—

11.0

—

The warm caramel flavour created a pleasant, sweet sensation in my mouth that I couldn't get enough of as I continued to sip from the cup of coffee, savouring every drop. With a satisfied sigh, I returned the empty cup to the table.

“Was it that good?” a male voice asked from across the table. I looked up at Haku-senpai, my host, who was slowly sipping from his own cup of espresso. He had invited me to this café at Ichiro Mall, and I had to admit that I had not expected such high-quality coffee from this establishment. It might just become a frequent stop for me whenever I get the chance.

“It was. Better than what I expected,” I replied, observing Haku-senpai's faint smile, undoubtedly delighted that I liked the place. “So, what is this about?” I asked, intrigued by the timing of this meeting.

“It’s about you. Simple.” Haku-senpai said, placing his cup on the table.

“Me?” I echoed, a little puzzled because I had believed it was about the forthcoming election.

“I just want to learn more, that's all,” Haku-senpai added, reclining in his chair.

“Is that so? Well, you already seem to know a lot,” I commented, watching him laugh softly.

“I only know what I am granted access to with my position as student council president. However, the information I need to know will soon be available for people in that position to access,” he replied, taking another sip from his cup.

“You won't be in power by that time, though,” I pointed out.

“Exactly, so why not learn from the source? Tell me how and why the school let you in,” Haku-senpai asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locked on mine.

“I have a question before that,” I added, hoping to understand his motivation.

“Go on,” he said, taking another sip from his cup.

“Why are you so keen on knowing this? It’s not like it would change anything, would it?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I see your point. Think of it like this: I have been in this school for a good chunk of my life, and I know the rules like the back of my hand. One of those rules has been that no student is allowed admission into the school except for the starter years of Year 1, Year 7, and Year 10. It was a unique attribute of the school that made it stand out from others because the admission rate was exceptionally low,” Haku-senpai explained, his voice steady and measured.

I pondered his words, realising the rarity of my situation. There were 20 students in a class for the senior years and double that for the juniors. I didn't know the precise number of the grade school, but I knew it was on the same campus. This meant that the school probably accepted roughly a hundred students every academic year.

“I did try to get this changed during my tenure, but that was not working out until very recently,” Haku-senpai added, interrupting my thoughts.

“So you believe that I am the cause of this?” I asked, and my curiosity piqued.

“Probably,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, what else could be the deciding factor in the school accepting me than being based on my intelligence?” I pointed out, leaning forward, trying to understand his angle.

“If it were due to that, then there would be many others that would also be accepted this same way,” Haku-senpai said quietly, setting his cup down.

“Then I am just a special case,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light.

“You know something? This isn’t the first time this has happened,” he replied with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” I asked, stunned by the revelation.

“I mean exactly what you heard. This isn’t the first time that someone has entered the school past the admission time,” he explained, leaning back again to observe my reaction.

“Then why is no one—” I began, but he cut me off.

“I’ll stop you right there,” he responded, raising a hand to halt my question. “I seem to have intrigued you with this detail, so how about this? Show me what you are capable of during this election, and I’ll tell you more.”

“Huh?” I said, surprised at what he proposed. My issue was not with the trade itself but rather with the requirements of the trade. I had expected him to ask about the process I used to get into the school, but instead, he asked for something entirely different.

“I thought you would have asked me to tell you about the process I used to get into the school; instead, you asked for that,” I said.

“Is there anything wrong with that?” he said calmly.

“Not at all,” I replied.

“Don’t worry, I do have other ways of finding out that information. I'll just be a little patient, that’s all,” he said, finishing the espresso he had ordered.

My mind wandered, thinking about how he might attempt to get the information from the other student. However, I quickly disregarded that idea for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, if it were that simple, he would have done it by now. From the way he spoke, it was obvious that this student had arrived before me, meaning he could have approached them and been denied. Another possibility was that the individual was no longer attending the school. This school has twenty-four years of history behind it, which means the student could have been admitted at any point during that period. Although I felt the range was over the past six years, that was just my assumption.

“Alright then,” I responded as I stood up.

“I look forward to the outcome of your result, Marcus,” Haku-senpai said.

