A step into the unknown

By the time I arrived at my dorm, the evening had already devoured the last traces of golden light that once stained the walkways of the school. The silence that greeted me felt oddly appropriate.

I didn't immediately open the letter. Instead, I moved through the stillness of my room—a space devoid of personal touch, just as it should be. I sat down, the familiar creak of my chair accompanying the soft clink of porcelain as I poured myself a cup of tea. The warmth against my lips was momentary, fleeting, before I finally unfolded the letter in my hands.

My eyes traced the words, absorbing the message.

A beat of silence passed.

"...I see."

That was all I could say.

Outside, the night had fully claimed the sky, yet my thoughts remained elsewhere, shifting through the implications of what I had just read.

---

The Desk

The next morning was oddly serene.

I had already set plans in motion regarding Sudo's case—plans that I was 85% certain would work. If all went as expected, the victims would withdraw their complaints soon enough.

I walked through the school corridors at my usual, unhurried pace, when I noticed Horikita approaching. There was a weight to her steps, a purpose behind her movements that told me something was wrong.

I stopped, my gaze meeting hers.

"Is there a problem, Horikita?"

She hesitated, eyes briefly flickering with something unreadable before she spoke.

"Your desk... It was vandalized."

For the first time in a long while, I allowed my eyes to widen—just slightly. A reaction was necessary.

"We discovered it this morning. Since I arrived early, I thought I should inform you myself."

Horikita was not the type to go out of her way for others. Her informing me was not a courtesy—it was a calculated decision. She wanted to gauge my reaction. To see if I already knew or if this came as a surprise.

I offered nothing.

Instead, I turned and made my way to Class D.

The moment I slid the door open, all eyes turned to me. Curious. Watching. Waiting.

Hirata's expression was stretched with concern. Kushida, as always, played her role perfectly—feigned worry dripping from her features. Kei and her clique whispered among themselves, already forming assumptions and spinning rumors.

I finally reached my desk.

At a glance, it was merely vandalism—a childish display of resentment. But upon closer inspection, I felt something shift in me.

Scrawled across the surface were the words:

"White Room. WR. wR. Rw. W-R."

A pattern. A message. A deliberate strike at my very existence.

For the first time in years, I felt something akin to... irritation.

Not because of the vandalism itself. Not even because of the stares directed at me.

But because someone dared to use my past as a tool to elicit a reaction.

How... annoying.

I let my fingers trail over the markings before straightening, composing myself. When I finally spoke, my voice carried the perfect balance of uncertainty and grace.

"Thank you, everyone. I truly apologize for this situation. I don't know why my desk was targeted, but I'm sorry for any unnecessary trouble this has caused."

I had no intention of playing the victim. But allowing them to perceive me as one was beneficial.

"No, Kiyo-kun, this is horrible! There's no need to apologize!" Kushida's voice was the first to rise in protest, filled with honeyed concern.

"Who would do something like this?" Hirata questioned, his usual composed demeanor flickering with brief but visible anger.

"Truly despicable..." Horikita muttered, her displeasure evident.

Everything was falling into place—until a voice cut through the atmosphere.

"White Room?"

The moment he spoke, the remaining background chatter dimmed.

I turned my head slightly, my gaze landing on Whis.

His expression remained carefully neutral, but his eyes were studying me, waiting for the slightest shift in my reaction.

He was testing me.

"What the heck does that mean? Any idea, Kouji?"

I met his gaze evenly before offering a dismissive shrug.

"No idea," I said, my tone effortlessly indifferent. "Whoever did this must be crazy."

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at Whis' lips. His eyes lingered on my face for a second longer than necessary.

"Yeah," he said. "Crazy to go up against someone like you."

His words lingered in the air, heavier than they should have been.

Whoever orchestrated this wasn't looking for confrontation.

They wanted to see what I would do.

And that made things interesting.

