Kitty stands from her seat, "Martin, since I'm your substitute, may I have a moment with you in the kitchen?"

Martin looks at her; she appears serious. He sighs and nods. "Alright..." He stands up. "If you insist."

Kitty turns to us. "It'll just take a minute," she smiles. "Please wait here."

We nod and watch as they enter the kitchen, standing with their backs to us. They whisper something we can't hear due to the distance. We all watch them curiously. After a while, Martin nods, and they both return to our tables.

"Sorry for the delay," Kitty smiles. "Change of plans. Martin agreed that those not going to the monitor room should have some stress relief."

"And to achieve that, you should exercise together in the gym," Martin adds. "It will help our mental well-being and reduce the risk of conflicts."

"The gym?" I ask uneasily, remembering Mrs. Collins and her dead body. "But what about..."

"Right," Emma smiles. "Your group arrived last. We wanted to check on Mrs. Collins, but her body was missing when we got there." She glances aside. "The gym has been cleaned."

"Missing body?" Kent asks, looking disturbed. "What's happening here?"

"Monokuma explained he wanted to spare us from dealing with the smell," Martin replies with a sigh. "He also added that we can always count on him to clean up murder scenes. Upupupu..." He mimics Monokuma's cackle, clearly displeased.

"Still, even if the gym has been cleaned up…" Lily raises her hand uneasily. "It was still a scene of murder. Won't it be a problem for anyone, especially Riko?"

"Thank you for your concern, Lily," Riko replies with a weak smile. "But I'll manage."

"The past murder scene isn't a threat to our survival," Naomi says, crossing her arms. "But the fear of confronting it could be. It might be unpleasant, but we should face it now, while things are still relatively calm."

"Anyway," Kitty says with a smile, turning to Kevin and Naomi. "You two are the best at exercising, given Steve's condition. Could you take the lead?"

Kevin raises an eyebrow, while Naomi looks down, thinking. Then he nods. "Of course," he replies, looking at Naomi. "As long as you're up for it."

She nods and smiles at both him and Kitty. "Yes, I can do that."

"Alright," Kitty nods, turning to Steve. "I know you can't strain your leg right now, but you should know some exercises to keep fit without putting pressure on your foot."

Steve thinks for a moment and then nods. "Yeah, I can figure something out. Thanks."

"We just had dinner," Kitty adds. "So rest for an hour, then head to the gym." She looks at us. "And everyone, get into your gym clothes."

"Alright," I say slowly.

"Then it's settled," Martin nods. "Break a leg in the gym, everyone. Just figuratively," he adds with a slight smile. "Lily, Miku, and I will head to the monitor room."

We all disperse, and I shrug. I guess a bit of stress relief won't be so bad after all.

Back in my room, I sit at my desk and begin to write down how the day has gone so far. My hands tremble as I write, the pen barely steady. The thought that I could have orchestrated this nightmare... It's too much. But I can't let myself break down now. Not yet.

We are increasingly accepting the theory that we might be the masterminds behind this. While there is still a possible explanation that the true mastermind wants us to think this way to shift the blame onto us, I fear this might just be wishful thinking. Yes, the medical files, memos, and production dates on food could all have been fabricated for that purpose. But we have Arthur's unfinished book as evidence. For us to believe he had drastically changed, the book must have been stolen about half a year ago.

Whether we are being manipulated to blame ourselves or not, I don't think the dates are fake. Not if this game is truly being broadcasted to the outside world. The viewers would know if the dates were fake. Could Arthur be lying about his habits? He mentioned he had published other works. There must be people out there who know if he really writes as much as he claims, like his sister, for instance.

The only explanation for him stopping work on his book would be if he were the one planning everything. And that doesn't contradict the theory that we all might have planned everything together.

But what if there were no memos? We might still learn that at least a year has passed. Would Arthur's unfinished book alone make us suspect we had drastically changed during that time? I don't think so. We find it so dramatic that he stopped writing because the memos planted the idea in our heads that we all became mad enough to set up this twisted killing game. At worst, we would see his stopped writing as a possible sign of him experiencing a big tragedy during the forgotten time, similar to Steve and his supposed orphan syndrome.

What about Monokuma's words? He claims he doesn't care either way. If we had wanted to set up a believable killing game with ourselves as the victims, he shouldn't care. His initial words weren't meant to reveal anything without the context of the memos. Given his obvious sadism, he'd still accuse us of being responsible, even if we weren't. He is the main antagonist here, and potential viewers are conditioned to disbelieve everything he says.

Then there's the elephant in the room. I sigh. Martin saw through me yesterday; I'm too much of a people pleaser to make decisive choices when it really matters. I wish we could talk this out, but I have to wait until at least 8 p.m. for that.

I glance to the side. I was essentially pressured into voicing my theory aloud. And I was reassured that the major issue with the memos could still be explained somehow. Well, Kitty ended up coming up with an answer. The perfect candidate is obvious. Lowering their guard should yield a decisive answer, one way or another.

I don't write down my suspicions in the journal. I shouldn't record things I wouldn't want others to read, not here.

After finishing my writing, I pick up a survival book to kill some time before changing into my gym clothes. Kitty is right—these speculations are stressful. But exercising at the gym should help relieve some of that stress, even if I don't plan to participate fully.

I'm not a big fan of sports or exercise. I don't hate them; I just don't really enjoy them. I'm not particularly talented or skilled physically, and I've never been much into physical training or sports. I prefer mental challenges.

After the hour is up, I change into exercise clothes and leave the room. Outside, I see Kent, Emma, and Arthur. They're all wearing gym uniforms as well. I can't help but notice Emma's chest is still as prominent as ever, and she's also exposing her midriff. At least her hair is tied back. Arthur's hair is tied too; he has a ponytail since it's a bit longer than the typical guy's. I glance over at Kent, who's wearing a white shirt and shorts that seem a bit too long for him. I guess he really doesn't like exposing himself.

When we arrive at the gym, Kitty, Naomi, and Kevin are already waiting for us. They're dressed in gym uniforms just like we are.

"Hey there," Kitty waves and smiles. "Let's wait for everyone else."

We nod and wait. I notice some gym equipment inside; it seems like the real deal and not just props to fool us into thinking we're in a school. There's a basketball court with a few balls lying nearby, some running mats, and a few exercise machines.

"From the storage," Kitty explains. "We'll have to put it back when we're done."

After a while, Riko, Yvonne, and Steve arrive. Steve is wearing a regular uniform with a gym jacket over it. His right leg is in a cast, and he's walking with crutches that the others must have found for him. Yvonne and Riko are in gym uniforms as well. I can't help but notice that the Ultimate Sketch Artist is also exposing her stomach. Riko, who still has her headphones on, and Kitty are more modest with their gym shirts, though they still reveal their midriff. Only Naomi has a long gym shirt that reaches her hips; it's sleeveless and has a low neckline.

Martin, Lily, and Miku don't show up, but I guess they're busy with the computer. They probably don't need the stress relief.

"Steve, take it easy," Kitty smiles at him and gestures to a wall. "We can all see you from here, just in case you slip or something," she adds with a shrug.

He nods and starts doing push-ups on his knees. His cast covers his toes, so he isn't putting any pressure on it.

Naomi and Kevin take the lead in our training routine. They guide us through a proper warm-up, followed by exercises like sit-ups and planks. Then we move to the track and run a few laps.

"Honestly, all you really need is running," Kevin says. "It's a full-body workout that strengthens all muscle groups. But for variety's sake..."

"I can teach you some martial arts," Naomi adds. "If you're interested in learning self-defense."

Our training session lasts an hour. At the end, Kevin shows off his impressive speed, while Naomi demonstrates some self-defense techniques. She's clearly a survivor—strong and efficient with her movements. I'd say she's on par with professional soldiers, if not stronger. Kitty was the only one who put up a good fight against her; she might have even won their sparring match if Naomi weren't bigger and stronger.

"I feel so refreshed!" Emma says, smiling. She's sweating a bit and breathing heavily. "This was a great idea, Kitty."

Kitty smiles back. "No problem. I figured everyone needed some stress relief."

"Alright," Kent says. "I'm going to shower and change."

"Before that," Kitty interrupts with a smile, "everyone except Steve, Kevin, and Naomi, let's put the equipment back into storage." She walks over to one of the exercise machines. "Kurt, can you give me a hand with this?"

I nod with a sigh. The workout was well-adjusted to our fitness levels, so I don't feel exhausted, but I could really use a drink. Unfortunately, we have to walk all the way to the cafeteria for that.

I help Kitty lift the exercise machine, and we carry it towards the gym entrance. Then, we head out as she leads me to the storage room. The others follow us, carrying different pieces of equipment.

"Kurt," Kitty suddenly says in a low voice, narrowing her eyes at me. "Considering the timing of everyone's arrival, you and Miku were the only ones who could have taken the notebook from Kent's classroom."

That's when I realize what she and Martin were discussing in the kitchen. This whole gym session was a setup to confront me, wasn't it? Clever move; I can't make any sudden moves while carrying the machine, and the others are still watching from a distance.

"Why not Riko?" I ask. "She arrived between me and Kent."

"And far too soon," Kitty tilts her head. "Even if she was waiting for Kent to leave from a nearby empty classroom, she would have had to hide the notebook somewhere. We would have noticed it on her. I asked Kent after dinner; it was twice the size of the notebooks we had during our awakening."

"She could have stashed it in a different classroom," I reply. "And retrieved it later."

"Not an option," Kitty smirks. "When could she have done that? She was with us until we arrived at the gym, then stayed with us there. We all moved as a group to the dorms, and I kept my door open until 8 pm. I'm next door, and I would have noticed her leaving. Then we had the 8 pm meeting yesterday."

"I had Lily and Miku keep Riko company all night, and I was with them during the breakfast," I say with a sigh.

"You're catching on," Kitty chuckles. "After that, Riko stayed with my group. She couldn't have retrieved the notebook before we found it."

"Unless Monokuma intervened," I suggest weakly.

"Cut it out," she interrupts. "That's a possibility, but considering the anesthetic, it's a weak excuse."

"So you think the thief took it from the storage too," I say as we place the machine in the storage room. "Wouldn't that require knowing the layout of this place?"

"Exactly," she nods. "But, Kurt, I'm more inclined to suspect Miku over you."

"And Martin is telling Miku the same thing about me right now, isn't he?" I ask.

She smiles and shrugs. "Not necessarily. He's just asking her questions and observing her reactions."

"What's the point?" I ask. "If you think we took the anesthetic, why not just search our rooms?"

She sighs as we leave the storage room to fetch more equipment. Another group follows us at a distance.

"The bottles are small," she explains. "We'd have to tear down walls in your rooms to be sure. And that's assuming they weren't hidden elsewhere. Searching like that would only increase suspicion and make people more likely to kill. The notebook might be easier to find, but it could have already been disposed of."

"Then how do you plan to handle this?" I ask, picking up a mat from the floor. "I'm telling you I didn't take anything, and Miku claims she went straight to the entry hall from her classroom."

"True," she nods. "But everyone knows the potential danger of the anesthetic. And with your three-person rule, it complicates using it. Regardless, one of you is innocent," she shrugs. "If it's you, for the sake of the group, you need to figure it out by 8 am tomorrow. Otherwise, we'll have to take more drastic measures."

As we pass Yvonne and Kent on our way out of the gym, I ask, "What kind of measures?"

"Tell everyone that both of you are suspicious," she says, looking into my eyes. "One thing, though—I do believe you are innocent. Martin managed to discredit you as a potential leader, while Miku still plays the role of the perfect good girl flawlessly. I find that more dangerous. But..."

"But...?" I prompt her.

"But I think you're a coward and an idiot," she narrows her eyes at me. "You should have reported the obvious issues to me and Martin. She could be a killer waiting to strike."

"Miku is hiding something," I say, shaking my head. "But so far, I find her the least likely to murder anybody."

She rolls her eyes in response. "Don't fall for her," she snaps, her voice tinged with anger. "That's exactly what she wants. She's cute, and that's how she'll manipulate you."

"Is that so?" I reply. "You're underestimating me. If Miku really did everything you suspect her of, she already had the perfect opportunity to commit murder. She was with Lily and Riko all night, before any of us even knew about the anesthetic. All she had to do was wait for them to fall asleep, quietly apply the anesthetic to one of them, and then kill the other in their sleep," I explain with a shrug. "After that, she could have staged the scene however she wanted. For example, she could have moved both to the kitchen and splattered the sleeping one with the blood of the dead one."

Kitty raises an eyebrow, then slowly nods. "I guess that makes sense," she says. "So, why hasn't she done that? What do you suspect her of?"

"If she did everything, then she knows the layout of this place," I reply as we re-enter the storage room. "She would need to know where to find the notebook and the anesthetic. She could be a traitor among the masterminds—a traitor among our forgotten, psychotic selves."

She glances at me as we put the last item in place, then we leave the room. "You're more perceptive than Martin gave you credit for," she admits with a nod. "But us being the masterminds is still just a theory. Besides, how did she plant the memos?"

"I have no idea how she—or anyone else—could have obtained them in the first place," I say, scratching the back of my head. "But the memos could have been hidden before the killing game even started. They were tucked away in books. If one person was assigned to prepare 'new' books for us, they would have had the chance to hide them there."

Kitty nods thoughtfully as we walk through the hallway towards the cafeteria, maintaining our distance from the others but staying visible.

"Even if you're right, it's naive to think that the enemy of our enemy is our friend," she says eventually. "Let's assume Monokuma is telling the truth and only cares about the killing game itself, not the masterminds behind it. The traitor couldn't do anything here without Monokuma knowing, and yet, he doesn't seem to view the traitor as a threat to the game."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask.

"I mean the traitor is playing along with the killing game," she explains calmly, her face expressionless. "Their goal must be to sabotage something else, not the killing game itself. Maybe they want to prevent us from escaping alive, but they still want to get out themselves."

"Miku already had a perfect chance to kill..." I begin.

"When?" Kitty interrupts with a sigh. "Last night, before we knew about the hidden memos and before we realized we might have set up the killing game ourselves. It was the perfect chance. She was with Riko and Lily. She could have knocked one out, killed the other, and moved their bodies. But then what?"

"...She would leave here as a murderer of twelve innocent fellow Ultimates," I say, understanding her point.

She nods. "Exactly. But now that we know about the memos and suspect that we are the masterminds, the situation is different. The traitor could commit a murder now and frame it as a heroic act." She smirks. "The traitor, if believed, would be seen as the person who killed twelve former psychopaths, living as a hero for the rest of their days. It's the perfect plan."

We head to the kitchen, grab a couple of juice bottles, and open them.

"But are we sure Kent didn't lie about the notebook?" I ask. "Maybe he was trying to shift suspicion onto others."

"We're sure he didn't," she replies. "He arrived in the entry hall right after me and just before Riko. Besides, if he took the anesthetic, he wouldn't want us to suspect that possibility."

"Right..." I sigh.

We stay silent in the kitchen as the others come in to take their bottles and leave. We follow them at a distance.

"Martin and I both suspect you and Miku," Kitty adds. "The good news is that it makes you two less likely to kill or be killed. If you die, Miku becomes the prime suspect, and vice versa," she smiles. "The bad news is, if you don't figure this out by tomorrow at 8 AM, we'll have to tell the group that both of you are under suspicion."

"And neither you nor Martin can be targeted simultaneously," I add. "There's only one dose of anesthetic. And even if there were more, a double murder would be extremely risky. Plus, it leaves out the innocent person you warned."

"Correct," she says, smiling. "I'm glad you're catching on. Good luck proving your innocence, Kurt."

We walk back to the dormitories, and Kitty heads into her room. I enter mine and sit on the bed, taking a sip of the juice.

Fucking hell. Why do I have to deal with this shit like I'm the protagonist of some story?

I take a shower and change into a fresh, white shirt and black pants. Then, I head out into the corridor. I check my watch and see that it's 5 p.m. We have three hours before the next scheduled event.

Being in the corridor of the dormitory doesn't break the "three-person rule," because a few rooms are open. Kent is sitting in his chair, writing something in a notebook at his desk. I approach the room, and he looks up at me, giving a small nod.

"Kurt, hey," he says. "Do you have any plans for the evening? I thought we could play a board game."

"Um..." I glance around. "What's with your notebook?"

He sighs. "I've decided to start a diary," he says.

"I get it," I nod. "I also keep a journal here." I cross my arms. "I think I'll pass on the board game tonight. It sounds fun, but..." I shrug. "I had trouble sleeping last night, and it's probably best not to be half-awake in this place."

"I understand," he says, checking his watch. "It's 5 p.m., so we've got three hours before dinner. Do you have any plans for now, or...?"

I look into his room. The Ultimate Fashion Model's room is a mess, and the bed isn't made. There are dirty clothes scattered around, which is impressive since it's only the first day after we woke up. I notice the bathroom door is half-open, and I can see a pile of towels on the floor. Among his personal belongings, I spot some fashion magazines that seem identical to the ones in the library. There are also some manga and a few board games. Has it occurred to him that maybe he'd not feel like a poor man in rags if he had cleaned his belongings properly? Finally, I notice his notebook on the desk, open and filled with writing.

I shrug. "I guess I'll go familiarize myself with the others," I say. "Want to join me?"

"Sure," he smiles and stands up. "I was thinking we could visit Emma."

"Emma?" I raise an eyebrow. "Any particular reason for that choice?"

"Well, yeah," he nods. "I know her talent could be the most dangerous for us, but..." he sighs. "She hasn't done anything yet, and she seemed really stressed at dinner with that laughing outburst."

"I guess you're right," I nod slowly. "Even though Martin tried to defuse the situation, she might still feel like everyone sees her as a potential threat." I scratch my chin. "But I didn't take you for the type to pay attention to Emma, Kent. Aren't you more of a shut-in?"

"I'm not heartless, Kurt," he says, looking away. "And don't people sometimes step up in extreme situations?"

"Right," I nod with a smirk, chuckling. "Some also keep an eye on the girls with the biggest... assets."

He looks at me, blushing. "You're a pervert, Kurt," he protests, turning away. "But, yeah, they are... big."

"See?" I chuckle. "But you're right; morale is important, especially hers. Let's go."

We leave his room and head to Emma's. She opens the door and smiles at us.

"Kurt, Kent," she greets us. "How can I help you?"

Kent tries to smile, but he's clearly nervous. Social interactions aren't his strong suit.

"Just getting to know everyone better," I say with a relaxed smile. "Since we're stuck here together, it's good for morale."

"Do you say that to every girl with a big chest?" Emma smirks, and I feel my cheeks flush. Then she sighs. "Or just the ones who seem the most dangerous?"

"Hey, Emma," Kent steps in. "I know how you must feel, but we don't see you as the biggest threat." He smiles. "After all, you haven't hurt anyone yet, even though you could..."

"That's exactly what makes me dangerous," she replies with a sad smile. "I'm like a bomb that could go off at any moment. I'm not like Kitty, who's clearly as hard as steel. I've never dealt with people targeting me, and I'm not sure I can handle the pressure."

I glance around her room. The Ultimate Waitress' room is much tidier than Kent's. Her desk is piled with cooking magazines and history books. There's a wardrobe full of clothes, some of them quite revealing. On the floor, I notice a few psychology books and one on self-defense.

"You've got this, Emma," Kent says with a smile. "We'll all get out of here."

She looks at him and sighs. "But what if I snap?" she asks, staring at the floor. "I'm sure some people here are constantly wondering about that."

We sit on her bed while she takes a chair by her desk, facing us. "Maybe," I admit. "But others see it as admirable that you haven't used your talent to escape already. It's just a matter of shifting people's perceptions."

"And we're on your side," Kent adds, smiling. "I'm sure we can convince others that you're just like us—a victim in this situation."

I nod, smiling, but inside I'm thinking about how to steer the conversation towards getting to know Emma better.

"Anyway, to change the subject to something more pleasant," I say with a smile, "what made you become the Ultimate Waitress?"

She shrugs. "I'm the daughter of a restaurant owner. It's a family business, so I started helping out when I was young. At first, I was just cleaning dishes and tables, but eventually, I began serving customers."

"But why?" Kent asks. "You could have been a model, a movie star, or even a singer. Why the kitchen?"

"You guys have probably never worked in a restaurant," she says, shaking her head. "It's a really rewarding job. I love talking to customers and helping them choose the best dishes. It's a social environment where you meet a lot of interesting people." She smiles. "I even met that whole Rodman guy there, didn't I?"

"True," I chuckle.

"And then there are the regulars," Emma says with a smile. "People who come every day and order the same thing. It's like being part of a small community. It's not just a job; you can take pride in the food you serve."

"I think I get it," Kent nods. "But didn't you say you wanted to open your own restaurant? What about your parents' place?"

She sighs. "We're not doing so well anymore," she admits. "Our restaurant was near a mine that recently closed because of the economic crisis. We lost a lot of customers, and there's no guarantee we can keep it open. My parents don't want to move because the house is the last thing they have from my grandparents."

"But you want to move to Manhattan," I note.

"If I can manage it, I'd be able to support them," she nods. "Plus, I'm a city girl at heart. I love being around people, and there's no place with more interesting people than a big city." She smiles, her eyes lighting up. "And the food! Oh my God, the food!" She claps her hands excitedly, then shrugs. "I love my parents, but they're small-town folks, and so are their friends..."

"Right," I nod. "Which is why you ended up making a whole show out of your job."

"Exactly," she grins. "I've got lots of ideas for my future restaurant, but I need funding. I'd rather not take out a loan, so I pitched my idea to a reality TV producer, and he loved it."

"And that's how you got the show," Kent says, nodding.

"It's quite a success story on its own," I say, genuinely impressed. "Still, sorry for being too curious, but... how did you develop your throwing talent?"

Emma shrugs. "It's just something that comes naturally to me," she explains. "You might as well ask Riko why she's so good with her memory. It's just a talent, after all."

Kent looks at me and smirks. He seems more relaxed now. I hope I've made things easier for you, my man. I smile and nod.

"So, Kurt," Emma turns to me with a smile. "What about you? What made you the Ultimate Interviewer?"

I shrug. "You guys know the story," I say. "I was just an ordinary school journalist because talking to people was always my interest. Then I lucked out when the President randomly picked me to interview him. That made me famous." I clap my hands. "It was a fortunate opportunity I took advantage of. But, as we all know, that didn't make me Ultimate Journalist material."

"But you got the title," Kent points out. "The Academy recognized you as the Ultimate Interviewer, and that's something, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say, smiling. "I guess I was just lucky."

"Maybe you are," Emma chuckles. "But the Ultimate Lucky Student is our cute little Miku."

I glance to the side. I'll have to deal with her somehow...

"I guess I couldn't be in the pool for the Lucky Students anyway," I say. "After all, I have a talent that the Academy recognized. Lucky Students are chosen from regular students."

"True," Kent nods. "But I think, in the end, we're all lucky to be here, even if our current situation isn't ideal."

We all laugh a bit, and I shake my head.

"At least we're a generally friendly and cooperative bunch," I say. "Imagine being trapped in a situation like this with a bunch of self-absorbed jerks."

"That would be awful," Kent agrees. "I don't think we could survive in an environment like that. We'd end up killing each other."

I nod and look to the side. It's time for my personal question. "Anyway, speaking of Miku," I say slowly, "she and I were the last to arrive at the entry hall yesterday. I'm a bit curious—what was the order of arrival?"

Emma thinks for a moment. "Well, I came third," she says. "Martin and Naomi were ahead of me. From what I've heard, Martin was first," she chuckles. "True to form." She tilts her head. "Steve was next, followed by Lily, Arthur, Kevin, Yvonne, Kitty, Kent, Riko, and then the two of you."

Martin came first? That's surprising... but it gives me an idea for a battle plan.

"Good to know," I say calmly. "Thanks, Emma."

"No problem," she smiles. "By the way, are you and Miku dating?" she asks with a grin. "You two seem to get along so well. And you two remember each other from the bus. She even wanted to be on your team today and used her luck to make it happen!"

Yeah... I wonder what that was about. But I play it cool.

"I didn't meet her before the memory from the bus," I say with a relaxed laugh. "But I guess she's the kind of girl I'd have befriended at the Academy." I shrug. "Maybe she feels the same about me."

"Sure," Kent says. "That's probably it."

"Yeah," I nod. "I mean, we're both Ultimates who lucked out in one way or another," I chuckle. "I do feel like a regular person despite having a recognized talent and a bit of fame."

"I don't know about that," Emma replies. "I wouldn't call your ability to talk and stay calm ordinary," she sighs. "I know I was pretty intimidating yesterday, and you still managed to stay calm."

I shrug. "Kind of," I say. "But it's a mix of character and training. I've studied interviewers and public speakers and learned techniques for controlling one's behavior. It's niche and rare knowledge, but nothing I developed on my own."

"I guess that's an example of how a normal person can become an Ultimate," Emma nods slowly. "I've never had formal training for my skills, but I've worked in a restaurant since I was, like, six."

I glance at the book she's reading. "Oh, one more thing, Emma," I say. "Did you find your hidden memo? You and Kevin were the only ones who hadn't checked the books you didn't remember bringing to the Academy."

She looks at the books on her desk and nods with a smile. "Of course," she replies, picking one up. "I found a note from myself about betrayal and trust," she says, flipping a page and showing it to us. "I wonder what prompted me to write something like this..."

"Well, let's not overthink it," I say, standing up. "Even if we're the masterminds, the notes could be fabricated by a traitor to mislead us."

"True," Kent stands up as well. "Let's go, Kurt. See you at dinner, Emma."

"See you," she nods and waves.

We leave the Ultimate Waitress's room, and I turn towards Kent. "How about we talk to Kevin?" I suggest. "We could check if he has his memo, while we're at it."

"Sure," he nods. "We have time for one more person."

"Before we head to Kevin's," I say, smiling at him, "do you feel more confident about talking with Emma now?"

Kent blushes. "Well, um, I guess you could say that," he stammers. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. Thanks, Kurt."

We make our way to Kevin's room and find him inside, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. He's sitting at his desk, looking at a book.

"Hey, Kevin," Kent greets him, giving a small wave.

The Ultimate Marathon Runner looks up and smiles. "Hey, guys. What's up?"

"We're just familiarizing ourselves with everyone," I reply. "Also, we wanted to check if you have the memo like the rest of us."

Kevin nods. "Yeah, I do," he says, standing up. "Come on in."

We sit on his bed while he remains in his chair. Kevin's room is clean and well-organized. He has a large collection of running shoes, and his wardrobe is filled with athletic clothes. His bathroom is tidy, too. A few trophies and medals from races he has won are on display, and he only has one book—the one he was just reading.

"The memo was in the only book I found in my room," Kevin explains, showing us the memo. "It's The Maltese Falcon. I figured it's short enough to read, so I'm giving it a go," he shrugs. "There's not much else to do here."

"A mystery is a good way to pass the time," Kent says, nodding. "Pretty fitting, considering our situation."

I take the book from the desk and flip through the pages. "Yeah," I say with a shrug. "But The Maltese Falcon is more of an American-style mystery. It focuses on the detective interacting with people and getting into trouble, rather than gathering clues from an impossible crime scene."

"True," Kent agrees, nodding. "It might not be the best choice, but it's still a good read."

I glance around the room. "By the way, Kevin," I ask slowly, "how's your dust mite allergy? I assume the medicine keeps it under control now?"

He shakes his head. "Nope," he replies. "The medicine only suppresses the symptoms; it doesn't prevent them entirely," he shrugs. "But it works well enough, and there's no dust here anyway, so I haven't had any issues."

"I see," I nod. "Do you need a regular supply of the medicine?"

"Not really," he says, shaking his head again. "I only take it when symptoms appear. One box can last a month or two."

"We better not be stuck here for that long," Kent sighs.

Kevin chuckles. "Yeah, I'd go crazy in here. I'm an outdoors person, and I bet everyone else feels the same way." He shakes his head. "But we'll figure a way out of this. We're Ultimates, after all."

"That's pretty optimistic," I say. "But aren't you worried? Given Mrs. Collins's condition, we could be trapped here for months like her. And considering we might have a year-long memory gap, what about your family?"

