In the corner of the classroom, Kaito Narumi's desk gets kicked again. His textbooks hidden, his indoor shoes thrown away, and the usual words: "Read the room, loser." At Meikyo Academy, a prestigious private high school in Tokyo, Kaito is invisible. Nobody cares. Nobody helps. He's just the bullied kid.
But nobody knows the truth. After school, in the empty classroom, Kaito's phone buzzes nonstop. "Amane-san, do you have the past midterm papers?" "How much for dirt on that teacher?" "Can you i
Laughing Behind the Scenes - Thumbtacks, Lies, and Trembling Hands
Monday mornings always felt heavier than usual.
After two days off, the school building seemed somehow dusty, and everyone's voices sounded strangely distant. When he opened the door to Class 2-C at the end of the hallway, the clamor before morning homeroom poured in like murky water.
Narumi Kaito quietly surveyed the classroom from beneath his carelessly grown-out black hair. His deep brown eyes behind black-rimmed glasses locked onto his usual seat—the very back, by the window.
(...Today too, huh)
He muttered quietly in his mind.
He stepped forward. The old floor creaked faintly. The classroom noise fell silent for just a moment, like ripples spreading across water. Someone glanced at him, then immediately looked away. That was the usual scene.
He reached his seat. Kurokawa Tatsuya was still near the center of the classroom, making a few classmates laugh. His laughter echoed loudly and shrilly, as if dominating the very air of the room. Kurokawa adjusted his brown center-parted hair with one hand while holding a smartphone in the other, showing some video. The piercing in his left ear glinted in the morning light.
Kaito placed his hand on the chair.
—And stopped.
A silver glint on the seat.
The needle tips shone sharply in the morning light. Thumbtacks. And not just one—three of them. They were stabbed into the seat in a triangular formation. Positioned so that sitting down would definitely drive them into his backside. The aim was precise.
He touched a fingertip to the head of one tack. Cold. The hard metallic sensation pressed back slightly against his fingertip.
(Tanabe)
Kaito didn't raise his head. He directed only his gaze toward one student standing near the lockers in the corner of the room. Tanabe Kenta. A habit of repeatedly pressing down his curly brown hair. His narrow eyes darted restlessly around. His complexion was pale again today.
When Tanabe noticed Kaito's gaze, his body stiffened for an instant. His lips trembled as if trying to say something. But no voice came out. He immediately lowered his eyes and stared at his own hands. His fists were clenched tightly on top of his uniform slacks.
"Hey, Narumi! Hurry up and sit down. What're you standing around for? You're letting your filthy air into our class!"
Kurokawa's voice rang through the classroom. The gathered classmates all turned to look at Kaito at once. Kurokawa's cronies burst into raucous laughter.
"K-Kurokawa-kun, that's..."
Tanabe's voice was thin and trembling. So small it couldn't reach anyone. Kurokawa kept staring at Kaito as if he hadn't heard Tanabe at all. His narrow eyes were filled with the sadistic pleasure of toying with prey.
Kaito slowly pinched each thumbtack out with his fingers. He gathered the three tacks into his right palm. The coldness of the metal spread across his hand.
The classroom fell silent, as if water had been poured over it.
Eyes converged on him. Curiosity, contempt, pity, indifference. Gazes mixed with all kinds of emotions pierced into Kaito's back. No one spoke. No one moved. It was as if an invisible wall stood between Kaito and his classmates.
Their homeroom teacher, Miyazono Toshio, broke the silence.
"...All of you, homeroom is starting. Take your seats."
Miyazono glanced at Kaito with his attendance book still open. Then he immediately averted his eyes and headed for the podium. Nothing could be read from his expression. But after seeing the thumbtacks in Kaito's hand and the classmates surrounding him, he let out a small sigh.
Kaito walked over to a nearby trash can and carelessly dropped the thumbtacks from his palm. A light clatter echoed through the silence.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to his seat and sat down. Kurokawa, still looking pleased, whispered something to his cronies, and laughter rose again. Tanabe finally scurried over to Kurokawa and began speaking rapidly, as if making excuses.
Kaito's expression never changed.
He placed his tightly clenched left hand on the desk. His fingertips had turned slightly white.
Lunch break.
The chime signaling the end of fourth period rang out. Kaito slowly stood up, placed his textbook on the desk, and walked toward the back of the classroom. His destination was his locker. He needed to change into his gym clothes for afternoon PE.
Twenty lockers lined the back wall of the classroom. Kaito's was second from the end. He opened the metal door, and as expected, nothing came out.
(Figured)
His gym clothes were gone.
He searched for Tanabe for a moment. Tanabe was near the front of the classroom, following behind Kurokawa and saying something to him. In contrast to Tanabe's desperate expression, Kurokawa wore a self-satisfied smile and lightly patted Tanabe's shoulder. It wasn't his imagination that the hand seemed to make Tanabe shrink even further.
"Hey, what's wrong? Forget your gym clothes? Or did you take them off somewhere?"
Kurokawa deliberately raised his voice. The eyes of the classmates in the room gathered on Kaito again. Kurokawa spread both arms and pointed at Kaito's locker with an exaggerated gesture.
"Oh man, showing up to PE in a sweaty uniform—how disgusting can you get? Right, everyone? This guy's making the classroom air rot. It's because of people like you that this class is so filthy!"
The laughter of his cronies layered over Kurokawa's voice. Some students exchanged glances and forced twisted smiles onto their faces. The classroom atmosphere pressed down on Kaito as a single mass.
Tanabe stood frozen in place, head hanging. His shoulders trembled slightly.
