The air before dawn chilled the iron door of the gymnasium storage room. Ellie sat on the mat. Her knees were folded, both hands placed neatly on her thighs, simply staring at the wall in front of her. Stacked against the wall were volleyball carts, old mats, a broken vaulting box—a scene unchanged from fourteen days ago, when she had first been thrown into this place. But the girl she had been then was no longer here. The girl who had looked up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, tears streaming down her face, not understanding why this was happening to her, just trembling—that girl was gone. What filled Ellie's chest now was a quiet resolve. *(Today is twenty-two.)* She understood exactly what that number meant. Last night, Mio's message had arrived on Whisper—*"Tomorrow is free-use day. From morning until evening, you're the main event."* The number twenty-two was no longer a source of terror. The circuits that processed fear had quietly died over the thirteen days leading up to yesterday. What had replaced it was—a practical question: could she handle twenty-two roles today? The storage room door creaked from the inside. The first to enter was Sakuraba Rina. A natural perm bob that reached her shoulders, cold gray upturned eyes. Her tall frame of 172 centimeters cast a shadow through the dim storage room. She glanced at Ellie, then expressionlessly unfolded a folding chair propped against the wall and sat down. In her hands were a stopwatch and a cooler bag containing plastic bottles. "[cold] Right on time." Rina's voice was as emotionless as ever. It carried only the businesslike tone of a trainer checking an athlete's condition. After her, one by one, the female students entered. Some in uniforms, some in gym clothes, a few even wearing swim team jackets. All of them were silent, lining up at their designated positions. They stood evenly spaced, forming a ring along the walls of the storage room—twenty-two of them. Not a single one met Ellie's eyes. But—their gazes were unmistakably fixed on Ellie's body. Twenty-two gazes, concentrated on her, there on the mat. The Ellie of the past would have been crushed by the weight of those stares. The girl who had cowered in the gym storage room in Episode One, terrified by solitude and darkness alone—now accepted those twenty-two gazes as proof that she was needed. Finally, Mio entered. A honey-colored ponytail swayed under the dim lighting of the storage room. Golden, cat-like eyes swept across the entire room—and stopped on Ellie. With slow steps, Mio seated herself atop the vaulting box. The exact same position as Episode One. The exact same posture. Smartphone in one hand, only her golden eyes gleaming coldly. "[cold] Today is Ellie's day. Rina will manage the schedule. Everyone, use your allotted time slots." Mio's voice was like a class representative relaying announcements in a classroom. There was no heat in it, no cruel delight. Just—a declaration delivered with perfect administrative efficiency. Ellie quietly drew a breath on the mat. —It begins. Rina pressed the stopwatch. The first two stepped forward in front of the mat. A third-year in uniform and a second-year in gym clothes. She didn't know their names. There was no need to know. Before they could even open their mouths—Ellie shifted her knee position on her own. Before their gazes could land, she adjusted the angle of her hips, placed both hands in the appropriate positions. The girl in gym clothes reached out—reading that movement in advance, Ellie had already turned her face. She opened her mouth, slightly extended her tongue. The precision of "anticipation" she had first noticed on the rooftop in Episode Five had now completely soaked into her body. The first finished, the second swapped in—even in that momentary gap, Ellie predicted the next person's demands and shifted her position. When the fifteen-minute slot ended, Rina silently raised two fingers. The signal for the next pair. Ellie steadied her breathing and waited for the next two. Throughout all of this—not once did words of resistance surface in her mind. The circuits of refusal no longer activated. Inside the storage room, only the rustle of the girls' clothing and Ellie's suppressed breathing echoed. No one spoke. No mockery, no words of evaluation. Just mechanically, groups of two or three rotated, using Ellie's mouth, body, and hands simultaneously. Early in the morning, Ellie realized that her "anticipation" was now treated as a理所当然 standard by everyone. No one was surprised. No one commented. An indifference that seemed to say this level of response was only natural—that very lack of reaction was the cruelest indicator of how deeply Ellie had transformed. By the wall, Kuga Mizuki had set up an easel. A perfectly straight bun, side-swept bangs, large dark blue eyes. Faint freckles, barely visible even under the dim storage room lighting. She alternated between her sketchbook and smartphone, continuing her records impassively. Only the occasional sound of her pencil dashing across paper broke the silence. "[serious] The finest material this term." Mizuki's voice slipped out as if speaking to herself. "The way the light enters is especially good today. The angle of the afternoon slanting light hitting the mat—perfect." Her finger pressed the smartphone shutter. A mechanical click. The moment that sound reached Ellie's ears—a strange heat surged up from deep within her body. *(I'm being evaluated.)* The instant she recognized it, that heat seared the center of her chest. The same heat she had felt in Episode Five when told she was "a quick learner." But—this time it was deeper, stronger. *The finest material this term*—the fact that those words were an evaluation directed at her raced through her entire body as a twisted exaltation. *(I'm doing it well.)