Snow and Autumn

Pain was the first and most overwhelming thought that came to mind as I beheld the harrowing scene before me. The air was thick with the sound of children writhing in agony, their faces contorted in distress as they clutched their stomachs and vomited profusely onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Among them lay those who had succumbed to the relentless assault of their training, their bodies rendered unconscious, unable to withstand the physical and mental demands forcibly imposed upon them. These children, pushed beyond their limits, had reached a point where their bodies simply could not endure any longer.

Yet, amidst the harsh and unrelenting environment, where exhaustion and suffering were the norm, a few exceptional individuals managed to distinguish themselves. Despite the grueling conditions and the relentless demands of their training, these children exhibited an unyielding resolve, standing firm against the overwhelming challenges that would have broken the spirit of almost everyone. Their determination was not just a fleeting moment of courage but a sustained effort that endured through everyone they faced. Though battered and weary, these remarkable few refused to surrender to the circumstances that had crushed so many of their peers. Their resilience and strength of character were nothing short of extraordinary, embodying the indomitable power of the human spirit even in the most dire of situations.

Among these few stood I, possessing a version of that same unbreakable spirit, refusing to falter under the brutal regimen imposed by our instructor. Yet, I was acutely aware of the demands that lay ahead. Swimming practice followed this grueling lesson in physical endurance, and I knew that if I overextended myself now, I would struggle in the water later and maybe drown. Caught in a silent dilemma, I weighed the need to conserve my strength against the fear of showing weakness. As I wrestled with these thoughts, I became aware of a subtle disturbance—an instinctive sense that something, or someone, was moving toward me from an unseen angle.

Reacting swiftly, I narrowly evaded a sneak attack, feeling the sharp blade of a knife graze my hair as I dodged the potentially lethal strike. Spinning around to face my assailant, I saw a woman with short black hair, her gray eyes cold and calculating, and a glinting dagger clutched in her left hand reflecting the bright lights. Her intent was unmistakable; she aimed to harm, perhaps even kill me. The gravity of the situation was clear—I could not afford a moment of distraction.

As I kept a watchful eye on her, another attack came from behind—a swift kick aimed at my head. I was barely able to avoid the blow, catching sight of a foot passing dangerously close to my face. My senses heightened in accordance to the danger I found myself in, I noticed the woman suddenly charging at me with inhuman speed at the corner of my eye. Before I could mount a defense, a loud, piercing sound reverberated through my ear, shattering my focus. The next instant, the woman was upon me, her dagger poised for the final blow and her cold eyes focused straight at mine.

But the strike never landed. Instead, a sound echoed through the hall, not nearly as loud as that first unexpected sound, this sound signaled the end of our training session. The two instructors, who had been orchestrating the attack, withdrew as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Their casual demeanor in the aftermath of such a lethal exercise only underscored the brutal nature of our training.

As the instructors turned away, I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my accumulative pulse that represented fear, stress, agitation, and many other factors. Despite the close call, I couldn't help but release a sigh of disappointment, knowing that the monitoring personnel would note my reaction. At that moment, a strange longing stirred within me. Part of me wished that the dagger had struck its mark. I craved the sensation of despair, helplessness, and pain—not out of some masochistic desire, but because I yearned to experience defeat. It was an odd, almost paradoxical wish, yet it was the truest expression of what I felt. To be utterly defeated, to confront the depths of despair—this was my most profound and unreachable desire.

Sighing inwardly as I started to walk I noticed that a girl was lying on my path to the exit. She was crying and panting profusely, her face contorted in agony as she was shaking and clutching her chest, almost as if she couldn't breathe. Looking down on her I felt as if helping her was the right thing to do, almost as it were a human instinct. I however had been made to ignore those kinds of distractions. Coldly looking away without the slightest care, I simply avoided her and continued to walk. As I distanced myself from her I could hear how her painful panting slowly faded into the darkness. I suppose she would be the next person to be disposed of as if she was merely trash that the gods felt like throwing away at any moment possible moment—not being worth anything. 

