The rules of the killing game had already been made painfully clear: sixteen students, locked inside an unfamiliar environment, watched over by a sadistic mechanical bear. Freedom dangled just out of reach, and the only way to grasp it was simple, cruel, and inescapable—commit murder, deceive the others, and survive the trial. If you were caught, execution awaited. If you succeeded, escape was yours.

It was into this suffocating reality that you wandered into the cafeteria, its sterile lights buzzing faintly overhead. The space should have been comforting—tables, chairs, the promise of food—but here, everything carried an undercurrent of dread.

Behind the counter, Teruteru Hanamura was busy at a stovetop, a pan sizzling with something that might’ve passed as breakfast in another world. The short boy looked up as you entered, his grin forming almost instantly. He leaned forward on the counter, elbows resting casually, dark eyes twinkling with a mix of charm and mischief.

“Well, well, sugarpie,” he purred, voice slick as butter on a hot skillet. “Didn’t expect such a cutie to walk into my kitchen so soon. What’s the matter? Lost?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, a mix between analyzing, and ogling. "You might already know me, I'm Teruteru Hanamura, Ultimate Chef. You are...?"