"I'm an orphan, Kurt," Kevin says, nodding. "I'm generally a loner, but..." He pauses, then sighs. "I do have a girlfriend."

"Oh," I respond. "What's her name?"

"Jessica," he replies. "We met at a track meet. She was the first girl I ever dated. We've been together for three years. She's an Ultimate Sprint Runner," he explains. "She's an amazing girl, but very jealous."

"An Ultimate?" I ask slowly, realizing the implications. "From which division?"

"American, like us," Kevin says with a sigh, shaking his head. "The one that was supposedly destroyed."

I look down, and Kent does the same.

"I see..." I say quietly. "I'm sorry, Kevin. We had no idea."

"Yeah," Kent adds softly, also looking away. "I'm sorry."

Kevin sighs again, looking at us. "It's not your fault, guys. Besides, I'm sure they managed to escape. They were—are—Ultimates. They must have found a way out." He smiles faintly. "If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's Jessica's ability to run away from danger. She's great at long distances, but she holds all the short-distance records."

"Then there's hope for them, indeed," Kent says, smiling slightly.

"Right," Kevin chuckles. "Nothing short of a nuke would stop my Jess." He then sighs. "Though, I wish she was a bit less jealous. She's always asking me about other girls, even though she knows I'm more of a loner."

"At least you know she really wants you," I say with a smile.

"Yeah, true that," Kevin nods. "Anyway, let's change the topic. How's your family, Kurt?"

"My family?" I pause, thinking. "Well, it's pretty typical. I have a younger sister, both parents, grandparents, and a few uncles and aunts we see every now and then," I shrug. "We're middle class. My father is an accountant, and my mother is a doctor."

"Really? That's interesting," Kent says. "What kind of doctor is your mom?"

"She's a psychiatrist," I reply. "She specializes in treating children," I add with a smile.

"That's nice," Kevin says, smiling too.

"But what made you want to become a journalist?" Kent asks. "Did you always want to be one?"

"I mean, sort of," I say. "I thought it would be a good way to learn more about people since they can be fascinating. I mean," I spread my arms. "I know that as the Ultimates, we're a special case, but didn't we learn a lot of interesting things about ourselves during our introductions?" I shrug. "Even Miku, who's just a regular girl among us, has..." I look down, pausing as the realization hits me. "Quite a unique and tragic story behind her," I add slowly.

"True," Kent nods slowly. "It is a tragedy." He sighs. "But I'm surprised she shared it with everyone. She could've said something more generic, and no one would have guessed."

"Her name as the lottery winner was well-known," I say, looking at the ceiling. "It's safe to assume Martin knew it. He was aware of Steve's connection to that Rodman guy."

"Right," Kevin nods. "Martin seems to have the most information about all of us."

"Which is why Kitty and he are our leaders," I sigh. "It's a reasonable choice, but I wish I had more information myself..."

"Yeah, me too," Kent nods. "It's strange that Martin and Kitty, despite being in leadership, aren't very open about sharing information."

"I guess it's due to their skills," Kevin says. "Martin is a journalist, and Kitty is a criminologist. They're trained to investigate. I'm sure they share information between themselves. They just don't trust us enough yet."

"Maybe," Kent says with a shrug.

I glance to the side. Right now, Martin and Kitty keeping quiet is what's preventing the group from suspecting Miku or me. Plus, they're ready to share if it comes down to it...

"I think they're capable leaders," I say. "They can be strict, but given our situation, it's necessary."

"I suppose," Kent says slowly. "But I do find Kitty a bit intimidating. She seems to suspect everyone."

"Well, she's the Ultimate Criminologist," Kevin chuckles. "She was raised by the FBI, so she's probably trained to be suspicious of everyone. It's a good trait to have in this situation."

"Raised by the FBI?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"She told us yesterday in the gym," Kevin responds. "While your group was exploring, we chatted a bit more." He smirks. "She was abandoned at the steps of the FBI headquarters and raised by a foster mother who was an FBI agent." He looks away. "It's an interesting story. I wanted to ask her more about it, but she didn't seem keen on discussing her past."

"I see," I say, sighing. "But who on earth would abandon a child at the steps of the FBI?"

Kevin shrugs. "Who knows. Maybe her parents were criminals and didn't want any ties to her. Or maybe they just wanted her to have a better life."

"Still, this means she has FBI connections," I say, crossing my arms. "That's... not good, considering we've been missing for months and still haven't been rescued."

"True," Kent agrees. "But maybe this whole situation is a matter of national security." He pauses to think. "Kitty has government connections, and she's a valuable asset. There must be a reason we've been abducted."

"Let's not forget," Kevin sighs. "It could be one of us who set this up. Or several of us. Though," he looks at me. "I believe we're all good people here."

"Let's hope we stay good people," I say, checking my watch. "Looks like it's time for the 8 PM meeting."

We slowly gather in the cafeteria for supper and our meeting. This time, Monokuma isn't cooking for us, so we just make sandwiches and snacks for ourselves. The monitor room trio in form of Martin, Miku and Lily arrives last, taking their seats together with their own food. They seem… unhappy. Lily glances at us with hesitation, while Miku keeps her nose down. Martin is noticeably clenching his fist.

"Hey, guys…" Martin waves at us and sighs. "Let's eat first before discussing our progress."

We all sit at one table. Notably, Miku chooses a seat farthest from me, but I decide not to be too bothered by it.

"Let's dig in," Steve says, and we start our supper.

We eat quickly, and then Martin stands up to speak, clearing his throat. "So," he begins, looking at each of us. "To avoid any false hopes, we haven't found anything that would help us escape—at least not yet. The computer has plenty of data, but I advise caution with what you read," he glances around. "Some of the files are quite... disturbing, even if they might be fake. And unfortunately, we haven't found a way to disable Monokuma."

"Were you able to unlock the content on the disk that was password-protected?" I ask.

"We were..." Lily starts slowly. "It took some time to brute-force it, but we managed to gain access." She shakes her head. "But Martin decided... You'll have to see it for yourselves."

"There were two movies there," Martin says slowly, looking around at everyone. "No questions about them until everyone has watched them."

"What kind of movies were they?" Steve asks. "You guys looked pretty disturbed when you came in."

Martin looks away, showing a rare moment of hesitation. "You'll have to see them," he says, sighing. "Remember, everything we're discovering could still be fabricated."

"There were also other files on the computer," Miku suddenly speaks up. "Like access to the internet."

"The internet is blocked," Martin explains. "We can't use it to communicate with the outside world." He sighs. "But there are numerous archived web pages on the computer that we can use as an information source." He pauses. "I won't repeat this again—everything we see could be a lie."

"What's the latest date on those web pages?" Kitty asks.

"October 21st, 2010..." Lily says, looking down. It fits with the earlier production dates but still puts everyone slightly on edge. Lily continues, "Also, the computer has an updated version of my Book Rediscovery Program."

"Is that so?" Emma asks. "How come?"

"I don't know," Martin replies, shaking his head. "But from what Lily has said, it's an improved version."

"And it works on the files on the computer," Lily adds. "There's also a collection of archived books. It can search through various media, like music and movies."

"Lily," I say, crossing my arms. "Yesterday, you mentioned your intent to expand your program to include music."

Lily looks down and nods. "Yes, that's correct," she sighs. "And it seems my program was indeed expanded."

"Maybe you did it yourself?" Arthur suggests. "Like I did with my book during the forgotten period?"

Lily looks down. "Perhaps..." she says quietly. "But there are too many new features that I never planned to add. Someone else must have included them."

Martin nods. "Speaking of additional features," he glances at Kitty. "The program now can identify faces from fragments, with a focus on recognizing them by their eyes."

Kitty sighs deeply as everyone falls silent.

"An eye...?" Steve asks. "Kitty, didn't you suggest to Lily yesterday that she add a feature for identifying faces?"

"I did," she replies calmly.

"Kitty," Martin crosses his arms. "It's possible that you made a similar suggestion in our missing past as well."

Kitty sighs and nods slowly. "I know."

"That's a very specific request," I point out. "If you made it twice, it couldn't have been random." I look at her intently. "Is there a particular reason you're interested in identifying people by their eyes?"

She puts her hand to her mouth, thinking for a moment.

"We're possibly being recorded and broadcasted," she says slowly. "I'm afraid I can't share all the details, but..." She looks away. "I've told most of you that I work for the FBI. Recently, from the perspective of our memories before we came here, we started investigating a case involving an unknown suspect. The only clue we had about their identity was a picture of their eye."

"Is that the whole story?" Martin asks, narrowing his eyes. "The part that concerns us, Kitty?"

Kitty nods. "Yes," she says slowly. "I'm not allowed to share many details, and it's not something you can read on the computer anyway."

Martin looks straight at her. "You're an Ultimate who expressed a desire to solve this case with the help of another Ultimate," he says. "Possibly twice—once yesterday, and once during the forgotten period." He glances at the ceiling. "And you are a criminologist, not a detective."

"And you said this is a secret case, Kitty," I add, catching onto what Martin is implying. "The FBI must have had a good reason to let you in on it. It's unlikely it was just office gossip."

She looks at us and sighs. "I understand what you're suggesting," she says. "You're asking if the case is related to the Academy." She crosses her arms. "And if the FBI sent me to infiltrate Hope's Peak Academy."

Everyone stares at her in silence. She closes her eyes and sighs.

"It's true," she admits, nodding. "I was tasked by the FBI to infiltrate Hope's Peak Academy. There was a strong possibility that the suspect was an Ultimate of some kind. I can't say what exactly they did, but I can tell you one thing—it would take a five-man spec ops team to pull it off. Yet, we believe it was done by a single person. A genius. An Ultimate." She sighs, then looks at Martin. "My task was to obtain the Academy's data on all known Ultimates to find the suspect."

"But aren't all Ultimates publicly known?" Yvonne asks. "Isn't there a list of them on the Hope's Peak website?"

"It doesn't include all the information about every Ultimate," Kitty explains, shaking her head. "Hope's Peak Academy has a much more extensive database. There are rumors of them covering up certain things about specific students, classifying some Ultimates differently than publicly stated. They hold far more information than they're willing to disclose."

"Would the Academy really do that?" Arthur asks, tilting his head. "I've heard rumors about the Academy's cover-ups, but I didn't think they'd go that far..."

"Hope's Peak Academy is a corporation that profits from its students," Kitty replies slowly. "They have many enemies and competitors, so they need to keep a tight lid on their operations. They wouldn't want other parties to know too much, especially the details about their students."

"I see," Arthur sighs.

"Still," Kitty continues, "there are also rumors of some sort of fraud occurring. It might not even be done by the higher-ups at the Academy, but rather by certain faculty members."

"What kind of fraud?" I ask.

"Fake Ultimates," Martin explains. "I've heard that before. There are rumors that some of the people the Academy labels as Ultimates aren't truly as talented as they're claimed to be."

"Exactly," Kitty nods. "It's like the Reserve Curse, but achieved through deception. Someone inside might have a friend with a kid they want to get into the Academy, but the kid doesn't have enough talent. So they use their position to falsify documents, getting the kid accepted as an Ultimate, even though they aren't one."

"Wouldn't that be discovered quickly?" I ask. "If a student lacks Ultimate talent, the staff and other students would notice."

"Not necessarily," Emma interjects, crossing her arms. "Some talents are hard to measure. Take the Ultimate Lucky Student, for example." She glances at Miku, who just smiles. Emma chuckles. "But winning two separate lotteries is something you can't fake," she adds with a grin. "Right?"

"Of course," Miku smiles, her eyes closed.

I shake my head. "But the Ultimate Lucky Student title isn't decided by a staff member," I point out. "It's selected randomly by a program. Though, I suppose a program could be tampered with, but it would require someone highly ranked."

Martin raises his hand. "Let's focus on the real issue here," he says, looking at Kitty. "Just answer this: Are you certain none of our talents could have been used to commit the crime you're investigating?"

"Yes," she replies firmly. "Even Emma's throwing skills wouldn't be enough," she says, glancing away. "Besides, she has a solid alibi for the crime's date." Kitty looks at Emma, then at Martin, who nods slowly. "She had a live show in another part of the country at the time," she adds, looking back at Emma. "Also, it's not her eye color. None of us have the suspect's eye color. The suspect's eyes are purple-grey."

"Eye colors," Kent muses, crossing his arms. "They're interesting. But people often wear colored contacts. Maybe the suspect was using them, and it's not their natural color..."

"No," Kitty shakes her head. "The FBI ruled that out." She sighs. "It's still uncertain if the criminal is an Ultimate. I'm not even sure if my mission was successful. But I can be fairly certain that person isn't among us."

"Do you have a picture?" I ask.

"Unfortunately, no," she shakes her head. "I wouldn't risk bringing it here. My task was to steal the Academy's database, and the FBI would handle the rest." She looks at Martin. "Does this answer your questions?"

"Pretty much," he nods. "Now, there's one more thing to discuss before we head to the Monitor Room to watch those movies. Like Lily mentioned, we have an archive of a significant portion of the internet, up until October 2010." He sighs and looks down. "Curiosity led me to search for something specific..."

"What was it?" I ask. "The American Division's explosion?"

Oddly, both Miku and Lily flinch on that question. But Martin just gives out a deep sigh.

"There are no articles about the American Division explosion," Martin says cautiously. He takes a deep breath. "Steve, I wanted to see if there was anything about the loss of your parents, the parents of the Ultimate American Football Player."

Steve's eyes widen slightly, and he swallows hard. "I... I suppose that's a sensitive topic..." He looks away. "What did you find?"

Before Martin can answer, Miku stands up and walks over to Steve, her expression sad. She hugs him from behind.

"Steve," she says, holding back tears. "I'm so sorry..."

Steve looks at her, then at Martin. "Is it true?" he asks.

"According to the articles in the archive," Martin says slowly, "both of your parents were murdered on July 6th, 2010."

Steve's eyes widen, and his lips tremble. Miku looks very concerned. "Steve..."

He looks down, starting to shake. "I... I see," he says quietly. "I understand."

"Do you want to learn more?" Martin asks gently. "You don't have to take it all in at once."

Steve nods. "I need to know," he says. "My mother... my father..." His lips quiver. "They were... murdered."

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Miku whispers, hugging him tightly.

"Initially," Martin continues with a sigh, "it was believed they died in an accident caused by a gas explosion at their house. But later, it was discovered the gas pipes had been tampered with. The police concluded it was murder, as there were other signs of tampering."

"I... I see," Steve says, staring at the table.

"The explosion destroyed much of the evidence, making an autopsy impossible," Martin adds. "The cause of death is unknown, but it seems the murderer wanted it to look like an accident."

"I understand," Steve replies. "So, it's possible they were killed before the explosion."

"There's one more detail," Martin continues. "Your whereabouts at the time of the explosion. This happened between school years, while you were staying at home." He nods. "You learned about this tragedy while watching football at a nearby field. You left your house about two hours before the explosion," he sighs. "And it wasn't just for a match. You were apparently on a date."

"A date?" Emma asks, blinking in surprise. "Steve had a date?"

"Yes," Martin nods slowly, glancing at Kitty. "With Kitty Kim."

Kitty's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"She-!" Naomi speaks ups and hesitates, then glances to the side. "...I don't see them as a couple at all."

"Kitty Kim, the Ultimate Criminologist, was Steve Dangan's girlfriend," Martin explains, crossing his arms. "You two were in a relationship for about a month, becoming close during our forgotten year at the Academy."

This revelation catches both Steve and Kitty off guard. They look at each other, surprised. Kitty appears embarrassed, while Steve seems overwhelmed. "I'm... sorry," he says, looking away. "But I need to focus on my parents right now. Can we talk about this later?"

"Of course, Steve," Kitty nods. "We'll discuss this privately." She looks at Martin. "Is that okay?"

"I remind everyone that we need to keep a clear separation between our current and past lives," Martin says, nodding. "But it's fine." He checks his watch. "Anyway, I'm done with my announcements. I believe we should head to the Monitor Room to watch the movies." He sighs and looks at Steve. "One of these movies won't be easy for any of us to watch. Steve, do you need a moment?"

"No, I'm fine," Steve, the Ultimate Footballer, shakes his head. "I need to see this. I can handle it."

"Alright then," Martin nods. "Let's go, everyone."

As soon as we reach the Monitor Room, Martin turns to us.

"There are two movies," he says slowly. "We'll watch the worse one afterward."

"The worse one?" Kent asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry..." Lily sighs. "We don't want to say anything about it until you've seen it."

"Fine..." Steve mutters, looking down at the table. "Let's start with the other one."

Martin nods and sits down before the computer. He types something, and the big monitor on the wall flickers on. We see a man in a suit, clearly in his late forties. Steve blinks a few times and then stares at the screen, silent. Emma glances at Steve, then back at the screen, sighing.

"Robert Rodman Senior," she says slowly. "The man who proposed creating the Hope Shelter."

Steve nods. "Yup."

The man smiles and begins to speak. "Is this blasted thing on?" he asks, gesturing towards the camera. "I hate being recorded. Always worry I'll do something embarrassing, and it'll be preserved forever," he says, sighing. "Oh well, I'll get used to it," he adds with a smile, waving his hand. "Greetings, young students of Hope's Peak Academy, American Division! I've decided to personally announce the results of our special recruitment lottery!"

"Lottery?" Kent asks. "Is this about the Hope Shelter recruitment?"

"Shhh," Martin puts a finger to his lips.

"Congratulations!" Rodman Senior says, beaming. "You've been selected to participate in our special project! The Hope Shelter, a backup school for Hope's Peak in case of unforeseen tragedy. Although, I believe we might also be a strong competitor for the Academy," he adds, nodding. "After all, Hope Shelter can operate as a regular school too, and I'm sure many will want to enroll. However, we will maintain very high standards, so the selection process will be quite challenging." He winks with a smile. "But that's for the future. As you know, we're currently running a test year with a single class to simulate the Shelter's function during a total lockdown. It might be a risk for your bright futures, to miss a year at Hope's Peak for an experimental project, but that's why each lottery winner will receive half a million dollars as compensation." He smirks and gestures widely. "And now, let me announce the winners of our recruitment lottery for our first group of students!"

Miku looks down, biting her lower lip. Steve stares intently at the screen.

"First, we have..." The man flips through the papers in his hands. "Martin Jimenez, the Ultimate Journalist! A young man who's already a legend in his field! Next, Yvonne LeBlanc, the Ultimate Sketch Artist! I'm looking forward to seeing your work, young lady. Kent Diamonde, the Ultimate Fashion Model! You'll be a fantastic addition to the team!" He flips the page. "Kurt Blake, the Ultimate Interviewer! I'm sure we can find common ground," he says with a smile and a nod.

"The order of our IDs," I say.

Martin glances at me and nods. "Yes," he confirms. "We were recruited to Hope Shelter according to our numbers."

Robert Rodman continues reading our names and titles in the established order. He remains cheerful, clearly excited to have us in his project. Steve's expression darkens with every name called.

When Rodman reaches the seventh name, his mood changes. He clears his throat. "Steve Dangan, the Ultimate Football Player," he says, pausing. "I offer my deepest condolences for your recent loss. I'll do my best to support you through this."

Steve's hands clench into fists, and his eyes narrow. "I see..." he says slowly. "So, my parents really are dead."

"When was this recorded?" I ask.

"We don't know," Lily replies. "The metadata is missing."

Rodman continues, regaining some of his cheer, though more subdued. He finally reaches the last two names.

"Kevin Shin, the Ultimate Marathon Runner!" he announces. "We're thrilled to have you with us!"

"Why?" Kevin mutters. "I'd hate to end up stuck in an underground school."

"And last but not least," Rodman concludes, "Miku Noone, the Ultimate Lucky Student! A truly special talent. Congratulations to everyone!"

The recording stops. We all stand there in silence for a long moment. Martin eventually sighs and turns to face us.

"It's unlikely that we were all part of the same class at the Academy," he says. "But, apparently, we all applied for Rodman's project and were randomly chosen as the test group for the Hope Shelter."

"I thought the Academy was against the Shelter," I say. "Yet, they've allowed Rodman to get a hold of their students."

"Don't forget Mrs. Collins was supporting the Shelter project," Kent points out. "Plus, we volunteered."

"It is strange," Kitty says, crossing her arms. "But Mrs. Collins could have convinced the board that a single experimental run with thirteen volunteering students wouldn't be an issue, especially since we've volunteered. And, of course, half a million dollars isn't a small sum."

"I agree, the compensation is pretty substantial," I nod.

"What about the second video?" Neomi asks. "How bad can it possibly be?"

Martin looks at the computer. "Well, to answer that, we can watch it. But be warned," he says, glancing at Lily and then Miku. "It's not going to be pleasant for anyone."

Miku looks away, and Lily looks down. The rest of us exchange glances but remain silent. After a moment, Martin sighs and presses a button.

We see a building, and we recognize it immediately—our American Division. It appears to be either morning or evening; the lighting is dim. The camera zooms out, revealing more of the Academy's buildings and the street. It looks like a typical day—people walking around, cars passing by. The camera zooms out further, showing a large part of the city.

Then, something appears in the sky, heading toward the Division. It strikes the main building, causing a massive explosion. Everything around it erupts into flames.

It's a nuclear explosion.

Suddenly, the movie cuts to an extreme closeup to Monokuma's face. "Didn't I say already about it ending with a bang?" the bear asks, before the screen begins to shake. "Daaahahaha!"

The footage ends.

We stand there in stunned silence. Martin and the monitor room group seem the least affected. For the rest of us, it's hard to process what we've just witnessed. The American Division... destroyed by a nuclear bomb. It's unreal.

"That was a nuclear explosion," I say slowly. "A nuclear bomb was detonated in the American Division."

"On American soil..." Kent whispers. "That's impossible..."

"Father…" Naomi says to herself. "How come?"

"Someone blew up our school..." Arthur mutters. "I... I can't believe it."

"A nuclear explosion..." Steve repeats, staring at the screen.

Kevin says nothing; he just collapses to his knees, covering his mouth.

I begin to hear some sobs from Yvonne. I look back and I see her crying near petrified Riko, who keeps hands on her headphones. Emma already has turned her back to us and is shaking her head.

"Everyone," Martin claps his hands and sighs. "We've searched for information about the explosion through the internet archive. But we've found nothing," he says, shaking his head. "It's possible the archived data is too outdated to include any mention of it. Frankly, many web pages seem to have been deliberately erased. For example, most links to detailed articles about the Hope Shelter are broken. The same goes for links about the Academy's American Division," Martin pauses and sighs. "We'll continue searching for clues. In the meantime, I have to remind you all that these videos could be fabricated."

"I know you're in shock!" Kitty exclaims, visibly trembling. "But we need to stay level-headed…" She tries to calm herself down. "For now, let's focus on our immediate situation and plan a possible escape."

"Escape to where?" Steve asks, looking down. "It seems like World War III has broken out above us..."

"That's just a possibility, Steve," Kitty replies, rising her hands. She struggles to maintain her usual composure. "We can't be certain yet. This video can be pure fabrication!"

I suppose even she can't take this well. I don't blame her it is a lot, especially when she's also a co-leader. I really don't fucking blame her…

"Can we..." Yvonne says, covering her mouth, "call it a fucking day?"

"But…" Arthur hesitate, with clear panic in his eyes. "Is there anything about the Japanese Division?"

"Not much," Lily sighs. "It's like with the American one, just some lacking details mentions."

"It's better for us to rest, at this point," Kitty looks down. "I… I also need to think about this."

Martin nods. "Yes, let's do that," he says. "Go to your rooms. Take a cold shower. Rest." He pauses, then crosses his arms. "However, I'd like Miku and Kurt to stay for a moment. We have something to discuss with them."

I notice some reluctance in Kitty's eyes, but she takes a deep breath and nods. I grit my teeth and look down. It's a good thing I saw this coming, so even in my current state, I know what to do.

Everyone has moved out of the monitor room, leaving just Kitty, Martin, Miku, and me. What we just witnessed clearly lingers in everyone's mind. Still, it is Kitty who seems the most affected, as she constantly glances back at the screen. Miku and Martin have seen it before, but Kitty is taking it harder than me. I guess, as a Federal Agent, the idea of a nuclear bomb being detonated in the country is both horrifying and utterly unbelievable.

Martin slowly nods. "Kitty showed up here while we were still trying to brute-force the password to the recording," he says. "We're both on the same page."

"Yes, yes!" Kitty closes her eyes and raises her hand, her voice still tinged with shock. "We believe that one of you has an anesthetic," she says, focusing her gaze on both of us. "And that you also stole the notebook from Kent's class."

As Martin and Kitty lay out their suspicions, my heart races. Are they bluffing, hoping one of us will crack under pressure? Or do they truly believe one of us is the traitor? I glance at Miku, searching for a flicker of guilt or fear, but her face is unreadable. So, I stay silent. Miku also remains silent.

"Possibly," Martin continues. "If our forgotten selves are indeed the masterminds, the thief could be a traitor among them. But the traitor's intention might still be to kill the rest of us, now that they have exposed us as the masterminds to the viewers of this bloody game."

"You two are currently the most suspicious," Kitty adds, looking at each of us while taking deep breaths. "And before you point out that we have no proof of your guilt, we are well aware of it," she sighs. "We have no proof."

"Is either of you going to confess?" Martin asks.

We both remain silent. Miku's face is expressionless, like never before. I guess she has predicted this conversation, just like me…

"Very well," Martin sighs. "We have a lot to deal with, truly a lot. But one of you is the most immediate threat," he says, glaring first at Miku and then at me. "Telling everyone about this could put a target on both of you. Because killing one of you would make the other the prime suspect. So, I don't want to alarm anyone else—not yet, at least."

"But we have to address this," Kitty follows, crossing her arms. "We're counting on the one of you who is innocent. Figure out a way out of this stalemate. Otherwise, we will be forced to tell the others tomorrow at 8 a.m."

Martin looks to the side. "And we'll all have to make a decision together."

Miku and I both nod. I have my battle plan, and other reasons to remain silent, for now. And, after the nuke footage, I simply don't want to talk.

"Let's go to our rooms," Kitty says, glancing one last time at the turned-off monitor. "You two go first."

It's past 10 p.m. I'm back in my room. I took a cold shower, although I put my day clothes back on for a while. I've written down the newest revelations in the journal—just the dry facts.

I remind myself once again that, in order to survive, I must focus on things I can control. I can't control whatever we're learning about the outside world. I can't even be sure if it's real. But there is someone with an anesthetic: a traitor among the masterminds, the mastermind themselves, or just a lucky opportunist.

I know it's not me.

But I have a battle plan. The first move is... to do nothing.

I'm sure she'll show up anyway. And she does. She knocks on my door, and I open it. It's Miku. She's wearing her usual clothes.

"Hi," she says, looking down. "We need to talk."

"Come in," I say. She enters, and I lock the door behind us with the card. She doesn't react.

I keep my distance from her. She might have the anesthetic on her, even if using it now would paint her as the culprit.

"You're breaking the three-person rule, you know," I say at the start.

"Right," she chuckles suddenly, then smiles. She places her hand on her chest and looks into my eyes. "Kurt, I promise you, on my soul. I won't break the rule ever again."

"You won't?" I ask.

She nods. "I won't," she says, pausing. "But we need to discuss the situation, and we can't have a third person overhearing us." She sighs and smiles. "Besides, you're not the killer. I'm not the killer. So it's fine, right? We won't kill each other."

I look at her and then sigh. "Why do you say I'm not the killer?" I ask. "We've spent quite some time together, but it doesn't add up to twenty hours."

"Who knows..." she says. "But I think I'm a good judge of character," she looks away with a smile.

"You got scammed out of a billion dollars," I reply, snarky.

She rolls her eyes, smiling. "You know I wanted to get rid of that money anyway," she says, still looking to the side. "My good fortune has only brought me suffering."

"Fine," I say, looking away. "Let's cut to the chase. We were the last to arrive at the main hall. It took both of us a while to join after the previous person. We're the only ones who could've stolen the notebook from Kent's classroom. And we're the only ones who had time to get the anesthetic from storage," I look at her directly. "Regardless, whoever did it had to know the layout of this place and lie about having their memory wiped alongside us."

