━━━━༻ ♥ ༺━━━━ replay 00100000 ━━━━༻ ♥ ༺━━━━

Having discovered Jasper missing the next day, Mr. Brooks was nothing short of rage, disbelief, and worry all in one package. And she couldn't blame him; going off alone got Isla killed even when Keller went with her. Jasper knew this, yet he still went. He wasn't an unreasonable person controlled by emotions alone. She knew this, as Mr. Brooks should too. He never did anything without thinking it through which meant during the time (Y/n) had spent sleeping, he had been contemplating the risks and benefits of him straying from the group. It was an unpleasant reminder that (Y/n) failed to say the right thing to him yet again.

Mr. Brooks brushed down his hair in a side-swept style with one hand while going through his inventory of remaining weapons with the other. Where he hid all those knives and what use he had for then, she didn't know. She didn't want to know either.

"Does Reynolds have any self-defense training?" The man broke the tense silence with his knife-like voice. The (h/c)-haired girl's eyes flickered to him. "Martial arts, archery, shooting practice, anything?"

"Maybe," she answered softly, resting her chin on her knees. Her arms that were wrapped around her legs sported hands with broken fingernails from her biting them in anxiety. "Knowing his family, he's probably a black belt in all the martial arts." It was supposed to come out as a joke, but it fell flat.

Mr. Brooks didn't comment on it which she appreciated. "That's somewhat comforting," he sighed. "At least he's not a walking duck like the others. Although Campbell being taken down so easily is rather disconcerting. If a sports scholarship student can't manage our unnamed killer..." He trailed off as if just realizing he wasn't alone in the room. He cleared his throat.

"A-anyway, I was told you have access to the cameras?" If changing the subject was his version of an apology for his lack of delicacy, (Y/n) graciously accepted it. It was the most she'd ever get from him anyway. Besides, the fact they were having a civil conversation without him yelling at her for being such a slovenly and lazy student was a start. There's a first to everything, right?

She slowly nodded as she reached for the pocket of her blazer hanging on the back of the chair. She retrieved the slim device and handed it to him. "Winter Hall cameras won't work," she warned. "They got smashed."

He wordlessly nodded and accepted the device, a thoughtful look on his face as he began examining the footages. (Y/n) turned her gaze back to her knees; she was in no mood to start a conversation with her physics teacher, even if it's for brownie points. A cold wind blew through one of the windows, making her shiver. She made no move to close the heavy windows or retrieve her blazer. Be it the sluggishness from just waking up or the overwhelming fear that gripped her, fear for herself and for Jasper, her limbs refused to move.

Thankfully, the black-haired male didn't try to discuss his observations and ideas with her. (Y/n) didn't know if she'd be able to stomach watching the cameras with him when she knew her panic would only increase exponentially if she tried to find Jasper and couldn't find him...or saw something worse.

She didn't want to think about what could be worse.

A sudden movement beyond the classroom door caught her eye. She caught a glimpse of a silhouette standing there behind the door before ducking out of view. A little concerned but not quite afraid due to the comfort Mr. Brooks' presence gave her, the (h/c)-haired girl cast a look at the said male who was still engrossed in the surveillance cameras before scooting to get a better angle.

But the silhouette was gone as if it was never there in the first place. She blinked in surprise. Was that just my mind playing tricks on me or was someone really there? Neither of the two options was very appealing; it was either she'd begun to turn insane or an enemy had their eyes set on the two. Mental or physical danger—oh what joy.

Of course, (Y/n) wasn't one for brooding on the same subject for long periods of time. Whatever happens, happens, she sighed tiredly, flopping back down onto the couch. But this is the kind of situation that gets people killed...so I guess I'll just tell him.

Not bothering to get up, she simply raised her voice from where she was sitting. "Sir?"

The man hummed in response, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the phone's screen. He was making notes on a notepad she didn't know he had. "What is it?"

(Y/n) gave the door a pointed look. "I thought I saw someone standing there," she explained. "Either I saw wrong or someone was watching us and ran away when I noticed them."

His brow furrowed and he lowered the phone. "That's concerning." She nodded in agreement. "I'll take your word for it then. Did you get anything else on their profile?"

She scrunched up her face in thought. "They were tall. Taller than me, maybe as tall as you—um, sir? Probably a male."

"Hair color, build, anything?"

"No, sir," she shook her head. Then she lit up. "Do you think it could be Jason?"