Without a second thought, I coldly averted my gaze and continued walking, my resolve unwavering, leaving her behind as if she were no more than an obstacle in my way. Her labored breaths and pained gasps slowly receded into the distance, swallowed by the surrounding darkness. I knew that she would likely be discarded next, treated as expendable—a piece of refuse, worthless in the eyes of those in control, destined to be cast aside when her usefulness expired. Her fate was sealed, much like many others before her.

**Autumn**

The water felt cool and invigorating against my skin, each nerve in my body awakening to the sudden rush of coldness. It was as if my entire being craved the sensation, desperate for some form of relief after the physical strain I had endured. The recent trials had taken their toll, and the blood that seeped through the bandages wrapped around my wounds was a constant reminder of that. I despised these physical tests, for they pushed me far beyond my limits, exposing weaknesses I had long known were there. I had never excelled in such environments; they were brutal, demanding more than I had ever felt capable of giving.

Looking around, I saw other children in similar states—some bandaged, others barely able to stand. Their faces bore the marks of exhaustion and pain. Yet, to my surprise, there were two among us who appeared completely unscathed, as if they had emerged from the ordeal without a scratch. It was as though the grueling test we had just endured was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, an illusion my mind had conjured. The stark contrast between us was unsettling, leaving me to wonder how they had managed to remain untouched by the same brutality that had ravaged the rest of us.

As I observed a particular boy from a distance, he suddenly turned his head in my direction, as if instinctively aware that he was being watched. The gaze he directed towards me was completely devoid of emotion—cold, unreadable, and distant. At that moment, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pity for him. His strength, his resilience, was the only thing anchoring him to this place, the better he became the more he would be stuck here. I realized the same could be said for me. It felt as though I was cursed to be born here as if this fate were the karmic consequence of some unknown sin from a past life.

I often wondered whether my birth in this place was part of a divine punishment, a way for God to make me atone for some past misdeed. The thought consumed me, but one thing remained clear: I loathed this place with every fiber of my being. My hatred for it ran deep, extending not just to the institution itself but to the people thriving within its twisted framework. They were praised, exalted, as though they were inherently superior—better than the rest of us, somehow more valuable.

This hierarchy, this notion that those who excelled in the curriculum were of greater worth, enraged me. My singular goal became clear: I would tear down this place and dismantle the people who stood above me. I wanted to prove that no matter how well someone performed by the institution's standards, it didn't truly matter. Their gifts, their talents, their so-called superiority—they were all subject to limits, just like everything else in this world. I wanted to show that their achievements were meaningless in the grand scheme of things and that the very system that elevated them could, and would, fall.

"Next!" The instructor's voice cut through the air with sharp authority. It has been a week since the grueling physical assessment, which resulted in the dropout of eleven participants due to the extreme physical demands. Today's focus has shifted to a different evaluation—one centered on the art of cold reading.

Cold reading is a technique employed to create the illusion of possessing specific insights into another person's life. It is frequently encountered in contexts such as psychic readings and fortune-telling. The essence of cold reading lies in delivering generalized statements that appear personal and accurate, despite their broad applicability.

A fundamental component of cold reading is the adept observation of the subject's body language, facial expressions, and verbal cues. Experienced cold readers meticulously adjust their statements based on these observations, expanding on positive reactions and pivoting topics when necessary to maintain the illusion of insight.

The Forer Effect, also referred to as the Barnum Effect, is a psychological phenomenon wherein individuals perceive vague and generalized descriptions as highly specific and accurate to their personal experiences. Cold readers exploit this effect by crafting statements broad enough to resonate with a wide audience.

Another technique used is "fishing," where the reader poses broad or open-ended questions to extract information from the subject. This gathered information is then employed to tailor the reading, enhancing its perceived specificity and accuracy.

Confirmation bias also plays a critical role. Individuals tend to focus on the accurate or seemingly accurate statements while disregarding those that do not resonate. This selective memory reinforces the perception of the cold reader's accuracy.

While the effectiveness of cold reading can vary depending on cultural and social contexts, mastering this technique has become a fundamental skill we are required to acquire. 

The test we are currently undertaking evaluates one's proficiency in interpersonal perception and the ability to discern the true intentions of others. Specifically, this assessment involves a game where each participant holds ten randomly assigned cards. The objective is to deduce the identity of the cards held by the opposing player through strategic questioning and observation.

