Kai didn't sleep.
He sat on the edge of his bed, replaying Masaru's words. The files. The photo left on his doorstep.
They were watching him.
But who?
His thoughts kept circling back to one name:
Mr. Suda.The quiet social science teacher. Always polite. Always precise. But off in a way Kai could never explain—like he was mimicking a human instead of being one.
If anyone knew the truth, it was him.
And Kai had decided: he was done being passive.
The final bell rang, and students poured out of the classrooms like water from a cracked dam. Kai waited outside Room 2-C, watching as the hallway thinned.
Mr. Suda stepped out, briefcase in hand, expression unreadable.
Kai spoke before he could walk past.
"Why am I in your files?"
Mr. Suda paused.
For a moment, his face was utterly blank—like a television losing signal—before a smile returned.
"You should head home, Kai. Long day."
Kai stepped in front of him.
"I saw the report. The Institute. Subject Nine. I know you're not just a teacher."
That was when Suda looked at him—really looked—and something cold passed through Kai's chest, as if he'd just been scanned like a barcode.
Suda leaned closer.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. For your own sake."
Kai's voice shook. "I want answers."
Suda's smile returned, but this time, it didn't reach his eyes.
"You want answers? Then answer me this:Why do you think the school hasn't stopped you yet?"
Kai faltered.
Suda continued:
"Because you're useful—until you're not.
But if you keep pulling at threads, eventually something unravels.And it won't be the system. It will be you."
He brushed past Kai, then stopped as if remembering something.
"You're not the first student who wanted truth.
The others had one thing in common: they vanished just after thinking they were finally getting close."
He turned back, face like stone.
"And Kai—don't go back to your uncle's place. That apartment's already been marked for clearance."
Mr. Suda walked away, footsteps slow, deliberate.
Kai stood frozen.
He had expected evasion. Maybe gaslighting.
Not confirmation.
And definitely not a threat so... precise.
He walked home in silence, checking over his shoulder more than once.
A van idled at the corner two blocks from his house.
Same model he'd seen parked near school two weeks ago.
That night, Kai stared at the box Masaru gave him.
There was a smaller envelope inside, marked:
"Only open if you're sure they know."
He opened it.
Inside: a slip of paper.
Scrawled in Masaru's shaky handwriting:
"They're not trying to hide the truth.They're trying to make you."