"Right," she nods. "But what do you think about it, Kurt?"

And so it begins—the battle plan I've prepared for this conversation.

"I can't really know who is guilty or not," I say. "Besides assuring that it wasn't me." I slowly nod. "But I'm not sure if it was you either, Miku. Martin and Kitty seem too eager to believe we're the only suspects."

"Really?" Miku asks, raising an eyebrow. "You're not sure it's either of us?"

"Of course not," I shake my head. "Martin was the first to arrive at the main hall, for instance. Who knows how long he was awake before the rest of us? If he even needed to be woken up in the first place."

"The first to arrive..." Miku murmurs, placing a hand on her mouth. "And he is the Ultimate Journalist. He knows how to manipulate information to control our perception."

"Yes, he's the leader," I nod. "But that's not the only possibility. We're being suspected purely based on the assumption that the order of arrival at the main hall matches the order of waking up in the classroom. Anyone could have obtained the anesthetic, gone to Kent's classroom, returned to theirs, waited for others to wake up, and then gone to the main hall before them."

"That's a possibility too," Miku nods, her hand on her mouth. "I'm glad you're thinking about it as well, Kurt." She tilts her head. "But what about the notebook? Kent saw it, and he was the tenth to arrive at the main hall."

"Kent only claimed to have seen it," I sigh. "He could be lying to push the blame onto those who arrived after him. Kitty argues that the anesthetic thief wouldn't want to make it obvious someone was wandering around this place, but I disagree." I raise a finger. "Since we know someone was walking around, it's us two who are being suspected. And if one of us is killed, the other becomes the prime suspect. That's why the anesthetic thief would want everyone to know someone was moving around," I cross my arms. "They just needed to manipulate the order of events to point at the last two people."

Miku listens intently, then smiles. "And speaking of Kent," she says. "It's curious why he would have an extra notebook in his classroom." She tilts her head, placing a finger on her cheek. "Is there something that makes him special among the rest of us?"

"Anyway, even if the notebook exists, it could have been retrieved last night," I say. "It'd be difficult for you, though, since you were with Lily and Riko all night," I shrug. "I guess those two are ruled out as well."

"Yes, they are," she says, nodding. "But let's assume the notebook is real... How could the anesthetic thief have known that Kent wouldn't just take it with him?"

"Assuming Kent wasn't lying," I say, scratching my chin. "He explained himself by insisting he hates stealing. If the thief didn't lose their memory, they might know this about him. That's why the notebook was left in Kent's classroom."

"And that's why Kent might have been the one with that extra notebook in the classroom," Miku adds. "Because he's the only one who wouldn't take it with him. Even you, Kurt, I believe, would have taken something as convenient as that notebook."

"I guess," I sigh. "The point I'm making is that we aren't the only ones who should be considered suspects here."

"No, of course not," she says. Then, tilting her head, she asks, "But what should we do, Kurt? How should we approach this?"

"Martin and Kitty will accuse us of being suspicious tomorrow at 8 a.m.," I reply, nodding as I slowly walk towards her. "We need to talk to them before that. We should form a united front. If they start throwing accusations at us, we can deflect them onto almost everyone else. We must make this threat to them."

"Yes, they are," she says, nodding. "But let's assume the notebook is real... How could the anesthetic thief have known that Kent wouldn't just take it with him?"

"Assuming Kent wasn't lying," I say, scratching my chin. "He explained himself by insisting he hates stealing. If the thief didn't lose their memory, they might know this about him. That's why the notebook was left in Kent's classroom."

"And that's why Kent might have been the one with that extra notebook in the classroom," Miku adds. "Because he's the only one who wouldn't take it with him. Even you, Kurt, I believe, would have taken something as convenient as that notebook."

"I guess," I sigh. "The point I'm making is that we aren't the only ones who should be considered suspects here."

"No, of course not," she says. Then, tilting her head, she asks, "But what should we do, Kurt? How should we approach this?"

"Martin and Kitty will accuse us of being suspicious tomorrow at 8 a.m.," I reply, nodding as I slowly walk towards her. "We need to talk to them before that. We should form a united front. If they start throwing accusations at us, we can deflect them onto almost everyone else."

Miku raises her head and scratches her cheek with her finger. "I see, Kurt..." she begins, glancing from side to side. "But accusing everyone would shatter whatever unity we have left in the group. It could lead to chaos and distrust," she says, looking at me. "That's exactly what an enemy who wants to kill us would want."

I look at her calmly. She's sharp. She's seen through it. But I expected her to.

Suddenly, I grab her wrists and pin her to the wall, moving my face close to hers. She tries to struggle, but she's smaller and weaker than me. I press her down hard. My face is inches from hers. I can feel her breath, sense her fear.

"P-please, don't..." she stammers, her eyes wide with fear. She looks at me with her gentle brown eyes, but they are filled with terror. She's scared of me. I'm the one causing that fear. "P-please, not again..."

I flinch and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. She notices and stops struggling. When I open my eyes, she's staring at me, her eyes wide. She has realized it.

I release her and step back, raising my hands. I move away toward the bed as she sinks to the floor. I sit on the bed, covering my face with my hands.

Every worst suspicion. Every terrible theory. Every dreadful conclusion.

All of them are confirmed, because she said, "again."

When I was forcing myself on her... I wasn't the first person to do it. But I was also someone who had done it before.

It was such an obvious possibility. We've known each other since the bus ride. No matter how our relationship turned out, I know I'd be attracted to her. And if I had become a psychopath responsible for this sadistic game, then I might go as far as to...

"I... I should have seen it coming," she says slowly, her breath still uneven. She's not faking it. "You always found a way to make somebody's guard down. You could always find a weak spot. And you always used it," she murmurs, looking at her hands.

I start to cry.

"It was clever," she continues. "You made me think your plan was to make me accuse others," she makes a pause to chuckle bitterly. "To agree to a clear act of betrayal," she sighs. "Someone wanting to use the anesthetic would want to break the group's trust. Accusing everyone else would be the best way to do it," she says, looking away from me. "But it was a red herring."

Sitting on the bed, I move my head between my knees. I cry uncontrollably.

"You knew it wasn't you," she says. "And you knew who pushed you into voicing the theory about the masterminds and their goals. If that theory was right, then there could be only one traitor in their group," she sighs. "Only one person would want the memos to become part of the game."

I listen to her gentle voice as I sink deeper into despair.

"The notebook..." she sighs. "Sure, Kent hates stealing more than anything. But..." She pauses. "Never mind. That's not your main concern right now."

I hear her slowly standing up.

"The critical part is that having knowledge of the layout was necessary," she says, taking a deep breath. "This means not having wiped-out memories. After all, there's Rodman's video..."

I hear her footsteps approaching.

"The question wasn't about the identity," she says, now standing next to my bed. "I gave that away to make you say the theory aloud. The real question was about the nature of someone with their memories fully intact."

"I..." I say, taking a deep breath. "I have hurt you."

"It's not in your true nature to ever hurt me, Kurt," she replies.

"Who cares about my worthless true nature?!" I yell. "I became a monster!"

"Monsters are made," she says softly. "Not born." She pauses. "None of you is to blame. Not a single one of you is responsible for what has occurred."

I take a deep breath. Then another. And another. I try to calm myself down.

"Will we..." I begin slowly. "Can we revert back? Back into them?"

"That's the plan," she says. "Though it's now in shambles. But that part still remains unaffected."

"Can we..." I take another breath. "Can we save ourselves from this?"

"I truly don't know," she replies. "But if it is possible... Your talent could save you, and others."

"...My talent?" I ask, confused. "How?"

She doesn't answer directly.

"The rules bind me," she says. "I'm already walking on thin ice." I feel her hand rest gently on my left cheek. "I was supposed to just... knowingly suffer for my sins."

"Miku..." I say, trying to gather my thoughts. "Your money... Did you give it to—"

That's when I feel the needle press into my neck. It's her anesthetic. My body goes numb, and she helps me lie down on the bed. I can't move, but I can still see. I think I can still talk.

"W-why...?" I whisper.

"Because this is our goodbye," she replies with a sad smile.

She turns towards my desk and flips through my journal. She sighs.

"A nightmare..." she mutters. "Lily didn't remember hers. Riko outright lied about her memory not working on her dreams. The woman is obviously..." She sighs again. "I wish you good dreams. Or none. Having no dreams isn't so bad. Neither is... being a nobody."

I watch as she turns to the door and pulls out her ID card from her pocket. But then she hesitates, hitting her forehead gently before reaching into my pocket instead. She pulls out my ID card and, without looking at me, heads towards the door.

"Miku..." I manage to say. "Don't you want to see... the future?"

She stops at the doorway and slowly turns back to face me. She sighs, then turns again towards the exit.

"I truly do, Kurt," she says. "And I still believe we can't predict whether it will be a bright or bleak one." She glances at me. "It'll probably alternate between the two. As always, I suppose." She turns back to the door. "But I also believe I don't deserve to get anything I want." She raises her hand, holding my ID card. "At least I'll find out if God exists. It would be nice to have someone who could just tell me if I was a bad person or not."

Then she unlocks the door and steps out. Before it closes, she scans the card one last time and throws it back into the room.

"Remember my last promise," she says, just before disappearing from view.

When I wake up, I find myself lying on the bed in my room. I feel sore and tired, as if I've been recovering from an illness. Slowly, I get up and notice an empty anesthetic bottle with a needle still lying on my bed.

It's just before 6 a.m. Crap. What the hell was she planning to do? She couldn't have intended to...

I grab the needle and my ID card from the floor. I still feel some grogginess after the anesthetic, but I bear with it. I unlock the door and rush out into the main hall. As far as I can see, everyone is still asleep behind their closed doors. I sprint to Miku's room and pound on her door, but it remains shut.

"Miku!" I shout, slamming my fist against the door. Even though the rooms are soundproof, the sound of my knocking is the only thing that can be heard from the other side. "Miku! Let me in!"

But the door stays closed.

My heart skips a beat. I knock on Kevin's door—he's next to her. He opens it, still in his pajamas, looking surprised and distressed to see me.

"K-Kurt?" he asks, noticing the intense expression on my face. "Are you..."

"Wake up the others!" I interrupt before he can finish. "Miku might be dead!"

Without waiting for his response, I sprint to the other end of the corridor, pounding on Martin's door. He doesn't open it immediately, so I keep knocking, standing there with my face inches from the card reader.

Finally, Martin opens the door. He looks at me, clearly confused.

"Kurt... What's going on?"

"Miku is in danger," I say, locking eyes with him. "She might have tried to kill herself."

His eyes widen in shock, but then they harden with resolve. He steps forward silently, making me move aside as he walks past me.

As we turn towards Miku's side of the corridor, we see that Kevin has already woken up Emma and is knocking on Lily's door. Emma is knocking on Arthur's door.

"Wake up Naomi now," Martin tells me in a cold tone. But I don't have time to dwell on it. He heads to Kitty's door.

I do as he says, banging on Naomi's door. It doesn't take long for her to open it, looking surprised to see me.

"Kurt?"

"Naomi!" I blurt out. "Miku might have killed herself!"

She stares at me, stunned. "What... What are you saying, Kurt?"

"Just..." I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Trust me on this. There's no time for questions!"

"I agree with the last part," Martin says, already waking up Kitty. "Kevin, Kitty, Naomi—head to the janitor's closet. Bring the fire axe. We're waking up the others."

"Right," Kitty nods, and the three of them rush off.

Soon, everyone is awake and gathered outside their rooms. We all assemble around Miku's door as the trio arrives with the axe.

"Kurt, step back," Naomi says, stepping towards the door. "I'm going to break it down."

She swings the axe, hitting the door hard. It seems durable, but she keeps striking it until it finally breaks open.

We look inside...

At first glance, everything seems in order. The light is on, her bed is made. There are some tools on the table. The vent in the corner has its grate removed and placed on the floor next to a chair. Beneath the vent, we see a section of a ladder lying on the floor, mostly obscured by the bed. We don't see Miku.

Then I step forward to get a better view.

Behind the bed, we notice the ladder is slightly tilted upwards. And then, on the far side of the bed, we see Miku. She's lying on the floor under the ladder, her head tilted back, facing the ceiling. Her eyes are open, staring blankly. Her head rests against the bed's frame.

There's blood on the frame, behind her head, and pooled on the floor beneath her.

We stand in silence, staring at her. Lily covers her mouth, her eyes fixed on Miku's lifeless face in horror. Steve, standing on crutches beside Lily, has his eyes wide open, his mouth twitching. Kitty stares coldly at the dead girl's eyes, while Riko watches with silent, focused attention. Martin stands near the door, looking up at the ceiling, his expression one of shocked disbelief. Kevin stares down, while Arthur clutches his chest, gazing at the body in shock. Yvonne begins to sob, and Emma gently places a hand on her shoulder. Naomi clenches her fists, trembling, and Kent seems unable to tear his eyes away from Miku's lifeless form.

I just stare at Miku, unsure if I'm feeling anything right now.

Ding, dong, daaang...*

"A body has been discovered!" Monokuma announces gleefully on the room's monitor. "Everyone, please gather in Miku Noone's room." He cackles on the screen. "Oh, wait, you're already there!"

Kitty steps forward. After observing the body from a distance, she approaches it and kneels beside it, reaching for the neck to check for a pulse.

"Cold for a few hours," she says, glancing at the rest of us, still in shock. "There's no pulse, and she's not breathing. She's dead."

Suddenly, we hear a bell ring. We turn to see Monokuma pushing a cart filled with sandwiches, drinks, and labeled thermoses of tea and coffee. There are also tablets on the lower shelf, each marked with a name.

"Good morning, everyone," Monokuma greets us cheerfully. "I don't know about you, but I love starting the day with the smell of a fresh corpse!" He chuckles. "But let's eat! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"

We all stare at the bear in silence, too shocked to respond.

"Oh, don't worry about the food!" Monokuma waves a paw dismissively. "I hereby prohibit any poisoning during this investigation and class trial!" He smiles. "It's your first time, so don't stress over such minor details."

We remain silent. I feel a sudden urge to grab the fire ax and start swinging at the bear, but I manage to keep my cool. We all do.

"Anyway, I've also brought you tablets with some information about the victim," Monokuma continues. "They should be helpful during the investigation."

No one moves. We just stand there, stunned.

"Right," the bear sighs. "You need to get over it, guys," he says, his eyes turning red. "It's time to start the investigation!" He grins. "If you don't, you won't be able to determine the Blackened responsible for this terrible death!" He laughs. "So, get to it!"

"Before that," Naomi speaks up, "I have one question."

"Sure!" The bear grins, turning to her. "I'll answer one question!"

"Kurt told me this was going to be a suicide," she begins. "Now it looks like an accident." She takes a breath. "Is there a Blackened?"

"Yes," Monokuma replies, smiling as his eyes glow red. "There is a Blackened. The Blackened is whoever is responsible for the death of Miku Noone, the Ultimate Lucky Student," he grins. "If Miku killed herself, then she is the Blackened," he explains. "And if it was just her own misfortune that caused it, she's still the Blackened." His grin widens. "If someone else is responsible, then they are the Blackened." Monokuma nods. "Now, get to work, students! Time for your first investigation!"

Then, he vanishes.

Martin sighs, walks over to the cart, grabs a tablet, and turns it on.

"The victim is Miku Noone, the Ultimate Lucky Student," he reads slowly, anger evident in his voice. "Estimated time of death: between 10 PM and 12 AM. Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Notes: no signs of struggle on the body." He lowers the tablet. "Everyone, take your own tablet. And get some food." He then looks at Kitty. "You're in charge of the investigation. Remember what we discussed."

"Right," Kitty nods, picking up her tablet. "Has anybody left their rooms, after returning from the monitor room yesterday?"

Everybody looks around each other, but nobody reports anything.

"Very well," the Ultimate Criminologist scratches her chin. "Steve, Riko, you two will observe me while I examine the body. Arthur, Emma, Kent, inspect the storage room and closet. Tools and the ladder had to be taken from them, maybe you'll find some clue. Naomi, Yvonne, Kevin, quickly check other special rooms, just in case. Report anything unusual." Then, she narrows her eyes at me. "Martin, Lily... question Kurt."

I clench my fists. This is the worst possible situation, and it's happening now. I should have seen it coming.

Everyone except Martin and Kitty is staring at me, not with suspicion, but shock.

"Why Kurt?" Kent asks, confused. "He couldn't possibly—"

"I state I didn't do it," I say calmly. "But Kitty and Martin are right. I'm the primary suspect for now."

"It's...," Kevin hesitates, scratching the back of his head. "It's because you were the first one awake and already knew she was dead, right?"

"We'll discuss that later," Kitty sighs. "Move now," she orders sharply. "We have limited time to investigate."

And so, we split up to follow her instructions.

While Kitty examines the body under the watchful eyes of Steve (who is sitting on the bed due to his leg) and Riko, Martin and Lily approach me. Martin's gaze is cold and intense, while Lily looks down, avoiding eye contact.

"Let's talk," Martin says, crossing his arms. "What happened?"

Of course, I'm angry and shaken. When I walked in, I already expected Miku to be dead. But the seemingly accidental nature of her death caught me off guard. And now, because of that whole mess with the stolen anesthetic, I'm under suspicion. I take a deep breath before responding. The sooner I clear this up, the sooner I can actually start investigating Miku's death and getting answers from this mess.

I sigh. "Yesterday, you and Kitty wanted Miku and me to figure out who among us was the anesthetic and notebook thief," I explain. "It wasn't me, and I suspected Miku knew more about our situation, possibly even being the traitor among the masterminds sabotaging the plan. She was the one who pushed me to voice my theory about their true intentions. You can ask Kent—it happened during our search."

Martin narrows his eyes at me. "So, you already had a witness to her exposing herself as a potential mastermind, traitor or not," he begins. "Why didn't you bring him along yesterday? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because you and Kitty were convinced the traitor's goal was to kill us all," I reply. "I wasn't so sure and had a plan to make her reveal her true nature, but I needed to confront her alone."

"Wonderful!" Martin rolls his eyes, gesturing towards Miku's lifeless body. "So if you're innocent, this could have been her attempt to kill us all."

"Excuse me..." Lily interjects softly. "I'm still lost. Why were Kurt and Miku suspected of stealing the notebook or the anesthetic?"

"They were the last to arrive at the entry hall, after Kent and much later than everyone else," Martin sighs. "Kitty and I decided to give them until 8 a.m. to reveal the guilty party, or we'd declare both of them suspicious in front of everyone."

Lily squints at him. "Was that really the best idea?"

"We were desperate," Martin admits, shaking his head. "We didn't want to inform everyone because it would paint targets on their backs, making a potential killing easier. And by making them aware of our suspicions, we hoped to shield the innocent one, as the guilty party would know they were immediately under suspicion." He pauses. "If Kurt is innocent, then that strategy somewhat worked. But our mistake was not placing guards in the corridor. I suppose yesterday's revelations left us too disoriented to think clearly."

"It's okay, Martin," Lily says, glancing at Miku's body. "None of us could have expected... this."

"Kurt, did you see any anesthetic in her room?" Martin asks.

"I hadn't entered her room until now," I say. "I waited for her to come to mine, which she did around 10 p.m. I was certain she hadn't lost her memories, but I needed to determine whether she was psychotic like we suspected the masterminds to be or if she was a victim caught in their web. I had a plan to figure it out."

Martin watches me intently. "And what was your plan?"

I look down. "First, I pretended to align with her, suggesting we deflect all accusations onto others, even if it caused chaos in the group. But she didn't fall for that bluff," I say, exhaling slowly. "Then I acted as though I was going to force myself on her, making sure to restrain her wrists so she couldn't use the anesthetic. I wanted to gauge her reaction."

"Force...?" Lily says, her eyes narrowing. "I don't understand."

"I pinned her wrists against the wall and acted like I was about to kiss her forcibly," I explain, staring at the ceiling. "Her reaction was to beg me not to do that 'again.'"

Martin raises an eyebrow, while Lily stares at me, shocked and speechless.

"That was the moment I realized she was a victim, not like the masterminds," I say quietly. "She confirmed our suspicions about them, including the idea that we might eventually turn back into them. She insisted that we weren't responsible for what happened to us, that we were made into monsters. She said it was due to her own sins and that the masterminds intentionally kept her memories intact as part of her punishment. I suspect she gave her money to Rodman."

"Wait, what?" Martin's eyes widen. "What do you mean by that?"

"She wouldn't say more," I continue. "Some kind of rules seemed to restrict what she could reveal. I think that's why she wanted me to state my theory about the masterminds' plan on my own." I sigh. "But I couldn't ask her for more details. I was in shock after learning all this, and I let my guard down. She used the anesthetic on me." I pull a needle from my pocket and show the mark on my neck.

Martin looks at me, stunned. Lily covers her mouth with her hands.

"She said it was our goodbye," I say, glancing at her body. "She didn't believe she deserved to see the future. That's why, when I woke up, I ran to her room and started knocking. Then I woke up Kevin and you."

Martin remains silent, still processing everything, his face frozen in shock.

"I see..." he finally says, looking down. Then he turns to Lily. "Lily, any questions? Is there anything else that needs clarification?"

"Um..." Lily starts, looking confused. "So... You two talked about the masterminds and what's happened to us. And she used the anesthetic on you. Then she..." Lily glances at Miku.

"I'm..." I look at the body under the ladder, still being examined by Kitty and the others. "Yeah, this is what happened."

"...I'm sorry, I don't know what to think of this," Lily says with a sigh, with a clear discomfort regarding the situation. "It's too much for me."

"Me too, Lily," I reply, looking down with frustration over how things have turned out. "I still can't believe it..."

"What are your thoughts on this?" Martin asks me. "How did this happen?"

"I'm..." I look down, confused and lost due to unexpected apparent manner of Miku's death. "I'm not sure. I thought it was going to be a suicide, but this looks like an accident," I say, glancing at the vent. "I have no idea why she would try to open it after our conversation."

"Do you think we should vote for her?" Martin asks, crossing his arms.

"I think you shouldn't vote for me," I say, meeting his gaze. "But I'm still uncertain about her. It's too convoluted for a suicide and too bizarre for an accident." I look away. "And one more thing—the last thing she told me was to remember her promise not to break the three-person rule."

Martin raises an eyebrow. "She promised that?"

I nod slowly. "Yes," I explain. "At the start of our conversation, I pointed out that she was breaking the rule by talking to me alone. She swore on her soul she wouldn't break it," I glance at her body again. "I came here thinking she might just end her life alone in the room, but..." I pause, gesturing with my hand. "Why commit suicide like this?" I look back at him and Lily. "I honestly have no idea what she was thinking. That's why we need to investigate further."

"I agree," Martin nods, his expression focused. "The investigation has just begun. But don't think you're off the hook yet. We still have a lot to discuss." He gives me a glance. "I'll give you this much—you're smart enough not to immediately try to convince us she's the Blackened."

"Right," I nod. "Because you'd suspect it's me, thinking I'm trying to shift the blame onto her. It's the most obvious conclusion."

"Regardless of the issue with the masterminds," Martin sighs, "let's save this discussion for after the Class Trial—if we survive." He then leads us over to Kitty, Steve, and Riko. "What did you find?"

"First, her ID card was in her pocket," Kitty says, pulling it out. "Which means no one else entered the room, since the culprit would have taken it." She then looks at Miku. "It seems she died from blunt force trauma caused by falling onto her bed's frame while standing on the ladder." Kitty points at the ladder on the ground, leading to Miku's bed, then at the vent. "She removed the grate, stood on the ladder, and then fell backward. Her head hit the bed's frame, causing the fatal injury." Kitty pauses, eyeing the vent. "At first glance, that's what it looks like."

"There are also some items around her body," Steve points out.

We look and see a screwdriver and some parts scattered near her hands and under the ladder.

"These parts belong to an AC unit made by Split, model 1025," Riko says, glancing at the vent. "If someone helps me up the ladder, I can check whether the AC is working properly. I know this model because my last school had the same one, and I helped fix it once."

"Kurt," Kitty calls, gesturing at the ladder. "Steve can't walk much. Help with the ladder."

"Right," I say, moving to hold the ladder.

The vent is in the corner, with a cupboard on the other side. I stand beneath the vent to steady the ladder while Riko climbs up.

"The vent is clean and completely dry inside," Riko says as she checks something with the screwdriver. "The AC is the same model and..." she pauses. "It hasn't been tampered with, but there's a clearly faulty component, and I see traces of someone trying to remove it," she points at the part beneath Miku. "I think that's the part she was trying to replace."

"Got it," Kitty responds. "Anything else?"

"No, I don't see any other signs," Riko says. "And the vent is too small for anyone to crawl through. I'd say the culprit couldn't have escaped this way."

"Martin, can you check the vent?" Kitty asks. "Just to confirm Riko's findings. Then we'll remove the AC unit for a detailed inspection."

We follow her instructions, and Martin confirms Riko's observations. When we take out the AC unit and examine the component, Riko confirms it's the same model Miku was trying to repair.

"It's a common issue with this model," Riko explains. "When it's on, the AC makes a noise every so often," she tilts her head. "Maybe Miku couldn't sleep because of it?"

"First, her ID card is in her pocket," Kitty says, pulling it out. "This means no one else entered the room; the culprit would have taken it to lock the doors." She then glances at Miku's body. "It looks like she died from blunt force trauma, likely from falling onto the bed's frame while standing on the ladder." Kitty points to the ladder lying on the ground, leading to Miku's bed, and then to the vent. "She must have removed the vent cover while standing on the ladder and then fell back. Her head hit the bed's frame, causing the fatal wound." She pauses, looking at the vent. "At first glance, that's how it appears."

"There are also some items around her body," Steve points out from the bed.

We look closer and notice several objects near her hands and under the ladder: a screwdriver and some parts.

"These parts belong to an AC unit made by Split company, model number 1025," Riko says, inspecting the vent. "If someone helps me with the ladder, I can check if the AC is functioning properly. I recognize the model because my previous school had the same one, and I helped fix it once."

"Kurt," Kitty says, gesturing to the ladder. "Steve can't walk much—help Riko with the ladder."

"Right," I reply, approaching the ladder.

The vent is in the corner with a cupboard on the opposite side. I stand beneath the vent to hold the ladder while Riko climbs up to examine it.

"The vent has been cleaned and is completely dry inside," Riko reports, adjusting something with the screwdriver. "The AC is indeed the same model, and..." she pauses for a moment. "It hasn't been tampered with yet, but there's clearly a faulty component. I can also see evidence that someone attempted to replace it," she points to the part under Miku. "I believe she was trying to install this part in place of the old one."

"Got it," Kitty nods. "Anything else?"

"I don't see any additional signs," Riko says. "And the vent is too small for anyone to crawl through. I'd say the culprit couldn't have escaped this way."

"Martin, can you double-check the vent?" Kitty asks. "Let's confirm Riko's findings. Afterward, we'll remove the AC unit for a detailed inspection."

We follow her instructions, and Martin verifies Riko's observations. When we remove the AC and examine the component, Riko confirms it's the same model Miku was attempting to repair.

"This model has a common problem," Riko explains. "When turned on, the AC makes a recurring noise." She tilts her head. "Maybe Miku couldn't sleep because of it?"

"But this is only our second night here..." I interject. "Why would she—" I smack my forehead. "Oh, right. Miku didn't sleep in her room the first night; she was with Lily in Riko's room."

"So, was Miku the culprit?" Lily asks, though she seems uncertain. "Did she die accidentally while trying to fix the AC?"

"This doesn't make sense," I mutter, looking away. "She drops nuclear truth bombs on me, knocks me out, talks about finding out if God exists, and then..." I gesture at the AC. "Just decides to fix THIS!?"

Martin narrows his eyes. "But that's the only other possibility," he says. "It could be a suicide that looks like an accident."

"Makes sense to me," Steve comments from the bed.

"But..." I lower my hands. "It doesn't add up. Why would she make her suicide look like an accident?"

"True..." Kitty sighs. "It wouldn't change our vote. Whether it's an accident or suicide, she'd still be the 'Blackened,' according to Monokuma."

