"What a nice day to be someone else!" I proclaimed while getting out of bed. Impersonation was my favorite part of being an agent.

I compiled the tasks to investigate in my head:

1. Finish investigations on talented students.

2. Investigate “The Last Hope”

3. Investigate that Press company.

4. Investigate the Crematorium.

Today I was investigating Misaki Arashi, who had been struck by a truck 40 days ago, becoming the most recent—and notably distinct—victim. The details in her obituary were succinct: 17 years old, the cause of death - a traffic accident, and a couple of remarkable achievements. Namely, a perfect score in the International Mathematics Olympiad and a silver medal in the International Physics Olympiad. Her obituary was the reason that has drawn me towards this investigation.

Yet, her obituary lacked certain specifics. There were no mentions of funeral arrangements, and the only photos available online were from the championship events. I had attempted facial recognition scans across various social media accounts of her peers at Tokugawa Elite Academy but to little avail. A solitary formal picture of her, posing alongside student council members, had emerged.

The school's newspaper, occasionally cited by her fellow students, remained inaccessible, locked behind a private network. Sadly, it didn't have an ancient security system I could bypass from the outside, but it would be fully accessible once I was inside. Both Misaki and Tokugawa Elite Academy seemed to hold privacy in high regard, guarding it almost zealously.

I folded the futon and moved it towards the wall. The mirror in the bathroom revealed to me that after yesterday's beating, my face was intact. However, my chest bore large bruises. Today my name would not be George Yossarian, but Adam Carter from Global High School Rating. His personality was based on a superintendent I knew a bit.

I took a shower and put on my best clothes. I grabbed the camera and looked at the drone. The drone hadn't been useful for any investigation up to this point, and I didn't think a loud drone would help me today either. That flying bee had cost me a fortune and was partially responsible for my financial state being near catastrophic, so I took it everywhere I went, hoping it would pay off eventually.

Adam Carter from GHSR arrived at 8:20 AM. Teenagers were arriving at school in their blue and white uniforms. Their eyes sometimes examined Adam as I moved toward the entrance. "Tokugawa Elite Academy" was a behemoth of marble and glass - a tribute to classical aesthetics and the massive private fortune that had paid for it.

This bastion of education had been no stranger to praise, often lauded for its exceptional record of student performance and state-of-the-art facilities rivaling those of some universities. Today, I wasn't there to learn of its education practices, though. My laptop was turned on in my backpack, ready to hack into the private network the moment it caught a glimpse of anything.

Passing through the main gates, I was struck by nostalgia. The manicured grounds and imposing buildings reminded me more of my Western European university than my own high school, stirring a bit of envy.

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Mrs. Miyako, the academy's international liaison, greeted me at the entrance. Petite and sharp-eyed, she carried herself regally and spoke formal English. After all, I was from GHSR, and making a good impression was important for both of us. We exchanged pleasantries and proceeded inside.

"So, Mr. Carter," she began as we navigated the well-polished corridors, her footsteps echoing off the walls, "we take immense pride in our well-rounded curriculum and an environment conducive to cognitive development. You see, at Tokugawa, we believe that holistic education is the key to creating responsible leaders of the future. I believe that is what every school should work towards."

Her words felt hollow to me, though the word 'leaders' instead of 'citizens' or 'members of society' told a lot about who the students here were, and about the sizes of their future inheritances. This should have impressed Adam Carter, so I nodded in agreement.

As we toured the school, I noted the open, airy classrooms filled with natural light, well-equipped science labs, and an extensive library boasting books of every genre and new computers. Both Adam Carter and George Yossarian were impressed.

I peppered Mrs. Miyako with questions about teaching methods, class sizes, parental involvement, and technology integration. Her patient, detailed responses betrayed her pride in the institution. I confessed my envy of the students here, and she smiled, admitting she sometimes felt the same.

Rounding a corner, my eyes landed on a portrait of a young, half-European, half-Japanese girl. A leather-bound book sat next to it on a small table.

'Ah,' Mrs. Miyako's voice softened, 'that's Misaki. A remarkable student. Her accident was... devastating.' I noted her use of Misaki's given name - perhaps adopting Western convention for my benefit."

"What made her remarkable in your eyes?" It was a very rude question, but the fact that I was a representative of GHSR made Miyako more talkative to me. I went into more western inappropriateness and opened what I assumed was a memorial book. Miyako's voice was uneven, and she responded:

"Misaki was exceptional in all that she did, always trying to achieve more. She was the top student for 2 years straight and was second in the student council, simply because she wanted to have at least some free time to practice music. I have never known someone so talented in academics, sports, and arts… While others were spending their free time in leisure, she would strive to strike perfection."

Her voice gave off notes of grief, but aside from that, her emotions were hard to read. The words "strike perfection" gave off that Miyako herself was someone who strived towards it. "I only regret that no one was willing to keep up with her," Miyako finished.

Misaki felt lonely to me after that remark. It takes growing up to learn not to feel inferior around those who are more talented. I didn't think her schoolmates had acted like adults.

I was unable to read anything from the book, it would have exposed that I knew Japanese. The only observation was a picture of her smiling with a rifle next to another boy the same age next to a dead deer. Only the first two pages were empty.

I apologized for the insensitive question, after which we walked and talked a bit, and I asked to talk with the other members of the staff. She led me to the counselor's room, where the counselor was made aware of my visit. She was the only person who was currently unoccupied: it was 9:10 AM after all.