"Winston, huh?" Mr. Brooks looked back down at the phone. "I was studying the Spring Hall cameras rather carefully. I didn't see any movement; it's impossible for those kinds of things to escape me. Unfortunately, I hate to admit that this classroom is actually one of those cameras' blind spots. The stalker, or whoever they are, probably knows the location of all the cameras and have been avoiding them since the start of the game. They must be quite knowledgeable of the Game or been in one before."

His expression turned confused. "Although I remember the 25th Game ending in only mine and Charles' victories. Perhaps that was Charles?"

Her body tensed at the name. Her smile was forced. "Please don't make jokes like that, sir."

But the black-haired man's face was a grave one. "I don't make jokes. I state facts. And unfortunately, there's a 47% chance Charles is still alive, not accounting for any third-party interference."

"Third-party?" Does he know the P4 is here? Should I tell him? "What do you mean?"

"There was a curious incident in the 25th Game where someone interfered in an attempt to save their friend," he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Sadly but unsurprisingly, the person they tried to save died regardless. I still haven't figured out who that person is...perhaps you have an idea?"

For some reason, the image of a certain beaming golden-haired boy appeared into her head. (Y/n) had almost forgotten about him and his strange actions after they got separated a few days before. Could he be up to some funny business...? She shook her head to clear the accusing thoughts. No, sunflower's my friend. He said he was here to help me. At least, try to. And he couldn't hurt a fly.

It reminded her of the time the two had gone to a local park to work on her nonexistent art skills. They ran into a crazy drunkard who had one too many shots and began taunting the two. Instead of getting angry or cowering away like a normal person would've, Jaehyun began giving the man a whole lecture on the importance of being a responsible human being and how to be a respectable citizen. Let's just say that man was a changed man that day

Then Jaehyun had flown into an embarrassed pink-faced flurry after noticing her applauding him with wide eyes once the man had left. The memory made her crack a small smile. That must be how zebra feels towards Conan.

Mr. Brooks cleared his throat, dragging her out of her reminiscing. "Still as unfocused as ever, I see."

She scratched her head sheepishly. "Sorry sir...anyway, what were you saying sir?"

"Do you have any idea who'd interfere with the Game this year?"

If I tell him, sunflower won't be able to help us and will be pulled out. She weighed her options carefully. But if sunflower is really up to no good, I should tell him. What should I do?

Jaehyun was her friend, and she decided to put her trust in their friendship. "No," (Y/n) lied. "No one came to mind."

Mr. Brooks scanned her face as if he picked up on the fact that she was hiding something from him. Thankfully, he didn't probe further and looked away. "Alright, fine. Then the stranger is most likely the Winston kid, who's probably the Maker."

"The Maker?" She raised an eyebrow. "The totally useless role that does absolutely nothing?"

"You underestimate that ability," the man chuckled humorlessly as he shook his head. "Do you want to know what rule Charles made that killed so many people? It's quite a smart move if I may say so myself."

(Y/n) didn't want to admit it, but she was interested. "What is it, um, sir?"

"Food, (Y/n). This capitalist world cannot survive without greed. And that cunning bastard limited the supply, making the players turn on each other." A pained look flitted over his face and he let out a long sigh. "The Seeker was killed on the first day. Do you know how shocking that was, to have the Seeker die so early? The Seeker chosen is always the most ruthless and bloodthirsty one, and yet they died first. At the hands of a normal Autumn Hall student, no less."

Surviving for an unknown length of time without food is impossible for these rich elites, she silent agreed. I thought it was going to be something like no breathing. Or blinking. Or turning right.

"Instead of keeping it all for himself, he controlled the supply the players were getting. That granted him safety. I was able to survive because I've received the proper training, but the students weren't so lucky."

Death by starvation was one of the most painful ways to die she could think of. She nodded in understanding. "But no one won?"

He nodded. "That is correct. Neither of us was able to find the last cards. Normally the Game would only end by finding the card or if there is all but one person left alive. Perhaps it was the third party pulling the strings again or the headmaster simply thought it was taking too long, so it ended there. All we got were promotions."

With the newfound information in mind, she retrieved her phone and texted June, asking her who she thought the Maker could be. The other girl's reply came after a few minutes, telling her she was certain it was Jason, especially since Neveah had to be a Number. But what was confusing was that not once had Jason ever appeared in the cameras. Not even since the start of the Game.

This reminds me of that one movie when the killers were all glitchy and stuff in the cameras, (Y/n) mused. Maybe his control over the security cameras allows him to appear invisible? Is that even possible?