At first glance, the mechanics of the game may seem straightforward: each player attempts to uncover the cards in their opponent's hand while only being allowed twenty guesses in total. This constraint imposes a stringent requirement on accuracy, as each guess must be carefully considered to avoid errors. A single mistake could potentially jeopardize the entire outcome, given the limited number of guesses.

The game is not merely a test of luck but rather a complex exercise in psychological insight and strategic reasoning. To succeed, one must interpret subtle cues, gauge the opponent's reactions, and apply a methodical approach to each guess. Precision in identifying the specific card in question is crucial, as vague or incorrect guesses can swiftly diminish one's chances of winning.

In my recent performances, I have completed three rounds without a single defeat, with scores reflecting a clear dominance: 10-4, 10-7, and 10-6. These results show my strong aptitude in this area, as evidenced by my high ranking in this field of study. However, my primary focus is not merely on maintaining a high score. 

My next challenge is against an opponent renowned for their exceptional consistency across various disciplines. This individual's reputation for reliability and accuracy makes them a formidable adversary. Defeating such a competitor would not only affirm my own skills but also challenge the credibility of this institute's assessment framework.

Successfully overcoming this opponent would serve as a critical benchmark, potentially exposing any inherent flaws or limitations within the institute's evaluative processes. Therefore, this upcoming match holds significant implications, not just for my personal achievements but for the broader integrity of the institution's testing methodology.

As the participants gathered in a circle, awaiting their next pairing, I was called along with another contestant. We each drew ten cards from a central pile and took our seats at the designated chairs. Examining my hand, I noted the cards before me: 5 of Hearts, Queen of Spades, 7 of Diamonds, 3 of Clubs, 9 of Hearts, Jack of Diamonds, 2 of Spades, 8 of Clubs, King of Hearts, and 4 of Spades.

Lifting my gaze from the cards, I observed my opponent. He appeared disinterested, his demeanor suggesting that this game had grown tiresome for him. From what I recalled, his previous match had been closely contested, with him narrowly securing a victory with a score of ten to nine. Feeling a surge of confidence, I was prepared to initiate our interaction. However, my attempt was interrupted abruptly.

"Before you start guessing the cards," he said, "I'd like to ask you something." This unexpected interjection was something I had anticipated and prepared for, but his subsequent question caught me off guard: "I understand your goals and aspirations, but are you certain?"

Momentarily taken aback, I hesitated. Before I could formulate a response, he pressed on without granting me a moment's respite. "Firstly, I know what cards you hold and that you are eager to defeat me to prove a point. I am aware of your motivation, but I want to hear it directly from you."

I was momentarily speechless but quickly regained my composure. His remarks seemed to be a psychological manipulation tactic, likely intended to unsettle me. Recognizing that his statements might be fabricated, I focused on maintaining my composure. I fixed my gaze on him, intent on discerning the cards he might be holding. Engaging him in conversation seemed futile, as his outward indifference belied an extraordinary skill in reading people, which bordered on the uncanny.

He continued, "I have four straightforward methods for identifying your cards and countless more complex ones. Can you guess which method I used?" His tone was somewhat condescending, and his demeanor suggested a belief that I could never surpass his level of skill. This attitude, while irritating, underscored the challenge I faced.

In order to uncover his cards, my only option was to interrogate him and gauge his responses for any signs of deceit. I prepared myself for a barrage of questions. However, he seemed to anticipate my strategy and addressed my thoughts directly. "Don't you think that asking so many questions is, well, boring?"

It was as though I was confronting an impenetrable barrier; his insight into my approach was both impressive and disheartening. I felt my energy wane, akin to a punctured water bottle slowly losing its contents. Amidst my internal struggle, he posed another enigmatic question: "I also have a plan that involves you. Forgive my bluntness, but you will eventually thank me for it when we graduate."

His cryptic statement left me puzzled and unable to grasp the full meaning behind his words. Despite my efforts, it became evident that some obstacles were insurmountable, and certain walls were simply unclimbable.