On an October morning, gray clouds hung low and heavy. In Room 5 of Grace Hall—a four-person room—Sakamoto Eri sat alone. Outside the window, the chapel spire melted into the dull, metallic sky. Her three roommates had long since left. Not because today was the sports festival. They were simply avoiding sharing space with Eri. *(No one looks at me anymore.)* Eri stared at the paper spread across her lap. The instruction sheet Yui had handed her yesterday. *Central Public Service*—she traced the letters with her fingertip. The edges of the paper, read over and over, were worn soft with sweat and the oil from her fingers. She had slept deeply last night. The complete opposite of her first night as a transfer student, when terror had kept her from sleeping a wink. Her body had sunk into the bed like mud, and before she knew it, morning had come. Fourteen days of conditioning and exhaustion had flattened Eri's nerves completely. She couldn't cry. She couldn't tremble. She seemed to have even forgotten how to clench her fists. She looked at herself in the mirror above the sink. Her flaxen hair had not seen a comb. Deep shadows of fatigue were carved beneath her large eyes. The freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose made her look terribly young. What was the girl with this face about to do today—in front of three hundred and eighty people? *(I feel... nothing.)* Eri searched her inner self. No fear. No shame. Just a stillness, as if she were sinking to the bottom of deep water. Her fingertips, fastening the buttons of her uniform, barely trembled. That fact alone settled coldly in the depths of her chest. She folded the instruction sheet and shoved it under her pillow. She stood and left the room. The dormitory hallway bustled with preparations for the sports festival. Other students passed by, chatting and laughing with headbands and bibs in hand. No one looked Eri in the face—her treatment was so universally known throughout the academy that there was no need to look. Walking along the edge of the hallway, Eri confirmed the texture of the brick wall with her fingertips. The rough joints of the red bricks. The cold mortar. That alone remained as a tangible sensation of reality. --- 9:00 AM. The gymnasium. All three hundred and eighty students were packed tightly into the retractable bleachers. The central stage, where the athletes' oath would normally be taken during the opening ceremony of a regular sports festival, was empty. Only the center circle on the wooden floor remained vacant, prepared to be illuminated by four spotlights. The teachers stood in a line along the wall, none of them speaking. She could see Sekiguchi in the distance, his head hung low. In the wings, Kazama Yui surveyed the entire scene expressionlessly, clipboard in hand. Her brown bob cut was as impeccably neat as always, and her slightly upturned, dark brown eyes were calculating the schedule down to the second. Himura Erika stood on the podium. Her waist-length black hair was tied in a low ponytail, and her narrow, amber eyes swept over the venue. The silver brooch at her collar—the crest of the Rosenkreuz family, Chairwoman of Cardinal Academy—glinted dully, catching the edge of the spotlight. She spoke without a microphone, her unamplified voice ringing out. "[cold]We shall now conduct the traditional service ceremony of Saint Hermina." Her voice carried. It reached the far ends of the gymnasium. "[cold]Bear witness with your hearts." No murmurs arose. No cheers, no unease. The reaction of the three hundred and eighty was—a silence of quiet anticipation. Many students knew beforehand, and those who didn't had sensed something from the atmosphere of this academy. In one corner of the bleachers, Hanasaki Rina wore a sweet smile. Her honey-colored curls fell softly over her shoulders, and her large chestnut eyes were fixed intently on the center circle. At the edge of the gymnasium, Mutsu Mika stood with her arms crossed. Short-cropped blonde hair. Her sharp, upturned blue eyes narrowed like a beast waiting for its prey. The muscles in her arms, exposed by her rolled-up uniform sleeves, twitched spasmodically from time to time. Erika clapped her hands once. A sharp *clap* echoed through the gymnasium. From the wings, Eri walked out. --- The heat of the spotlights hit her cheeks. The glare blurred the bleachers. Three hundred and eighty silhouettes moved in the darkness, and only the sense of their bated breath reached her. The sound of her own footsteps echoed unnaturally loud in the gymnasium. One step. Another step. The coldness of the wooden floor seeped through her indoor shoes into the soles of her feet. The moment she stood in the center of the center circle—the middle of the circle marked by white tape—the four spotlights illuminated Eri all at once. The heat of the lights. The glare. She couldn't see the bleachers. *(I can't see anything.)* Erika's voice rang out. "[cold]Kneel inside the circle." Eri's knees folded naturally. Without anyone commanding her, her body dropped to the floor. The hard sensation of the wood transmitted through her kneecaps. That—as the only real sensation in this place today—remained in Eri's senses. Yui approached silently. With the clipboard still tucked under her arm, she grabbed Eri's shoulders mechanically and adjusted her angle. Her touch was like that of someone repositioning a part. At that moment— Eri's fingers touched the buttons of her blazer. Erika had said nothing yet. No command had been given. And yet, Eri's fingers moved on their own. The first button came undone. The small, plastic sensation lingered on her fingertips. The second button. The third button— She heard someone in the bleachers gasp. The blazer slipped from her shoulders and piled onto the floor. Next, her hands moved to the buttons of her blouse. Her fingers did not tremble. As if operated by a separate entity, they unfastened the buttons