Between Hell and Heaven 8

Day 5 - Part Two

Participants: 17 candidates

Setup:

All candidates stood in a wide circle—or line—facing away from the center.

A stick was handed to one randomly selected participant to begin.

Rules:

The person holding the stick must quietly walk up and tap someone on the back (who is also facing away).

The person tapped is immediately eliminated from the game—no speaking allowed.

The one who tapped also leaves the game, passing the stick to the tapped player in secret.

This continues until only three players remain.

Tactical Notes:

No one knows who was tapped unless they were watching—something strictly forbidden.

Information was fragmented.

The tension in Class D had mutated into something darker than mere competition—paranoia.

We used to be a ragtag group of misfits, bound together by survival and ambition. Now? Every glance was a silent accusation. Every whisper bred suspicion.

There was a mole among us. Someone had betrayed the class by leaking the leader's identity during the last exam. Nobody knew who it was. Or perhaps everyone thought they knew, and that was worse. It made the air itself feel heavier.

I stood near the edge of the camp, watching as my classmates broke into fractured cliques. The thread that once bound us had frayed to near nothing. Conversations were cautious. Laughter—rare as it was—sounded hollow. Not even Hirata's warm smile could mend the psychological fracture.

And then, there was Koenji.

While the rest of us analyzed every social cue like our lives depended on it, Koenji Rosuke lounged beneath a palm tree like royalty. In one hand, a large coconut with a straw sticking out. In the other, a plate of grilled delicacies far too elaborate to have come from our rations.

I narrowed my eyes.

Resources were scarce, and Koenji had no access to Class S points. How did he keep managing to secure such luxuries?

It wasn't the first time, either.

I'd brushed it off before, dismissing it as another of his eccentric habits. But now? I was beginning to wonder if he'd formed some kind of leverage... or made a deal. And despite his bizarre persona, Koenji had survived every test. Maybe his madness masked a far deeper strategy.

Still, it wasn't him that made my skin crawl.

That honor belonged to Ayanokoji.

He stood near the center of the clearing, arms crossed, watching the others with an unreadable gaze. At first glance, he looked like a passive observer. But I knew better. His eyes missed nothing. He was too still. Too quiet. A statue sculpted by calculation.

Sometimes, I'd catch him watching interactions that seemed meaningless—only to later realize they held some hidden significance. We rarely spoke, but his presence alone unsettled me. Not in a hostile way. It was the kind of silence that always comes before a storm.

But there was no time for vague suspicions. The game had started.

The Candidates:

Seventeen of us were still in play: Ayanokoji, Whis, Kei, Hirata, Kushida, Yamauchi, Ike, Sudo, Sakura, Sato, and others whose names never held much weight in votes.

Whis had proposed the entire system—a method to prevent the mole from identifying the leader. Everyone agreed.

The rules were simple.

No talking.

No turning.

No glancing.

You're tapped—you accept the stick. You tap someone else—you leave. One stick. A silent chain.

And then... it was my turn.

Sato tapped my shoulder gently. No words. Just pressure. She turned and walked away.

Only six of us remained. The others had gone back to camp. I stood still, gripping the stick, paranoia wrapping itself around me like a second skin.

To an outsider, the game seemed childish. But this was game theory in motion.

Give the stick to the wrong person, and the leader's identity could be exposed. If the mole made it to the final three, the entire strategy would crumble.

But what if I gave the stick to the mole now? Eliminated them early? That might actually be the safest play.

I took a breath.

Suspects:

Kushida. Two-faced and charming, capable of smiling while twisting a knife in your back. I'd always suspected her—even if no one else did.

Yamauchi and Ike? No. Too dumb. Loud, impulsive. They couldn't manage something this precise.

Whis...

I hesitated. He was composed. Charismatic. And he had suggested the game. But that would be a contradiction, wouldn't it? Why create a system to protect the leader if he was the one trying to expose them? Too risky. I told myself he was safe.

I turned toward Kushida.

Gently, I tapped her shoulder.

She flinched. Then walked away.

I exhaled, mind racing. Had I made the right call? Or had I just played into the mole's hands?

As I returned to the camp, I saw Matsushita and Whis already there.

Hirata approached, voice tinged with concern. "How'd it go?"

Matsushita offered a faint smile. "I think it worked. Everyone followed the rules."

Relief washed over me. Subtle, but real. Maybe—just maybe—we'd outplayed the traitor.

Then I noticed Ayanokoji beside me. Arms still crossed. His gaze didn't shift from Matsushita and Whis.

He stared with surgical precision.

I wondered what he was thinking. But told myself it was just Ayanokoji being Ayanokoji.

The mood in class lightened—not quite celebratory, but relieved. The leader's identity had been protected. The strange process had done its job.