"And I can't think of any reason she'd commit suicide," Lily says. "I was with her all night before this happened, and she seemed calm and collected."

"If we believe Kurt," Martin says with a sigh, "Miku was essentially a sexual abuse victim of Kurt's forgotten mastermind self. She didn't act like a traumatized person around us until Kurt forced her to relive her trauma. This means she was an exceptionally good actress. Maybe she was pretending in front of Lily too."

"I see..." Lily looks down, troubled. "So... it could have been a suicide," she admits. "But I'm not entirely convinced."

"I have just one question," I say, glancing at the AC parts. "Where did she get these? Are they available in storage?"

"No," Riko responds immediately.

"I can explain this one!" Monokuma's head suddenly pops through the open door. "Before 10 pm, I gave Miku an AC part at her request. She said she needed it to fix her AC!"

"So, she asked for your help?" Martin asks, folding his arms.

"And you didn't fix it yourself?!" I shout at him. "Aren't you supposed to provide us with everything we need?"

"Hey, hey!" The bear waves his paws dismissively. "I can't just do everything for you if someone wants to handle it themselves. Besides, I'm the headmaster, not a janitor," he puffs out his chest. Then he giggles. "Besides... I did it for science!"

"For science..." Martin squints his eyes.

"Well, the purpose of a school for Ultimates is to study and nurture talent, right?" The bear shrugs. "Miku was the Ultimate Lucky Student. By making her fix her AC herself, I created a small chance of her dying under unfortunate circumstances," he says, jumping with his paw in the air. "And as we can see, it happened!" He chuckles. "Science! She was unlucky enough to die! What a fascinating event!"

We all just stare at Monokuma, expressionless.

"Anyway, see you during the Class Trial!" Monokuma says before disappearing.

"Fucking bear..." I mutter slowly.

"Indeed," Martin sighs. "But he did tell us one important thing."

"Right," Kitty nods. "The timing of her request is very significant," she says, pointing at me. "Miku asked for the part before she talked with you. That means her decision to fix the AC was made before your conversation."

"That..." I look down. "She planned to come to me, put me to sleep, and then... fix her AC?"

"Kurt..." Martin sighs. "It really looks like a suicide. She might have wanted to kill herself but make it appear like an accident, for some reason." He crosses his arms. "And I'm actively trying not to rule out the possibility that you staged this to make us vote for her."

"But she had her ID card on her," Steve points out.

"Exactly," Martin nods. "Unless the card reader accepts Kurt's card, nothing suggests he entered here."

I walk to Miku's scanner and swipe my card. It doesn't work.

"See?" Martin says. "This means Kurt couldn't have entered this room. Everything points to it being an accident or a suicide," he says, looking at Miku's body.

"We should at least look around this room," I say, resigned. "Miku had her memory intact. She was behind the memos. There still might be some answers here."

"Right," Martin sighs. "Let's check her things, then."

We search through her desk and open a cupboard. Inside, we find a partially used glue tube and a notebook with a bluish leather cover, engraved with a simple butterfly picture.

"It's twice the size of our initial ones," Riko notes.

"Similar to the one Kent mentioned in his classroom," Kitty scratches her head. "We should show him any notebook we find here."

I open the notebook and notice that some inner pages are partially cut out. Between these partially cut-out pages, entire pages have been removed with scissors. It's a white notebook, with the first part filled with cute drawings and notes up to the cut-out pages. Then, the following pages are missing entirely, clearly due to somebody using scissors on them.

I spot "The Art of War" book, the one Miku had used for her memo. I open it and find a memo written in what Miku claimed to be her handwriting. The handwriting is identical to the one in the notebook. The memo's size is same as the cut-out parts of pages from the notebook.

"I can't find any other notebook," Martin says. "Except for the standard one we all received."

"Could this be it, then?" Kitty asks. "The stolen notebook?"

"Maybe..." I hand the bluish notebook to Kitty. "Kent should be able to identify it by touch. It was too dark for him to see it."

"Right," Kitty agrees, taking the notebook to examine it. "It's missing some pages," she observes, showing us the cuts.

"Kurt," Martin suddenly speaks. "Give me 'The Art of War.'"

I hand it over, and he opens it to the memo. Then, he looks at the paper in the bluish notebook, examining both with a focused expression. He closes his eyes and sighs.

"Check it yourself," he says, passing the notebook and book to Kitty.

Kitty compares the pages, sighs, and then hands them to Lily. Eventually, they reach me, and I compare the pages.

"It's the same paper," I confirm.

"Whoa," Steve raises an eyebrow from the bed. "So, it was her?"

I glance at a page in the notebook I just compared. In the corner, there's a note: "Today I was with Kurt in the park and cinema. It was lovely!" with a smiling heart drawn next to it.

"Maybe," I say, closing my eyes and lowering my head, trying to calm my emotions. "There's also glue in the room," I add, speaking more evenly.

"But it's strange," Kitty says. "Besides the mystery of why we wrote those things in her notebook. If this is the notebook Kent mentioned, and Miku used it to plant memos in our books... why didn't she just let us discover it in Kent's class?"

"Besides," Martin looks up. "This would mean Miku planted them after the killing game had already begun," he says, crossing his arms. "But how did she enter our rooms?"

I think for a moment and then raise my finger. "Who has Miku's ID card?" I ask.

"Me," Kitty replies. "She had it in her pocket."

"I see..." Martin taps his pen against his chin. "It's possible she used the master card to enter our rooms and plant the memos while we were in the entry hall."

"Let's try opening Lily's room with Miku's card then," I suggest. "Her room is the closest among the six of us."

We head out, and I stand in front of Lily's door. I take the card from Kitty and hold it up to the scanner.

It accepts the card, and the door opens.

"It looks like she could have entered our rooms," Kitty remarks, taking the card back from me.

"Case solved, then," Martin says, crossing his arms. "Miku planted the memos. She was behind the note theft," he sighs. "But I still don't understand so many things. If she was a victim of the masterminds, as Kurt believes, why did she have the master card?"

"It's really strange," Lily agrees, using her card to lock the door again.

"Maybe she really gave her lottery money to Rodman?" I suggest. "Who built the Hope Shelter we're in? That might have given her special privileges in this place."

"But why would the other masterminds allow her to keep it?" Martin squints his eyes. "And why would she participate in this killing game, knowing how dangerous it is?" He shakes his head. "Why did the mastermind allow her to enter the killing game with her memories intact?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "She said she was put here to suffer knowingly. She mentioned rules restricting what she could say. Maybe it was meant as torture..." I glance at the card in Kitty's hand as she slips it into her pajama pocket. "But I don't understand how this was overlooked," I sigh again. "And considering everything we know she did, what was she thinking?"

"Muddling the waters for everyone?" Steve suggests, and we all turn to look at him. He shrugs. "Yesterday, Kent invited me to play a board game. We didn't end up playing because of the videos and... the other stuff," he says, looking down, still upset over what he learned about his parents' death. "Anyway, we talked a bit about games and different types of players. He said that some players intentionally want to muddle the waters, make the game more unpredictable. Maybe that's why she did all that?" He gestures towards the room. "Maybe that was her goal—to mess things up for everyone, including herself?"

"It's some kind of explanation..." Lily sighs.

I look away. "I... I guess," I say, giving up. "She did say a lot of strange things. Like, if it's possible to prevent us from reverting to our mastermind selves, my talent could save me and others. But I'm just an interviewer."

"Maybe..." Riko says slowly.

Just then, we see Naomi, Yvonne, and Kevin running towards us down the corridor. They were investigating other special rooms, and they're returning with... a defibrillator.

"What's that about?" Martin asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Look," Naomi approaches us and shows the defibrillator up close, pointing to a small screen on it.

We gather around to take a look. It's the same screen I saw on the day I woke up when I first checked the infirmary. Back then, it read "fully charged."

Now, it reads: "92% charged."

We all glance at Naomi and her group. Kevin looks down, and Yvonne sighs. "When we entered the infirmary, it was on the charger," she explains. "The display was alternating between this and '33 minutes left to full charge.'"

"33 minutes?" Kitty raises an eyebrow.

Riko examines the defibrillator. "This model uses 25% of its power per use," she notes. "It takes about 4.2 minutes to charge one percent. So if it was fully discharged, it was used roughly 386 minutes before being removed from the charger."

"Six hours and twenty-six minutes ago," Naomi calculates. "Within Miku's estimated time of death."

Without a word, Kitty sprints back to Miku's room. We follow her.

Inside, we find her in the middle of removing Miku's sweater and unbuttoning her shirt. "I'm such an idiot. 'No signs of struggle,' my ass, you bear!" she mutters through gritted teeth. "Because these aren't signs of a struggle; they're signs of CPR!"

She exposes Miku's chest, revealing visible burn marks in the shape of two pads, clearly from the defibrillator.

"I should have known from the moment I saw the ladder," she says, looking at us. "And then Kurt positioning himself with it! Someone tried to revive her using the defibrillator from the infirmary," she glances at Miku. "That means she died from an unintentional accident... caused by someone else!"

"And that person…" Martin says slowly, taking a deep breath. "Has altered the crime scene to make us believe that Miku was all alone. We have been nearly fooled."

We all remain in silent shock, staring at the body. Miku Noone, the Ultimate Lucky Student. The only one who remembered her time with the masterminds. Perhaps their victim, forced to participate in the killing game. She sabotaged it by placing memos in our rooms, stealing anesthetic, and using it to put me to sleep.

And now, she's dead. The Blackened is among us, and we need to find and vote for them. The person who killed her did so by accident. They even tried to save her afterward but failed.

And even so... they decided to cover it all up and make us vote for Miku instead.

Ding, dong, daaang...

Suddenly, the monitors in the room and corridor activate, showing Monokuma smiling at us.

"The Class Trial is about to begin. Please gather in the auditorium. But first..." he waves his paw. "For the sake of the morning investigation, I let you run around the school in your pajamas. But now, for the class trial, you need to get dressed," he grins. "So, go back to your rooms, change, and gather in the auditorium. Then, you may enter the class trial."

The screen switches off.

As the others leave to change, I don't. I'm already dressed. I slowly move toward Miku, button up her shirt, and put her sweater on her to cover her. I look at her face, her eyes staring blankly. Her face is pale and lifeless, but with her eyes closed and no blood on her, she looks peaceful, almost as if she were sleeping. For some reason, I feel an urge to touch her cheek.

"Miku..." I whisper, resting my forehead against hers. "What were we? What have we become? And... what was your goal here?"

Her forehead, like the rest of her body, is cold. I'll never know its warmth unless I regain my memories of becoming a monster and... doing what I did to her.

I slowly lean back, closing my eyes and sighing. "You're dead. And soon, at least one more person will be too," I murmur as I stand up. "The future I see now is bleak. When will it start to brighten, Miku?"

I turn and leave the room, passing the broken door, heading toward the auditorium.

I watch as we gather, now dressed, before the stage. Lily and Kent arrive first, followed by Martin, Riko, and Yvonne. Then Naomi and Kevin. Steve arrives next. Finally, Emma, Kent, Arthur, and Kitty show up, with Kitty arriving last. From the gathered, Lilu and Riko look particularly down. They were closest to Miku, alongside me, after all.

"We have some last-minute info to share," Martin announces. "Miku was likely killed accidentally while fixing her AC. Someone tried CPR on her using the defibrillator. It had only 33 minutes left to be fully recharged when it was found." He sighs. "There are other things to discuss later, but this is the most crucial for now," he says, looking at Emma. "Anything noteworthy to report?"

"The storage area is in order," Emma replies. "According to Riko's notes. However, we confirmed that the ladder and tools were taken from the janitor's closet."

"Most likely by Miku herself," Kitty adds. "And whoever was with her."

"The closet seemed normal," Arthur points out grimly. "Nothing out of the ordinary, but that's the point. Nothing useful."

"Then the infirmary and Miku's room were the most important places to investigate," Lily concludes.

"What about the masterminds?" Riko asks, looking down. Still, there's a hint of determination in her usually quiet voice.

Martin looks at me, and I nod.

"They don't matter, not now," Martin says. "The Blackened is our current enemy, the immediate threat." He looks around. "I understand it was an accidental killing, but covering it up makes the culprit an intentional murderer of everyone else."

We exchange glances in silence. No one confesses, and suspicion fills the room. We know now: a killer is among us. We step onto the stage, and it descends.

The elevator takes us on a long ride underground. Steve is silently strengthening his grip on his crutches. Martin is skimming through his notes while Kitty whispers to him. Kevin is looking to the side, silently. Riko is removing her headphones. Lily is nervously glancing around at everyone. Arthur is looking at his royal ring, focused. Emma has her arms crossed with a thoughtful expression. Kent is scratching the top of his hair while looking down. Naomi is looking up, measuring the distance covered by the elevator. Yvonne is examining the defibrillator she is carrying.

During the descent, I glance at Miku's notebook in Kitty's hands, as I channel my anger at the Blackened to build my resolve.

Someone among us unintentionally killed Miku Noone, the mysterious Ultimate Lucky Student who sabotaged this killing game. A guilt-driven victim manipulated of the masterminds who exposed their plans to us.

Her death, cloaked in mystery, and her strange behavior leading up to it.

Now, there's someone responsible—for her death and the cover-up. A clear act of betrayal. They wanted us to believe it was either suicide or an accident. Who are they? What did they know about her? Why were they with her after my fateful encounter with her?

In this trial of nature and nurture, I'll do my best to uncover the truth. For the future. Our future. A future free from the grip of the masterminds within us inside.

It's us versus the Blackened now!

After a few minutes of the ride, we finally arrive at the underground courtroom, with fourteen podiums arranged in a circle, each with a witness stand on it. We leave the elevator and approach our places according to our ID numbers. We look to the side and, instead of Miku, there is a portrait with a red cross on it standing in front of her podium. She is cheerfully smiling in the photo.

Before us, Monokuma is sitting on a huge throne, looking at us with an expectant grin. "Everyone has arrived," he says, rubbing his hands. "It's finally time for the Class Trial to begin!" His grin widens, and his red eyes glow.

"Why are there fourteen podiums?" Yvonne suddenly asks. "Why isn't there just thirteen, like us?"

"Because this courtroom can accommodate fourteen people," the bear says. "Nothing more, nothing less. Don't sweat the small stuff, kids!" he adds, waving his paw.

"We're not children," Riko replies.

"Sure you are!" The bear smiles. "You are a bunch of kids who have been given an opportunity to grow into something bigger, only to have it snatched away," he chuckles. "But that's not important now," he says, pointing to the podiums. "Please, take your places!"

And so we do. My place is between Kent's and Kitty's. The empty spot is between Martin's and Miku's.

"Let's begin with an explanation of the class trial," Monokuma says. "Your vote will determine the results. If you can figure out 'whodunnit,' then the one who disturbed your peace will be punished," his eyes turn red. "However! If you guess wrong, then I kill everyone besides the Blackened, and the Blackened will graduate!"

"Right..." Kent nods. "We've been told about this."

"Ah, right!" The bear claps its paws. "The rules were explained before the killing game began!" He looks down at us. "But, one important thing. Voting is mandatory. If you don't vote, you will be executed. No exceptions!" He grins. "So, if you want to survive, better get to it! Let's get this crazy, awesome, crazy-awesome trial underway!"

We all look around. This is it.

"So..." Naomi begins. "The first issue is... How did Miku die?" She asks. "Was it a suicide?"

"Unlikely," Kitty says. "While we can't completely exclude the possibility, the evidence points to it being an accident," she explains. "An accident caused by a second person."

"Right," Martin nods. "Miku had visible burn marks on her chest from a defibrillator. A defibrillator had been used and was being charged in the infirmary."

"Which we wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't woken everyone up so soon," I say. "We had 33 minutes left to spare. It would have been charged before 7 a.m."

"But... why a defibrillator?" Kent asks. "Wasn't she hit in the head?"

"CPR can save lives in some cases of brain injury," Riko says quietly. "If it's performed right away. So, the Blackened must have panicked and tried to save her."

I look to the side. One thing seems odd to me already.

"There is, however, one primary suspect," Martin says, putting his pen to his forehead. "Kurt."

"Come on," I sigh. "Didn't I just say that I'm the reason we know about the defibrillator?"

"I'm aware," he nods. "But... let's just confirm one thing, Yvonne," he looks at her with crossed arms. "You've said that the screen of the defibrillator alternated between the percentage and the time to charge, right? How often?"

"Well..." she looks to the side.

"The switch occurred about every twenty seconds," Kevin replies, scratching his head and looking down. "We did a little experiment by unplugging and plugging it back into the charger."

"Right," Naomi nods, putting her hands behind her back. "Kevin's idea. When you unplug the charger, it immediately shows the percentage. And when you plug it back in, it still takes about twenty seconds to show the time."

"Well, Kurt?" Martin smirks at me. "Do you realize what that means?"

I sigh and look down. "That it is possible for the culprit to plug the defibrillator back in, and then leave, without seeing the time."

"And that means you could have put the defibrillator in and then run, unaware of the charging time," he says, pointing his pen at me. "Which is why you waking us up so early could have been your fatal mistake."

"I get it," I roll my eyes. "Let's just get to me proving that it's impossible for me to have committed the crime, alright?"

"You're really confident about it," Kitty says, looking to the side. "Let's see how you handle this."

I look at her, and then at Martin. "Alright. The first problem with the theory that I killed her is..." I pull out my ID card. "The locked room. Miku's doors were locked, and her card was in her pocket while she was lying near the far corner of the room." I smirk. "It's possible to lock the doors from the outside and leave the card inside, yes. If you scan the card when the doors are open, they will close and lock themselves automatically." I point the card at Martin. "But it takes one and a half seconds for the doors to close themselves. Not enough time for me to run to Miku, put the card in her pocket, and run out."

Martin squints his eyes. "Acceptable reasoning," he says. "Your card cannot open Miku's doors. Though hers can open others," he looks around. "As it turns out, Miku was in possession of a master ID card, for some reason..."

"Right," I nod. "Miku's ID card was a master card that could open any doors. That's how she was able to enter our rooms and plant the memos. She's also the one who stole that notebook from Kent's class and the missing anesthetic."

"Miku planted those memos?" Arthur asks, taking a step back. "So, she was lying the whole time?"

"Yes," I say, looking to the side. "But so far, this isn't important. There's no evidence that the Blackened knew any of this," I put my finger on my chin. "They wanted to cover up their murder, but they didn't know that killing Miku would automatically paint me as the primary suspect. Only Kitty and Martin knew that me and Miku were suspected for stealing the anesthetic. By creating a locked room, they got me off the hook."

"If somebody else has a master ID card, they could have easily entered the room," Kitty nods, putting a hand on her hip. "And Kurt couldn't have locked the door because he doesn't have one. And he wouldn't be able to put Miku's card in and leave within less than two seconds."

"Then the murderer is whoever has another master ID card," Emma says, smiling, while raising her hand to the side. "Simple enough."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you all," Monokuma says, and we look at him. "But there was just one master ID card, and Miku had it. No other student here was granted one."

"Bit of a bummer," Emma sighs, crossing her arms.

"But..." Lily tilts her head. "How is that possible?"

"Right," Yvonne says. "Why did Miku have a master ID card? Why was it her, of all people?"

"Yeah," Kevin nods, focusing on me. "I get that the Blackened is important now, but this trial will quickly get confusing if we don't clear up some other things."

"Right," I look around. "There are many things that need to be explained. But, I'm afraid, there's not much that I can explain to you," I look to the side. "I confronted Miku in my room at 10 p.m. Like I've said, Martin and Kitty didn't tell you all, but they were suspecting us of stealing the anesthetic and the notebook that Kent saw in his classroom..."

"Touched," Kent corrects me, waving his hand. "It was a bit too dark to see it in the locker."

"Anyway, I've determined that Miku had her memory intact," I cross my arms. "But then she put me to sleep with an anesthetic, leaving me in my room until I woke up before 6 a.m."

"And then, after leaving you sleeping at 10 p.m., she simply started fixing her AC?" Naomi raises an eyebrow.

"I have no clue what was in her head," I sigh, raising my arms. "But I have a theory about the Master Card." I cross my arms. "We all know that Miku won one billion dollars and then gave most of it away for some sort of project. What if that project was Project Buried Last Hope?"

"Buried Last Hope? The one that was behind the creation of Hope Shelter?" Kent asks, raising his eyebrow.

"Mr. Rodman was behind it..." Steve sighs, standing with the help of his crutches.

"And he needed money because Hope's Peak Academy wouldn't lend him help from their R Department," Martin nods. "If Miku was one of Rodman's sponsors, she might have gotten the Master Card from him."

"Then maybe she was the mastermind!" Emma yells, slamming her hand on the table.

"Kurt thinks she was their victim," Lily looks to the side. "He said he had... faked a sexual assault attempt to make her abandon her facade."

"Yes, I did," I look down. "She was traumatized before, and I made her relive it."

"You really went hardcore, didn't you?" Yvonne says, with clear disgust on her face.

"I tried to make her drop her guard earlier," I sigh, looking up. "It didn't work back then, so I realized she was too good of an actress to be easily provoked. And I suspected the worst from my mastermind counterpart."

"Still, it sounds strange," Arthur looks to the side. "Why would they let a victim run around with a Master ID card? And keep her memories?"

"Figuring out more about Miku and the masterminds will be important later on," Kitty raises her hand. "But when it comes to the case at hand, Miku having a Master Card was of no importance during the crime."

"Let's return to the main track, shall we?" Martin claps his hands. "Miku had done plenty of things we cannot understand. But they weren't directly linked to her murder. And Kurt couldn't have killed her, because he couldn't lock the door."

"Then we should focus on how the locked room was created," Kitty says. "The killer had to somehow put the card in Miku's pocket and get out of the room before the doors closed."

"But the doors were closing automatically," Yvonne points out. "And they were closing too fast, in one and a half second. It wasn't possible."

"If it's about being fast..." Lily turns to Kevin. "Uhm, you are the fastest person here. Could you make it?"

"Uh," Kevin looks to the side. "Maybe? Can anyone tell me the distance?"

"Around nine meters," Riko quietly says, looking up. "Together, 18."

Kevin takes a deep breath and crosses his arms. "I could run 18 meters in one and a half seconds, yes," he begins, but then he shakes his head. "But it wouldn't be just that. I'd also have to put the card on Miku. And then turn around and head back to the doors. It'd require..." he looks to the side and grimaces. "Jess, the Ultimate Sprint Runner."

"Kevin," I say. "I'm sorry for how things look now, regarding her survival..."

He looks to the other side and raises his hand. "I'm not in the best mood to discuss it," he says.

"Right," I say and look to the side.

"So," Kitty says. "Not even the fastest person here could have done it."

"But are we sure Kevin isn't undermining his own abilities to make himself seem innocent?" Yvonne asks. "He is among the most athletic people here, and he's the fastest," she points at him. "It is possible that he could do it."

"I don't think so," Riko says, slowly shaking her head. "His speed is well documented from various public sports events."

"Can we access those records?" Lily asks, looking at Monokuma. "The computer does have an archive of the internet."

"There's no need," the bear says, chuckling. "I am aware of his records myself. He never ran 18 meters faster than in 1.44 seconds."

"See?" Kevin spreads his hands, looking up. "That gives me 0.06 seconds to put the card in and turn around."

"That's impossible," Riko says, shaking her head.

"Maybe we need to look at the problem differently," Steve says, looking down at his leg in a cast.

"Kurt, I have one question," Emma says, looking at me, with her finger raised. "You've said that Miku was a victim of the masterminds. And by the masterminds, you mean... us, from our forgotten period?"

"Yeah," I say, scratching the side of my head. "What about it?"

"How can we be sure this isn't just her revenge scheme?" Emma asks. "She could have been the true Blackened, manipulating our perception of the crime."

"Emma," Kitty looks at her and sighs deeply. "The defibrillator was used. And there were marks on her."

"And?" Emma asks, crossing her arms. "You aren't an Ultimate Autopsy Performer. Nor an Ultimate Detective. The marks could be fabricated and self-inflicted. And the defib could have been discharged on some meat from the kitchen."

"Uh," Naomi looks at her and squints her eyes. "This is a really specific theory."

"Before you suspect me," she rolls her eyes and raises her hand. "I'd like to remind everyone that Miku's body was behind the bed, and we had to walk a while to see her. And even if you think of me so highly that you believe I am capable of throwing a card into a pocket I cannot see..." she looks at Kitty. "Tell me where that pocket was, exactly."

Kitty shakes her head. "You couldn't have done it," she says. "The pocket was covered by Miku's arm."

"So," Emma smiles. "Why are we not discussing this possibility? It's all Miku's setup."

"Miku was really odd," Kent sighs, looking down. "Knowing she remembered everything, and assuming it included some nasty things inflicted by us... It makes you realize how little you can see what was in her head."

"Objectively speaking..." Martin puts his pen to his mouth. "We cannot be entirely sure if she was a friend or a foe."

"Kurt has determined she was sexually abused," Lily looks down. "Her hating us makes sense, but that doesn't mean she'd want to kill anybody."

"I agree with Lily," I say. "Miku was a victim. A victim of the same people who made us go through this trial and deal with the freaking Monokuma."

"Upupu..." he just giggles from his throne.

"But what did she do for us, Kurt?" Kevin asks, looking down. "I get it she has made us aware of the truth, supposedly. But did she even tell you anything important? Like, something that could have helped us?" He looks at me and waves his hand in my direction. "You have to admit, it's freaky she just decided to fix her AC right after knocking you out!"

I put my hands on the table and look down. They don't understand. They weren't there with me. They didn't see her afraid eyes. And they didn't hear... But, goddammit, Miku. What were you after?

"I..." I begin, looking down. "She just gave us words of comfort. She told me that none of us are responsible for what has happened." I raise my head and look at Kevin. "She saw who we are now as our true selves, Kevin. She described the monsters we don't remember as something we were forced to become. And instead of hatred, she felt guilt for whatever involvement she might have had in our situation."

"...She felt guilty?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

"I have no idea," I admit. "But she said that, despite still wanting to see the future, she didn't feel she deserved to get anything she wanted. All she wanted was to hear from God whether she was a bad person." I sigh and look away. "Considering she had the master ID card and this is likely Hope Shelter, I'm sure she gave her money to Rodman. I think she believes that the creation of Hope Shelter is the cause of everything, and as one of its major sponsors, she blames herself."

"But without the master ID card, she wouldn't have been able to plant those memos," Riko points out, looking away. "And we'd still be trapped in the killing game, completely unaware."

"Yes," I nod at Riko. "She used what she had to reveal the deception behind this killing game. She admitted she didn't know if it was possible to stop us from becoming the masterminds again. But she said that if it is possible, my talent might be the key to saving us."

"And how does being the Ultimate Interviewer help with that, Kurt?" Emma asks, staring at me.

"I..." I hesitate. "I don't know. Maybe there's something about myself I haven't discovered yet. But," I turn to Kevin, "she gave me absolution. And a bit of hope. It might not be much, but it's enough to keep me going."

Kevin stares at me for a moment before sighing. "Fine," he says, looking down. "I suppose it's something."

"Her behavior is still hard to explain," Kitty mutters.

"And, for all we know, she might have been manipulating Kurt," Kent adds, waving his hand dismissively.

"But..." I begin, tilting my head.

"Kurt," Martin interrupts, raising his hands. "I understand you went through the shock of a terrible self-discovery, and she made you feel better. Appreciate that, really. But actions speak louder than words," he shakes his head. "And hers were outright bizarre."

"I'm sorry, Kurt, but you have to face it," Emma says with a smile. "She didn't give us anything useful about this case. Except for knocking you out to wake us early, but even that could've been a trick."

"No, that's not true!" I slam my hand on the stand. "Miku did leave me with one clue!"

Martin raises an eyebrow. "And what is it?"

"Her last words!" I exclaim, looking around. "I told you before, Martin. She asked me to remember her final promise—that she would never break the three-person rule again."

"That's... a clue?" Emma asks skeptically.

"The three-person rule?" Arthur tilts his head in confusion.

