The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
Arisa Kurobane stepped into the lobby of the Argus Building, her footsteps soundless against the marble floor.
Outside, the city stretched like a glittering chessboard beneath the night sky. But the real game wasn't out there—it was inside their minds now.
She checked her phone.
00:12 AM.
23 hours, 48 minutes remaining.
Step One: Identify the battlefield.
Arisa's first rule in psychological manipulation was simple:
Never attack directly. Let your opponent walk into the trap willingly.
She had memorized Takumi Hoshino's Marionette Code.
"Fear of failure. Seeks perfection. Collapses if convinced he's losing control."
Her mind began weaving the plan.
Publicly? Be helpful. Supportive.
Privately? Seed doubt. Subtle sabotage.
The goal? Make him believe he's slipping—even when he isn't.
Once the spiral starts, people like Takumi implode from the inside.
As she walked through the lobby, her phone vibrated again.
A text.
[PRIVATE CHANNEL: THE DIRECTOR]
Observation begins now. Good luck, Player 06.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
So they're watching. Fine.
Arisa slipped her phone away, calm as ever.
Elsewhere: Yuto's Move
Yuto Sagawa didn't leave immediately.
He sat in his chair, legs crossed, watching the others file out of the Glass Room.
Aika Fujimoto passed by him, hoodie up, earbuds in, pretending the world didn't exist.
He let her walk. He wasn't in a rush.
Step One: Let the prey come to you.
He pulled out his own phone, casually scrolling through her social media profile again. It wasn't hard—she posted under multiple usernames, thinking she was slick.
Yeah, Aika, you want to be "different"?
You're exactly like everyone else who craves uniqueness.
He sent a simple DM from a fake account.
Unknown:
"Hey… saw your sketch on that art forum. It's actually incredible. Why aren't you more famous?"
He knew exactly what would happen next.
First: Aika would hesitate.
Second: Her need for validation would override her suspicion.
Third: She'd respond.
And once she responded, the hook would be in.
Takumi's Play
Takumi Hoshino sat in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel even though he hadn't started the engine.
He was sweating. But outwardly, he still smiled.
Arisa Kurobane. Detached observer. Afraid of irrelevance.
He could use that.
He'd play the role of the kind, reliable leader—the one who "includes" her. The one who "trusts" her with secrets.
Once she felt needed, she'd lower her guard.
And then he'd twist the knife.
But what none of them realized was this:
The Director wasn't just watching.
There was already a ranking system being updated in real time. Points calculated. Moves tracked. Mistakes flagged.
On a private screen somewhere far from the Argus Building, a progress bar blinked coldly.
Marionette Protocol: Cycle 01 Initiated.
Active Players: 15
Control Points: Updating…
Surveillance Status: LIVE.
The puppets were moving.
And soon, the strings would tighten.