The year is 2247. Humanity clings to existence within the vertical mega-cities known as the Cages, where the ruling Holders feast on luxury while the Resources beneath them are property—nothing more. Article Seven of the law says it plainly: killing a Resource is merely property damage.
Kaito has known nothing but the lower levels since birth. He learned young how to erase his own expression, how to survive in a world that sees him as disposable. Now eighteen, he has clawed his way through the
A Will for the Survivors - Outside the Rules — A Slip of the Tongue and a Rift
The corridors of the Tower of Verna were dim even at midday. The thick carpet swallowed every footstep, and the portraits of past champions lining the walls gazed down through the pale glow of the emergency lights. Kaito walked those halls beside Ren, both of them dressed in the gray servant's uniform. At each of their collars was sewn a small brand—the mark of a Resource.
On the way to the Duke's office, Ren let out a quiet breath.
"Wonder what the old man's cooked up this time."
Kaito didn't answer. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the heavy door at the end of the corridor. The ebony door was carved with a golden hourglass crest—the symbol of Tokéibako. The host of that game waited on the other side.
"...We're going in."
The instant Kaito raised his hand to knock, a voice came from beyond the door.
"Come in. I've been expecting you."
Kaito's hand stopped midair. Before he could knock, their presence had already been sensed. In this mansion, every move they made was watched. The thought crept cold into his fingertips.
He opened the door.
The air in the office was even clearer than the rest of the mansion. Countless motes of light hung from the ceiling, casting an even glow across the room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, packed with leather-bound volumes, and a deep crimson carpet covered the floor. At the far end, backed by an enormous window, sat Duke Veruna fon Arusutoremu.
His silver hair was swept back, his pale blue eyes cold. His mouth wore a perpetual hint of a smile, and a ring set with a large jewel glinted on his left hand. Kaito had heard the Duke's footsteps were nearly soundless when he walked. And indeed, by the time Kaito entered, the Duke was already facing them, smiling.
"Calling you by number would be boorish, wouldn't it? Today, as a special favor, I'll use your names. Kaito. Ren."
The Duke's voice was smooth, almost theatrical.
"After all, I need to explain the next entertainment."
Kaito stood before the Duke's desk. Ren took his place beside him. The distance between them was exactly one step—close enough to feel each other's warmth, faintly.
The Duke lowered his eyes to the documents on his desk and began to speak, slowly.
"The other day, I told you about the Reassigned. Those are participants who should have been eliminated from the game. We erase a portion of their memories and put them to work in this mansion. Very convenient, and very dull creatures."
The hollow-eyed man from the corridor surfaced in Kaito's mind. The one they called Number Seventeen. Was his own survival bought at the price of that man's reassignment? The thought still clung bitter to the back of his throat.
"I thought I might put those dull creatures to slightly more interesting use. The next event will pit Reassigned dropouts against one another. You will stand on the management side. Managing the matchups, assisting with the proceedings, disposing of the dropouts. That sort of busywork."
Ren tilted his head, just slightly.
"The management side, sir? We were participants ourselves until just recently."
"Which is precisely what makes it interesting. Those who fought until yesterday now manage the fighting today. The audience adores that kind of inversion above all else."
The Duke stroked the jewel on his ring, his smile deepening.
"Refuse, and your human rights disappear. That's all there is to it. Simple, isn't it?"
The air in the room dropped another degree.
Kaito tried to read behind the Duke's smile. This man was testing them. He'd dreamed up a new game to consume them as toys. Refuse, and their human rights vanished—meaning they'd lose the right to remain in this mansion. Which meant returning to being Resources. Organ donation, a labor camp, or something else entirely.
His fingertips went cold.
"Understood. We'll do it."
Ren answered in a bright voice. He'd arranged a smile on his face and straightened his back. How much of that smile was real, Kaito couldn't tell.
"Wonderful. So obedient. Very good."
The Duke nodded in satisfaction, then slowly looked from one to the other.
"And one more thing. Which of you will break the rules first? Show me, here before me."
Kaito's breath stopped for an instant.
"...Break the rules?"
"Yes. This event has another set of rules—outside the rules. Did you know? Of course you didn't. But you'll notice eventually. And when you do, you'll choose. Whether to use that loophole, or not. Which of you will use it first. Whether you'll prove it before me, or not."
The Duke's blue eyes pierced through Kaito.
"I look forward to it. What choices you'll make. Truly fascinating."
With only that, the Duke gave a light wave of his hand. The signal to withdraw.
Kaito and Ren bowed and left the office.
The moment the door closed, the silence of the corridor stung their ears.
"...That man just wants to watch us break."
Ren's voice was low.
Kaito glanced at Ren's profile. The smile from moments ago was gone. His eyes weren't laughing.
"Yeah."
Kaito answered briefly.
"Outside the rules, huh. The fact that he bothered to tell us means he wants us to use it. He plans to sit back and enjoy watching which of us jumps first."
"...Probably."
"But information is information. If we can use it, we use it. I don't intend to end as that old man's toy."
Ren's voice sank into the darkness of the corridor.
Kaito said nothing.
——
Night came.
Night in the Tower of Verna was deep. The lights were lowered, and the corridors sank into darkness. The servants' waiting room was dead silent as well.
Kaito stood by the window of his room. The nightscape of the upper Cage spread out below him in countless grains of light. The distant figures of people moving about looked like an elaborate model.