“I hope I live up to your expectations,” I said.

These were my parting words with him as I left the cafe and began making my way to class. The lunch break was about to end, but that didn't matter as we still had the free period to make use of. I strolled calmly back to our classroom.

When I entered the classroom, I immediately noticed that the atmosphere was tense. Everyone stared at me, hinting that something significant had happened. Diya left her companions and rushed over to me.

“Marcus, we have a big issue. Your election plans have been leaked,” Diya said in a hurry.

“Leaked?” I said, my eyes widening in surprise.

“That’s right,” a voice said from behind me. I turned to see Hazel. “Almost the entire school is aware of it at this point,” she added.

“Any idea when it happened?” I asked.

“Probably about ten to fifteen minutes ago,” Diya answered.

“News travels fast during lunch period, plus it was posted on multiple school forums and spread through word of mouth,” Hazel added as she leaned against the door and stared outside the classroom.

“What information is spreading?” I asked.

“Everything from campaign speeches and promises to the questions we were going to ask during the President's Question Round and our breakdowns,” Hazel said, then sighed.

“It seems we have an uninvited guest,” she said as I shifted my gaze to the door and watched as a masculine figure walked in, full of pride and a confident sneer on his face. Everyone in the classroom looked at him.

“Why, what's all this, Marcus? Heard your election plans are out,” Cohen said mockingly.

“So, are you going to deny that this was you?” I asked, and he clapped his hands in amusement before moving to the front of the class, making sure he was the centre of attention.

“Look at your nominees. So incompetent and over their heads that they can't even guard their precious secrets from leaking. How will they fare tomorrow?” he said, ignoring my initial question.

The tension in the room was apparent. Hazel stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she faced Cohen.

“Cohen, if you think this is going to deter us, you’re sorely mistaken,” Hazel said, her voice calm and determined.

Cohen chuckled, looking around the room as if seeking approval from his audience. “Oh, I’m not trying to deter you. I’m just enjoying the show. Watching you all scramble to save face is quite entertaining.”

“Hey, loudmouth,” a voice exclaimed from the back of the classroom, catching everyone's attention. It was Nagamine, clutching a small juice box with a straw. “You’re making an awful lot of noise, so I think it’s time to skedaddle.”

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“Oh, you’re the infamous Ran, aren’t you? I see you talk big for your size,” he said.

“Woah there, I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my first name, plus you are trying to shade my size. Are you sure you aren’t overcompensating for something? Fucking idiot,” she remarked calmly, putting the straw in her mouth and sipping from her juice box.

“How about I come over there and put you in your place since your goody two-shoe boyfriend isn’t here?” he said, cracking his neck and knuckles, threatening violence.

“A guy who isn’t afraid of getting physical with a woman. Haven’t stumbled on people like you in a long while,” she said, setting the juice box aside and stretching her body, seemingly ready to meet his confrontation.

“That’s enough,” I said, deciding to step in and de-escalate the situation. “You came here to gloat, didn’t you? I think you’ve achieved that.”

Cohen gave an offhanded smile before turning towards the exit. “Let me tell you something,” he stated confidently, projecting a menacing aura. “Give up because there is nothing you can do to win this. Your questions, breakdown, and analysis. I am aware of it all, and not only me but Class 2 as well. We will take advantage of that and crush you where you stand, Marcus.”

I met him in silence. We all did. A satisfying expression crossed his face as he left the class without another word. The silence persisted, and his words hung in the air.

“So what are you going to do about this?” Nagamine's voice broke the silence, and I looked over to her.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said to her.

“I am not the one you should be saying that to,” Nagamine replied.

The murmurs began, growing louder.

“Wait, so the entire plan leaked out?”

“Exactly.”

“Ran was so cool there.”

“I wish I voted for her.”

“I already warned you, idiot.”

“Marcus and Hazel are on the same team and still let this happen?”

“This is all stupid.”

I heard different opinions in just a short while and I began looking for some solution to this issue. Nagamine was right; I needed to be concerned about the narrative that was spreading. Dealing with it on such short notice would be impossible, so I had to think of ways to mitigate it.

