The classroom was sterile. White walls, fluorescent lights, thirty desks arranged in perfect rows. No windows. No distractions.
On each desk lay an envelope marked with our ID numbers.
"Open them," a voice commanded through the speaker. It was Saito, but he wasn't in the room. He was watching from somewhere above—literally. I could see the camera in the corner of the ceiling, angled directly at the board.
Inside my envelope was a single piece of paper:
**"MSN Monthly Evaluation - Cooperation Test**
**You will be divided into groups of five. Each group must complete a project worth 100 points. However, only the top three groups will receive bonus credits. The fourth and fifth groups will face deductions.**
**Additionally: One member of each group may be voluntarily nominated for individual evaluation. That member will receive double points—but if their group scores below average, they alone will be penalized with a 20-point deduction.**
**Group assignments are as follows:**"
My group consisted of me, Anuyen, Kaminari, Nomura, and Miyazono Rei.
I glanced at Rei. She was reading her paper with narrowed eyes, already calculating. Nomura looked relaxed, but his fingers tapped on his desk—a sign of active thinking. Kaminari's expression hadn't changed. Anuyen seemed confused.
"This is bullshit," Rei muttered. "We're supposed to work with people from different Blocks?"
She was right. The groups were deliberately mixed—different Blocks, different social standings. This wasn't about collaboration. This was about forcing hierarchy conflicts within artificial teams.
"We need to discuss strategy," Nomura said, already standing. "Let's move to the study area."
As we walked, I observed. Rei kept distance from Kaminari. Anuyen tried to make small talk with everyone. Nomura moved like he'd done this before—comfortable in leadership positions. And Kaminari... Kaminari kept glancing at me.
He knows something.
In the study area, Rei immediately suggested a project: "We analyze the school's Block system and propose improvements. Show initiative. Impress Saito."
It was a good idea. Too good. Which meant she was trying to control the narrative from the start.
"That's predictable," Kaminari said quietly. It was the first time I'd heard him speak unprompted. "He'll have rejected that proposal dozens of times already. We need something he hasn't considered."
"How would you know what he's considered?" Rei snapped.
Kaminari didn't respond. He just went back to reading.
I decided to speak. "The individual evaluation bonus. Who gets nominated?"
The silence was immediate. Everyone understood what I was asking—who would be the sacrifice? Who would risk 20 points for the chance at double points?
"We could nominate someone weaker," Nomura suggested carefully. "Someone from Block 4 or 5. If our project is solid, we won't fall below average."
"You mean someone disposable," I said flatly.
"I mean strategic," Nomura corrected.
Anuyen looked uncomfortable. "Why can't we all just try our best?"
"Because this system isn't designed for us all to succeed," I said. I was stating facts, but I was also testing them. "Saito explicitly created scarcity. Only three groups get bonus credits. That means at least two groups will feel they've failed. The question is: which group do we make fail?"
Rei smiled—a predatory expression. "I like you, Yuchi. You think like I do."
"No," I said. "I think differently than you. I'm not trying to win against other groups. I'm trying to understand why Saito set this up in the first place."
I stood and walked to the window overlooking the plaza. The surveillance cameras were visible from here. Twelve per section. Same layout as the entry plaza. Same spacing.
"He's not testing whether we can cooperate," I continued. "He's testing whether we'll betray each other when forced to choose. Every group faces the same pressure. Every group will have to decide who gets sacrificed."
"So what's your point?" Rei demanded.
"My point is: we volunteer me for individual evaluation."
Anuyen's eyes widened. "Yuchi, no—"
"It's the only move that doesn't destroy the group," I said. "I'm Block 3, same as Anuyen, Kaminari, and Nomura. Rei is Block 2—higher status. If we nominate her and fail, it looks worse for her. If we nominate Anuyen, Nomura, or Kaminari, we're sacrificing someone from our own block, which creates resentment."
"But if we nominate you and fail," Nomura said slowly, "you take the damage alone."
"Exactly. I have nothing to lose."
I didn't mention that I actually did have something to gain—by volunteering early, I was signaling something to Saito. I was showing that I understood the game and was willing to play it differently.
"Why would you do that?" Kaminari asked. His tone suggested he already knew the answer and was testing whether I'd admit it.
"Because it makes me useful to you," I said. "A team member who's willing to take risks is valuable."
Over the next three hours, we developed a project: "Psychological Optimization in Educational Systems." We proposed that the Block assignment system should be dynamic, changing based on social compatibility rather than pure merit. We suggested that forced mixed groups could lead to peer teaching and resource sharing.
It was a solid idea. It would impress Saito without being obvious about it.
When we submitted, I was the one to present. I nominated myself for individual evaluation.
Saito's voice came through the speaker: "Interesting choice, Yuchi. Your group has been noted."
That was it. No approval or rejection. Just... noted.
Later that evening, in Suite 301, Nomura brought it up.
"You took a real risk today," he said, lying on his bed. "What if our project scores poorly?"
"Then I lose 20 points," I said. "And you all gain useful information about how Saito evaluates risk-taking."
"Which means you were testing us too," Kaminari said from his desk. "Not just yourself."
I didn't deny it.
"There's something I should tell you," Anuyen said hesitantly. "About MSN. My father... he mentioned something when I got my acceptance letter. He said MSN was established five years ago, but there was an 'incident' three years in. The facility had to be relocated."
"Relocated?" Nomura sat up. "You mean it moved buildings?"
"No," Anuyen said. "I mean the entire program was moved. Different location, different director, different students. My father worked for the government. He said it was kept very quiet."
I was processing this when Kaminari finally looked up from his book.
"The old director's name was Kaito Nakamura," he said quietly. "He was... ambitious. He pushed the program further than the government intended. There was an investigation."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
Kaminari closed his book. "My older sister attended the previous MSN program. Before the relocation."
The room went silent.
"Is she...?" Nomura didn't finish the question.
"She graduated," Kaminari said. "And then she got her 100% employment rate. She works for a government agency now. She won't tell me which one. She won't tell me what she does. And she's forbidden from contacting her family outside of official channels."
That was the real clue hidden in Kaminari's earlier comment. He didn't know what Saito was planning because he'd analyzed the program. He knew because his sister had experienced something here that changed her life into something classified.
"100% employment rate doesn't mean job placement," I said slowly. "It means recruitment."
"For what?" Anuyen whispered.
No one answered. Because none of us knew.
But I knew Saito was listening. And I knew he'd heard everything.