The atmosphere inside Class D changed over the next two days.
Not visibly.
At least not at first glance.
Students still laughed during lunch. Conversations still filled the classroom before lessons began. Chairs still scraped against the floor in the same careless rhythm.
But beneath those ordinary sounds, tension accumulated quietly.
Like pressure building beneath thin ice.
The victories had become a problem.
Not because the class disliked winning.
Because they no longer understood how they were winning.
And confusion—
Created distance.
Rei noticed it immediately.
People watched her differently now.
More carefully.
Not admiration.
Caution.
Even gratitude carried hesitation behind it.
Because every successful strategy she used felt increasingly detached from normal thinking.
Unpredictability.
Psychological manipulation.
Controlled destabilization.
The class followed her because results justified it.
But emotionally—
They were beginning to lose synchronization with her.
That was dangerous.
Not for her.
For the class itself.
A fragmented class could not survive long-term competition.
Especially not against opponents like Ryūen or Sakayanagi.
And definitely not against Ayanokōji.
—
Morning homeroom ended quietly.
Chabashira-sensei stood near the board with her usual detached expression.
"…The fourth round of the special exam will begin tomorrow."
Immediate silence filled the room.
Nobody complained anymore.
That phase had passed.
Now they simply endured.
"…The next subject will be announced one hour before the exam begins."
A pause.
"…Additionally, leaders will now receive limited communication privileges with their selected representatives during examination periods."
That changed everything.
The room reacted instantly.
Communication privileges meant direct influence.
Direct adaptation.
Direct manipulation.
The exam structure had evolved again.
As expected.
—
Rei remained still.
But internally—
Her thoughts accelerated.
Because this new rule favored emotional control over raw intellect.
Real-time communication introduced instability.
Students could now become dependent on leader guidance mid-exam.
Which meant pressure amplification would increase dramatically.
The school wanted breakdowns.
Not scores.
Interesting.
—
After class ended, Horikita approached immediately.
"…This benefits you."
Rei glanced toward her.
"…Not necessarily."
"…You're better at psychological management than most leaders."
"…Which also means opponents will target communication itself."
Horikita crossed her arms slightly.
"…You already know how he'll use it."
Not a question.
A conclusion.
Rei nodded once.
"…Ayanokōji doesn't attack systems directly anymore."
A pause.
"…He attacks decision-making."
—
Horikita fell silent for several seconds.
Because that statement felt disturbingly accurate.
The previous rounds had proven it repeatedly.
Ayanokōji rarely forced collapse through brute strategy.
Instead, he created uncertainty until opponents destroyed themselves.
And Rei—
Was one of the few people capable of recognizing it in real time.
—
"…Who will you choose tomorrow?" Horikita asked quietly.
Rei looked out the window.
Rain clouds still covered the sky.
The sunlight barely reached the campus anymore.
"…Someone emotionally unstable."
Horikita frowned immediately.
"…That sounds reckless."
"…No."
Rei's reflection stared back at her through the glass.
"…It's necessary."
—
That answer unsettled Horikita more than she expected.
Because Rei sounded completely certain.
Not experimental.
Not doubtful.
Certain.
Which meant she had already seen something nobody else had.
Again.
—
That afternoon, rumors spread quickly through the school.
The new communication rule became the center of discussion everywhere.
Class B students analyzed possible coordination tactics.
Class C debated aggressive disruption methods.
Class A remained quieter than usual.
Which meant Sakayanagi was already planning ahead.
Nothing surprising there.
But one rumor interested Rei more than the others.
Ayanokōji had spent lunch alone again.
Not unusual by itself.
Except several students claimed Ryūen had tried approaching him earlier.
And left irritated afterward.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because Ryūen only pursued things he considered dangerous.
Which meant—
He had finally started noticing Ayanokōji properly.
That accelerated the timeline significantly.
—
Later that evening, Rei stood alone inside the library.
The quiet helped her think.
Rows of untouched books surrounded her, heavy with stillness and dustless precision.
The academy maintained everything perfectly.