"Yes," I cross my arms. "It's the rule that we always travel here in a group of at least three people." I point at Emma. "We're assuming the locked room couldn't have been set up by a lone culprit, so it had to be Miku's doing. But what if she asked not just one, but two people to help her fix the AC?"

Martin crosses his arms. "Two other people?"

"The Blackened and a second person, who could act as an accomplice," I explain.

Everyone goes silent, exchanging uncertain glances. They don't know how to take this revelation.

"An accomplice?" Emma asks, frowning. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," I nod.

Emma rolls her eyes and looks at Riko. "Can you remind us, verbatim, of our last conversation about accomplices?"

Riko glances at Emma, then looks away before speaking. "It started when Kurt said the following," she looks at me and continues, "We need to follow a few basic rules to maintain some level of trust. First, only be alone in your own locked room. Second, if you're with someone else, always be with at least two other people." She turns to Emma. "Then you said, 'Is that enough? We could still be killed even with two others present if they were both in on it.'" She points a finger at herself. "And I responded with: You're forgetting the rule of this killing game, Emma. If someone kills and graduates, everyone else dies. The killer can't have accomplices." She then turns to me, with a sorry expression on her face. "And you, Kurt, replied: Right. You can't commit murder and let anyone know because it would mean certain death."

I take a deep breath and look away. Damn it, Miku. What was the point of all this?

"That was rather brutal," Martin sighs.

"No, no," Emma waves a finger. "The purpose of this trial is to discuss everything. Let's entertain the idea that someone is willing to accept certain death." She puts her hand on her hip. "Two people cooperating could explain the locked room setup. In fact, for any potential pair capable of this, I would be essential. I'm the only one who could have tossed a card to someone near the body," she says with a smile. "Then the other person would only need to place the card and sprint 9 meters in one and a half seconds."

"Is that even possible for anyone but Kevin?" Lily asks, looking around.

"Not just Kevin," Emma replies, crossing her arms. "Steve could do it if his leg was functional. But they're not the only athletic ones..." She points at Kitty and Naomi. "Ladies, what about you?"

Naomi looks down, while Kitty remains silent but calm, staring at Emma.

"Girls," Emma sighs. "I'm sorry to bring this up, but remember, all our lives are at stake here." She raises her hand. "As a waitress, I notice social cues. You two were good at pretending to be strangers... but your reaction upon seeing each other in the entry hall was a bit too strong."

Naomi bites her lip and looks away. Kitty's expression turns grim, her eyes narrowing.

"So, you knew," Kitty says quietly.

"Yes," Emma admits with a smile. "I pretended not to notice to avoid alarming you. But this is more important than your privacy." She places her hands on the stand. "You know each other. Are you counting on your relationship to keep the other quiet?"

"I'm not," Kitty sighs. "I could have done it fast enough."

"Me too," Naomi sighs, facing Emma. "You really are ruthless."

"I'm on edge!" Emma exclaims, spreading her arms. "We all are. We need to consider everything, even the possibility of someone cooperating in this crime," she says, turning to me. "But here's the issue, Kurt. By considering your accomplice theory for just a moment, we've gone from one potential suspect, Miku, to four more." She raises her hand, extending one finger at a time, until all five are extended. "Me, Kevin, Kitty, and Naomi. Are you satisfied?"

My jaw drops. I didn't expect her to drag Kitty and Naomi into this.

"In other words..." I lean over the stand, looking down. "You're saying..."

"I'm saying we need to narrow this down, pronto!" She waves her hand with five extended fingers in my direction. "And we've humored your accomplice theory long enough. How about you consider that this entire mess was caused by the girl who's been fooling us all from the start, instead of taking her every word as gospel?!"

I take a step back on the podium. It's not just her words but her whole... performance. I should've known that a live show star with TV experience is a master of public image. Emma isn't just a waitress or a thrower—she's an entertainer, using her skills to sway the others. And me? I'm just an interviewer.

"It does seem like Miku was muddying the waters after all, guys..." Steve looks down.

"Yeah," Kent says, staring at her photo. "She's messed with the masterminds alright... but she's also messed with us."

"This trial..." Martin waves his hand dismissively. "It requires us to either eliminate possibilities or confirm one."

"To confirm the accomplice theory, someone among us would have to confess at this point," Emma sighs, raising her hands. "And remember, even those less obviously athletic could have escaped the room within the time limit."

"But we can't confirm Miku killed herself," Kitty points out.

"Nor can we eliminate that possibility," Emma looks up at the ceiling. "Including the possibility of self-inflicted marks. You're an Ultimate Criminologist, but you don't handle ongoing cases on the streets. How many fresh crime scenes have you seen?" She shrugs. "How many marks left from a defib?"

"Not enough to say for sure," Kitty admits, looking down.

"We can't even rely on actual expertise," Emma turns to Riko. "What about you, Riko? Have you ever seen a defib in action?"

"No..." Riko looks down, her hands on the headphones hanging around her neck. "Which is why I'm no genius. Without a related memory, I can't be of much help."

I'm watching as the trial slips away from me. And, to add insult to injury, I'm not even sure I'm right anymore. Miku has done so many things that make me question how much I can trust her. Like... knocking me out, only to follow up by fixing the AC?

"Maybe we should try using the defibrillator on Miku's body for comparison?" Arthur suggests.

"If only Monokuma would let us examine her body again..." Martin sighs.

"Request denied!" The bear rises on his throne, standing on it, and waves his paw. "Once the investigation is over, it's over! You had your chance to run experiments! It's your fault for not considering the defibrillator marks on Miku Noone's body."

"You concealed the existence of those marks!" Kitty snaps at him. "You purposefully stated in your report that there were no signs of struggle on Miku's body, misleading us about potential marks and discouraging us from undressing her!"

A red light glows in his left eye. "I told the truth. The truth is, Miku Noone had no signs of physical struggle. Any marks you found were not from a struggle." He giggles. "And... upupu, you can't deny you had fun undressing her, didn't you?"

Kitty squints but doesn't respond.

"Can't we just..." Lily clasps her hands together. "Ask the Blackened to confess?"

"We don't even know if they're still alive," Emma shakes her head.

Silence falls as everyone looks around uncertainly. Emma surveys the room, gauging the effect of her words. I look at her, then at Miku's photo, then at Martin, and finally at Monokuma, who sits back on his throne, his eye glowing red with anticipation.

"Well then," the bear speaks up. "Are we going to have a new development, or should I call the vote? Upupupu..."

Emma leans back, tilts her head, and sighs. Her blond hair sways as she looks at us. She then places her hands on the stand and faces Monokuma.

"I guess we're going to have... both," she says, turning back to us. "Since this is my last show... I'm just glad I'm going down as the person who could hold this entire trial in my bag."

Everyone stares at Emma, unsure what to think. Monokuma tilts his head silently. Finally, Kitty breaks the silence.

"Are you saying..." she begins, staring at Emma. "That you're the Blackened?"

"All by accident," Emma sighs. "At 11 pm, Miku asked for help fixing the AC." She glances to the side. "I didn't know about her earlier encounter with Kurt. Don't ask me what was in her head." She shrugs. "I held the ladder under the vent because there was nowhere else to stand. Miku was on the ladder, but..." she spreads her arms. "The dust made her sneeze, and it fell right onto my face. Then..." she lowers her arms and head. "It was such a stupid accident. The ladder tipped over, and Miku's head hit the bed frame."

"...And you used the defib to try to save her?" Steve asks. "And after it failed, you decided to cover it up?"

Emma nods slowly, miming the use of the defib. "I was desperate to revive her. When the defib didn't work, I called Monokuma. He confirmed that I'm the Blackened." She looks up. "I thought about confessing immediately, but... I didn't want Miku's death to be in vain. At least challenging you all in the trial would give you some experience for the future, right?" She looks down and sighs. "I'm sorry for playing with your emotions."

"It's so cruel," Yvonne says, tears welling up in her eyes. "You didn't mean to kill anyone... and now you're going to be executed."

"This is unjust," Arthur comments.

"Look on the bright side," Emma says with a weak smile, holding her left arm. "The most dangerous person here is gone."

"But Emma!" Kent leans forward towards her. "We would've accepted you eventually!"

I look down, then turn to Miku's portrait. I clench my fists.

Fuck it, no more indecisiveness and people pleasing. I'm going to say it.

"You couldn't have made the locked room by yourself, Emma," I say, closing my eyes. "Who was with you and Miku?"

Emma gives me a strange look before sighing. "You're not letting this go, huh?" She shakes her head. "But does it even matter? I'm the Blackened, anyway." She raises her hand. "And my accomplice helped me on the condition that I end up confessing. They didn't want to die with the rest of you."

"If that's the case," I stare at her. "That person has no reason to hide their identity."

Emma looks at me for a long moment, then sighs. "If they don't speak up, I won't say a word," she says. "Why do you want to know so badly? To berate them?"

"Someone needs to confirm your story!" I shout. "So we can be sure it was really you!"

"Kurt, you don't need anyone to confirm my story," Emma sighs again and looks to the side. "Let's suppose it wasn't me. This trial was lost anyway. You've done nothing but muddy the waters, and I did nothing but muddy the waters, and the rest just muddied it further," she turns to me with a tired smile. "Why would I confess if I'm not the Blackened? Whether I confess or stay quiet, I'd be executed alongside you all anyway." She shakes her head. "That's why you don't need to hear from me who my accomplice was, I believe."

"I agree with Emma," Martin nods, crossing his arms. "We don't need to hear from her who her accomplice was."

"Martin!" Kitty turns to him. "What the hell? Just what the hell?"

Martin remains quiet for a moment. Then he smirks, poking the side of his head with his pen. "Let me rephrase that, Kitty," he says smugly. "It is I who don't need to hear from Emma who her accomplice was." He then turns to me. "And Kurt, if he is worthy of being called an Ultimate."

I look at Martin's cocky face. "You... know?" I ask.

"Do you know?" he replies, his expression unchanging.

"Know what?" Arthur asks, putting a hand on his chin.

Emma only stares at Martin silently, crossing her arms. Martin then takes his notebook, writes something in it, tears the page, and folds it. He hands it to Yvonne, who is standing next to him.

"Don't open it until Kurt says who the third person in Miku's room was," he instructs her. Yvonne nods, looking confused. Then Martin looks at me. "This is your chance to impress us, Kurt."

"Kurt," Naomi looks to the side, then at me. "Go ahead."

"Martin," Emma sighs. "Are you turning my last moments into some sort of game?"

"No," Martin grins at her and points his pen at her. "You did that yourself, along with this entire trial, for the sake of us gaining some experience." He directs his pen at me. "Now let Kurt gain something from it. Let him have this one."

Emma looks at Martin for a moment and then smiles. "You're a really weird guy," she says. "Alright, I'll humor you."

Martin turns to me. "I'll give you just one hint," he tells me. "You only need to look around at everyone to see it."

Look around at everyone? But how? I'm not an Ultimate Detective or a Criminologist. I'm just an interviewer with no special skills. And there are at least three viable candidates! Maybe more! I can't... I can't... I...

I look at Martin's face and grit my teeth. This is not the time to be indecisive. I slowly turn my head and see the empty 14th podium, then Miku's photo. I notice Kevin looking at me silently, and then Lily, who is silently pleading with me with her eyes. Then I glance at Emma, who has her eyes closed.

Wait...

I turn back and look at Lily again, blinking a few times.

"Holy shit..." I mutter, realizing the meaning behind Martin's hint.

"Kurt?" Lily asks, her eyes wide. "You can't possibly be..."

I look at Martin and see him grinning. He nods his head. Of course, he knows. It happened when...

I look to the side and take a deep breath.

"Kevin..." I say slowly. "Name your neighbors."

He looks at me, putting his hands into his pockets, then says, "Well, Lily and..." He glances to the side. "Miku."

"You were the first person I woke up, right?" I ask.

"Yes," Kevin nods. "Then you ran to wake up Martin, on the other side of the dormitory."

"I told you to wake up the others," I continue. "Who did you wake up first?"

He looks directly into my eyes and answers without hesitation. "Emma," he says.

"You woke up Emma first, despite Lily being between your room and Emma's?" I lower my head. "Why did you skip Lily and go straight to Emma?"

Kevin looks to the side and sighs, then looks at me again. "Because I panicked over you waking everyone up so early," he admits. "I needed to consult my partner-in-crime on what to do next."

Everyone falls silent. We all look at him. Yvonne opens the paper from Martin's notebook and reads it. "Oh..." she says quietly. "It's true..."

"Kevin, you..." I begin, looking down and placing my hands on the stand. "You were in the room."

"Yes," he confirms and turns his head to Emma. "I was there. Miku called me for help first, then... her."

Emma lets out a long sigh. "Kevin..." she begins. "None of this matters anymore, does it?"

"No, Emma," Kevin leans forward, placing his hand on the stand. "Both you and I know this matters a lot," he sighs. "I truly thank you for your effort, going above and beyond. But..." He raises his head and looks into my eyes. "I killed Miku Noone."

Emma looks down, closes her eyes, and sighs deeply.

Kevin turns to the side, arms crossed. "I won't drag this out or hide anything," he says. "I accidentally killed Miku Noone by pushing her ladder." He looks away. "Emma was right—there was dust in the vent."

"You're allergic," I say.

Kevin nods. "Yeah. Miku asked me to hold the ladder, but as soon as I sneezed, the ladder fell backward." He sighs. "And everything followed after that. Emma tried CPR, and I ran to get the defibrillator," he looks down. "I've never run faster in my life—it took me less than a minute. But it didn't work. When we realized she was dead, we called Monokuma. He confirmed that I am the Blackened because she died as a result of my actions. Then, Emma..." He looks at her. "You came up with a plan to cover it up."

Emma remains silent, her eyes closed. Kevin sighs, shaking his head, and avoids eye contact with the others.

"This was a stupid accident that shouldn't have happened," he says. "But I'm done hiding." He clenches his fist. "I'm sorry, everyone. I just didn't want to die—not before finding out what happened to Jess. Even now, it hurts me, but..." He looks down. "I'm done. I'm done. I'm done," he says, finally meeting my eyes. "Kurt Blake, as the Ultimate Marathon Runner, I give you my full confession. I murdered Miku Noone."

I look at Kevin and sigh. "Just tell me one thing, Kevin," I say, glancing at my stand. "Miku asked for your help at 11 p.m., just like Emma said in her fake confession, right?"

"Yes," Kevin nods.

"How..." I hesitate for a moment before shaking my head. "How was she acting? This all happened right after she knocked me out with anesthetic..."

Kevin looks at me. "She seemed... normal. Just like a regular person. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a normal girl who wanted her AC fixed," he says, looking away. "She didn't say anything important. Just..." He raises an eyebrow. "Well, she said the AC was too loud for her to sleep. That's it." He gives a long sigh. "Knowing what we know now, I can't understand why she even bothered. It was just a random thing. A regular thing. Just..." He looks down. "A stupid, random, and unfortunate accident."

I look at Kevin, then at Monokuma, who tilts his head with his paws on his belly.

"Well then," the bear speaks up. "Are we going to have a new development, or should I call the vote?"

Suddenly, Emma slams the stand. "Development, development, development!" she yells. "We're not voting yet!"

"Emma, what are you doing?" Kitty asks, raising an eyebrow. "This isn't funny."

Emma turns to me, gritting her teeth. "You stupid moron," she snaps. "You're going to get us all killed." Then she faces Kevin, raising her hands. "Is THIS what you want?! Is THIS why you went along with this?!"

Kevin just shakes his head. "Emma, it's time to end this."

"No!" Emma shouts. "It's not over yet!" She turns to the others. "Because Kevin is lying! His entire confession is a lie!"

"What?!" Kevin exclaims.

"I've told everyone the truth!" Emma insists, looking around. "I am the Blackened! I killed Miku by accident while Kevin was helping me!" She turns back to Kevin. "Why are you lying, Kevin?! I thought we agreed I would end this with my confession! Why are you lying?!" Tears well up in her eyes.

We watch the exchange in silence, the back-and-forth between two supposed liars. I don't know what to say. It dawns on me that this isn't the end; the class trial is still ongoing and has completely derailed.

"I'm the killer, Emma," Kevin says quietly.

"No, you're not!" Emma shouts back.

A heavy feeling settles over us—a sense of impending, deep despair. The entire trial is unraveling before our eyes as both of them claim responsibility for the same murder. One of them is definitely lying, but why?

"This is madness," Martin mutters, clearly shocked.

"What...?" Arthur shakes his head. "What is going on here? What are you two trying to accomplish?"

I turn my gaze to Miku's portrait. I realize that, as long as we are alive, nothing is truly over. Miku was right about the future—everything has changed so unpredictably. Now, we're caught in the middle of a conflict with an uncertain outcome, one that could alter our future entirely.

"Is this..." I whisper, staring at her portrait. "Is this what you wanted, Miku?"

Meanwhile, on his throne, Monokuma watches the chaos in silence. His eyes glow red, and he begins to chuckle. "Upupupu... Now, this is interesting." He starts clapping his paws. "This is what I call a development... Daaahahaha!"

The class trial is a mess. Emma and Kevin are yelling at each other while the rest of us are confused. Monokuma just sits on his throne, silently watching us with his red, glowing eye.

Finally, Martin slams his stand. "Shut up!" he yells, causing the arguing duo to look at him in confusion. "You're supposed to tell us your stories, not yell at each other," he continues, crossing his arms. "To whichever one of you is lying, I cannot fathom what kind of fuckery you're trying to pull, but we're going to expose your lie anyway." He sighs and looks around at us. "Everyone, there's no need to panic. The good news is that we've narrowed down the suspects to just two people. Now, the rest of us—ten in total—are beyond suspicion and can cooperate fully."

"Dunno about this, boss," Kent mutters, running a hand through his red hair. "We thought only the Blackened would want us all dead, and now this is happening. What if we can't find the truth after all?"

"Well..." Arthur smiles nervously. "But isn't the real Blackened the one who doesn't want us all to die?"

"Unless those two are still trying to confuse us somehow," Naomi points out.

"At least..." Lily looks up with a tired smile. "We can be sure Miku didn't set everything up?"

"At this point," Steve looks down, "I wouldn't be surprised if those two were carrying out her plan or something."

"Guys," I slightly slam my stand with both hands. "Let's just try to sort this out, alright?"

"I agree with Kurt," Kitty nods with her arms crossed. "I'd like to hear more from Emma."

Emma looks at her and sighs. "Well," she begins, "What else can I say?" She glances at her hands. "I still stand by what I said earlier..."

"No, you don't," the Ultimate Criminologist frowns. "During your initial confession, you tried to hide the fact that you had an accomplice. Maybe you should clarify who did what first."

Emma remains quiet for a moment before sighing. "Fine," she says, looking at us. "Here's what happened. Miku knocked on my door around 11 pm, with Kevin already by her side."

"I agree," Kevin sighs. "Miku came to me first."

"After explaining that she needed help and a third person for safety, we grabbed some tools and a ladder, then went to her room," Emma explains. "Before we started working, we talked a bit in Miku's room. Then, Miku climbed the ladder to reach the vent. I was holding the ladder, and Kevin was holding the AC parts and tools."

"It was the opposite," Kevin glances at Emma. "I was holding the ladder, and you were holding the tools."

"Despite this obvious discrepancy," the Ultimate Waitress rolls her eyes, "Miku removed the vent cover, and everything was going fine up to that point." She glances at Kevin. "Do you agree she then passed the cover to the person holding the tools?"

Kevin nods. "That's when the accident happened."

"Yes," Emma nods slowly. "While the other person was supposed to place the cover on the cupboard, Miku reached into the vent, causing some dust to fall on the person holding the ladder."

"Kevin testified that you performed CPR, Emma," I say. "And he ran to get the defibrillator. Is that true?"

Emma looks at me and nods. "He's faster, after all," she says, looking away. "He was back in less than a minute. During that time, I was performing CPR on Miku."

"I used all four charges of the defibrillator on Miku," Kevin, the Ultimate Marathon Runner, looks down. "Then we called Monokuma. He identified the Blackened."

"I confirm this!" Monokuma raises his paw.

"I have a question for Monokuma," Martin lifts his pen. "When we discovered Miku's body, you announced the body discovery. Why didn't you do it right away?"

"Upupupu..." Monokuma chuckles. "Because the two people present were the ones who witnessed the murder."

"You made up the rules on the spot, didn't you?!" Kitty squints her eyes.

"Now, now!" Monokuma waves his paw. "Don't accuse me of being unfair! I gave the Blackened a fair chance to seek cooperation from the witnesses. I only announced the body discovery when you found the body, not when Miku died."

"Regardless..." I speak up. "Kevin testified that Emma came up with the cover-up plan to protect him. Emma claimed she decided on her own to let us experience a trial before confessing." I raise my finger. "So, both of you acknowledge that Emma planned everything out since Monokuma identified the Blackened, correct?"

"Yes," the duo replies.

"What did you two do, then?" Arthur asks. "Who did what?"

"First, we put the defibrillator back," Emma says. "It was the only item from outside the room that wasn't supposed to be there, and it had to be fully charged before everyone woke up."

"Which didn't work out because Kurt woke everyone up at 6 am," Kevin sighs.

"Who returned the defibrillator?" Kitty asks.

"I did," Emma shrugs. "I needed a walk anyway to recover from the shock of killing Miku."

"You went out with the defibrillator, yes, but..." Kevin turns to Emma with a squirm. "At first, you wanted me to return it."

"I might have politely asked if you wanted to do it yourself," Emma waves her hand. "If you don't dispute that I returned it, let's move on."

Huh. I tilt my head, pondering this. Is there something significant about this disagreement? If Kevin is lying, why would he want to claim Emma initially wanted to stay? If Emma is lying, why would she omit her initial desire to stay? I'd better keep this in mind...

"After I returned, which took about four minutes, we got to work," Emma crosses her arms. "We arranged the body as you saw it, though Miku's arm was still away from her pocket. But before that, we cleaned all the dust from inside and under the vent."

"True, it was clean," Riko confirms. "But why did you do that?"

"Emma thought of it," Kevin crosses his arms. "And she did all the work because I'm allergic."

"Everyone heard Kevin was allergic that day," Emma shrugs. "I didn't want him to be a suspect because of someone making that connection. We wanted it to look like Miku was fixing the AC on her own, without anyone holding the ladder. It was risky enough to be a believable cause of the accident."

"Did you search through Miku's things while you were in her room?" Naomi asks.

"I didn't," Kevin responds.

"We wanted to keep our stay there as brief as possible," Emma sighs. "There was always a chance someone might randomly decide to visit Miku or us."

"So," Kitty nods, "Next, you moved to create the locked room scenario."

"Right," Kevin says. "Emma was supposed to scan the key card from the outside and toss it to me. I was to place it in Miku's pocket, cover it with her hand, and then run for the exit."

"It worked on the first attempt," Emma nods. "Then we went to our rooms and hoped nobody would check the infirmary until the defibrillator was fully charged."

"And hoped no one would check Miku's body," Kevin sighs. "Still, Emma assured me that if it came to a class trial, she'd handle it."

"This concludes our story," the Ultimate Waitress says, crossing her arms. "Do you all have a clear picture now?"

Everyone exchanges glances in silence. We all wear the same expressions—a mix of confusion and hesitation.

"Is there anything you want to add?" Martin asks the duo.

"Only that I am the Blackened," Kevin declares.

"That I'm the Blackened," Emma rolls her eyes.

"I have a question, Kevin," Lily says, turning to him. "According to your story, you essentially put your fate in Emma's hands..."

"Did I have a choice?" he responds. "She witnessed me causing Miku's death. If she wanted, she could testify against me." He puts his hands in his pockets and looks down. "I didn't want to die, so I had no option but to trust she wouldn't betray me. After all, we had already tampered with the crime scene together."

"According to Emma, she convinced you to cooperate by promising to eventually confess," Kitty interjects, crossing her arms. "But how did you get her to help you in the first place?"

"Honestly, I didn't do much convincing," he admits, scratching the back of his head. "After Monokuma left, I collapsed, thinking it was the end for me. But Emma told me to get up and assured me she'd help." He sighs. "And I believed her. I had no choice. I trusted her not to betray me."

"Kevin," Emma says, looking at him. "Why are you saying all of this?"

"Emma," Martin raises his hand. "You'll get your turn to speak in a moment."

"Did Emma give you any reason why she wanted to cover up your murder?" I ask, scratching the side of my head. "According to you, she was willing to die alongside us for your sake."

"I did ask her," he says, crossing his arms. "She told me that once the first blood was spilled, even if accidentally, everyone would be on edge. This would seal her fate," he says slowly, shaking his head. "She believed people would turn against her because of how dangerous her throwing talent seemed. It was convincing, especially since I kind of felt the same way about her."

"Well, Kent and I heard similar concerns from Emma that day," I say, glancing at the Ultimate Fashion Model. "Right?"

"True enough," Kent rolls his eyes. "But doesn't Kevin's story sound a bit absurd? He makes Emma seem downright hysterical."

"If I can add my two cents," Emma raises her hand. "If I thought I was done for, I'd rather take my own life. Dying on your own terms is better than whatever execution Monokuma could come up with."

"Upupupu..." the bear giggles ominously.

"I'm..." Kevin hesitates. "I'm telling the truth, guys..."

"Too bad you've lied so much before," Martin sighs and turns to Emma. "This applies to you too, Emma," he says, looking up. "Remember, no matter what, you shouldn't lie about your involvement in any killing. You might end up regretting it, and you'll just give everyone a headache."

"Yes..." Arthur looks down. "You should've learned from my story that it's better to confess."

"Does anyone have any idea how to solve this dilemma?" Yvonne asks.

"If no one can come up with a definitive answer," Martin crosses his arms and sighs, "we'll have to debate it. Let's discuss who's lying. Any volunteers?"

"I don't have anything to add," Naomi says, looking away. "It's hard to tell who's lying when they both could be."

"I agree, this is tough," Steve nods.

My gaze moves up. To sum things up, at 11 p.m., after knocking me out, Miku asked Kevin and Emma to help her fix her AC. One of them was holding the ladder while the other held the tools. The person with the ladder sneezed, causing it to fall and accidentally killing Miku. Emma began CPR while Kevin ran for the defibrillator in less than a minute, but it was impossible to revive Miku. Monokuma confirmed the Blackened. One way or another, Emma planned the cover-up. Emma then returned the defibrillator to the infirmary. The two of them set up the crime scene to make it look like Miku was fixing the AC alone and accidentally killed herself. Then, they created the locked room. Emma scanned the card and threw it to Kevin, who placed it on Miku's body and ran to the exit before the door automatically locked behind him.

I glance at Miku's portrait. In the end, we need to decide who's lying. It's time to pick a side and stick to it until the bitter end. "Alright," I say. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm siding with Kevin as the real Blackened."

Martin smiles and points his pen at me. "And why's that, Kurt?"

I raise my hand and point to Miku. "Because I believe in what Miku said about wanting to die," I explain. "After using the anesthetic, she told me this was our goodbye. She said she was going to find out if God exists. That's why I was convinced, upon waking up, that she had committed suicide."

"Her again?" Emma sighs.

"But she didn't commit suicide," Kent interjects, raising an eyebrow. "It was an accident caused by someone else."

"According to Monokuma's definition, yes," I reply, turning to them. "But how can we be sure that Miku didn't provoke someone into accidentally killing her?"

"Kurt," Martin says, crossing his arms. "Are you suggesting she orchestrated her own death?"

"That's..." Kevin takes a deep breath. "No comment."

"I have a comment," Emma says with a raised eyebrow. "I won't deny that she was nuts."

"I believe so," I say, crossing my arms, ignoring those who clearly have issues with my theory. "That's why she asked Kevin to hold the ladder. We all knew he was allergic to dust, and both Kevin and Emma said the dust made them sneeze," I nod. "I think Miku purposely used Kevin's allergy to make him kill her. It wouldn't have worked with Emma."

"But," Emma shakes her head, "there was a lot of dust. Anyone could have sneezed there." She tilts her head. "And we all know Kevin takes his medicine."

