The tension didn't disappear after the accusations were dropped.
It simply got quieter. Sat in a corner, pretending it wasn't there. But I could still feel the eyes in every shadow.
And the thought lingered — this wasn't an emotional outburst. It was a calculated move.
That's when a new piece entered the board.
A soft smile interrupted my thoughts.
"Hi," she said quietly. "Can I come in?"
I looked up.
A girl. Unremarkable. I barely remembered her name.
"Mina," she added herself. "We're in the same class. I… just wanted to talk."
There was nothing suspicious in her face. No fake kindness, no forced confidence. Just presence — like she'd always been there, and I hadn't noticed.
"Go ahead," I nodded.
She stayed quiet for a moment.
"I saw that girl. The one from the incident. Before the scream. She went into 2-B's sector an hour before it all happened. She looked… off. Then came back and just stood around. Waiting."
I didn't interrupt.
"Maybe it means nothing," Mina added. "But I thought you should know."
I watched her. Her hands were shaking, even though she was trying to hide it.
This wasn't a trap.
It was a step — cautious, maybe the only one she could take.
After that, I began noticing her more. She didn't try to stay near. But she was there.
She'd leave tea outside my door when I skipped dinner. Take the blame when I missed delegation meetings.
Quietly. No words of support. Just action.
And I decided to use it.
Not for gain. For clarity.
That evening, I stepped into the hallway where all class reps had gathered. Less than a day left until the end.
Yuki Kaseda was arguing with a girl from 2-C, holding his tablet.
And then I saw her — the girl from 2-B.
Now she looked confident. Too confident.
Our eyes met. She smirked, then looked away.
I knew what I had to do.
Late at night, I was alone in the room again. Then came a knock.
"It's me," a quiet voice said. "Mina."
I opened the door.
She held a piece of paper in her hands.
"Found this in the hallway. Someone dropped it. It's a copy of the rules. But… some lines are underlined. Oddly."
I took the page. The highlighted lines stood out:
> If the 'carrier of the lie' is removed from the game through sabotage — the team automatically loses.
Below that — a note. The handwriting too neat, too formal. Like it came from an oversight office, not a student.
And then I understood:
What they tried to do through me… wasn't just dirty — it was a critical misplay.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "This is important."
Mina looked at me. Not for praise. But… was that relief?
"I just… hate it when people cheat dirty," she said. "Even if we live in different worlds."
I didn't answer.
Because deep down, I wondered:
Maybe there's still someone in this world — who isn't playing.