---

Horikita's Persistence

After class, Chabashira had already labeled the incident an "investigation." Technically, my desk wasn't vandalized—the words weren't even written directly on the surface. Instead, they were carefully glued pieces of paper, almost like a message left behind by a specter.

I had already moved on from it.

Horikita, however, had not.

She followed me, lingering just far enough to seem inconspicuous—at least to herself.

I finally stopped, turning my head slightly.

"Stop following me, Horikita. You can come out now."

She stepped forward, unfazed. "I have to apologize for trailing you this far." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes narrowing. "But… I have a question."

"What question?"

"The words written all over your desk," she said, tilting her head slightly. "You're not just going to dismiss it, are you?"

A quiet sigh escaped my lips as I met her gaze.

"There's no escaping you, huh?" I mused, tone laced with something just short of amusement. "But honestly, I have no idea what it means. You're overthinking it, as usual."

Horikita frowned. "That's not overthinking. Someone specifically targeted you with those words. It wasn't random vandalism. If that were the case, other desks would've been damaged as well, wouldn't they?"

She was digging. Searching.

I tilted my head slightly, feigning thought. "Maybe it's just another of Ryuuen's tricks," I suggested.

"I doubt Ryuuen would bother using the term 'White Room.' That's not his style," she countered.

I let a pause stretch between us.

She was getting too close.

"Horikita," I said, voice smooth but edged with something sharp. "I suggest you stop prying into matters that don't concern you."

The atmosphere between us shifted.

For a moment, she didn't react. Then, her brows furrowed slightly. "Why?" she pressed. "Is it because of the words 'White Room'? Is that tied to your past?"

Silence.

Then—a blur.

Thud.

Horikita barely had time to process before she was pinned against the wall, wrists held firmly in my grasp. Her breath hitched, eyes widening in shock—fear.

I hadn't hurt her.

But she knew, in that instant, that I could.

____

His expression was unreadable. Not anger. Not amusement. Just… nothing. A complete void where emotion should be.

Horikita's breath hitched as his golden eyes bore into hers, cold and calculating, peeling away her thoughts layer by layer. His silence was louder than words, an oppressive force pressing down on her.

Then, he finally spoke, his voice dangerously low.

"Horikita, I thought you were a loner. Someone who keeps people at arm's length because you think they aren't worth your time. Someone who believes they're superior—above petty emotions, above meaningless friendships. But here you are, chasing after me, asking questions that don't concern you. Why?"

He leaned in just slightly, but it felt suffocating.

"Is it because you're 'curious'? No, that's too simple. Curiosity is fleeting. This is something else."

Horikita's brows furrowed slightly, but Ayanokoji's grip tightened—just enough to remind her that resistance was pointless.

"You pride yourself on being logical, but tell me… what logic is there in pursuing something you may never understand? What makes you think that even if I told you the answer, it would satisfy you?"

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Ayanokoji's voice was quiet but sharp, each word cutting deep.

"The truth, Horikita, is that you don't want the answer. You want to believe you're in control. That you can fit every piece into your neat little worldview, where everything makes sense."

He tilted his head slightly, watching as her confidence wavered.

"But what if this is beyond you? What if this is something you were never meant to understand?"

Her fingers twitched slightly, a subtle sign of unease.

"I wonder…" His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Do you really want to know the truth… or are you just afraid of being left out?"

The words stung more than she wanted to admit.

Her pride told her to push back, to demand answers. But for the first time, she hesitated.

Ayanokoji didn't smile, didn't smirk. He simply let go, stepping back as if nothing had happened. As if their little encounter was just another passing moment in his day.

Then, he turned and walked away, unhurried, as though she were no more significant than the air around him.

Horikita clenched her fists, her body still tingling from the adrenaline. She told herself it was just a surprise attack, that she wasn't shaken. But deep down, the doubt had already begun to fester.

And she hated it.

"Ayanokoji Kiyotaka…" she murmured, her gaze lingering on his retreating figure.

A silent warning.

But she now understood one undeniable truth.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka was not normal.