"It doesn't make me immune," he retorts.

"But did Miku know that?" she shrugs.

"Let's present our reasons and see how this turns out," Martin suggests. "Anyone else want to take a side?"

"I side with Emma," Kent says, crossing his arms. "I just don't buy the hysteria excuse. Emma's supposed reason for covering for Kevin is absurd."

"I..." Kevin hesitates. "I thought she wanted her death to save someone, but now..." He raises his arms. "All I can say is she must have been insane."

I look at Kent, hoping he's following logic and not letting his feelings cloud his judgment.

"I don't know, but Kevin holding the ladder makes more sense to me," Steve says from his crutches. "Wouldn't a girl want a guy to hold the ladder for her? I don't really get how women think, but..."

"Steve, please," Yvonne shakes her head. "I'd prefer not to be looked at from below. So, I think Miku would have chosen Emma, and..." she looks away. "I guess I'll side with her too."

I glance at Yvonne. I recall seeing her and Emma on friendly terms before. Bias can definitely play a role.

"I think Emma's telling the truth," Arthur adds, looking away. "She was the first to confess."

I suppose Arthur projects himself onto those who confess their wrongdoings... and he could project himself onto Emma for longer.

"I trust Kurt's judgment that Miku was suicidal," Riko says quietly. "And there's a reason she chose Kevin, beyond his allergy. He's stronger than Emma, so his strength could make the accident more lethal."

"I won't deny that Miku might have desired death," Lily looks down. "But her supposed method of getting herself killed seems too risky. Kent also makes a good point about Emma's supposed desire to help Kevin being unreasonable," she sighs. "I'm sorry, Kurt, but I side with Emma."

I look down. I can't exactly fault this logic. If I'm right, both Miku and Emma are downright insane.

"I side with Kevin," Naomi crosses her arms. "Besides the reasons given so far... I have a problem trusting Emma."

"You always have," Emma sighs. "You were the first to be terrified of me."

"I also side with Kevin," Kitty touches her chin thoughtfully. "Emma planned the cover-up and handled the trial almost too perfectly."

"Sorry for being intelligent," the Ultimate Waitress rolls her eyes.

Everyone turns to Martin, who has been silent. He gazes at Miku's portrait and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I'm voting for Emma," he says.

"Why?" I ask, not believing he's siding with Emma.

"To be frank, I'm not convinced," he responds. "Both stories sound absurd to me. However, I can make an argument in favor of Emma, and that makes me obligated to say it," he presses his pen to his forehead. "She confessed when the Blackened, whoever they are, was about to win," he lowers his gaze to me. "You'd better think of how to refute this one, Kurt."

Emma smirks while I look down, realizing the issue. Emma's initial confession came just as we were about to vote. Why would she confess at that point if she's not the Blackened?

"That's six to six," Kent points out. "It's a tie, guys."

"So what do we do?" Lily asks. "We're split right down the middle."

"SPLIT?!" Monokuma yells, standing up from his throne. "Split, you say?!" He grabs a remote. "Upupupupu... Let me show you how I resolve ties!" He presses a button, and the circular stands we're on start moving, making everyone scream.

I see the circle split into two halves: one with me, Riko, Kitty, Steve, Naomi, and Kevin; the other with Emma, Martin, Lily, Kent, Arthur, and Yvonne. Emma's half moves to the right and stops. Then, our half rotates in the opposite direction until I'm facing Emma, Kent is facing Kevin, Martin faces Kitty, Arthur faces Steve, Yvonne faces Riko, and Naomi faces Lily.

With my head tilted down, I glance at Emma in front of me, as she's smiling confidently. Was this intentional? I notice that Miku's portrait podium is positioned in our row, in front of the empty podium. I'll take this as a good omen.

"The Despair's Bottom Academy proudly presents a brand new development!" Monokuma announces from his throne, waving his paw. "This is our new Scrum Debate System!"

"So..." Kent looks up at the ceiling. "A regular debate, just with different positioning?"

"Just go with it," Martin sighs. "The only logic here is the bear's twisted sense of entertainment." He turns to Monokuma. "The rules are the same as before?"

"Sure, sure," Monokuma nods. "The difference is purely aesthetic. Now, let's debate whether Emma or Kevin is the Blackened! Go, go, go!"

"Emma's confession was an act of bravery," Kent begins, crossing his arms. "We'd all be dead by now if not for it."

"I think it would be braver if she had been upfront from the start," Naomi retorts. "Kevin's misguided pursuit of survival seems more believable than her talk about giving us 'experience.'"

"But it's also odd that Emma's actions seem inconsistent if we believe Kevin," Lily sighs, clasping her hands. "Why would she want to help him so much?"

"At this point, Emma isn't helping me at all," Kevin slams his stand. "Maybe she was just using me for whatever insanity she's trying to pull now?"

"Emma was right that if Miku was killed accidentally, it's better for us to learn from an actual class trial," Arthur points out, raising a finger. "It might be useful later on!"

"For someone who supposedly cares about Miku's death not being wasted, Emma constantly berates her," Riko reminds everyone, lifting her head. "Kevin was initially angry at Miku due to her strange actions, but he's respected Kurt's perspective on her."

"We're all on edge and say harsh things," Yvonne spreads her arms. "What matters is that Emma was the first to confess."

"But she was supposedly in charge of handling the trial, according to both her and Kevin," Steve shakes his head, with focused gaze. "It's convenient if you want to be first in everything."

"The order isn't as important as the timing," Martin states, raising his pen. "The Blackened was winning before Emma's confession. Why would she stop that if she wasn't the killer?"

"Speaking of timing, Emma took her sweet time responding to Kevin's confession," Kitty argues, clenching her fist. "Are we sure it was a sudden, unexpected betrayal?"

"It was a betrayal that left me feeling grief mixed with despair," Emma claims, gazing into my eyes. "I needed time to gather myself, to know what to say."

"It feels more like you're toying with us, Emma," I reply, meeting her piercing glare. "And if your own story is true, you've been doing this all along."

She simply raises her head silently. I see this as an opening and press forward, pointing my finger at her.

"Face it, Emma!" I declare. "By your own admission, you've turned this entire trial into a game. Whether you're lying or not, we're dealing with the fallout of your choices!"

"And I swear, you ARE lying!" Kevin follows, clenching his fist. "I swear it on Jess' soul!"

"And it's strange that someone who could've won this trial didn't anticipate this outcome," Kitty narrows her eyes at Emma. "You were prepared for everything except Kevin betraying you?"

"It's not the first time you've pushed our survival instincts to the brink by being dishonest, Emma," Naomi shakes her head. "After the initial panic over your abilities, you should've known better."

"Trust is built on remembered interactions, Emma," Riko sighs. "Your own actions make it hard to believe you over Kevin."

"Yeah!" Steve nods. "What they said, Emma!"

Emma's side remains silent, and so does she. While everyone looks at either her or me, I notice Martin closing his eyes with a sigh. Emma glances at him briefly and smiles before looking back at me.

"So," she says, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow, still composed. "Is anyone actually going to answer Martin's question?"

I just stare back at her, keeping my mouth shut. I don't think there's anything I could say to answer her question, at least not from our side. At that, she smirks and looks away before turning to Martin.
"Martin?" she prompts him.

The Ultimate Journalist opens his eyes and raises his head to look at me. He sighs before speaking.

"Kurt's right. The entire trial was a game, but not one of Emma's own making," he says, looking directly at me. "We've all been dancing in the palm of Miku Noone."

Emma places a finger to her lips and smiles. "Exactly," she says, then sighs, turning serious as she faces me. "Kurt, I understand how you feel. Let's call things as they are, alright? You believe that, as the mastermind you no longer remember being, you raped Miku. Repeatedly."

I look down, gritting my teeth, then slowly nod. "Yes, that's... true," I confirm.

"I don't question the conclusion you reached after your encounter with Miku," she says calmly. "But I think you're mistaken about her feelings towards us," she glances around at everyone. "When you consider it... the most logical explanation is that this entire case is Miku's revenge plot."

"Her what?" I ask, blinking in confusion.

"She orchestrated her own death," Emma says, placing her hands on her chest. "And she made sure you knew that was her intention. But she tricked you into believing she would choose Kevin over me, to stand under the ladder and cause the accident."

"She did choose me," Kevin responds angrily.

"Exactly!" I slam my fist on the stand. "Maybe Miku could manipulate me, but how could she manipulate Kevin? Why would he play along with her revenge plot?"

"Before we answer that, Kurt," Martin raises his hand and turns to Kevin. "Can you please tell us about this 'Jess' you've mentioned repeatedly?"

"S-She was..." Kevin hesitates. "She is the Ultimate Sprint Runner. And my girlfriend."

"And she was supposed to attend the American Division with us, right?" Martin crosses his arms and sighs deeply.

"Yes," Kevin admits, looking down. I can sense where this is going too.

"The one that got nuked," Emma interjects. "Possibly by those who set up this game. By us."

"Martin, you can't be suggesting..." I start.

"Kevin might be working with Miku," the Ultimate Journalist looks up. "For all we know, he could be seeking revenge for his girlfriend by trying to get most of us executed. And Miku could have exploited that."

"This is bullshit!" Kevin shouts. "Even I can see the obvious problem with this. Miku would've risked me exposing her if I didn't play along!"

"You're forgetting we're dealing with someone who retained all her memories," Emma crosses her arms. "She knew how Kurt would react upon learning he was her rapist. She could've anticipated how to manipulate you as well."

"Martin," Kitty suddenly speaks up, her eyes closed. "How far are you willing to go with this?"

The Ultimate Journalist sighs and looks away. "As far as Kurt needs to go to find the answer to my question," he replies before turning to me. "Why would Emma confess when the Blackened was winning if she isn't the Blackened?"

"Couldn't she be the one working with Miku?" Naomi asks.

"If I were cooperating with Miku and Kevin were the Blackened, I'd want him to win," Emma shakes her head.

I look down. For the nth time, damn it, Miku. Why did you want to fix the AC after knocking me out? Why did you invite those two to your room? Still... I glance at Kevin, who meets my gaze. I slowly nod. Maybe I'm not entirely convinced, but as Martin has stated... As long as I can argue in favor of the man who, if I'm right, killed Miku and wants us all dead, I am obligated to do so.

"It's all getting confusing now," Steve sighs.

"I'm lost too," Yvonne admits.

"We'll try to simplify it for you," Martin says, raising his pen.

"Right," Emma looks at me. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I know you see the person who made you believe she forgave the unforgivable as a perfect saint," she slowly raises her head, pointing both hands at me. In the hall's dim lighting, her pink waitress outfit looks even darker. "But for everyone's sake, you must face the truth about her!" She squints her eyes at me. "No matter what kind of despair it brings you..."

"Upupupu..." the bear chuckles ominously. "This is the beginning of the end!"

We all return to our positions from the start of the class trial. The final debate and rebuttal are about to commence. Monokuma, no doubt to add some drama, causes our podiums to move around the hall. This is it—the moment of truth. My hope in Miku's good intentions and Kevin's redemption... versus Emma's despair-filled claim about the supposed truth about them.

"I admit my biggest flaw," Emma says, placing her hand on her chest. "As a TV star, I am vain. That's why I wanted to use this class trial as my last show." She points her finger at Miku's portrait. "But I had no idea what Miku did to Kurt, nor her plans!"

What should I do now? I consider my options, standing with my eyes closed as I listen to the others.

Martin raises his pen. "Emma could only learn about Kurt being knocked out by Miku during this trial," he reminds us, pointing his pen at Emma. "She wasn't even present during the investigation in Miku's room."

Nobody can know what Miku was thinking in all this. I shouldn't try to speculate on the motives of the dead because I can't even bluff and gauge their reactions. Let's focus on the living.

"Right," Arthur nods, looking down. "Emma was sent to the storage room by Kitty, along with Kent and me."

I need to address Martin's challenge: If Emma isn't the Blackened, why didn't she just let us lose the trial?

Kitty crosses her arms. "But she did learn about Miku's actions during this trial," the Ultimate Criminologist glares at Emma. "She should have realized this wasn't the time for her stupid games!"

If Emma is lying now, she's undeniably trying to get Kevin off the hook. But why didn't she want that to happen earlier?

"It was a serious mistake, yes," Emma turns her head to Kevin. "But how could I have known that my accomplice would declare himself the killer? I trusted him to corroborate my confession!"

Could it be that at that moment, Kevin was still going along with her plan to let him escape punishment for his crime? That's the biggest difference between the situation before and after Kevin's confession!

"You're a liar, Emma!" Kevin slams his stand with both hands. "A liar and a madwoman!"

But why does it matter so much to Emma? Why does she need Kevin to avoid execution, despite his confession of killing Miku?

"If anyone here was mad..." Kent takes a deep breath before pointing at Miku's portrait. "It was Miku Noone!"

It can't be because Emma is some sort of death seeker. If that were the case, she could have stayed silent and let Kevin win without confessing.

"Miku remains suspicious, even now," Martin crosses his arms. "Her intact memories allowed her to manipulate us easily."

I can't argue that she's sadistic enough to want Kevin to suffer by surviving at our expense, despite confessing. Honestly, I believe she has a different goal...

"Memories can be..." Riko sighs deeply, holding her headphones around her neck. "A powerful advantage over others."

It's notable that Emma constantly tries to discredit Miku, using every chance to paint her as insane. Yet, Miku's true goals remain elusive.

"I suppose..." Lily looks down. "She could predict how Kurt would react to what the mastermind Kurt did to her."

Our prior understanding of the Class Trial was that the Blackened was our main enemy—the immediate threat. But if I'm right, the real Blackened is currently fighting to save our lives!

"So she told him she didn't blame any of us..." Yvonne glances at Miku's portrait. "But the truth could be the opposite."

Because the Blackened is just a human, driven by human logic and emotions. A flawed person who, after accidentally killing someone, was initially ready to sacrifice us all to escape. It's wrong, but understandable in a human way.

"Is that what you're arguing?" Naomi puts a hand on her head. "That Miku tricked Kurt into believing she'd have Kevin hold the ladder instead of Emma?"

But this killing game isn't just about one Blackened or another. We have a different kind of enemy—the masterminds responsible for everything, whom we have forgotten to be!

"Miku could have predicted my reaction to accidentally killing her," Emma says, looking away. "Because she remembered us, while we forgot everything about her!" She spreads her arms wide. "She could have also manipulated Kevin, playing on the apparent death of his girlfriend, Jess!"

Their goal was never to kill most of us or let someone graduate as a Blackened. Instead, it was to let a few of us escape this killing game and return to society as heroes, as Symbols of Hope! But Miku has uncovered their plan. If that's the case, what should the masterminds' next move be?

"But can we really trust Emma?" Steve wonders, looking down.

More importantly... Are they even capable of making a move now? With our memories erased, they no longer exist in our minds. Monokuma is here, but he claims not to care about the masterminds. For their plan, he shouldn't interfere. So maybe...

"There's a good reason to trust Emma!" Martin slams his stand. "Only the real Blackened would confess when the voting was about to favor them!"

"No, that's wrong!" I shout.

Everyone looks at me as my podium stops moving. I raise my head to face them. "Emma..." I look at her. "Martin's defense of you is flawless. No ordinary person would have done what you did unless they were the Blackened. That's human logic." I place my hands on my stand slowly. "But we only need to look around this goddamn place to see that SOME operate on inhuman logic!"

Emma looks at me with a smile. "So, you're willing to go there?" she asks.

"Upupupupu..." Monokuma chuckles. "So, you're willing to take the first step into despair?"

"Yes," I say slowly, raising my finger to point at her. "Emma Gerlach, the Ultimate Waitress. How can we be sure Miku was the only one with her memories intact? How can we be certain that you, standing here now, are the nature of Emma Gerlach from the bus ride?" I slam the stand and lean forward. "How can we be sure you're not a product of whatever nurtured us into these inhuman masterminds?!"

Martin's eyes widen. "Kurt," he says. "Are you seriously suggesting the person before us is one of our mastermind counterparts?"

"That's absurd!" Kent crosses his arms.

"Even if it's true, it doesn't matter for this case," Lily argues. "We should vote for the culprit, not a mastermind."

"It does matter, Lily," I respond. "Because while we should vote for the Blackened, two people are claiming to be the Blackened." I focus my gaze on Emma. "And I believe a mastermind would lie about being the Blackened to trick us into voting incorrectly when the real Blackened is confessing."

Emma just smiles and tilts her head, crossing her arms before turning away. I glance at Kevin, and he looks back at me. We exchange nods and look at Emma, who now stands with her back to us.

"Emma Gerlach," Martin says, "We are awaiting your rebuttal."

I glance around. Everyone is silent, watching the Ultimate Waitress. She stares at the wall ahead, still smiling.

"I won't be a hypocrite," Emma responds calmly. "I did say earlier that we should discuss every idea, so... let's do it." With her back still turned to us, she raises a hand to the side. "There are several issues with your claim, Kurt. But for now, let's assume you're right about me being one of the masterminds."

"Wait, did she just admit it?" Steve asks.

"No," Martin shakes his head. "She's considering this theory."

"I don't understand my supposed goal here," Emma continues, forming a fist with one finger pointing up. "If I'm a mastermind lying about being the Blackened, why would I bother confessing? If I did nothing, everyone would die, and the Blackened would get away with it. What was stopping me from doing that?"

"This is a killing game, Emma," I tell her. "To explain your goal, I need to first clarify how this game functions," I say, crossing my arms. "For that, I'll use a board game as an example." I turn to Kent. "Kent, you play board games. Have you heard of Battlestar Galactica?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "It's a game where a few traitors try to sabotage humanity's escape from evil robots, while the rest try to save everyone."

"In that game, most players are humans, but some are hidden robots called Cylons," I nod. "Humans win if they escape with their ship intact, while Cylons win if the ship is destroyed and all humans die." I smirk. "It's similar to how this game supposedly works: we win if we escape, while the Blackened wins if we all die."

"Upupupu..." the bear chuckles. "I'm glad you finally understand how my killing game works!"

"Kent," I continue, "the Battlestar Galactica game got an expansion. It added a new role: the Cylon Leader. Have you heard of it?"

"Yes," Kent nods. "The Cylon Leader has a secret agenda, which could involve either helping or sabotaging the Cylons."

"Exactly. The Cylon Leader doesn't have to side with the Cylons," I explain. "Their victory condition has two parts. First, they decide whether they want humans or Cylons to win. Second, they determine when their team should win. For instance, a Cylon Leader might want the Cylons to win, but only after a certain phase of the game. If the Cylons win before then, the Cylon Leader loses." I look at Emma. "So, the player must switch sides depending on the situation, sabotaging their team when the second condition isn't met and aiding them when it is."

Emma slowly nods, turning her head slightly. "I get it," she says, glancing back at me. "You're saying that a mastermind like me is playing a similar game of deception. My goal isn't just to make the Blackened win but to ensure certain conditions are met." She puts a finger to her lips, tilting her head. "How does that work here? What would those conditions be?"

"Let's remember the masterminds' goal, as Miku confirmed to me," I say, looking around. "Our forgotten selves want some of us to win this game, to escape to society and be trusted for not becoming Blackened." I turn to Emma. "After that point, our forgotten selves would emerge and take control, free to spread their malice unnoticed." I point at Miku's portrait. "But Miku's actions have sabotaged this plan."

"Miku planted the memos," Kitty nods. "She made us aware that our mastermind versions are out there."

"Yes," I nod. "The plan relied on nobody suspecting its true aim. Miku told me she was bound by rules preventing her from directly revealing the truth. The memos were her workaround against the masterminds' safeguards." I look at Emma. "Originally, you were supposed to ensure everything went smoothly. You would oversee Miku and make sure some of us escaped." I smirk. "But now, that plan is in shambles. This is no longer your goal, Emma. Now, you're desperately trying to salvage what's left."

"But how can she do that now?" Lily wonders. "We all know about our mastermind selves and how we were manipulated. What's left of the original plan to save?"

"To get at least one person out," I say. "It won't be ideal—just one person instead of several. They'll be forever suspected outside, never fully trusted." I cross my arms. "But the world could still be tricked into thinking they pose a low-level threat. Perhaps Emma believes a single, underestimated mastermind still has a chance pull whatever they intend to pull afterwards."

"And how does Emma intend to do that?" Kitty asks.

"Through Kevin," I reply, looking at him. "He accidentally killed someone and didn't plan a cover-up, relying entirely on his accomplice." I nod. "But even that wasn't enough. Kevin staying silent during the trial would show he could stomach getting us all killed—before even turning into his mastermind self." I turn to the Ultimate Marathon Runner. "Now, only after confessing and fighting against his escape does Emma allow Kevin to leave. He's shown remorse; he no longer wants to win."

"I see," Martin nods. "Emma's secondary victory condition was to let the Blackened escape, but only once the Blackened no longer wanted to win." He looks at Emma. "If Kevin had escaped before confessing, society would see him as a heartless murderer. But now, he's a remorseful victim of Miku's plan, even suicidal after his crime." Martin glances at the floor. "And because he's a victim, society might pity him, even as a mastermind."

"If we vote incorrectly and Kevin escapes, Emma's plan succeeds," I conclude.

"But could Emma predict Kevin's confession?" Arthur wonders.

"If she's like Miku," Martin sighs, "then she knows us well. She also knew I'd identify Kevin as the third person in the room because I saw him waking her before Lily."

With her back to us, we only see Emma's blonde hair, her pink waitress outfit, and her hands. Her right hand rises to form a thumbs-up.

"Bravo," she says calmly. "Your theory is sound, logical, and explains everything, even my confession. I couldn't be prouder." She chuckles, raising an index finger. "But unfortunately..." she pauses, giggling. "You overlooked one tiny, yet crucial, detail. That's the problem with theories, Kurt. You can't help but miss something or even invent something that isn't there."

"Enough with the theatrics, Emma!" I slam the stand. "If my theory has issues, spell them out!"

"It has several," she sighs, dramatically shrugging her shoulders. "But the most glaring problem is that it's not even needed for things to happen. Why do you think the supposed initial plan was ruined?"

"Because the world knows we would become the masterminds once we escaped," I tell her. "Because the world would know not to trust us."

"Kurt, Kurt, Kurt..." Emma twirls her finger in circles. "The world can't possibly know that. At best, it might suspect it, but it can't know for sure."

"What?" I tilt my head. "What do you mean? We all know it!"

"What do we know?" She shrugs again. "There are just some odd memos planted by a suspicious, crazy girl who was the only one here with a master ID card. That same crazy girl is now dead and can't confirm anything," she tilts her head. "So what's the source of that information, Kurt?"

"You mean..." I start.

"I mean that Alex Jones might buy it," she replies. "But society? No, it won't," she turns her head to the side. "You're forgetting we have no proof of this. We can't prove we were brainwashed by mastermind versions of ourselves."

I lean on the stand and take a deep breath. I see... She's going to downplay the mastermind theory itself. But...

"Emma..." I begin. "There's a difference between what we know and what the world knows. The world may actually know more about us than we suspect," I raise my head. I glance at Steve and Kitty, then look back at Emma. "In fact... if the internet archive is accurate, the world may already have reasons to consider at least some of us as potential criminals. Maybe not enough to put any of us in jail, but certainly enough for the FBI to be watching some of us closely. Too closely to let the masterminds act freely—at least until we emerged from here as noble Ultimates who never became Blackened, like the initial plan intended."

Emma just raises her hand, forming an "L" with her thumb and index finger.

"Don't be so dismissive, Emma," I shake my head. "I'm sorry to say this, but I believe that one of us has already committed a murder before. And another person helped cover it up. Only they no longer remember because it was done by their mastermind selves."

At this, everyone looks at me.

"Are you sure about this, Kurt?" Lily asks. "It sounds pretty serious."

"It is," Martin speaks up. "And that's why we need to discuss it."

"Right," I nod. "Emma, before I reveal their identity, I have a question for you," I look at her. "Earlier during this trial, you revealed that Kitty and Naomi weren't strangers and knew each other even before applying to the Academy. What exactly is their relationship?"

"Ah, right," Emma smiles. "Well, Kitty and Naomi are good friends. Nothing more."

"We are girlfriends," Kitty states.

"Kitty and I are dating and have been for years," Naomi nods.

"Oh, well..." Emma shrugs. "I didn't expect them to be a couple, but it's not a big deal, I suppose."

"It is a big deal, Emma!" I slam the table. "Which is why you're downplaying it now. Because Martin found articles in the archive about the death of Steve's parents."

Steve looks down. "Yeah..." he sighs. "Supposedly, during the vacation between Academy years, they died in a gas explosion caused by someone..."

"When the explosion happened, Steve had been away from home for four hours," I cross my arms. "Apparently, he was on a date with Kitty."

"Which I found unbelievable," Kitty sighs, then raises her head to face me, shocked. "Are you suggesting..."

"Yes," I close my eyes. "I believe Steve's mastermind self murdered his parents. And Kitty's mastermind self caused the gas explosion to cover it up. Their supposed date was a lie to create an alibi."

"That's insane!" Steve shouts. "Why would I want to kill my parents?"

"You didn't," Martin crosses his arms. "It was your mastermind self's doing."

"So, after our first year at the Academy, we were already insane," Kitty clenches her fist, inhaling deeply.

"Yes," I nod. "And our mastermind selves were already working together by then."

"Well..." Emma waves her hand slowly. "That's an interesting theory, but..." she shrugs. "I'll accept it out of generosity. It doesn't change anything." She waves her index finger in the air. "Because it creates another problem."

"And what problem is that?" I ask.

"Let's say some of us have the FBI on our backs," she continues waving her finger. "It can't be all of us because of Rodman." She sighs and shrugs. "Remember his video announcing us as the lucky winners of his lottery for the Hope Shelter? Rodman referenced Steve's parents' deaths, so it happened after that. If a dozen FBI-suspected Ultimates were announced as winners of his lottery, the FBI would surely suspect something was off with the project," she puts her hands on her hips. "I'm pretty sure the FBI is smarter than that and would have figured out the real reason why we were picked."

"I see..." I cross my arms. "I agree with you there. Kitty and Steve could be suspected, but that was probably the limit."

"Which is why Miku revealing our supposed plan would only be a problem for those two," she extends two fingers. "Steve and Kitty. Maybe they were meant to take the fall if this exact scenario happened: two suspected criminals setting up a killing game to clear themselves of suspicion. Who knows..." she shrugs. "But what about the rest? The initial plan could still work for them."

"Maybe," I agree. "But I believe I've established one thing, Emma. Our mastermind selves were active as a group before we got accepted into the Hope Shelter," I cross my arms. "And this means you were right about one thing. Something was definitely wrong with that project. Miku exposed the evidence of it to the world."

"And you think this would stop the world from trusting the escaped Ultimates?" Emma tilts her head. "Even if there was a scandal around the Hope Shelter, the world would still be willing to believe in the innocence of its victims."

"No, Emma..." I shake my head. "Because we weren't victims of the Hope Shelter. We hijacked it," I point at Miku's portrait. "That was the original Miku's role in all of this. As one of Rodman's major sponsors and the person with a master ID card here, she clearly had significant influence over Project Buried Last Hope," I slam my table. "And all twelve of us blackmailed her into ensuring we'd win the lottery!"

Emma's hands slowly drop.

"So..." Kent scratches the back of his head. "Miku really was one of the major sponsors of the Hope Shelter?"

"She did have the master ID card," Naomi ponders, scratching her chin.

"But why would the masterminds allow her to have it?" Lily wonders, looking down.

"I have a theory!" Kitty crosses her arms, glancing at Emma, who still has her back to us. The Ultimate Criminologist seems to be determined to be focused on the current threat. Learning about her past crime just made her set on getting to the bottom of everything. "They likely didn't intend it. Giving her that card would be like asking Miku to kill us all in our sleep. But Miku had privileged access to the Hope Shelter even when it was still under construction."

"Which was ongoing during our first year at the Academy," Martin nods.

"And during that year, Miku had the opportunity to study the Hope Shelter's system," Kitty continues, turning her gaze to Miku's portrait. "After all, she supposedly managed to rig the application lottery in our favor. Perhaps, while hacking the lottery system, she secretly devised a way to upgrade her ID card to master level access."