“Marcus, you good?” I turned to see Diya checking on me.

“I’m good. I just didn’t anticipate this from him,” I said to her.

“You didn’t?” she said curiously.

“It’s a long story,” I said, trying to push the matter aside for now.

“I see. Well, how about going to see Harley? She’s obviously the one behind this, isn’t she?” Diya said.

“Yes, she is, but I get nothing new out of her,” I responded, attempting to organise my thoughts.

“That’s not necessarily true. Information is key, and I’m sure you can make use of the fact that she and Cohen pulled this off,” Diya added, and my eyes widened in realisation at what she said, but I decided to brush off what I noticed.

“You’re right,” I said, taking a deep breath and settling on my next course of action. “Hazel?” I called out to her, as she had not said a word in a while, still leaning against the door frame.

“Let’s go,” she said, proving that she was listening in on the conversation. We both left the class, heading to the one place we could find Harley apart from her class: the library.

—

11.1

—

Hazel and I arrived at the library, heading to our usual spot, but to our surprise, someone had the same idea as us. Harley sat down on a chair, staring blankly into the distance, unconcerned about the presence of Sullivan, who was standing over her.

“Finally,” she murmured as we approached, drawing Sullivan's attention as well.

“Harley. Was it worth the self-sabotage?” I asked as we all crowded around her.

“Don’t you consider it still a win if your opponent does not achieve their goal?” she asked. “I think it does. Hence, I am willing to lose myself if it means taking you down,” she answered her own question.

“So you consider us enemies?” Sullivan asked.

“Of course I do. I am sure that you are aware that the structure of this election enables that,” she said.

She was right about that. I reached this conclusion after learning how the teams were to be formed. Two students from the same class, and two from each of the other two classes. It was done to breed excessive competition and for people to learn to balance trust and suspicion.

“So you were working with Cohen since the beginning?” I asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Yes, I was. Everything was orchestrated by us,” Harley confirmed.

“Everything?” Hazel said, her eyes widening.

“What? Are you surprised? Thought we couldn't pull it off?” Harley said.

“What about the bullying?” I asked, but she remained silent, not answering the question directly. The smile that formed across her lips was the confirmation I needed. “So that was planned out as well, huh? To what end?”

“To gain your trust. Why would you be suspicious of someone who was getting bullied by their own classmates for joining your team?” she explained. “Since I was already a relatively quiet and secluded person, it was easy for me to fill that role. So what can you do now? I know everything about you guys.”

“Resorting to such underhanded tactics, would it really be worth it?” I asked.

“Again, I’ll repeat myself. Isn’t victory the desired outcome of this battle? Using any means to achieve it should be on the table,” Harley said.

“Is that right?” I muttered, furrowing my brow in fury.

“Of course it is. Now, I'll advise you to go have an emergency meeting and try your best to fix this mess. We will be looking forward to seeing what you can cook up,” she replied condescendingly, her tone mocking.

Gritting my teeth, I turned around to leave, not looking back at her. The footsteps following me from behind, presumably my teammates, reassured me we were all on the same page. As we exited the library, I slowed down my pace to fall in sync with the others.

“What are you going to do?” Sullivan asked, concern evident in his voice.

“First, we need to find Kusumoto and Cale. We have about ten minutes before classes start, so we have to be quick,” I said.

“I’ll call Kusumoto to find him so that we won't waste time,” Hazel said, pulling out her phone and making the call.

—

11.2

—

All four of us gathered in an empty classroom, and I immediately addressed Cale. “Cale, you’re a member of Cohen's election team, right?”

As I had just stated, Cale was Class 1’s representative on Cohen's election team. I had avoided approaching him because I didn't want to play the game that way, and I felt that someone like Cohen might just leave him out of their plans. However, things were different now.

“I am, but just so you know, they don't tell me anything,” Cale said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“That’s not what I need you here for. It's something else, and I need you to listen,” I said clearly, and he nodded in response. “I wanted to ask why you joined his team.”

It was a simple question, but I was confident that the answer would provide me with enough information into what my next line of action should entail.

“I joined because I wanted to have a role to play in the student council, and Cohen's group was the only one that accepted my proposal,” Cale explained with a sincere tone.