with precision. *(I am—)* The blouse fell to the floor. Eri never once looked at the bleachers. Her gaze remained fixed on a single point in the wood grain of the floor as her hands continued to move. The small sound of her skirt's zipper descending. The sound of fabric rustling. Her white underwear was exposed to the heat of the spotlights. A strange stillness fell over the entire gymnasium. Everyone's gaze was concentrated on Eri's fingertips. The hook of her bra came undone, and the shoulder straps slipped down. The moment the last piece fell to the floor— A single beat of complete silence. And then. Someone began to applaud. *Clap, clap, clap—* It spread through the bleachers like a wave. The applause of three hundred and eighty people echoed off the high ceiling of the gymnasium, reaching Eri's ears as a distant sound. Kneeling in the heat of the spotlights, Eri listened to the applause. *(This—is being given to me.)* --- At the edge of the bleachers, Yui raised her clipboard. "[cold]Number one." Her expressionless voice cut through the applause. The line of students holding number tags began to move. A long, snaking line—it continued, doubling back to the end of the gymnasium. The female students stood quietly in line, in the numerical order Yui had assigned them beforehand. The first one stepped forward in front of Eri. Eri's body now reacted faster than fear. Heat spread from the pit of her stomach. Her skin tingled and contracted, anticipating the next touch. The fact that her body began to prepare itself whenever someone approached—that remained as a distant disgust in a corner of her fading consciousness. The first finished. The second came. Eri continued to stare at the wood grain of the floor. She didn't look up. There was no need. She looked only at the knot in the wood before her eyes—a knot she had seen countless times. That single point was the anchor that held her together, keeping her from falling apart. The third. The fourth. The fifth. The acts continued. From the bleachers, silence, breathing, and an air of low excitement washed over her in alternating waves. The gazes of three hundred and eighty people pierced the space between Eri's shoulder blades, the nape of her neck, and the curve of her hips. Around the time it surpassed ten people, Eri began to feel it. *(Ah—)* Something was swirling deep in her stomach. That sensation she had first experienced in the gym storage shed. Independent of her will, her body was reacting. Her inner thighs trembled, and her breathing grew shallow. Her fingertips on the floor unconsciously clawed at the floorboards. When the fourteenth person approached— Eri's body convulsed violently. A voice leaked from her throat. A high-pitched voice she didn't recognize as her own. Her back arched like a bow, and her whole body spasmed. Her vision exploded into pure white. An irresistible wave surged from the core of her body, and with both hands still on the floor, Eri trembled again and again. *(Ahh—ahh—)* The wave of climax receded. Silence returned to the gymnasium. After a single beat— Cheers and applause erupted from the audience. The thunderous applause of three hundred and eighty people celebrated Eri's climax. The sound passed through Eri's ears, reached her brain, and stimulated something. The cheers—the applause—were coming at the same time as the climax she felt. Humiliation and applause began to be processed in the same circuit. *(No—this is—)* Words floated up somewhere in her mind. But they vanished immediately. The fifteenth person came. Eri's body was already waiting for the next touch. The cheers from before lingered in her ears. More—she wanted more applause. More— *(What am I thinking—)* The voice inside her screamed from a distance. The sixteenth. The seventeenth. The eighteenth. During the act—another climax came. A bigger wave than before. Eri dug her nails into the floor and let out a voiceless cry. Her hips lifted, her thighs spasmed. Her vision whited out. And then—applause again. Louder cheers than before. *(Ah—applause—)* Every time the cheers came, her body moved, seeking the next. As if anticipating this, the line advanced, and the next person approached. Humiliation was converted into pleasure, pleasure called forth applause, and the applause made her body react even more—a perverse circuit was now being completed inside Eri. Eri herself felt it. *(I can't stop.)* She couldn't control it herself. Her mind and body had completely dissociated, and her body alone continued to move, fueled by the applause of three hundred and eighty people. A single tear traced its way down her cheek. But she herself couldn't distinguish whether it was a tear of sadness or a tear of pleasure. The nineteenth. The twentieth. Yui read out the numbers silently. Mika maintained order in the line, occasionally calling out, "[cold]Next, hurry it up." Rina had been watching Eri from the bleachers the entire time. She smiled contentedly, swaying her honey-colored hair. Erika remained standing at the edge of the stage, arms crossed, looking down over the entire scene. Her amber eyes were narrowed slightly. --- Eri had no idea how many hours had passed. Until the last person left the gymnasium and the bleachers were empty, Eri had experienced countless climaxes on the floor. Yui recorded the final number on her clipboard and exited wordlessly. Mika turned off some of the lights, and Rina came to Eri's side last—gently stroking the hair of Eri, who lay on the floor. "[gentle]Let's come again, okay?" Leaving behind that sweet whisper, she too left. Half the lights in the gymnasium went down. Only a single spotlight above the center circle remained, and Eri lay within its circle. The traces of hours of acts and the lingering heat of numerous climaxes still remained in her body. Her thighs continued to spasm repeatedly, and the cold sensation of the wood transmitted through her back where it touched the flo