* The her of the past would have been ashamed of that feeling. To take pride in being evaluated in a place like this, for acts like these—it's wrong, she would have thought. But now, it was different. The circuits of shame no longer functioned. Morning passed, and as afternoon arrived, the thirteenth person finished. Rina stopped the stopwatch and raised her hand slightly. A signal for a short break. On the mat, Ellie repeated shallow breaths. Sweat trickled from her forehead down to her chin, dampening the collar of her disheveled uniform. Her lips were slightly swollen, and fresh bruises overwrote the old ones on her knees. Rina knelt beside Ellie. Silently, she opened the cap of a sports drink and held it to Ellie's mouth. Ellie obediently opened her mouth and accepted the cold liquid. The sweetness passed down her throat, the sensation of moisture spreading to every corner of her body—that alone made her exhausted body tremble faintly. Next, Rina took a towel from her pocket and wiped the sweat from Ellie's forehead, carefully brushing aside the hair clinging to her neck. Her fingertips were cold, devoid of even a millimeter of emotion. The movements were like a machine performing maintenance. But—the moment those cold fingers touched her skin, Ellie felt the tension throughout her entire body ease by a degree. In this storage room today, the contact that brought the most relief. It was not Mio's authority, nor Mizuki's words of evaluation—but Rina's emotionless fingertips. *(Rina's hands aren't even kind, but—they calm me the most.)* That paradox established itself as a strange logic within Ellie. The hands of the person with the least human warmth were, for the Ellie of now, the most trustworthy contact. Rina straightened the hem of Ellie's disheveled skirt and readjusted her position on the mat. She processed that entire sequence of actions without uttering a single word. Then, closing the sports drink cap—finally, she spoke briefly near Ellie's ear. "[cold] There's still half left. Don't fall apart in the second half either." The moment she heard those words—Ellie confirmed that there was a definite will within her chest. —*I want to not fall apart.* It was a will to continue functioning as Cradle's toy. The craving for a role she had felt back in Episode Five now sat in the center of her chest in a much clearer form. Rina's cold fingers had reinforced that will. "...Yes." Ellie answered in a small, hoarse voice. The afternoon groups continued to use Ellie's body, rotating in and out. Her sense of time had already dissolved. Only—the electronic beep of Rina's stopwatch and the shutter sound of Mizuki's smartphone marked the divisions of time. The twentieth finished, the twenty-first finished— As the day began to tilt, the light streaming through the gymnasium windows started turning orange. The twenty-second finished and picked up her belongings. Without once looking at Ellie's face, she silently pushed open the storage room door—and left. The sound of the iron door closing echoed long in the silence. Silence filled the storage room. Ellie lay on the soiled mat. Her utterly exhausted body was heavy, as if it no longer belonged to her, and even moving a single finger felt like too much effort. But—only her spirit was strangely clear. Pain and shame were already distant. What remained was simply—a sense of fulfillment from having shouldered twenty-two roles throughout the entire day. *(I did it.)* That sensation quietly settled in her chest. Only one other person remained in the storage room. Mio, from atop the vaulting box—in the same posture as Episode One, with the same cold, beautiful eyes—looked down at Ellie. Her honey-colored ponytail blurred at the edges in the backlight of the setting sun. Only her golden, cat-like eyes gleamed quietly in the dim storage room. Ellie noticed Mio's gaze and tried to pull the terror of Episode One from the depths of her memory. —But it didn't come. The terror was nowhere to be found anymore. What was there instead was—an intense sense of fulfillment from being watched by this person. *(Mio is watching me.)* That alone made something well up from deep within her body. Ellie placed her hands on the floor and began to move, crawling. She didn't yet have the strength to stand. Dragging her soiled knees, she approached the front of the vaulting box. The tips of Mio's school shoes were right before her eyes. Ellie placed both hands at Mio's feet and brought her forehead close. "[whispers] Thank you... so much." Her voice was hoarse. It was trembling too. But—the moment she spoke the words, Ellie herself confirmed that this was not an act or an obligation, but a true feeling overflowing from the core of her being. Something that had still remained even when she had pleaded, "Where should I go?" of her own accord in Episode Five—had now completely vanished. *(I'm grateful.)* A day spent being used by twenty-two bodies. Pure gratitude for having been given that. Ellie no longer felt any dissonance toward that emotion. "...Tomorrow too." Ellie's voice continued. "Can I... come here... again?" The quality of the words was different from when she had asked, "Where should I go?" in the hallway of the faculty office building on the morning of Episode Five. Back then, it had still been—a craving for a role. A plea for self-preservation born from the fear of an empty space without orders. But now, it was different. A feeling of wanting to belong to this place itself quietly burned deep within her words. Mio quietly descended from the vaulting box. The sound of her school shoes landing on the floor echoed unnaturally loud in the silence. Mio stood before Ellie—and for the first time, directly touched her. Slender white fingers were placed atop Ellie's disheveled black hair. For fourteen days until now, Mio had not touched Ellie even once. All commands had been relayed through Rina or Mizuki, and she had dominated with her gaze alone. Those hands of Mio's—were now stroking Ellie's head. As if cherishing her.