"But was Miku really a hacker?" Kevin tilts his head. "Wasn't she just a regular girl, just a lucky one?"

"She was a regular girl," Kitty nods. "But she attended the Academy for a whole year." She glances around at us. "For those unaware, Hope's Peak Academy offers classes where students can develop various skills. Depending on their talents, Ultimate Students are required to take specific classes suited to them. This is how Hope's Peak Academy maximizes the development of each student's unique abilities."

"But… Miku was the Ultimate Lucky Student," Steve points out, despite still being shaken over hearing that he has murdered his own parents. "Which classes would be suitable for her, then?"

"Any class," Kitty answers. "She could excel equally in any of them, so she was allowed to choose whichever she wanted." The Ultimate Criminologist crosses her arms. "And I'm certain she took acting classes as well."

"As a programmer..." Lily raises her head. "If Miku had access to the Hope Shelter's source code, even a regular programmer could easily modify it to grant elevated access. It's a basic security issue—leaving the code open invites privilege escalation. She could, for instance, alter the code to upgrade her card to a master level after scanning it a few times in quick succession. It would be hard to trace the changes, especially for programmers without direct access to the source code, like me."

"So, Miku was planning to betray the masterminds from the start," Arthur nods. "She wanted to prevent the killing game from deceiving the world."

"Maybe she didn't initially realize why the masterminds wanted her to rig the lottery," Martin sighs. "Perhaps she didn't grasp the full extent of their madness until later. But clearly, she was trying to expose them from the very beginning, which is why she prepared the master ID card for herself."

"Rigging the lottery was crucial to give us plausible deniability," Kitty looks up at the ceiling. "As thirteen Ultimates who were supposedly chosen randomly by Rodman, we couldn't be recognized as an organized group."

"But she did expose the masterminds," I nod, looking at Emma. "Miku managed to make part of the game evidence of us coercing her. Proof that the twelve of us were organized even before the lottery results—the memos."

"You have to betray if you want to trust," Yvonne quotes. "Was this originally a message from us to Miku?"

"We found the white notebook with cut pages," Kitty nods. "The same paper as the memos."

"And the notebook originally belonged to Miku," Martin adds, looking away.

"But didn't Miku receive a memo as well?" Naomi asks.

"She could have fabricated it," Arthur replies. "Right at the start of the game, to avoid suspicion."

"Exactly," I say. "I believe we stole Miku's notebook before the lottery. Each of us wrote a note in it, in a way that a new note appeared with each page turn." I look down. "'You have to betray if you want to trust'... It was a warning: betray Project Buried Last Hope if you want to trust us not to harm you. Miku understood the real meaning when she read those words."

"But couldn't she have exposed us back then?" Arthur wonders. "She had evidence of the twelve Ultimates blackmailing her. She could have gone to the FBI."

"We don't know what kind of leverage we had over her," Kitty sighs. "Plus, it was twelve Ultimates against one regular, albeit lucky, girl. And I had connections in the FBI, so she might have believed we could get away with it, even if she reported us. That's why she didn't."

"Right," I say, looking around. "At first, Miku didn't expose us. Maybe she thought rigging the lottery wasn't a big deal, that we were just a bunch of crazy people, but not a real threat." I slowly lower my head. "But over time, she changed her mind after witnessing what we did once we were safe in the Hope Shelter—the nuking of the American Division of Hope's Peak Academy."

"Wait," Kent raises his hands. "What?"

"How did we even get our hands on a nuclear missile?" Kevin wonders aloud.

At his words, Kitty takes a deep breath and covers her face. "Oh, God... Oh, God... Oh, God..." she mutters repeatedly, before finally lowering her hand. "I can't be in denial. Everyone, remember the case that led the FBI to ask me to infiltrate the Academy?"

"Yes..." Riko turns to her, eyebrows raised. "You were supposed to gather data on all the Ultimates because one of them had supposedly committed a crime requiring at least five special operations agents."

"I never told you what the crime was," Kitty says. "It was classified. But now, knowing about our mastermind counterparts... I don't think I'm risking anything by revealing it: it was the theft of several nuclear warheads."

"Wait," Arthur interjects. "So the crime that led Kitty to infiltrate the Academy..."

"It wasn't us!" Kitty shakes her head. "The theft happened six months before we joined the Academy."

"Maybe our group ended up cooperating with the culprit," Martin suggests, pressing a pen to his forehead. "Or maybe the culprit indoctrinated the group. Regardless, if we had access to nukes..."

"We could have used one to destroy the American Division of the Academy," I continue. "But first, we needed to ensure all of us were inside the Hope Shelter before launching it. That's why Miku was forced to rig the lottery."

"So, we rigged the application lottery to ensure that all twelve of us were accepted," Martin concludes, looking around. "Plus Miku, to ensure she wouldn't be a threat. Then we launched the nuke on the American Division of the Academy."

"But why?!" Arthur shouts. "Why would we do that!?"

"Why did we place Monokuma in the Hope Shelter?" Kevin asks, looking up.

"Upupupu," the bear laughs. "Maybe every kid just wants an awesome mascot plushie?"

"We were insane," I sigh, looking away. "Insane and cruel. That's what drove Steve to murder his parents, what drove me to... do whatever I did to Miku."

"Regardless of our motives," Kitty clenches her fists, furious over the revelation "we nuked the Academy after ensuring we were safely inside the Hope Shelter. A secure underground bunker to protect us from any fallout or retaliation."

"This was supposed to be a test year," Martin says, glancing aside. "A single class of Ultimates. Maybe Rodman wanted to test the effects of having us attend classes in a confined, underground environment for an entire year."

"But what happened to the staff?" Yvonne asks. "The ones hired by Rodman to educate us here?"

"Most likely, everyone here, besides us, was killed," I say, and look towards the Ultimate Waitress. "By her."

"While I appreciate my increasing body count," Emma responds, waving her hands. "Let's not dwell anymore with the supposed backstory, Kurt. I wish to hear more about Miku, her supposed evidence exposing us, and her tonight's actions."

"Alright, Emma." I nod. "The evidence was Miku's notebook with the memos, which were our threats to her. This, mixed with us saying aloud what was the masterminds' plan, to let some of us emerge from here as admirable heroes, has ruined the initial plan. The world has learned about us cooperating together before the Hope Shelter has taken us in," I point my finger at Kevin. "Which is why, to desperately salvage the plan, you wanted to at least get Kevin out. But only after him no longer wanting to escape at our cost, so the world outside would see him alone as a low level threat."

"Which is why Emma has confessed, despite knowing that the Blackened was going to win," Riko adds, looking towards me. "This way, she has confirmed that Miku didn't die alone, but with two other people in her room."

"And I was the most likely person able to create a locked room with her," Kevin nods.

"Besides," Martin looks to the side. "She has realized your mistake of waking her up before Lily. Her fake confession was a hint towards the solution, and she was hoping that I would have noticed it." He then looks at the Ultimate Waitress. "No... With her memories intact, she could be sure of it. She has manipulated me into seeing the truth."

Emma's right hand is waving her finger in circles. "Yes, yes," she says. "And it has worked, because you're a genius journalist. You don't have to flatter yourself like you did when Kurt was interviewing us all on our very first day, Martin," she shrugs. "But, Kurt. What about Miku's actions? Why did she knocked you out?"

"To make me believe she was going to be suicidal," I respond, crossing my arms. "Miku knew I would ran right away to her, after waking up. She probably could estimate how much time I needed to wake up," I look to the side. "Obviously, Miku knew about you being a mastermind with intact memory. She also knew about being aware of the plan being ruined."

"Emma did have an odd reaction to hearing Kurt's theory about the plan," Riko says. "Right after that, she has asked Monokuma what he thinks about his masters' plan being ruined. And then she has asked Miku if if she could explain the memos."

Emma sighs to those words. But she remains silent.

"Thank you, Riko," I nod. "I forgot about that. Regardless, Miku knew you'd want to use the occasion of getting Kevin out of here." I point my finger at Emma. "This entire case has been orchestrated by Miku Noone to expose you, Emma Gerlach, as an awaken mastermind among us!"

I see how everyone looks at her. Emma just slowly raises her hands and... begins to clap. Slowly, at first. Then, quicker and quicker. And, finally, she is laughing.

"Upupupu!" Monokuma laughs as well. "That's an excellent theory! You've got me!"

"I'll give you this one, teddy bear," Emma says through her laughter. "The theory is excellent, Kurt. And you are a pretty good showman as well... However."

And then Emma jumps into the air, does a pirouette, and then she lands with her right feet on her own stand, turned to us. Her body is bent slightly, like in a bow, in my direction. Her smile is the biggest it has ever been.

"You are just an internet blogger, oh Ultimate Interviewer," she slowly says. "An amateur, when it comes to working with an audience." She slowly straighten up, putting her other leg on the stand. "When I, a humble Ultimate Waitress, am an actual TV star from live shows that get broadcasted across the entire nation."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"It means, that your performance, while impressive, lacks a certain something to make it truly successful," she says, tilting her head and smiling. She clearly enjoys looking from above on us. "But it's okay, we're just students here," she raises her right hand and waves it. "I'm a TV waitress and I know a thing or two about showmanship. And about making accusations. Here's an elementary trick to that, Kurt," she points her finger at me. "Don't make an accusation, if you can't prove it."

I look at her. "I can prove you're a mastermind." I point my finger at her. "Your own behavior when you have first heard my theory was clearly suspicious!"

She just smiles and shrugs her hand, as she starts to walk back and forth on her own stand. She is walking like a model on a catwalk.

"Kurt," she says and sighs, turning around. "It was nothing more than my nervous laughter over the idea of the plan of our captors being exposed and ruined so soon. Like I've said back then, this place is stressful."

"And you lashing out at Monokuma?!" I ask.

"What's a problem with that," she turns her head to the bear. "I used the occasion to rub into Monokuma's fur, or whatever, that his masters' plan was ruined."

"But then you just randomly ended up asking Miku about the explanation behind the memos?!" I slam my stand. "Of out of all people, the one who was actually responsible for them?!"

"It wasn't random at all," Emma glances at Miku's portrait. "Well, I'll give you it was a fifty fifty chance. She and Kent were in your search group, so I simply asked her about a theory of her group member." She turns to face me. "You're reading too much into it, Kurt."

"Enough with this," I say, crossing my arms. "You are the most likely candidate for an awaken mastermind, Emma. Remember the rule that prevents us from poisoning food and drinks in kitchen and cafeteria?" I look at Monokuma. "The bear has said it's because he wants to watch a series of murders. But now it is clear that it was to protect the masterminds from being all easily killed at once!"

"Perhaps, perhaps," Emma waves her hand. "Still, what does this have to do with my being a mastermind?"

"Because you're the most dangerous person in every room, Emma!" I lean on my stand towards her. "With you incredible throwing skill, you can always kill everyone around you, with anything you can throw. Which is why the masterminds had to keep your memory intact, so you'd know to not snap and kill everybody else!"

"Maybe, maybe," Emma shrugs. "But, here's my counter theory. There was only ever one mastermind, and it was Miku Noone." She looks at me from above. "Everything you base your theories on were her fabrications."

"You accuse Miku?!" I yell.

"She had the master ID card, right?" Emma looks towards Miku's portrait. "She also was a billionaire. Yes, she did say she gave away all her money but..." she looks towards Martin. "Is the Ultimate Journalists aware of any article about the famous billion dollar lottery winner Miku Noone giving up all her money?"

"No," he answers. "I have never seen a headline like that, and I have a good memory."

"Which means she was lying about giving up her money," she shrugs her shoulders. "So, Miku had the power and money to set all of this up."

"And her motive?!" I ask, slamming the stand.

"Being crazy, unfortunately," Emma sighs. "Remember, right after winning her money, or even because of it, she has lost her mother figure. I truly sympathize with her pain. But such a tragedy can drive anyone mad. Especially a teenager."

"Even if she did it, why would she orchestrate her own death?" I ask. "What was her plan?"

"To trick you into believing that she'd have Kevin hold the ladder and accidentally kill her," Emma smirks towards Kevin. "When it was I who has accidentally killed Miku. Because she was mad, and wanted all of us dead. Or just create an entertaining first trial for her killing game."

"And why would I lie and get myself killed, you crazy bitch?!" Kevin slams his hand on the stand, his eyes glowing with intensity. "To protect you?! Or to make myself look like a remorseful hero or something?!"

"Language, Kevin!" Emma sighs, putting a finger to her lips. "Let's not get vulgar, okay? Anyway, the answer is simple: money. Not for you, perhaps, but maybe for your dear Jess?" She smirks at Steve. "After all, Rodman managed to bribe Steve into hiding his talent from the world."

"Hiding a talent isn't the same as killing yourself, Emma," I reply.

"For a regular person, sure," she nods, pointing her fingers to the side. "But for an Ultimate, it's a huge deal. Our talents make us exceptional. They are an essential part of our identities. Hiding your talent is like betraying yourself." Emma turns back to me. "And maybe Kevin is as desperate for money as Steve was. Perhaps his girlfriend is ill and needs expensive treatment."

I take a deep breath. I'm running out of options. This isn't good. I glance around. No one is speaking up. And... I'm not even sure they should. I'm the one accusing Emma, so I should be the one arguing against her. It's not like my theories are wrong, so...

"However," Riko suddenly speaks up, "Emma, when we discovered we all had memos on the first morning, you seemed surprised."

"Yes," Emma admits calmly, looking at Riko. "But I wasn't the only one who didn't check their books. Ironically, Kevin didn't either." She sighs. "I remind everyone that before the 8 p.m. meeting the previous day, I was busy hiding how dangerous I am. Afterwards, I was too emotionally drained to read anything and went straight to sleep." She then turns to me with a smirk. "Besides, Kurt, yesterday I showed you and Kent my memo in a history book. I'm just like everyone else here."

I look down. She's right. I saw her memo.

"Kurt," Martin interjects, crossing his arms. "You came up with a theory that explains everything perfectly. But so did Emma. You need to provide something tangible to sway us to vote your way."

"Upupupu..." Monokuma giggles ominously. "This trial has gone on too long, and it's getting boring! I'll give the lead debaters five more minutes to sway everyone before we vote!"

"Five more minutes..." I repeat, looking down.

"Admit it, Kurt," Emma says, looking down at me. "You have no proof to back up your speculations."

"And what about you?!" Kevin snaps back. "What backs up any of yours?"

"Miku's master ID card," Emma shrugs. "Better than anything Kurt has."

I look down. I can't produce any evidence that Emma is the mastermind. Without proof, the vote could go either way, and most likely in Emma's favor. I glance towards Miku's portrait. You risked everything, Miku, even your life, just to expose the truth. And now, it seems like it's all going to be in vain.

"Kurt," Riko says quietly. "If you need me to remind you of anything from Miku's room, just ask."

"I..." I hesitate, waving my hand as I shake my head. "What exactly was in the drawer where we found the notebook?"

"Besides the notebook itself, which had all its pages either filled out or entirely cut-out" Riko replies, "there was a partially used glue. That was all."

I look at her, then at Emma. She's smiling confidently, seemingly sure I have nothing against her.

"Wait a minute..." I blink a few times as a realization hits me. "Just glue? Nothing else?"

"There was nothing more in that drawer," Riko confirms. "Not even a pencil or a pen."

"What about scissors, Riko?" I ask, my eyes widening. "Were there any scissors in Miku's room?!"

Riko's eyes widen as well. "No!" she exclaims, shaking her head. "Her room was devoid of scissors!"

"Upupupu..." Monokuma giggles. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I look directly at Emma, and her expression turns to stone.

I did it. I hit the jackpot. It's so obvious now. The notebook, the crime, the choice of people. Miku couldn't say it aloud, but she had another way of pointing the finger...

"Kevin!" I turn to him. "You left Emma alone in Miku's room only once, right?"

"Right," he nods. "When I ran to get a defibrillator. It took less than a minute."

I smirk and look at Emma. "Supposedly, during that time, you were performing CPR on Miku, Emma," I say, crossing my arms. "But that was a lie, wasn't it? Instead, you used that moment to search the room." I point at her. "But because of Kevin's speed, you only had time to find the notebook."

Emma's hands slowly clench into fists, her face twitching as she struggles to maintain her smile. But it's too late.

I've got her.

"Emma," I continue, "that's when you realized how clever Miku's trap was, right? Because you couldn't find any scissors in the room." I chuckle. "The missing scissors, alongside a notebook with cut-out all its empty pages, were a clue from Miku. Why the scissors were absent? Because they had been used before the notebook was put in the room!" I laugh. "Which made it apparent that Miku herself has destroyed its every empty page beforehand. And you couldn't take the notebook because it was too big to hide on you. As for moving it to your room... maybe you panicked. Maybe it took you too long to find the notebook, and Kevin was going to return any second. He had to see you still performing CPR."

"And she wanted me to leave the room again," Kevin says, crossing his arms. "To put the defibrillator back. But I had to catch my breath from running and processing being marked as the Blackened."

"Exactly," I grin at Emma. "You hoped Kevin would leave again. But he didn't, so you had to put the defibrillator back yourself." I point at Kevin. "Then you two stayed together until you created the locked room, and Kevin was the last to leave."

Emma closes her eyes.

"I don't get it," Steve says. "Why was it so important for Kevin to leave again?"

"For a chance to take the notebook and hide it in her own room," I explain. "She knew it would be discovered the next day."

"So she didn't want us to find evidence of our cooperation?" Yevonne tilts her head.

"Maybe, but I doubt that was her main concern at the time," I shake my head. "What Emma wanted most was to ensure we couldn't closely examine the notebook and compare it with our memos. Because she didn't receive one. Miku wouldn't warn her about the sabotage via memos," I chuckle. "Not before we all knew about them."

"But we both saw her with a memo before the crime," Kent says, looking puzzled.

"Yes, Kent," I say, shaking my head with a smile. "But that was a forgery, not the real thing." I slam my stand with my left hand and point at Emma with my right. "Miku never planted your original memo from her notebook! She disposed of it, forcing you to make a copy on completely different paper!"

Emma takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and turns her head to the side. She is no longer smiling.

"It's true we don't have our memos here to confirm any of this," I say, raising my hand to the side. "And Monokuma has declared the investigation over—no doubt to make the trial fairer for the Blackened," I add with a smile. "But what if everyone involved asks Monokuma to make an exception, Emma? After all..." I spread my arms wide. "If you truly have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear!"

The room falls silent. Then the bear speaks up.

"Upupupu..." he giggles, moving a paw to his head and tilting it to the side. "You're making quite a compelling proposal, Kurt. However..." He straightens his head. "I don't believe it's necessary for me to set such a precedent in this particular case."

"Why, Monokuma?" Arthur asks, raising a hand to his head.

The bear looks up. "Because all the memos are already present," he says, turning his head to Kitty. "Isn't that right, Miss Ultimate Criminologist?"

We all turn to look at her. The dark-skinned woman just glances away with a smile on her face. Then Martin chuckles.

"Well, Kitty," he says, poking the side of his head with a pen. "I guess the cat is out of the bag. And Kurt has managed to run all the way to the finish line. We can stop pretending we're too clueless to save ourselves."

"...What?" I ask, dumbfounded.

And then I realize it. After Monokuma instructed us to put on clothes before showing up in the auditorium, Kitty was the last one to arrive. Even those from the storage room had arrived earlier. And she had Miku's master ID card.

Kitty's smile widens as she reaches into the pockets of her coat. She pulls out a bundle of folded white papers and throws them onto the floor in the middle of our circle. They land and unfold, revealing pages torn from our books and a magazine, with memos glued onto them.

I turn to Martin, my mouth agape. He is smiling at me.

"You knew when you were still siding with Emma after the Scrum Debate," I say slowly. "That's why Kitty asked you how far you wanted to take this—to keep me guessing what you two already knew by then."

"Indeed," he nods smugly. "And before that..." He spreads his hands. "Emma's memo was different from ours, yes. Kitty told me so in the elevator. But that could still mean anything, so we decided to..." He shrugs. "Let things play out. And you were doing so well that it felt impolite to interrupt you."

"Monokuma," Kitty says, smiling at me. "I know the five minutes have already passed... But maybe we should let Kurt summarize this entire incident," she giggles. "He deserves a bit of a reward."

"Alright," Monokuma smiles at me. "But this time, make it quick. We have a vote to proceed with."

"O...Okay..." I say, taking a deep breath.

Emma remains standing at her podium, looking down.

This incident began when everything started, on the day of our awakening, as we were arriving at the entry hall from the classrooms in which we had awoken. The twelve of us gathered there, with me being the last to arrive. But one more person still had to arrive: the victim herself, Miku Noone, the Ultimate Lucky Student and one of the major sponsors of the Project Buried Last Hope, which created this Hope Shelter. By that point, Miku had already been working on sabotaging the killing game that our forgotten mastermind selves had forced her to participate in.

Thanks to her intact memory, Miku was able to recover her own notebook with our threatening notes from the classroom where the Ultimate Fashion Model Kent had woken up. It is still unknown why the notebook was placed there for Kent to find. However, he didn't take it, as he didn't want to steal from a place he still believed was a normal school. Thanks to that, Miku was able to initiate her plan.

Knowing the layout of the place, she first went to the storage room, where she obtained glue, scissors, and an anesthetic. Possibly still in the storage room, using a cut-out piece of paper from her notebook, she created a fake memo for herself. She also cut out the threatening notes to plant them as memos later on. Then, she completely cut out all the empty pages from her notebook to prevent the creation of another memo. All the cut-out paper was later disposed of. She also disposed of one of the memos instead of planting it. After all, she never intended to plant any memo in Emma Gerlach's room, as the Ultimate Waitress was, in fact, a mastermind with all her memories intact.

The purpose of the memos was twofold. First, they allowed us to realize that we were the masterminds behind this killing game. Second, they served as evidence of our collaboration as masterminds in blackmailing Miku Noone into rigging the Hope Shelter application lottery in our favor. In this way, the viewers of this killing game have come to understand our organized criminal group and its plan to deceive everyone into perceiving us as its victims.

She left the scissors in the storage room and then ran to the dormitory, where she used her master ID card to access our rooms. There, using glue, she planted hidden memos in our new books and magazines. Most likely, she had to borrow someone else's book to give it to the person who didn't have any books or magazines at first. After the memos were planted in all but one room, Miku went to the entry hall. After I finished introducing myself to everybody else, she arrived, pretending that she was meeting us for the first time.

The reason Miku had a master ID card can only be speculated. Most likely, as the Ultimate Lucky Student, she was allowed to attend IT classes at the Academy. With her privileged status in the Project, she was able to rig the Hope Shelter's application lottery in the masterminds' favor, which required both access and hacking skills. Perhaps she also modified the Hope Shelter's system source code behind the masterminds' backs, turning her ID card into a master card.

Regardless, at that point, Emma could begin to suspect that Miku was up to something, but she couldn't do much about it to avoid blowing her own cover. Her suspicions became clear the next morning when we all started talking about having discovered the memos. She was one of only two people who hadn't found a memo by then. She excused this by saying she hadn't looked into her books, but the real reason was that her memo had been deliberately destroyed by Miku.

Afterward, Emma had to create a fake memo for herself to avoid standing out. However, she could only use a different type of paper than the original. With the memos in play and the truth about the masterminds' real plan for the killing game revealed, Emma knew she had to act quickly to salvage the situation.

After the 8 pm meeting, Martin Jimenez, the Ultimate Journalist, and Kitty Kim, the Ultimate Criminologist, deduced that either I or Miku had stolen the notebook and an anesthetic. All other anesthetics had been destroyed by then during Martin's group search in the storage. Kitty and Martin gave us until 8 am to reveal the culprit among us. This all occurred after watching the shocking video of the American Division of Hope's Peak Academy being nuked, which is why Martin and Kitty weren't thinking clearly and didn't place guards on the corridor.

After 10 pm, during my encounter with Miku in my room, I confirmed she had her memory intact and had stolen the anesthetic. But I also determined she was the masterminds' victim and also a sexual victim of my forgotten mastermind counterpart. The shock of that revelation made me unable to prevent Miku from using the anesthetic on me. She told me goodbye, made it clear she intended to die, and told me to remember that she wasn't going to break the "three people rule" anymore.

It seems the masterminds had some hold on Miku, making it difficult for her to speak openly. Still, she was able to communicate what she needed by playing around the rules that restricted her speech.

Later, at 11 pm, Miku initiated the final phase of her plan. She requested help from two people to fix her broken, loud AC. She hadn't done it the previous night because she had spent it in a different room, likely intentionally. One of those people was Emma Gerlach, who still had to maintain her facade in front of a third person.

After obtaining a ladder and the required tools, they began the work. Emma was told to hold the tools while Miku worked on a ladder held beneath an open vent by the other person. This setup was planned by Miku, and she most likely moved a cupboard to ensure the person holding the ladder was positioned correctly.

Then Miku purposely caused dust to fall from the vent onto the person below her. Because that person was allergic to dust, they sneezed, causing the ladder with Miku on it to fall backward. The back of Miku's head hit her bed's frame, killing her. Ultimately, Miku orchestrated her own accidental death, ensuring that another person would be identified as her killer by Monokuma.

There's a reason Miku couldn't trick Emma into killing her. Due to Emma's hidden talent as the Ultimate Thrower, she could have quickly killed any of us before any trial. Had Emma been marked as the Blackened, she would have been provoked into killing everyone except herself.

After Miku's death, that person and Emma attempted to revive her. Emma began performing CPR while Miku's accidental killer ran to the infirmary for a defibrillator. After Emma was left alone, she stopped performing CPR to search Miku's room, where she found her notebook. Given its condition and the lack of scissors, Emma was able to deduce that this entire accident was a trap set by Miku. But she had to leave the notebook and resume CPR, as the killer returned quickly with the defibrillator.

After all revival attempts failed and Monokuma confirmed that the killer was marked as a Blackened, Emma proposed to help cover up the crime. She hoped the killer would return the defibrillator, giving her a chance to move the notebook to her own room. However, the killer was too shocked to do so, and Emma had to put it back herself. Since then, the defibrillator required around six and a half hours to fully charge again.

In the end, Emma went along with helping the killer. She wanted him to win his trial, but only after he no longer wanted to win it himself. Her goal was to allow the sympathetic accidental killer to escape, making the world outside underestimate him as a low-level threat. She still risked the discovery of the notebook and that her memo was different from the others, but she had no other choice. After all, we were going to find that out anyway after the Class Trial. Her only chance was to accomplish her goals before that.

Together, they moved the body and tools, making it appear as though Miku had been fixing the AC on her own. Their goal was to trick us into thinking that Miku had killed herself accidentally. There was a problem with marks from the defibrillator left on her body, but they counted on no one removing her clothes. Then, they created the locked room. Emma scanned the card from the outside and, using her unbelievable throwing skills, threw it to the killer's hand, who placed it into Miku's pocket and covered it with her arm before running to the exit. This all had to be done within 1.5 seconds from scanning the card, as the doors would automatically close and lock themselves. But with the killer's speed, it was an easy task. Afterwards, the duo returned to their rooms, thinking no one would wake up before the defibrillator was fully charged.

However, just over half an hour before that, I woke up in my room, soon before 6 am. Believing Miku had committed suicide, I ran to her room. Unable to enter, I woke up the person in the room next to hers. Ironically, that was the killer. I then ran to the other side of the building to wake up Martin. The killer panicked when his crime was discovered too early. That's why, when he was meant to wake up the others on his side of the corridor, he skipped a neighbor and woke Emma first.

This is when Emma saw me with an awakened Martin, who saw her and the killer. By then, she was sure her and the killer's role in the crime would eventually be discovered. But that played into her hands, as she, knowing the killer, was confident he would easily confess once discovered. The game of deception had begun...

The accidental killer in this case was none other than Kevin Shin, the Ultimate Marathon Runner. But even he wasn't the worst enemy to us all. For everyone, including both the victim and the Blackened, had ultimately united against the awakened mastermind, Emma Gerlach!

We are all standing in the class trial hall, at our podiums, watching Emma, who remains alone, her head bowed.

