Wednesday – After School
"Follow me," she said.
So, I did.
Past the lockers.
Down a stairwell I didn't know existed.
Into a hallway where the lights flickered like no one had changed the bulbs since the school was built.
And at the end?
A door.
Unmarked. Metal. Dusty.
Yuki reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a key.
No words.
Just a soft click, and the door opened.
Inside – The Archive Room
It wasn't a club room.
It wasn't a storage closet.
It was a den.
Rows of tall shelves. Old wooden filing cabinets. Lockers with numbers that didn't match any class. A single desk under a dim lamp, surrounded by stacked notebooks, hanging wires, and paper pinned up like evidence boards.
I stepped inside slowly.
Yuki shut the door behind me.
"This," she said, walking past me toward the desk, "is where the truth sleeps."
The Walls Speak
I looked at the papers on the wall.
Photos. Printouts. Class rosters. Maps of the school. Club activity logs. Surveillance camera shots—zoomed in.
One photo was of me.
Laughing with Tyler during lunch.
Another—me walking with Amaya after class.
And another… Emma glaring toward me from across the courtyard.
"What the hell is all this?" I asked.
Yuki didn't answer right away.
She picked up a binder and held it out.
I opened it.
My name.
"Jay Markov – Class 1-A – Subject #013"
And below it?
Timelines. Observations. Social group data. Fluctuation charts on how often my name appeared in group chats.
Someone had been tracking me.
She had.
Jay Tries to Laugh
"This is a joke, right?"
"No," she said calmly. "This is a system."
"You've been… watching me?"
"I've been watching everyone," she said. "But you… changed the pattern."
I closed the binder.
"This is insane."
"It's reality," she said simply. "The school isn't what it looks like. Not completely."
More Files
She walked to another drawer.
Pulled out another folder.
This one labelled:
'Unlisted Clubs'
"Gambling Club," she said, tapping it. "Technically illegal. Still runs."
"Wait, what—"
"Information Exchange Society. Blackmail-driven. Claims to help students negotiate with faculty. Bribes are common."
"You're serious."
"I don't waste time on fiction."
I looked at her.
Pale skin, calm eyes, voice like ice.
This girl wasn't guessing.
She knew.
"Why show me this now?" I asked quietly.
She turned, held my gaze.
"Because you're not just a variable anymore."
The Final Trigger
She handed me one more folder.
It was labelled simply:
'Rumor Model: Operation—Disrupt Markov'
I opened it with shaky hands.
Inside:
Screenshots of class group chat messages.
Fake DMs.
A schedule of who would be targeted next.
Whispers planted to disrupt Emma.
Amaya.
Even Sofia.
My stomach dropped.
"Who did this?" I whispered.
"I don't know yet," Yuki said. "But the pattern, the time it began… it traces back to one source."
I looked up at her.
"…The school."
She nodded once.
"The higher-ups don't like unpredictability. You're not part of their plan. So, they're reminding you where you stand."
The Final Question
I backed away from the desk.
"You've known all this. And still sat in class like nothing was wrong?"
"I was watching," she said.
"For what?"
She took a slow step forward.
"You."
I couldn't breathe for a second.
Chapter 23.5 – The Girl with the Data
Same Day – Still in the Archive Room
I stood frozen.
Surrounded by papers, folders, maps, whispered truths.
And her.
Yuki Dawson—arms crossed, face unreadable, like none of this was even remotely strange.
I glanced around again, then turned to her. "Okay, wait. Real question—how the hell did you even find this room?"
She tilted her head slightly, considering.
"There's an unused blueprint of the school in the Student Council archives," she said. "It showed a maintenance space sealed off decades ago."
"You snuck into the council office?"
"I logged in using the vice president's backup password," she said simply. "They use their pet's name. It was embarrassingly easy."
I stared.
"You're kidding."
"I never kid," she said, deadpan. "It wastes energy."
Jay Tries to Process
I took a slow lap around the room again.
Wires. Cameras. Maps. Pins. Strings.
Folders labelled like they belonged to a private investigator. Or a paranoid hacker.
Or someone who just didn't want to be blind in a school full of shadows.
"You've been doing this since when?"
"First week."
"Why?"
She walked to the desk, tapping her fingers on the metal surface.
"You want the short version?"
"Start there."
"The school has power struggles," she said. "Above what any student council sees. Real ones. Quiet ones. Some of them involve students. Some… don't."
"Like the higher-ups?"
She nodded.
"They curate class dynamics. Whisper through teachers. They run clubs behind the scenes. Sponsor students quietly to hold influence. When you rose too quickly—"
"They noticed."
She looked at me.
"They don't like wildcards."
Jay is Shaken
I sat down on a crate near the wall.
"Why me?"
"You're too perfect," she said softly. "You don't chase power. Which means people naturally offer it to you."
"That's not a crime."
"No," she said. "But it disrupts control. They've built a system. You're a crack in it."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
"And the rumor's?"
She nodded slowly.
"They may have planted the seed. A few altered screenshots. Misplaced notes. Emotional nudges."
"Emma."
"Amaya."
"Sofia."
She didn't have to confirm.
I knew.
Jay Starts to Break
I stared at the wall again. At the photos.
At my own name on a sheet of paper like I was part of some conspiracy theory.
"This is insane," I whispered.
"Accurate," she corrected.
I looked up at her.
"Why are you doing this?"
She didn't speak right away.
Then she said, carefully:
"Because someone needs to be three steps ahead."