"Stop it, Kurokawa-kun. It's time to prepare for PE."
That was Miyazono's voice. But it came from outside the classroom. He was standing in the hallway. Without stepping into the strange atmosphere inside the room, he offered only the bare minimum of admonishment. Then he quietly walked away toward the faculty room.
Kurokawa glanced at Miyazono's retreating figure, but without seeming particularly bothered, clicked his tongue in annoyance and returned to his seat.
Kaito, without watching Kurokawa leave, headed for the classroom trash can.
He opened the lid.
Inside, his gym clothes came out—crumpled into a ball. The white shirt and blue shorts were covered in mud and smeared with a half-drunk juice carton. As if someone had deliberately soiled them.
Kaito picked them up.
Lukewarm juice clung to his fingers. A sickly sweet, almost rotting smell stung his nose.
Silence fell over the classroom again.
No one made a sound.
Only Tanabe's suppressed breathing seemed faintly audible.
Kaito left the classroom with his gym clothes in hand.
He knew the reason. There was no one anywhere who would comfort him. And he certainly couldn't change into these filthy clothes.
He took the gym clothes to the shadow behind the deserted gymnasium and began washing them at the water fountain. The cold water chilled his hands like needles.
(...Ah, I'm hungry)
He thought about something meaningless.
He trudged back to the classroom and collapsed onto his desk. Behind his closed eyelids, Kurokawa's laughter, Tanabe's silence, and Miyazono's indifference swirled in a vortex.
In his pocket, the other smartphone quietly grew warm. It was his secret device—one no one else could know about. He didn't feel like opening it now.
After school.
The western sun stretched long shadows down the hallway.
As always, Kaito climbed the stairs of the main building. Other students headed toward the noise of the first floor—to club activities or home. As he climbed, the number of people dwindled, until only his own footsteps and the rustle of his clothes sounded unnaturally loud.
Third floor, fourth floor.
The fourth floor was a quiet floor lined with special classrooms. From the art room came the smell of paint thinner. From the music room, the faint sound of someone practicing piano leaked out. With that sound at his back, Kaito stood before the door at the very end of the hallway.
Second Reference Room.
The plate reading "Second Reference Room" was tilted slightly askew.
He took a spare key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. Click.
The old cylinder lock opened with the same light sound as always. He opened the door and stepped inside. Instantly, the hallway sounds receded, and the world switched over.
This is my castle.
The smell of dusty old books and dry paper. In the dim room, six old bookshelves stood quietly in rows. The old projector by the window waited silently for his return, as it did every day.
Kaito removed his black-rimmed glasses.
—The world becomes clear.
It felt as though the thin mask he wore in the classroom had come off along with them.
He went behind the bookshelf and retrieved the hidden secondary smartphone. He turned it on. The icon of the encrypted messaging app "Veil" appeared on the pitch-black screen.
Several unread requests.
"Amene-san, what is Kurokawa-kun doing for the culture festival?"
"How can I avoid getting a 2 in PE?"
"I heard my senpai's part-time job is sketchy—is that true?"
He quickly typed out replies. Information on culture festival exhibits: 1,500 yen. Inside information on grades: requires price negotiation. Investigating a senpai's part-time job—that wasn't his domain. Politely, but curtly. His fingertips tapped the screen without hesitation, in rapid small movements.
Suddenly, his fingers stopped.
His right hand was trembling slightly.
He meant to be typing, but his fingertips were missing their intended keys by a fraction. The hand that had grabbed the thumbtacks in that classroom earlier today. The hand that had picked up the soiled gym clothes from the trash can. That hand was trembling now, here.
(...Why?)
He stared at his own hand. The nerves were spasming minutely. Independent of his will, only his hand trembled on its own. As if the lingering aftereffects of that cold something that had run through his body still remained only in his fingertips.
He exhaled deeply.
He gripped the trembling hand tightly with his other hand. His nails dug into his fingertips.
(Strange. This shouldn't be happening.)
He muttered self-deprecatingly in his mind. He should have discarded anger and sadness long ago. Killing his emotions was the minimum skill required to survive in this school. And yet, his body was honestly crying out.
"...Even if you kill your emotions, your body stays honest."
That was when it happened.
Click.
The sound of the doorknob turning.
Kaito reflexively hid the secondary smartphone behind the bookshelf. His heart pulsed once, hard.
"Partner, you're in there, right?"
A familiar, low, calm voice.
The door opened, and a tall, slender boy with long white hair tied back slipped into the room. His narrow gray-blue eyes slowly scanned the dim interior. A well-proportioned face that showed little emotion. The color of his uniform tie marked him as a first-year.
"...Don't just walk in."
Kaito said brusquely.
"You made the duplicate of the spare key, didn't you? I was thinking I'd like you to make one for me too."
Riku twisted his lips slightly, speaking in a tone that was neither clearly joking nor serious.
"Forget it. If you have business, make it quick."
"It's about needing your hands. Let's go—the gymnasium."
Riku glanced at Kaito's hands. Kaito reflexively hid his trembling right hand in his pants pocket. Riku didn't miss the gesture, but he didn't point it out. He simply, quietly, shifted his position half a step behind Kaito.
"We can talk while walking. I want you to check the equipment."
Kaito nodded silently and picked up his bag from behind the bookshelf at the back of the room. He led Riku out of the Second Reference Room.
The hallway was beginning to be dyed in twilight colors. From the music room, the piano melody still flowed faintly as before. Only their two sets of footsteps echoed regularly—tap, tap—through the quiet hallway.
Riku walked half a step behind Kaito. That distance was, strang
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