Or so we believed.

Because doubt never dies. It just sleeps—waiting for its next breath.

---

Class B Camp — Lloyd's POV

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. And as expected, Sienna was building her network again.

I skimmed the report.

Well done. I didn't think you'd pull it off without Sienna catching on.

She's good at operating under people's noses.

Now for the next phase...

Ichinose and a group of girls came from the waterfall, bikinis still clinging to damp skin. Their flushed cheeks and bouncing... assets made it hard to keep my focus. I tried to turn away, but it was too late. They'd already spotted me.

"Huh? What are you doing here, Lloyd?"

Himeno's glare turned sharp—already in attack mode. I floundered, her... features making it difficult to form a coherent response.

"Just passing by to, uh... birdwatch?"

Chihiro raised a brow. "Don't you need binoculars for that?"

Her question was valid. I didn't have a good follow-up.

"I, uh—"

"I think he was just out for a walk and happened to take this path. Right, Lloyd?"

Ichinose, thankfully, stepped in to save me.

I nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just happened to run into you guys."

"Oh yeah?" Sayo teased, eyes playful. "Then why lie about birdwatching?"

She was more amused than hostile, but I still felt cornered.

"Okay, okay, let's just head back," Ichinose sighed. I silently thanked her for the assist.

They walked off toward the camp, and I let out a breath. That could've easily ended with me labeled a creep.

But just as I began to process that awkward encounter, the real reason I came here approached.

"What's up, Lloyd?"

Kozue greeted me cautiously, her eyes darting around before locking onto mine.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "It wasn't easy—Ichinose and Himeno were always close by. I had to be careful."

She handed me a memory card. Something crucial. Something that made the next part of my plan feel much more real.

Flashback

I stood in a small clearing, waiting for someone to arrive. The breeze tugged at my hair, bringing a fleeting sense of calm—one that was quickly broken by the rustle of bushes nearby.

Ichizaki emerged, stepping through the foliage with deliberate caution. His movements were calculated, but he approached with clear intent.

"Here," he said flatly. "Ryuen told me to give this to you. You're Lloyd, right? Kanzaki's lapdog?"

I nodded, offering no words—just confirmation.

He hesitated, his grip tightening on the package. So I spoke.

"Don't worry. You're Ichizaki, right? I've heard of you from Ryuen. And yes, Kanzaki instructed me to retrieve the package from you."

He gave a curt nod, finally extending the package toward me. I opened it to find a memory card—Ryuen had gone out of his way to provide the proper materials, a gesture born from our class alliance.

When I looked up again, Ichizaki was already fading into the trees, Ichizaki disappeared back into the forest.

End of Flashback

"I appreciate it, Kozue. But I'll need one more favor."

"Hmmm~? What is it?"

"While Ichinose and Kanzaki head to Class D, I'll need your help back here. There's something I want to set in motion..."

---

Class D — Ayanokoji's POV

Whis was up to something. That much was obvious.

Everything about him screamed mole.

But I couldn't confront him—not yet. A bigger game was unfolding. The scattered leader's card... That was a move meant to disrupt and disorient. A clear tactic to create information disparity.

And then, that letter... an anagram.

It had to be someone close to Whis. Maybe even working with Nero.

I had no leverage on Whis yet. But I was gathering information.

If they wanted to manipulate me into removing Whis and Nero for them, they were making a mistake. I wasn't going to play their game—not without the proper tools.

Hirata's voice caught my attention.

"Hey!"

I glanced over. Kanzaki and Ichinose had arrived.

Horikita approached them directly, while other Class B students mingled, bridging social threads.

I observed the situation quietly as Kanzaki kept to himself, his posture guarded, his demeanor reserved. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed it—Kanzaki had been acting off lately.

Before I could follow that train of thought any further, a low, cautious voice called out to me.

"Ayanokoji-kun?"

I turned around.

A girl stood there, light purple hair framing her face, tied neatly in a bun. She had a delicate build and an expression marked by urgency.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Well, technically, I'm the one helping you," she said, flashing a quick, nervous smile. "Anyway, here."

She extended her hand toward me, fist closed around something small. Her eyes flicked across the area, scanning the surroundings before reaching me fully.

I held out my hand, and she dropped a tiny object into my palm.

A memory card?

"It's from Kanzaki. He said you'd need it. Oh—and this too."

She placed a folded piece of paper in my hand, then turned away without another word, hurrying to rejoin her class as they began to leave.

"Wait," I called after her. "What's your name?"

The purple-haired girl glanced back. "Ah, sorry. Kozue Minamikata."

She gave a small wave, then motioned subtly for me to keep quiet—like I hadn't seen her at all.

"I see... Kozue Minamikata, huh?"