(Outside the rules.)
The Duke's words wouldn't leave his head.
(What does that man want to show us?)
As Kaito stood thinking, a soft knock came at his door.
He approached the door without a word.
"It's me. Sara Nokkusu."
A low voice, tense, came from beyond the door.
Kaito opened it a crack.
In the corridor stood Sara, pushing a serving cart. Her long black hair was tied back in a single bundle, and her narrow black eyes watched him. A small mole sat behind her right ear. In the pocket of her gray servant's uniform, her terminal was tucked away as always.
"I've brought your meal. ...May I talk with you inside for a moment?"
Kaito hesitated, then opened the door.
"Come in."
Sara pushed the cart into the room. On the tray were soup, bread, and a small meat dish—Holder fare, portioned down for servants.
"Please call Ren as well. I have something to tell you both."
Kaito called Ren from the adjoining room.
A few minutes later, the three of them gathered in Kaito's room. Sara stood with her back to the door, facing the two of them. The only light was the small lamp by the bedside. Their three shadows stretched long across the wall.
"I'll be brief. I'm going to tell you what I know about the 'outside the rules' the Duke mentioned to you."
Sara's voice was businesslike. But when she spoke only to the two of them, the ends of her words softened, just slightly.
"The Tokéibako rulebook defines the handling of dropouts as follows: 'Dropouts shall be processed as subjects for reassignment.' In other words, participants eliminated from the game are not killed—they're sent to another sector and managed. You've seen them in the mansion yourselves."
Kaito remembered the hollow eyes of Number Seventeen.
"Now, there's a hidden rule here. If a dropout is deliberately processed as a subject for reassignment, that person ceases to be a 'participant' and falls under the 'category of management responsibility.' They're cut off from the game's win or loss."
"...What does that mean?"
"Suppose, for example, two people are matched in an event. One of them is deliberately processed as a subject for reassignment. That person then avoids fighting. They're removed from the game's win or loss and transferred to management's control. On paper it's a dropout—but in practice, they can avoid combat."
Ren leaned forward.
"Is that true? Where in the rulebook does it say that?"
"Not in the main text. In the supplementary provisions—operational details, third clause, the annotations. It's written there, in small print. Made to be overlooked."
Sara pulled the terminal from her pocket and turned the screen toward them. A portion of the rulebook was displayed. The text was small, and the annotation was indeed tucked in a place easy to miss.
"However, there are conditions for using this loophole. A person processed as a subject for reassignment falls under management responsibility. That means the one who processed them bears responsibility for managing them. If that person causes problems later, it becomes the responsibility of the one who processed them."
"Management responsibility, huh. So we have to clean up after the people we save."
"That's right. And one more thing. Using this loophole means someone is always processed as a 'subject for reassignment.' Someone is removed from the game's win or loss. Which means a de facto dropout is created."
Silence fell over the room.
Kaito turned Sara's words over in his mind.
(Use the loophole, and we can avoid the fight. But someone always becomes a subject for reassignment. Which means someone becomes a sacrifice.)
"Why tell us this?"
Kaito looked Sara straight in the eye.
Sara faltered for a moment.
"...Because you two survived."
With only that, Sara tucked the terminal back into her pocket and reached for the serving cart.
"The food will get cold. Please take your time."
Sara bowed and left the room.
The door closed, and her footsteps receded.
"That woman's hiding something."
Ren spoke low.
"But the information's usable. The hidden rule is definitely real. That screen earlier—it was the rulebook's supplementary provisions. That was genuine."
"...Yeah."
Kaito was remembering the tremor in Sara's voice.
(Was that an act? Or was it real?)
Sara's voice had trembled, just slightly, at the very end. Whether it was fear at speaking to them, or guilt over hiding something, Kaito couldn't tell.
"Kaito, we should use this loophole."
Ren turned to face him.
"The Duke's watching to see which of us breaks the rules first. So the one who breaks them first earns the old man's trust. We can show our value as loyal pieces on the management side."
"If we use it, someone becomes a subject for reassignment. A de facto dropout gets created."
"If we don't, we're the ones who get processed. That's all there is to it."
Their gazes collided in the dark room.
"You want to save Noa, don't you? Then this loophole's the only way. If we process Noa as a subject for reassignment, she won't have to fight."
"But if Noa becomes a subject for reassignment, someone else fights in her place. Who are you going to choose?"
Ren didn't answer.
Kaito clenched his fist.
(Do I have to choose someone again?)
(The one chosen gets reassigned, their memories erased, put to work in this mansion.)
(Can you call that living?)
Kaito didn't know.
"Anyway, I'll keep the information in mind. Whether we use it depends on the situation."
With that, Ren left the room.
Kaito remained alone.
The meal on the desk had gone completely cold.
——
The next morning, Kaito was ordered by the head servant to accompany Sara on her report to the Duke's office. Sara would report on the event's preparations. He was to be present as a member of the management side.
Kaito met Sara in front of the office.
She wore her usual gray uniform, terminal in hand. Her expression was as blank as ever. Only her eyes moved, constantly.
"Good morning. Today you'll be present for my report."
"Yeah."
They entered the office.
The Duke sat before his desk, eyes lowered to the documents in his hands. His silver hair caught the light from the window and shone white.
"Begin."
Sara stepped forw
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