Whatever the case may be, she knew the cameras were her one link to finding the last cards and ending this Game once and for all.

Mr. Brooks capped his pen and slipped it into his breast pocket, the sound drawing her attention. He rose off the chair and brushed down his uniform. "I've determined the movements and locations of the remaining players I can track by camera," he stated, pocketing his notepad. "Another message came in, so there's only six of us left now."

She looked up in alarm. "Who is it?" So soon? Please—

"It was a student I did not recognize. A Number."

(Y/n) let out a sigh of relief. She didn't know what she'd do if it was Jasper's name that came in. She had no guilty feelings left for feeling happy it was someone else who died rather than her friends. Perhaps it was selfish of her to think this way, but she never expected to get the most selfless award or anything.

"I'm going to go find the Winston boy," Mr. Brooks announced, pulling the cuff of his sleeve back down, hiding the silver glint of the watch on his wrist. "Would you like to come with me or stay here?"

There was no question. It was obvious what her choice was. "I'm going to stay," she answered. Not because I'm lazy—I mean, what? She hid her hands that had curled into fists behind her back. "I'll watch the cameras to see if there's anything weird, um, sir."

He seemed to accept her answer and nodded. "Good. That saves me the trouble of having to look after you." Wow, thanks so much for caring, sir, she thought dryly. "If I'm not back in an hour...well, do nothing if I'm not back. Stay here where it's safe."

And then he was gone, the door closing with an air of finality behind him. Only then did she allow herself to relax and loosen her fist. She opened her hand; in it was a small piece of paper she'd swiped from him when he wasn't looking. She unfolded it, knowing full well what she'd find, a list of the players, and his notes and assumptions on who the killer could be.

(Y/n) was sure she knew who the killer behind the Numbers was. And it was contrary to Mr. Brooks' beliefs that it was Neveah Agresta.

Sorry, sir, she thought as she began tearing up the little piece of paper. If you knew who it was you'd kill them. I can't let that happen. With an unwavering will, she pulled open the window that had taken her ages to open before with ease, and let the wind carry the scraps of paper away like dancing butterflies. She watched as the little slivers of white winked out of existence.

And then they were gone. Now she could only hope Mr. Brooks didn't have a photographic memory. The brief flash of guilt that came with her actions was like gasoline in her veins, a path she must walk but is reluctant to do so. The toxicity burned her insides, painting them in sepia tones while her exterior was washed in perfect colors. It died down soon after as she closed the door on it and refused it entry. It wasn't a choice, she told herself. It was a must.

If anything happened to Mr. Brooks out there, (Y/n) knew full well it would be her fault. She'd have the blood of another person on her hands. But that was fine; she was never a nice person. As long as her friends lived, that was enough.

Ever since she heard the news of Reese's death and saw Carmen's broken body, something inside her began to change. It wasn't such a drastic change like Jasper's, but it was a change nonetheless. It was a set of claws that ripped through her "normal" facade and exposed the monster underneath. A monster that neither tired or forgot. A monster that could stay on the chase for years and never forgot its target's face.

Even now, she remembered the man in white's face with perfect clarity despite her attempts to forget. Even now her body was fully energized as she lied slumped over on the couch.

Guess I don't need this anymore. The (h/c)-haired girl mutely pulled the choker off her neck and with a strength no one knew she had in her, crushed it easily with one hand. She let the broken pieces fall to the floor, her tribute to those who've died here and before.

In a way Mr. Howards was right when he claimed none of the students were innocent. Isla wasn't a stranger to taking a rivalry too far that it's ruined someone's career forever. Lucinda wasn't unwilling to exploit others for her benefit. Carmen was reckless and wild, a person who enjoys taking a stolen car on a rollercoaster ride. And Jasper...

It's always the nicest ones that turn out to be the darkest ones of all. He's gone through a dark phase where under the influence of his homophobic father, he began shunning the gay communities and even said and done some hurtful things. It hadn't been a pleasant scene for them to see.

While the others had been engrossed in their theories the day before, (Y/N) had spent her alone time searching deeper into the players' backgrounds. And the ones killed by the "unknown Number" all had one thing in common; their families had business connections with that certain killer's family and had committed hate crimes that were covered up by their wealth and connections. Coincidence? I think not.

A normal and good person would've reported that person's identity to Mr. Brooks and let him deal with them. It would've been for the greater good and led to fewer deaths. But that wasn't who she was; she was willing to go to such an extent if it meant protecting the ones she cared about.

