Everything that cannot be said out loud.

The signal was gone.

The terminal — silent. The system — empty. Our connection to the third floor had been cut just a minute before we were supposed to move.

"This is a trap," I said. "Someone wants us to go in blind."

Aoi nodded. Next to her stood Toru — tense, coiled like a spring. He wanted to act. Immediately.

"If they're doing something to Mina," he growled, "I'll—"

"You'll do nothing in the dark," I cut him off. "First — data. Then — action."

We moved upward. One floor above — a different world. Not ours anymore. Not our territory.

Cold crept through the cracks in the concrete. Somewhere, water dripped. Somewhere else — a faint rustle. And once again, silence became a weapon.

"Takumi," Aoi signaled. "Signal's back. But not from the third — from the fifth."

> "Object relocated. Suspect active. Target — disruption of command structure. Urgent."

The fifth floor. Top level. Class 2-A's zone.

"They moved her. Through hidden passages. We can't all go up."

"Then I'll go," Toru said.

I shook my head.

"No. I will."

He froze.

"Why you?"

"Because they don't want conflict. They want a message. And they chose me. That means — I have to finish this."

The fifth floor smelled of cold steel. Cameras. Hidden sensors. Everything was sterile — like a lab. She wasn't hidden. She was being observed.

I heard her first.

"Takumi…"

Mina's voice. Weak, but alive.

She sat by a wall, hands free. Beside her — a student from 2-A. Calm. Steady. As if nothing had happened.

"You came," he said. "As expected."

"You staged a performance," I replied. "What were you trying to prove?"

He smiled.

"That even those who act strongest… are still afraid of loss."

> "Violation: unauthorized relocation of test participant."

> "Penalty: minus 2 points for Class 2-A."

Ai Sanada stepped out of the shadows.

"That's enough," she said. "You've won, Takumi."

I narrowed my eyes.

"This was a test?"

"A test of trust. And you passed. You saved yours. Didn't attack. Didn't accuse. You just… walked."

She nodded at her student. He left without a word.

"Our alliance is temporary," she reminded me. "But you — are not the enemy."

I approached Mina. Her fingers trembled, but she smiled.

"I knew you'd come."

I didn't reply. I just sat beside her.

We returned just before the test ended.

> "Trial complete. Balance maintained. No victors. No exclusions. But evaluations — assigned."

This school wasn't looking for winners.

It was looking for survivors.