Even silence felt manufactured here.
Her fingers rested lightly against the spine of a history volume she wasn't reading.
Because her attention remained elsewhere.
On trajectories.
Relationships.
Pressure accumulation.
Everything was moving faster now.
Too fast.
—
"You look busy."
The voice came from behind her.
Soft.
Calm.
Sakayanagi Arisu.
Rei turned slowly.
Sakayanagi stood beside one of the shelves with her usual elegant posture, cane resting lightly against the floor.
Her smile appeared gentle.
But never harmless.
"…Observation isn't busyness," Rei replied.
Sakayanagi's eyes narrowed slightly with amusement.
"…That depends on the observer."
Silence settled briefly between them.
Not hostile.
Not friendly either.
Something more analytical.
Two minds measuring distance.
—
"…You've become popular recently," Sakayanagi continued.
"…Temporary attention."
"…Perhaps."
A pause.
"…Although people rarely discuss someone this often unless they feel threatened."
Rei watched her carefully.
Because unlike most students, Sakayanagi spoke with deliberate precision.
Every sentence carried hidden structure.
—
"…You didn't come here for casual conversation," Rei said.
Sakayanagi smiled slightly wider.
"…Correct."
She stepped closer slowly.
"…I wanted to ask you something."
"…Then ask."
A brief silence followed.
Then—
"…What exactly are you trying to create?"
The question lingered quietly between the shelves.
Because unlike Ayanokōji's questions—
This one wasn't about identity.
It was about intention.
—
Rei answered honestly.
"…Adaptation."
Sakayanagi tilted her head slightly.
"…Not victory?"
"…Victory is temporary."
A pause.
"…Adaptation survives."
That answer clearly interested her.
Rei noticed it immediately.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Because Sakayanagi understood evolution better than most people in the school.
—
"…You're dangerous," Sakayanagi said softly.
Not insult.
Not accusation.
Simple observation.
—
"…So are you."
Sakayanagi laughed quietly.
"…Yes."
No denial whatsoever.
—
Then her expression changed slightly.
Subtly.
But enough.
"…You should be careful around Ayanokōji-kun."
That caught Rei's attention instantly.
"…Why?"
Sakayanagi's gaze sharpened faintly.
"…Because people like him destroy balance naturally."
A pause.
"…Even when they don't intend to."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because Sakayanagi sounded almost protective.
Not emotionally.
Strategically.
Which implied she viewed Ayanokōji as something unstable enough to threaten the entire structure of the school itself.
Rei already suspected that.
But hearing it confirmed externally mattered.
—
"…And what about people like me?" Rei asked quietly.
Sakayanagi smiled again.
This time smaller.
Sharper.
"…I haven't decided yet."
Then she turned and left slowly between the shelves, cane tapping softly against the floor.
Rei watched her disappear into the distance.
Because that conversation had revealed more than expected.
Sakayanagi knew something.
Not everything.
But enough to recognize abnormality when she saw it.
That made her dangerous too.
—
The next morning arrived with heavy fog covering the campus.
Visibility dropped dramatically outside.
Students moved through the corridors like drifting shadows.
The atmosphere felt unreal.
Perfect for what came next.
At exactly 7:00 AM, the announcement appeared.
Political Science.
The reaction across the classroom was immediate confusion.
Political Science had not appeared in previous exams.
Which meant the school had intentionally introduced unfamiliar territory.
Pressure escalation again.
—
Rei read the subject once.
Then looked toward the class.
Most students appeared uncertain.
Some nervous.
Others completely lost.
Because Political Science wasn't purely factual.
It required interpretation.
Debate.
Prediction.
Understanding power structures.
In other words—
A psychological battlefield disguised as academics.
—
"…Who's representing us?" Sudō asked nervously.
Rei answered immediately.
"…Kushida."
Shock spread through the room instantly.
Even Kushida herself froze briefly.
"…Me?"
Horikita reacted at once.
"…Absolutely not."
The tension shifted sharply.
Because Kushida represented emotional volatility perfectly.