“You were the one who approached them?” Hazel asked, surprised.

“Yes, I was. After I joined, Cohen made no attempt to contact me until recently,” he paused before continuing. “Our meeting was brief, but he informed me of possible questions and how I should respond to them.”

“Those questions, did they turn out to be...?” I asked, waiting for him to complete my train of thought.

“Yes, they were your leaked questions,” Cale confirmed.

“I see. When did this happen?” I asked, my mind racing.

“About, huh… two weeks ago,” Cale answered.

“Two weeks?” I looked over at Hazel, and I could tell she knew what that meant.

“Yes,” Cale confirmed, and that was all I needed.

“If that is the case, then we are done here,” I said to Cale, and we got ready to leave. He, on the other hand, seemed confused, and I could tell.

“You thought there would be more to this, didn't you? Don’t worry, I just needed to confirm when that happened, that's all,” I added, turning to leave.

“WAIT,” a voice firmly said, compelling me to stop. Turning back, I saw Cale standing up. “Don’t you have a plan to stop this? I want to hear it.”

“Why?” I asked, curious about his sudden urgency.

“Because I don't want Cohen to win this either,” he explained, his enthusiasm surprising me. “What he did… it’s… it's not something I can stand by and watch happen,” he added, his voice full of conviction. “Such a person cannot be allowed to be in such a position of power.”

I grinned at him, filled with newfound determination. “Seems we share the same ideals. Don’t worry, I'll do everything I can to stop him from winning,” I assured him. He gave a subtle nod, trusting in my words.

As we left the classroom, Kusumoto approached us, her expression tense. “Marcus, this whole leak is causing a spiral,” she said quickly, scrolling through her phone.

“Anything we can do to turn the tide so late?” I asked her, and her worried expression revealed the answer I dreaded.

“Of all the things to do, he leaked it,” I muttered, clenching my fist tightly. Why didn't I predict him doing this?

“What do you plan on doing?” Sullivan asked, and I took several deep breaths to steady myself.

“I am not going to let him win,” I declared with resolve.

“I assume that means you have thought of something,” Hazel said, her eyes locked on mine.

“Yes. Still the same plan, but with some modifications,” I responded, my mind racing with possibilities. “He might have brought down people's opinions of us now, but people can be swayed in the moment by something big. In the moment right before voting.”

“Isn’t that risky?” Kusumoto asked, her concern evident.

“Of course it is, but I am willing to take that risk,” I said, my resolve steadfast.

Hazel looked contemplative for a moment before speaking up. “It would be a close call, but it's better than letting Cohen win. Guys, we may need to work overtime tonight,” she stated, addressing everyone.

I could see the stress and determination on everyone's faces. It was going to be a long and gruelling night, but it needed to be done.

“Alright then. Let’s begin,” I said, rallying everyone for the task ahead.

—

11.3

—

I headed up to my room, my mind still buzzing from the events of the day. As I approached the door, I noticed something unusual attached to it. An envelope was tucked away in a location where the average passerby would not discover it. Curious, I picked it up and examined it. The envelope felt slightly bulky, indicating there was something small inside.

After a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, I entered my room and closed the door behind me. I sat down at my desk, holding the letter in my hand, and carefully opened it. Inside, I discovered a brand-new flash drive and a small piece of paper. Unfolding the paper, I read the single line of text printed on it:

“From an onlooker.”

I couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and caution. Who was this “onlooker,” and what was on the flash drive? The thought of it potentially being a virus crossed my mind, but I doubted it. This seemed too deliberate and precise to be something as mundane as malware.

I laid the paper aside and took a deep breath before connecting the flash drive to my laptop. The screen came to life, and after a moment, a single folder appeared on the drive. My finger paused over the touchpad, hesitant to click on the folder. What if this was a trap? But then again, what if it was crucial information?

“This is a lot,” I murmured to myself as I scanned through the contents of the folder. Documents, images, and even videos filled the screen. The sheer volume of data was daunting, so I leaned back in my chair and tried to comprehend it all.

“The question now is, who sent this?” I mused aloud. “And are they friend or foe?”