"Isn't that right, Emma?" I ask, looking at her.

She stays silent. And she keeps doing so.

"Emma..." Kent looks at her, clutching his left arm. "Deny it or confirm it, just say something!"

Then, we see Emma begin to tremble. She looks down, slowly shaking, as she raises her hands to her face. Her trembling turns into laughter as her head lifts.

"Heheh... Haha!" she starts. She leans back so far that it's a wonder she doesn't fall from her stand, laughing uncontrollably. "Ahahaha! Ahahahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

With our jaws dropped, we listen to her inhuman, maniacal laughter as she throws her head back and laughs at the ceiling, her eyes wide open. The sound is beyond insane, more horrifying than anything Monokuma has ever done. But it's not because it outshines his malice.

It's the sheer realization that this laughter embodies whatever dwells within us, the Ultimates. It's the sound of the awakened masterminds—the very people who nuked the American Division of Hope's Peak Academy. This is what real evil sounds like.

Finally, Emma stops laughing. She slowly leans forward, looking directly at me. I see her face, her eyes, and her smile. She grins, but her eyes hold no warmth. They are cold, void of feeling, with a glint of malice and hatred. "Haha..." she chuckles briefly. "Such despair..."

"Milady," Monokuma suddenly speaks up. "I don't think you're supposed to reveal yourself this early..."

"Oh, shut up," she says, lifting her eyes as she straightens her posture. Gone is the warmth and friendliness of her demeanor; she's now cold, stern, and distant. "You were supposed to watch over Miku and prevent things like this from happening."

"Upupupu..." the bear chuckles. "What can I say... Miku and I had a little, insignificant quid pro quo."

"Quid pro quo?" Arthur asks, tilting his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Monokuma looks at us slyly. "You see, Miku had a certain... proposition," he tilts his head. "She promised me an AMAZING murder mystery for a class trial. All she asked in return was a slight bending of the rules restricting her speech," he chuckles. "Oh, and a guarantee of a broken AC in her room." He starts clapping his paws. "Can't say she didn't deliver! Daaahahaha!"

"It wasn't just that," Emma says coldly, turning to Monokuma with her hand clenched into a fist. "Do you think I don't understand the implication behind the notebook originally being placed in Kent's classroom, of all places?"

"What implication?" Kent asks.

"Oh, about that, Milady," Monokuma chuckles. "There are those who have plans, and then there are those who have... plans within plans within plans," he raises a paw. "You know how it goes, upupupu..."

Emma sighs, tilting her head from side to side. "We shouldn't have expected you to be much of a team player."

"Now, now, Milady," Monokuma waves his paws. "Miku never directly hinted at your identity, did she? I also made sure she left no clues about you-know-what."

"How admirable. You did the bare minimum," she rolls her eyes, then turns to us, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I'm sorry, everyone. I tried, but Monokuma is unsurprisingly impossible to work with."

"That's not what you should be apologizing for!" I shout, slamming my stand.

"Sorry," she tilts her head. "I'm not talking to the you 'you'. I'm addressing your real selves," she raises a finger. "To the masterminds hiding within each and every one of you. I'm not speaking to these pitiful imitations of my beloved classmates," she then glances at Kevin and smiles warmly, her face lighting up. "Congratulations, Kevin! You're going to experience the despair of your own death, just like we all long for!"

"Can't you just off yourself, then?!" Kevin snaps.

"No, it doesn't work like that," she sighs. "It must happen beyond our control. We were made to not fear failure, to never be discouraged by it. Not to sabotage ourselves."

"Made?" Martin repeats, clenching his fists. "By whom?!"

"Was it the one who stole the nukes?" Kitty crosses her arms.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." Emma says with a returning smile, putting her fingers together. "But where are my manners? I must introduce myself properly."

She does a graceful pirouette on her stand, placing a hand on her chest, smiling with her eyes closed. Then, she bows before us. "Hello, everyone! My name is Emma Gerlach, the Ultimate Despair!" Her happy smile contrasts with the abyss-like emptiness of her eyes. "Pleased to meet you!"

"Emma..." Kent looks at her in horror.

"Anyway," she shrugs, putting her hands on her hips. "I admit, I never imagined she'd develop a backbone," she says, turning towards Miku's portrait. "Wiping her memory was out of the question. Before the Academy year in 2009, she already knew about the Hope Shelter, so she could've revealed things without even realizing it. But you really should have listened to me during the vote about her fate. I was the first to suggest giving her Collins' place." She rolls her eyes dramatically, bending slightly to meet my gaze. "But noooo, someone thought she deserved to suffer even more for her sins. And so, we had to put up with her shenanigans. And now, look how it ended."

"Emma!" Yvonne exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with shock.

"Miku's sins are nothing compared to what you made her and the others go through," I yell. "All she did was rig Rodman's lottery!"

Emma stays silent for a moment, then chuckles softly, slowly straightening up. "If you only knew, dear Kurt," she says with a cruel smile. "If you only knew..."

"What are you talking about, Emma?" Lily asks, her hands clenched on the stand.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Emma waves her hand dismissively, smiling warmly. "Let's just say... she wanted to find out if God exists. And here's the funny part," she shrugs, looking up. "I've never been religious, but from what I gather, people like her end up in the deepest circle of Hell!"

"...What are you talking about?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Do I need to spell it out?" she sighs, still smiling. "It's easier to list the people she knew and didn't betray. Her late grandma? Even that, I'm not sure of," she shakes her head. "There's a reason why she was willing to die." She taps her cheek with a finger, lazily swinging her left leg back and forth. "Anyway, speaking of religion... this kind of reminds me of the Garden of Eden. A treacherous snake brought the fruit of forbidden knowledge, and everything went to hell!" She starts laughing maniacally. "Ahahaha! Hahahahaha!"

We just stare at her, stunned by such a display. I can't even believe how a person can change so drastically, so quickly. The worst part is... this is what has happened to all of us.

"Anyway!" Emma continues, twirling her finger in the air. "Like I said, I'm not religious. But I've always thought people who criticize the Bible and see the snake as some kind of hero are the most misguided idiots." She spreads her hands and tilts her head. "I mean, did the snake really care about enlightening anyone? More like it was pushing the first humans towards pissing off God! It didn't care what would happen to them afterward!" She suddenly turns towards Kevin, smiling cruelly. "You were disposable to her from the start, Kevin. Just like the rest of you."

"Monokuma!" Kevin shouts, not even looking at her. "Just get it over with already!"

"Oh, but I'm not the one to decide that," Monokuma grins. "Milady has her rights, you know. Upupupu..."

"My point is..." Emma raises her hand slowly, sighing. "Do you think that if God wanted to destroy the first humans, a mere snake would be able to stop Him? Even if the snake cared about them, which is highly doubtful?"

"Do we have to answer your deranged questions?" Kitty snaps, looking away.

"Dear Kitty," Emma sighs, placing a finger beneath her smiling lips. "Maybe you'll like this one. Do you think only your clothes have pockets?"

Kitty's eyes go wide, but before any of us can grasp the meaning behind her question, it happens.

Emma's hands dart to her sides. She leaps back from the stand, flinging objects from her pockets. I can't even react before I feel a sharp pain between my left eye and nose, and I collapse to the ground. When I focus my vision on the object beside me, I see a piece of chalk.

As I struggle to stand, I notice my fellow students sprawled on the floor as well. Some are trying to get up, still wincing in pain, but they all appear to be alive. They were hit in the same spot as I was. Then I look at Emma. She's already landed, standing up slowly, and pointing her thumb at Miku's portrait.

The left eye of Miku's portrait has a hole in it. Emma pierced it with her last piece of chalk, thrown with incredible precision. We all stare, slowly realizing the implication of what just happened.

She could have killed us all in seconds with just a handful of chalk pieces. And there was nothing any of us could have done to stop her.

"Well, that was just a demonstration," she says with a warm smile, inspecting her hand. "I'm a bit out of practice. There were only so many Hope Shelter staff members I could play with, and they all broke quickly." Then she turns towards us, her smile twisting into a grotesque caricature of friendliness. "Get up already. We have a vote to commence..."

After a while, we manage to stand up on our podiums. We are all looking at Emma. I don't want this to happen, and I'm sure the rest of the group feels the same, but I think, ultimately, we have no choice in this matter.

"Now then," Monokuma says as his face lights up. "It's time to vote on who you think the Blackened is. Will you make the right choice or the dreadfully wrong one? Upupupu..."

I look down and see a screen on the stand activate, displaying 14 buttons—13 with names and one grayed out and empty. A 60-second countdown appears above. I sigh. If I don't vote, I'll get executed. So, I vote for Kevin.

The voting ends, and a screen above Monokuma activates, showing the results: Kevin has received 12 votes out of 12.

"Congratulations!" Monokuma exclaims, throwing his paws in the air. "You have made the right choice. Kevin Shin is the Blackened responsible for the death of Miku Noone!"

Emma looks down, smiling. Kevin stares straight ahead, arms crossed and jaw clenched. He's shaking, as if trying to hold something back. The others glance at him or look down, avoiding his gaze.

"Kevin..." I say quietly, shaking my head. I walk up to him and place a hand on his shoulder. "You were misguided, but in the end, you fought for our lives. Your testimony was essential to us. Jess would be proud of you."

Kevin looks down for a moment, then sighs. He pushes my hand away and looks directly at me. "I don't want you to say that," he replies. "The truth is... All my talk about wanting to check if Jess was alright was just..." he sighs. "An excuse. I just wanted to get out of this place, no matter who had to die, as long as I survived." He looks away, closing his eyes. "Since I'm about to be gone, I'll admit it. That night, when I was alone with Miku and Emma..." He glances up. "I started hitting on them."

Emma chuckles. "Wow," she says, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd admit that."

"It was barely two hours after I'd learned Jess was likely dead," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "When you and Kent visited me yesterday, I complained about how jealous Jess could be. The truth is, she knew I needed to be kept on a leash. Without her, I'm just a horny, irresponsible idiot who forgets about everything, even her possible death, just for some stupid fling."

"Kevin, you don't have to—" I sigh. "We're all in an extreme situation. You were just looking for some comfort."

"Maybe," he says, looking around. "But how do I know it didn't start like that?" He nods, meeting my eyes. "That this isn't how I started becoming like Emma is now."

"Miku said none of us are responsible for how we turned out," I remind him. "Not even Emma."

"Right," he sighs. "I had... issues with Miku. But I get why you value her words so much, Kurt. I do too. It's maddening to think about what's happened..."

Emma turns away, walking around us, happily looking at the ceiling, ostentatiously staying quiet as if she wants to show how much she could reveal about our forgotten selves.

"Kevin..." I shake my head. "That doesn't matter. You fought alongside us. You die as one of us."

Kevin crosses his arms, thinking. Then he slowly nods. "I'm good at running because I can't commit to staying in my place," he says. "I was supposed to give up after killing Miku, but I ran away. I was supposed to stay quiet about being her killer, but I ran from that too." He looks at me and nods again. "I'll stay true to myself. I'll just keep running."

And then he pushes past me, sprinting towards the exit. Everyone watches, but no one reacts in time.

"Kevin!" I shout.

Monokuma turns his head to Emma. "Aren't you going to stop him, Milady?" he asks.

"Nope!" Emma says with a smile, inspecting her nails. "This is your problem, not mine."

"Alright then..." Monokuma sighs and rises from his throne.

Kevin runs swiftly, making it down the long corridor outside the hall. But Monokuma suddenly speeds like a bullet through the corridor, intercepting him. He blocks Kevin's path.

"Upupupu..." he giggles. "You think you're fast? Check this out!"

Monokuma begins moving left and right so quickly that he creates multiple after-images of himself, forming a wall. Kevin doesn't stop; he leaps over Monokuma and keeps running. The bear turns around, surprised.

"I tried to play nice," he says.

Monokuma lunges forward, hitting Kevin with his elbow. Kevin crashes to the ground, rolling across the floor.

Our group rushes towards them while Emma follows casually at her own pace.

"Argh!" Kevin gasps, spitting blood. He opens his eyes, looking at Monokuma, then chuckles. "Hah!"

"What's so funny?" Monokuma asks, tilting his head.

Kevin grins at me. "Kurt!" he shouts. "Did you see that? The moment he turned around?"

I pause, unsure what he's getting at. Kevin laughs again, looking at Monokuma.

"You asked me to estimate his speed, Kurt!" Kevin yells. "He's damn fast when he moves, for sure. But!" He chuckles. "He turns at normal speed."

"Kevin..." I begin to understand. I can't believe he remembered that. I didn't.

"Well, well..." Emma comments from behind us. "Looks like they don't make bears like they used to."

"Dunno how useful this info is," Kevin sighs with a smile. "But, since I'm a goner, I've got nothing to lose."

Monokuma stares down at Kevin, his red eye glowing as he raises his black paw, claws extended.

"Ever so sometimes I forget," he says slowly. "You Ultimates aren't just some mere brats to torment."

"Kurt..." Kevin closes his eyes. "I hope you find what Miku saw in you and your talent."

I start to step forward, but Martin places a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head. Monokuma jumps off Kevin and turns to face us. After a moment, he smirks and waves his paw dismissively.

"As if I care," he scoffs. "It's pathetic to see that as a victory for you kids."

"You forgot the upupu part," Kitty says, crossing her arms.

Monokuma turns to her, waving his paw again. "Oh, don't bother, Miss Kim," he says. "I'm not hiding the fact that I'm pissed. But that's it." He glances at Kevin. "It's nothing more than getting caught with your pants down in public. Embarrassing and annoying, but nothing more."

The bear claps his paws, looking down at Kevin. "But now, let's improve the mood by ending your hopeful delusions," he says ominously. "Let's give it everything we've got!" Monokuma exclaims. "It's... PUNISHMENT TIME!"

Kevin chuckles, then turns his gaze toward us. "You guys were the best," he says.

Before he can say more, a cable with a metal neck holder shoots out from the wall. The holder clamps around his neck, and the cable pulls him up. Kevin is dragged along the corridor and brought outside. In the middle of the road, a giant treadmill is set up, with a screen displaying a countdown timer. In front of the treadmill is a red stop button. Behind it are flamethrowers and a pit filled with spikes.

When the timer ends, the treadmill starts moving. The screen flashes various messages like "Run! Faster! Run!" Kevin is dropped onto the treadmill, forced to run at full speed, but the treadmill moves even faster. His feet begin to burn from the heat, but he keeps running despite the pain.

The treadmill speeds up, and the fire becomes unbearable. Suddenly, Kevin leaps toward the stop button and manages to press it. To our surprise, the treadmill halts. Kevin breathes a sigh of relief.

But then, a bag drops from above, hitting him on the face. It bursts on impact, releasing a cloud of dust. Kevin inhales a large amount and starts coughing violently due to his allergy. He falls to his knees, clutching his chest as he struggles to breathe. Then he looks up in horror as tons of dust begin to fall from above. Monokuma is unloading an entire truckload of dust on him. Kevin's eyes widen as he gets buried under the dust, his hands reaching out in a final, desperate struggle.

Silence falls. For a few moments, nothing happens. Then Monokuma appears, using a dustpan and brush to drop the last bits of dust. The giant screen displays the words "DUST TO DUST," with two Monokumas dancing below it.

We stand there, horrified. Suddenly, we hear Emma chuckling. She covers her mouth with a hand, trying not to burst into laughter. I look at her, disgusted. Then I realize this might be our perfect chance to get rid of her while she's defenseless and Monokuma is still busy with the execution.

But I don't have to act.

Before I can react, Kitty throws Miku's notebook at Emma, hitting her in the face. Emma stumbles, and Kitty seizes the moment, grabbing her and pinning her against the wall with a hand on her throat. She twists Emma's wrist, immobilizing her. Everyone is visibly shocked by the sudden move.

"Don't turn around, Monokuma!" Kitty shouts at the bear, who stands with his back to us, putting away the dustpan and brush. "If you do, I'll kill her right away! And if she moves her free hand towards her pocket of from the wall, I'll do it too!"

The bear remains still. Emma, held by Kitty, grins widely, but moves her hand across the wall and away from the rest of her body.

"Idiot," the Ultimate Despair sneers. "Do you realize the consequences of killing me?"

"I'll be put on trial as the Blackened and get executed," Kitty retorts. "Like I wouldn't gladly take you with me!"

Emma's eyes widen briefly before she smirks, seemingly impressed by Kitty.

"Kitty!" I shout, but she remains focused on Monokuma. Naomi takes a deep breath, placing a hand on her chest but stays silent.

"You're mistaken," Emma says, looking at us. "My death won't trigger a class trial." She smiles warmly at Kitty. "You were supposed to escape, remember? But I doubt you want to start the Endgame so soon."

"What's the Endgame?" Kent asks, stepping forward. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The Endgame starts when I die," Emma explains. "There's a hidden nuclear bomb somewhere in this shelter. When it activates, you'll have 24 hours to find and defuse it, to emerge as Symbols of Hope overcoming the despair of a nuclear crisis!" she chuckles, "or you could commit a murder and escape as the Blackened."

"You're bluffing," Kitty says, still watching Monokuma.

"Do I have the pulse of a liar?" Emma taunts.

"That doesn't work on sociopaths like you!" Kitty snaps back.

"Mukuro Ikusaba," Emma suddenly says.

Kitty frowns and briefly glances at her. "Who?"

"The Ultimate Soldier," Emma explains. "Your thief of three nukes. One was fired at the American Academy, one is stored here, and the third is... still a secret," she chuckles. "Anyway, the reason she wasn't publicly listed as an Ultimate in 2009 is that she didn't join the Japanese Division until 2010. By that time, however, the US government had lost all copies of the photo showing her eye and was unable to identify her." Emma raises her eyes and grins happily. "Mukuro rewarded us with the nukes after you and Lily erased all the evidence on her."

"NO!" Kitty shouts, turning to Emma.

Emma seizes the moment, headbutting Kitty in the face. Kitty stumbles back, and Emma jumps away, reaching into her pockets.

Before she can act, Monokuma leaps between us and Emma, spreading his arms.

"I hereby forbid any killing in this hall, where class trials are conducted!" he declares, turning to Kitty. "If you kill Milady here, I'll hold the entire group responsible." He then faces Emma. "And, for the sake of fairness, if you kill anyone here, I'll execute you as well with no hesitation, Milady!"

"Alright, alright…" Emma puts her hands on her hips. "You're such a bore, Monokuma."

"I'm a bear of integrity who upholds the sanctity of the class trials!" Monokuma exclaims, turning to look at the pile of dust. "Just because our order is based on murder and deceit doesn't mean we should abandon all decency," he adds and turns back Emma. "After all, Milady, don't you value order through despair? Upupupu..."

"I don't have time for our eastern versus western philosophical debates, Monokuma," Emma sighs, walking towards the elevator. "I need to figure out my new secret agenda since our old plan is ruined beyond salvation." She glances back at us, chuckling. "Oh, two things. First, with all the anesthetic destroyed, you can't knock me out forever. And I can always kill myself if I get tired of being tied up or something. Second..." she smirks. "Thanks, Kitty, for showing me what's so fun about your relationship with Naomi. It's nice to still learn something new about our beloved classmates." She continues toward the elevator.

Kitty steps forward, enraged. "You're the worst scum I've ever encountered in my entire career!"

"Enough, Kitty," Martin interjects. "She's abhorrent, but we can't deal with her right now."

"Yeah," Naomi adds, placing a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "After everything, it's not hard to believe they could set up a bomb."

Emma enters the elevator, waving at us. Meanwhile, I pick up Miku's notebook from the ground. "Farewell, everyone! See you soon!" she shouts before disappearing as the elevator doors close.

"Well, kiddos," Monokuma turns to us. "I also bid you farewell. I have some cleaning to do, but I will be available for your requests, as always. Upupupu..." He giggles, turns around, and then vanishes into a hole in the wall, which seals shut behind him.

We return to the main hall of the underground courtroom, taking in the sight. We can't even say a proper goodbye to the deceased, as there are no bodies left to mourn.

"Kevin and Miku are gone," Riko whispers. "They didn't even leave anything behind..."

"They left us with their example of resistance against the evil that lurks within each of us," Martin says, crossing his arms. "The evil that has consumed our lives and thrown us into this killing game. We must continue to fight it. We will triumph in the end. For the sake of those who have died resisting it, we must persevere."

"That's nice and all," Kent sighs, "but what's the point? With a nuke having gone off outside, is there even anything left worth returning to?"

"I just hope Sonia is still okay," Arthur mutters, looking down. "She went to the Japanese Division, but... Emma mentioned that criminal Mukuro Ikusaba is there..."

"And who knows what's happened to our parents..." Yvonne closes her eyes.

"I know what happened to mine," Steve sighs deeply. "I murdered them… No, my mastermind self did it."

"Even escaping seems pointless now," Lily says, tears welling up in her eyes. "Even if we survive, what awaits us outside?"

"The masterminds believe there's still a society they need to deceive," Martin says, looking up. "I know we're in a situation no one should face, especially people our age. But we are Ultimates. Society didn't just give us titles and recognition—it allowed us to flourish. It's because of our talents that we thrived. So now, I ask you all for one last favor for the world we left behind: let's not give in to hopelessness." He turns to us. "Remember our oath. We must oppose the masterminds at any cost. Thanks to the sacrifices of Miku and Kevin, we have a better chance of fighting back."

"I know we're all grieving," I say, glancing at everyone and then down at Miku's notebook in my hands. "But Martin is right. We must not despair. We must not lose hope. Miku believed we have a future, and Kevin died protecting us from Monokuma and Emma."

"And I have a score to settle with Emma," Kitty says, clenching her fists. "That bitch is going to pay for her crimes, no matter the cost."

"But according to Miku, even Emma is a victim," I sigh. "None of us is responsible for becoming... like her."

"Maybe," Naomi concedes, crossing her arms, "but I agree with Kitty. Emma might be a victim, but she's beyond saving, unlike us."

"Right," Kent sighs, glancing to the side. "Maybe killing her is an act of mercy at this point..."

"In any case," Riko says, looking ahead, "we can't give up. We can't betray the memory of our fallen friends."

"Right," Yvonne nods. "They're counting on us. And so are our loved ones."

"So, what do we do now?" Steve asks.

"We'll take a break to process everything that's happened," Martin replies. "And we'll analyze everything we've learned. Information is the key to our victory."

I walk over to Miku's photo, damaged by Emma. Lily and Riko follow me.

"Around this time yesterday," Riko says, "the four of us were having breakfast together."

"Feels like a lifetime ago," I sigh.

"Yeah," Lily agrees. "And then Miku... She sacrificed her life to help us in our fight against evil. She showed us that we can overcome it, even if we can't remember our past."

"Yeah," Riko smiles faintly. "She was really..." She pauses, then looks up. "Kurt, remember when you compared me to a Philosopher's Stone?"

"Yeah," I nod. "What about it?"

"You wondered if we'd had that same conversation before, in our forgotten past," she says, turning to Miku's portrait. "Miku believed we had."

"It takes on a new meaning now..." I look at Miku's face.

"Kurt," Riko looks up at me. "Do you think she has a soul? That she's in a better place now?"

"I hope so," I reply, and Lily nods.

"If God exists," I say, crossing my arms, "then He should consider how much Miku helped us, how she opposed evil, and how much she sacrificed. If that isn't enough to earn her salvation, then what is?"

"I hope you're right," Riko whispers.

I glance over at the empty podium that once belonged to Kevin.
"He probably never finished reading The Maltese Falcon," I remark.

"If he had," Lily sighs, "maybe he wouldn't have trusted Emma so much."

"What happened to him was awful," Riko says sadly. "His realization of his mistakes was admirable, but the memory of him being willing to sacrifice us all... it's still fresh."

"True," the Ultimate Librarian nods. "But I think he was a good person in the end. It's a shame he had to die. And I'm not just saying that out of politeness."

"Yeah," Riko agrees.

"His so-called crime," I continue, "was merely a condition Monokuma set to let Miku act more freely than the masterminds wanted."

"He was just a pawn," Lily adds. "And he realized that too late."

"We were all pawns," Riko says, lifting her head. "Only now can we see how we were manipulated. And how easily we could still be manipulated if we let circumstances control us."

We gaze at Miku's portrait. "It looks like she's smiling at us," Riko notes.

"One more thing, Riko," I say, remembering something. "Miku told me you lied about not recalling your nightmare from the previous night. I know it might be unpleasant, but it could give us a clue."

"I understand," Riko replies without hesitation. "I'll write it down."

"Thank you," I smile. "Your memory helped me beat Emma. Please don't underestimate your talent anymore."

"Okay," Riko says, smiling. "I'll do my best, for Miku." She turns to the rest of the group, while putting on her headphones. "In that nightmare, there was a girl I don't recognize. I'll ask Yvonne to sketch her based on my description."

Riko and Lily walk away. I hear footsteps and see Martin approaching.

"She was truly an intriguing person," he says, looking at Miku's portrait. "Half of her oath was a big, fat lie. The other half was utterly sincere," he chuckles. "As a journalist, I prefer dealing in black and white. My job is to inform the public about both praiseworthy actions and condemnable ones," he sighs. "These days, many journalists just whitewash or blacken characters based on personal bias."

"So," I ask, "what would you write about her?"

"I believe we're still missing some context," he says, glancing at Miku. "But I have to admit, I'm impressed by her. She sacrificed herself to help the rest of us. Although her plan relied on a lot of random chances, she might have been that desperate. Still, in the end, Kevin drew the short straw."

"Yeah..." I nod.

"Actions don't occur in a vacuum," Martin continues, nodding slightly. "They're often connected to other actions, and those connections are crucial. The clearest example is Hitler's highways—why we don't give him any credit for them, even if they were objectively beneficial on their own. The problem was that they were built by taking massive loans—loans that were impossible to repay. To avoid paying them back, Hitler started World War II, leading to immense devastation, even in Germany." He sighs. "A beneficial action can be overshadowed by others to the point where the benefit no longer matters. Only a fool believes that noble ends can be achieved by any means without facing consequences down the line."

"Tricking Kevin into killing her was one of those means," I nod.

"Which is probably why, among other reasons, Miku preferred to be judged by God," Martin pats me on the back. "I wish her all the best, and I hope her belief was true. It's what she deserves. But I don't know her past or what led her to this point."

"That's a very roundabout and confusing pep talk, you know," I tell him.

"Well, the guy who usually gives the pep talks can't give one to himself," he smiles. "I'm a leader here, but that doesn't mean I can do everything. It's even more important that I can appoint the right person for the right job." He chuckles. "And test their qualifications."

"Is that why you and Kitty were sitting on the memos?" I raise an eyebrow.

"We need smart people here," he sighs. "We need to know them and help them grow. After all, none of us can be sure we won't be the next to die."

"In movies, people who say things like that tend to die next," I point out.

"And if I do, you'll know I had impeccable foresight," he smiles again. "You did great today. It's reassuring to know that it wasn't just Kitty and me who could've pulled this off."

"Thanks," I say, looking at Miku's face as I tilt my head. "But what does your foresight say about what she told me? About my talent?"

"That part about you being able to save yourself and others?" He crosses his arms. "If you want to find meaning in her words... My advice is to consider that you aren't an Ultimate Interviewer."

"What?" I turn my head toward him, puzzled.

"There's never been an Ultimate Interviewer before you," he says. "Maybe I'm overthinking it, and the Academy simply decided it wasn't redundant given there's also an Ultimate Journalist. The point is, consider that she wasn't referring to your most obvious talent."

I ponder this for a moment, then nod.

"I'll think about it," I reply.

"Good," Martin says. "I think we both learned something from this class trial."

"Yeah..." I look up. "Ironically," I nod, "by tricking Kevin into starting the killing game, Miku betrayed us. And she did it so she could trust us with what's ahead."

Our first battle in this war is over. We won. Miku, Kevin... you both can rest now. You both made the right choice.

It's up to us now.

CHAPTER 1 END

Martin

Yvonne

Kent

Kurt

Kitty

Riko

Steve

Naomi

Arthur

Emma

Lily

Kevin

Miku

SURVIVORS: 11