unknow

The night air was thick with the scent of rain, though none had fallen yet. The city hummed as usual, unaware that somewhere in its depths, invisible threads were tightening around a single high school student.

Ryo sat at his desk, his room dimly lit by the pale glow of his laptop screen. His mind, however, was far from the screen in front of him.

The confrontation earlier that day had changed things. It wasn't the student that mattered—it was the man behind him.

A presence that didn't belong.

A presence that had measured him.

Analyzed him.

The moment replayed in his mind like a chess puzzle. What was the goal? A test? A warning? A declaration?

Either way, it meant one thing.

There were other players in this game.

And he didn't even know what the rules were yet.

---

The First Threads of a Web

The next day, the weight of unseen eyes pressed heavier than before. The school hallways had always been filled with glances—gossip, curiosity, admiration.

But this was different.

The eyes weren't just students.

They weren't just watching.

They were analyzing.

As Ryo walked to class, he noted them. Subtle movements, carefully placed bodies—people positioned in ways that made no sense unless they were intentionally trying to surround him without surrounding him.

It wasn't paranoia.

It was pattern recognition.

Sera was watching him too. She hadn't spoken to him since the night in the chess club, but she didn't need to.

The way her gaze lingered said enough.

She knew something.

And she was waiting to see if he could figure it out on his own.

That meant one thing—there was an answer to find.

---

The Black Envelope

It came at lunchtime.

A simple envelope.

Black. Unmarked.

Tucked inside his locker.

Ryo opened it without hesitation, fingers careful as he pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.

One sentence.

"Do you know what you're standing on?"

No signature. No indication of who sent it.

But Ryo understood the meaning instantly.

It wasn't a threat. It was a question.

A test.

He glanced at the paper again, analyzing the spacing, the ink, the pressure of the handwriting. Whoever wrote this wasn't careless. Every letter was intentional.

He exhaled slowly, folding the paper before slipping it into his pocket.

Sera had told him to show her.

Fine.

Let's begin.

---

Beneath the Surface

That night, he started digging.

Not literally, of course.

But information was a different kind of excavation.

He searched the school records first. Old blueprints. Construction history. Anything that could hint at what the note had meant.

Nothing unusual.

Then he looked at incidents.

And that's where the anomalies started appearing.

People disappeared from this school.

Not many. Not frequently. But enough.

Enough to be noticed—if someone knew what to look for.

There were no official reports of missing students. No news articles. No police records.

But the yearbooks told a different story.

Names that appeared for one year, then vanished without a trace. No graduation records. No transfer papers.

Just gone.

Like they had never existed at all.

Ryo stared at the screen, fingers tightening around his mouse.

This wasn't normal.

This wasn't just some school rivalry or elite power struggle.

This was something else.

And now, he had proof that he wasn't just imagining it.

There was something buried here.

And someone—or something—was making sure it stayed that way.

---

The Message

His phone vibrated.

A single text.

Unknown Number.

"Stop."

Just one word.

No punctuation. No name.

Just a command.

A warning.

Ryo exhaled slowly.

His instincts told him the same thing.

He should stop.

He should walk away.

But he wasn't built like that.

He typed back a single word.

"No."

And pressed send.

---

The First Real Move

The next day, the school changed.

Not in any obvious way.

But Ryo felt it the moment he stepped inside.

The game had been quiet before. Subtle movements. Silent tension.

But now—now it was alive.

Now, there were pieces moving on the board.

People he had never spoken to looked at him as if they knew something he didn't.

Doors that were always open were now locked.

Teachers that never cared noticed him.

The school itself felt like it had shifted overnight.

And then—he saw him.

The man from before.

Standing at the end of the hallway, watching him.

Not pretending to be subtle. Not hiding.

Just waiting.

For him.

Ryo met his gaze.

Didn't blink. Didn't look away.

And then—he started walking toward him.

Step by step.

People moved out of the way. The hallway noise faded.

By the time he reached the man, the air was silent.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then the man smiled. The same smile from before.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

Ryo tilted his head slightly. "I could say the same about you."

A soft chuckle. "You're making enemies, Ishikawa."

"I'd be more worried if I wasn't."

The man studied him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not scared?"

"Of what?"

A pause.

Then—the man leaned in slightly.

And whispered something that made Ryo's blood go cold.

Something that shouldn't have been possible.

Something only one person in the entire world should have known.

A secret.

His secret.

"You remember, don't you? The night it happened."

Ryo didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Because this wasn't just a game anymore.

This was personal.

The man smiled again, stepping back. "You've already lost, Ishikawa. You just don't know it yet."

And then—he turned and walked away.

Ryo stood there, heartbeat steady despite the storm raging inside him.

His fingers curled into a fist.

The pieces had moved.

The board was shifting.

And now, he wasn't just playing.

Now, he was fighting back.