Social intelligence high.
Emotional stability low.
Risk level extreme.
—
"She's ideal for this subject," Rei said calmly.
Horikita stared at her.
"…She's emotionally compromised."
"…Exactly."
Silence.
Because nobody understood.
Except Kushida.
And once she understood—
Her expression changed slightly.
Not outwardly.
Internally.
Because for the first time—
Someone had selected her despite her instability.
Not ignoring it.
Using it.
—
"…What do you need me to do?" Kushida asked softly.
Rei held her gaze.
"…Be yourself."
That answer unsettled everyone.
Especially Horikita.
Because "being yourself" around Kushida was never reassuring.
—
The exam began thirty minutes later.
Kushida appeared on the monitor inside the examination room.
Perfect smile.
Perfect posture.
Perfect performance.
Externally.
But Rei noticed the details immediately.
Finger tension.
Breathing irregularity.
Pupil movement slightly accelerated.
Kushida was anxious.
Which was expected.
Because unlike previous representatives—
Kushida constantly feared exposure.
And Political Science focused heavily on ethical judgment.
Dangerous territory.
—
The first questions went smoothly.
Correct answers.
Fast pacing.
Stable rhythm.
Too stable.
Rei narrowed her eyes slightly.
Because that meant Ayanokōji hadn't started yet.
—
Then question five appeared.
A morality-based political scenario.
Subjective interpretation.
Emotionally loaded.
Kushida hesitated.
Longer than before.
Then answered.
Correct.
But her breathing changed afterward.
Slightly unstable now.
—
Ayanokōji had found the pressure point already.
Of course he had.
—
Question six escalated further.
A scenario involving betrayal inside leadership structures.
Kushida's fingers tightened visibly.
Her eyes narrowed.
Emotional reaction confirmed.
—
Wrong answer.
The score shifted immediately.
Class C gained advantage.
—
Rei remained calm.
Because panic would worsen everything now.
The key wasn't protecting Kushida from pressure.
It was redirecting her relationship with it.
—
"Kushida," Rei said through communication.
"…What?"
Her voice sounded tense already.
"…Stop thinking about judgment."
Silence.
"…What?"
"…This exam isn't evaluating morality."
A pause.
"…It's evaluating functionality."
That mattered.
Because Kushida feared rejection constantly.
Rei was reframing the battlefield entirely.
Removing emotional consequence.
—
Question seven appeared.
Another betrayal scenario.
Kushida answered instantly this time.
Correct.
—
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because the moment emotional judgment disappeared—
Her intelligence stabilized.
—
Ayanokōji noticed it too.
And this time—
He adapted immediately.
Question formatting changed again.
Now the problems became socially manipulative instead of ethically manipulative.
Scenarios involving trust.
Friendship.
Public image.
Kushida's strongest and weakest areas simultaneously.
—
Her breathing destabilized again.
Dangerous.
—
Rei leaned slightly forward.
Watching carefully.
Because this round—
Wasn't about academics anymore.
It was about identity fracture.
And if Kushida broke psychologically here—
The consequences would extend far beyond the exam itself.
—
Question ten.
Kushida froze.
Completely.
The scenario described social isolation after betrayal.
Too close.
Far too close.
—
"…Kushida."
No response.
—
"…Look at the question logically."
Still silence.
Her hands trembled slightly now.
—
Then—
Another voice entered the communication line unexpectedly.
Horikita.
"…You're overthinking."
Kushida's eyes widened slightly.
Horikita continued calmly.
"…Nobody here cares about your image right now."
A pause.
"…Just answer the question."
Silence lingered briefly.
Then—
Kushida exhaled slowly.
Answered.
Correct.
—
Rei glanced sideways toward Horikita.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because Horikita had instinctively understood the necessary intervention.
Not strategic pressure.
Emotional grounding.
Growth.
—
The score equalized again.
The battle continued.
But now—
Something else had changed too.
Class D wasn't functioning as isolated individuals anymore.
For the first time—
They were beginning to stabilize each other.