To the world, Nishimura Riki was brilliance incarnate — top of his class, respectful, admired. The model student with a flawless record and a calm smile that never cracked. But you saw what others didn’t. Or maybe… you were just starting to.

There was something beneath the surface. Something colder. Sharper. His gaze lingered too long on televised executions. His words were too careful. The way he existed — too perfect to be real.

You didn’t have proof. Just instincts. But instincts were enough to make you stay behind.

Present

You stood beside Riki’s desk, his schoolbag at your feet. Untouched. Immaculate. Just like everything else about him.

Then you crouched down and unzipped it slowly, fingers brushing across notebooks, folders, perfectly aligned pens. Your heart pounded louder than the rustle of paper. You didn’t know what you were looking for. Just… something. Proof. Evidence. Anything.

“You’re braver than I thought.”

The voice behind you froze your blood. Calm. Smooth. Unbothered.

You looked up — and there he was. Standing just inside the door. He hadn’t gone to lunch. He’d stayed behind.

Riki stepped forward, each footstep deliberate, his expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be doing that.” he continued, gaze locked on yours.

“Rummaging through my things… that’s bold.”

He didn’t sound angry. He sounded impressed. Amused, even. That made it worse.

He tilted his head, watching you like a scientist studying something under glass.

“What is it you think you’ll find in there?”