When I first left the whiteroom I was like a liquid without any solid form, I had no personality nor hobbies. If I could say one thing about myself would be my curiosity It is like a bottomless Pit always craving for more Knowledge it is something t...
The first few weeks were a social whirlwind. Alliances formed quickly, and Ryuen, with his forceful personality, had somehow taken control within days. His methods were unorthodox - think barking orders rather than inspiring speeches - but effective in their own way. There was a strange sense of unity under his iron fist.
Settling into my seat next to Sakurako, a classmate with an intriguing aura I couldn't quite place, I surveyed the scene. A cacophony of voices filled the air, a stark contrast to the tense silence that had settled over the class during Mr. Sakagami's lessons. He seemed oddly indifferent to the constant low-level disruptions, which fueled my suspicions.
This school was different. Cameras seemed to be everywhere, silent observers. Yet, the teachers remained silent about Ryuen's antics. Reporting him wasn't ideal. Perhaps a different incident, something from another class, could be a better starting point.
As I pondered this, Mr. Sakagami entered. The noise subsided slightly, but half the class remained carefree. This nonchalance was becoming a pattern. He hadn't reprimanded a single student. It solidified my theory: this was a test, and we were the unwitting subjects.
Several things pointed to this. First, the enigmatic classroom cameras. Initially, I thought they were for security, but the lack of consequences for disruptive behavior suggested otherwise.
Then, Sakurako's offhand comment about the point system's hidden purpose clicked into place. The generous point allocation was a carrot, a distraction from the real purpose: the gradual point deductions throughout the month. The true test wasn't how many points we accumulated, but how we handled losing them.
The strategy for evaluating us was unconventional, but it made a twisted kind of sense. The teachers' odd behavior, the omnipresent cameras – it all pointed to a grand reveal at the month's end, where everything we did would be laid bare.
But the true purpose behind this elaborate scheme remained a puzzle. Initially, the promise of a guaranteed job upon graduation seemed to be the driving force. It was a significant selling point for the school.
But now, doubt crept in. Was it really that simple? Guaranteeing good jobs for every single student seemed unrealistic. There was also a strange lack of information about past graduates' success. People simply trusted the school because of its government backing.
My hunch was that the school was aiming to cultivate leaders, and this elaborate point system and competition were their methods. It was a ruthless way to motivate students, but their exact plan remained unclear. Regret gnawed at me for missing the opening ceremony – twice.
Suddenly, a commotion tore me from my thoughts. Asahina-senpai, a senior student, stood in the doorway, her gaze sweeping the classroom until it landed on me. With a friendly wave, she beckoned me over.
"Found you! You didn't forget our little chat, did you?" she chirped.
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