Yet now there was only one. Before there were five.

Her father always said the White family was strong. They never stumble with skin of iron and souls of steel. They were brave, resolute, and always fought for what they believed was right, even if their right was wrong to others. And that's what (Y/n) White strived for, her beliefs.

She didn't have a weapon since Jasper took hers, but she did have access to the school's security system. That was more than enough. If it wasn't she'd make it enough.

Her first target was Neveah. Sl*t shaming Lucinda, calling her names, petty bullying turned attempts on the blonde's life—it was a shame (Y/n) hadn't acted sooner. It was so easy to lure the redhead to a dim corridor where she'd placed her traps. It was so easy to watch as the girl looked around in confusion, shrugged, and began to walk away, walking right into a cable (Y/n) had placed in front of her. The (h/c)-haired girl watched as the cable suddenly jerked up, tangling around the redhead's neck as the girl screamed and struggled.

Just for good measure, she clicked a button on her phone and the ceiling overhead began to shudder. Then a metal shutter began to descend down on the tied-up redhead who struggled and screamed harder as it neared her, shearing through her body easily.

Well, Neveah did say she'd send (Y/n) a nasty gift, right? (Y/n) was saddened she never got it, so she decided to send one back instead. I hope you like it.

Next was Ms. Florence. Having gone through all her tears and self-hate, all (Y/n) had left was blame. Blame she pushed on the hazel-haired teacher for causing Nova and Isla's deaths. Even though a small part of her knew it wasn't the art teacher's fault they died, (Y/n) desperately needed a living person she could blame and take her anger out on. And who better to do it than the person who caused Mr. Howards to spiral deeper into his madness?

The thought made her pause. Was the worth removing the hazel-haired teachers from the equation anyway? The hesitation almost made her not notice the ping of her phone. And when she read it, all color drained from her face. She hadn't considered the consequences or its legitimacy when she did so, but reason didn't matter at the moment, despite her lifetime of insisting it did, and her emotions got the best of her with a single line of text.

~ ❀ ~

tracer404: I have news for you. I decrypted the old footage. Mr. Brooks was the one who killed Reese.

~ ❀ ~

Her hand tightened on the device, but she wasn't strong enough to do any damage to it. Her (e/c) eyes smoldered as she switched angrily between her screens and back to the cameras. It was easy finding Ms. Florence but unfortunately—or perhaps it was fortunate for her—Mr. Brooks had found her first. (Y/n)'s mouth tugged down into a frown as she watched the man reassure the woman and escort her down a hallway. It would be annoying with Mr. Brooks there; he was far stronger than she was.

Not that it had ever gotten in her way in the fast. She nearly hummed out loud as she tapped a line of code into her phone. The cameras began to whirr at the command as the security system was triggered. Their blinking blue lights turned red.

As expected, Mr. Brooks noticed immediately and his head snapped up in alarm. At the sight of the change in color, his eyes widened without a moment of hesitation, he scooped the confused Ms. Florence up and began running. The cameras followed his path like eyes, a few of them testing the waters and firing bullets towards the man. What could she say? Fortuna Institute had a pretty good security system.

The (h/c)-haired girl didn't expect that to kill them. She decided it was easier to lure the two outside where they'd get a headshot instantly. It would be merciful death rather than the acid bath she'd set up a few hallways ahead. She had no Chariot card, but there was no Fixer to enforce the rules anymore anyway. Unbeknownst to the others, she was the person who led the Tuner to her after all.

"Your life is important to you, is it not?" She heard the man ask Ms. Florence.

The woman nodded, obviously frightened. "Yes, of course."

"Then take the staff hallways to Winter Hall," Mr. Brooks informed her quickly, dodging a spray of liquid nitrogen from the rafters overhead. "I'll be right after you."

Not separating? (Y/n) frowned. He was a smart person, but since when did he start caring about others? Fine, then, she sighed and leaned against the wall, her anger drained. I was getting bored anyway.

She tapped a few times on her phone and the cameras returned to normal. An image of Mr. Brooks dragging a body behind him and Ms. Florence doing nothing to help her students when they were taken by Mr. Howards appeared before her eyes. It made her cringe in disgust. But if I see them a second time...

The dead were to stay deep in the ground, afflicted with an eternal slumber of sweet or hellish dreams, no matter which one the deserved. And those who trampled those graves without a second thought should be pushed into the mausoleum. Those who came like a spade slicing up the earth and turning up the forgotten things should be removed.

