The entire auditorium drops completely silent, the ringing echo of Hong-kung’s loud scream of “ENOUGH!” still bouncing off the concrete walls.
Inside the observation booth, Dr. Akane stares blankly at his crashing monitors.
He turns her head slowly toward Principal Kenjiro, her voice barely a whisper.
“We… we unlocked his weak point, sir. The system targeted his absolute core vulnerability.”
Ms. Sato stands up from her terminal, her fingers trembling over a secondary keyboard.
“Who was the shadow in his mind? Dr. Akane, search the database. Find out whose identity the machine used to construct that psychological threat.”
Dr. Akane’s fingers fly across the glowing interface, bringing up layered subroutines of encrypted psychic logs.
He stops on a blinking red line of code, his eyes widening behind his glasses.
“Candidate 208 is fighting against his own self. He is battling his own subconscious identity to hide who that person truly is.”
Down on the main arena floor, thousands of candidates stand frozen, their eyes wide.
They stare in absolute shock at the glorious purple beam radiating wildly from Hong-kung.
He is still strapped tightly into the heavy metallic chair.
Suddenly, with an burst of monstrous, raw strength, he shatters the thick iron restraints holding his hands and feet.
The heavy metal bands snap like brittle glass, clattering loudly against the platform.
With a violent jerk, Hong-kung wrenches the sleek helmet off his head and hurls it across the stage.
It smashes into a nearby terminal, sending bright sparks flying into the air.
Hina, standing three rows back in the crowd, gasps loudly in absolute shock.
Without thinking, she reaches out and tightly grabs hold of Arashi’s arm, burying her face slightly against his shoulder.
Arashi does not flinch.
He stands completely rigid.
He turns his head slowly, his dead, apathetic eyes looking down at her clutching hands with absolute detachment.
He does not pull away, nor does he offer comfort.
His face remains a completely unreadable mask, entirely devoid of any human warmth.
Hina blinks, suddenly realizing what she is doing.
Her face instantly flushes a deep, bright crimson.
She quickly pulls her hands back, tucking her arms against her chest and stepping away.
“I—I am sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Arashi turns his gaze back to the front, his voice flat, monotone, and entirely unbothered.
“Your emotional reaction is loud, Hina. Keep your composure.”
Up on the stage, Hong-kung groans softly.
He looks around the massive, silent room, then yells loudly toward the observation booth.
“Well?! Did I pass or what?! Did I win?!”
The central monitor overrides his shouting, humming loudly as his evaluation details flash on the massive screen.
CANDIDATE 208: HONG-KUNG KOBAYASHI
A particular girl sitting in the front row, sporting short green hair, watches the numbers recalculate.
Her calculating eyes narrow as she evaluates his threat level.
“Impressive output,” she mutters under her breath.
“But highly inefficient.”
The cold, mechanical automated voice echoes through the PA system.
“Candidate 208 achieves success. An addition of 50 points has been credited to his profile, alongside upgraded access to health capsules.”
A thunderous applause instantly echoes from the massive crowd.
Cheers and frantic whispers erupt through the rows of candidates.
Hong-kung smirks proudly, puffing out his chest as he walks off the main stage.
As he approaches his seating section, his eyes meet Min-sun’s.
He flashes her an egotistical, cocky smile, completely brushing past her as he walks away down the aisle.
Arashi watches his departure, his expression entirely vacant.
“That was actually interesting,” he says, his voice smooth and completely level.
“And not a complete waste of time.”
Hina snaps her head toward him, her jaw dropping.
She glares at him, her voice dripping with irritation.
“Interesting?! He almost lost his mind up there! You look at that and see a waste of time?! How can you be so cold?!”
Arashi remains completely silent.
He does not look at her, completely ignoring her angry outburst as if she hadn’t spoken at all.
His focus shifts entirely back to the blank monitor.
Min-sun’s eyes remain glued to the glass display, her breath catching in her throat.
She leans forward, eager to see which name will appear next.
“They’re selecting another one,” she whispers frantically.
Inside the control room, Principal Kenjiro crosses his arms over his chest.
“Select the next candidate immediately,” he tells the technicians.
“Put the identification data on display across the main screen.”
The terminal processes the next name, cycling through thousands of digital files until a single profile locks into place.
CANDIDATE 255: HINA SHEMIZU This story is hosted at g.com.
Hina’s voice suddenly hitches, her breath completely trapping in her throat as she sees her own face appear on the screen.
She begins panning her head quickly from left to right, her breathing turning shallow and erratic as panic sets in.
“No… no, not yet. I’m not ready.”
Arashi turns his head slightly, his dull eyes evaluating her hyperventilating frame.
“It is time to put all your energy to good use, Hina,” he says calmly, his tone completely analytical.
“Panic reduces cognitive function by thirty percent. Eliminate it.”
Hina swallows hard, gripping her hands into tight fists.
She takes a shaky step forward to leave the row.
Suddenly, Min-sun reaches out, firmly holding her hand to stop her for a brief second.
Min-sun’s eyes are wide with genuine worry.
“Hina, look at me. Ask me to promise. Promise me you’ll come back down here.”
Hina stops, looking back at Min-sun.
She forces the fakest smile imaginable onto her face, trying desperately to mask the sheer terror clawing at her throat.
“I’ll be fine, Min-sun. I promise.”
Despite her brave words, she can feel her heart hammering violently against her ribs like a trapped bird.
A bright, harsh spotlight suddenly cuts through the dim arena lighting, falling squarely on Hina.
The crowd parts, creating a clear pathway for her.
She takes a deep breath and begins walking slowly toward the vast stage.
Arashi watches her retreating back.
He turns his head slightly toward Min-sun, his face entirely unmoving.
“Did you really believe her?” he asks, his voice low and monotone.
Min-sun blinks, turning to him in disbelief.
“What?”
“Hina,” Arashi states flatly, using Min-sun’s formal name to establish distance.
“Do you truly believe an individual with that specific psychological makeup will survive the main monitor’s baseline extraction?”
Min-sun opens her mouth to snap at him, but the sheer coldness in his eyes stops her.
She doesn’t reply.
She tears her gaze away, her eyes remaining fixed on Hina as the girl reaches the platform.
Hina ascends the steps, her boots clicking softly against the metal.
She sits down in the massive chair.
Instantly, the thick iron straps snap shut, locking her wrists and ankles down with a heavy, metallic resonance.
She looks up into the descending helmet, her vision slowly disappearing into the dark.