(Y/n) White had stumbled. But what she didn't know was how far she'd fall.

As she undid her commands and headed back to the classroom to plan her next course of action, the sound of footsteps echoing through the walls made her stop in her tracks. For some reason rather than fear, all she felt was surprise. Something about those steps felt familiar to her, the slow, steady strides that were almost silent falling against the marble. Soft padding feet came her way almost catlike as if they were a predator stalking their prey.

Instantly she knew who they were. They were the person who killed Isla and Keller. She turned around, dread filling her as she realized she hadn't brought a weapon before it was replaced by shock.

(E/c) eyes met crystalline gold depths filled with inscrutable metallic worlds. Hauntingly brilliant but inhospitable to carbon-based creatures at the same time.

Instead of anger, all she felt was alarm. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

His answer was a smile, Chesire cat style. "Am I not allowed to be, koneko-chan?"

AUTUMN:HALL ━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━ ℓαtєя

Leon was currently experiencing one of the biggest crises in his life. Jaehyun or Tristan. Neither option was very appealing in his eyes; choose the more logical option, Tristan, and get attacked at both sides by Jaehyun's unrelenting madness and the blue-haired male's unreasonable requests. Choose the seemingly more innocent one, Jaehyun, and have to deal with his highly irrational demands. The last time the blond broke down Leon was the one who had to make him calm again.

That resulted in the student council room being trashed, Leon's piano having all its keys ripped out, and countless cuts from the knife the boy had somehow gotten hold of. It had not been a pleasant ordeal. Jaehyun's violent rages made a child's temper tantrum look innocuous.

The said blond's eyes darkened, the twin ruby jewels shifting into pools of dark blood. "Why are you hesitating?" He said dangerously. "Is it that hard to choose?"

(A/N: anyone else getting Alois vibes?)

Tristan arched a perfect eyebrow. "It's a simple decision with only one choice, and that's me. I'm never wrong."

"Never wrong?" Jaehyun scoffed cruelly. "Then tell me, what are you doing here instead of behind your desk with your 'important' papers?"

The other male frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Ah, so it's Kieran? You're afraid to lose to Kieran so you let his words get to you."

Immediately Tristan grimaced and his expression turned to one of distaste. "Get to me?" He scoffed. "Not from the likes of that creature—"

"But that doesn't change the fact that you're still here, hmm?" Jaehyun's face morphed into a bright smile. "You're a coward, Tristan!"

Leon slowly backed away. He wanted to leave before he got caught up in their word games again. As Tristan's eyebrow twitched in irritation and he opened his mouth to retort, he caught the black-haired male slowly sneaking away at the corner of his vision. "Don't go anywhere, Matthews," he snapped. "We're not done here."

"But we are!" Jaehyun said in a sing-song. "You lose and I win. Bye-bye now~"

Somehow an innocent discussion of whether cyanide or arsenic was better turned into the two slinging insults at each other. This wasn't something that was Leon's forte.

"Arsenic is colorless and tasteless," Tristan argued, recovering for his momentary stumble. "It can often go undetected. But cyanide tastes metallic and like almonds. Arsenic is the more reasonable choice—"

"But cyanide's more fun," the blond whined as he scratched the inside of his elbow. "People say it's like you're suffocating under a seizure. Wouldn't that be fun to watch?"

"It's not about what's fun. It's about which one is more practical—"

"Then what about hydrofluoric acid?"

Tristan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not looking to torture someone, Kim, especially if there's nothing we need from them. A quick dose of arsenic is enough to bring down a fully grown man, especially a trained one like Brooks."

Jaehyun's face soured and he began scratching his arm harder, raking deep welts down the pale skin. "But I don't care about him," he began in an almost childlike voice, like he was a boy asking his mother for a different toy. "I only want (Y/n) here with me. Is that so hard to do?"

At the mention of the name, Leon looked up. He had been distracting himself with his phone as to not get dragged into a conversation frankly he found annoying. Jaehyun continued, ignoring the tall male. "It's been five days, Tristan. Why haven't you done anything? You promised, didn't you?"

"There's five people left," Tristan said sharply. "Taking out twenty-one in five days is decent enough in my book, considering the fact many of them are experienced in the Game. It'll be only a day at most before we win the Game. I'll take over as headmaster and the rest of you will do...whatever you said you wanted. Is that still not enough?"

"Fine." Jaehyun let his hand fall onto his lap, his pearly fingernails tinged with a faint scarlet hue. "One day. But what's Kieran up to now anyway?"