Chapter 1: Hot chocolate bread makes betrayal taste so much better

One week before the start of their senior year, three students received an email that would make anyone's heart drop,

The subject line: Notice of Expulsion.

The body of the email was harsh and unambiguous.

Each student, for vastly different reasons, had been expelled.

It detailed their infractions—infractions they couldn’t even deny.

Following the expulsion notices was a second email

The subject line: A potential admission to a new high school.

The message was simple yet commanding, instructing them to appear before the "headmaster" the next day.

Failure to show up would forfeit the opportunity entirely.

The emails were too close from each other to be a simple a coincidence, and with no alternatives, they obeyed.

The three students, two boys and a girl, arrived at the gates of Yaiba High School, it was in Tokyo, not far from their previous highschools.

At the entrance stood a woman who looked entirely out of place.

She seemed more suited for the cover of a fashion magazine than academia.

Her smile was distant yet precise, radiating both grace and intimidation while her piercing eyes studied them with clinical precision.

“You’re on time,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Good. Follow me.”

She turned without waiting for a response, her heels clicking against the pavement as the three students exchanged uneasy glances before following her inside.

The woman led them down pristine hallways that felt unnaturally empty.

The sound of their footsteps echoed, and the students couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled Classroom 48.

“This is it,” the woman said, opening the door with a firm push. “Go on in. He’s waiting.”

Standing behind the teacher’s desk was a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops.

His arms were open wide, a grin plastered across his tanned face, making him look more like a vacationer than the supposed headmaster.

“Welcome to Classroom 48!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide in an overly dramatic gesture.

The students hesitated, staring at him in disbelief.

Isn't he too young to be the headmaster? they wondered silently.

The man placed a hand on his chest. “Arata Shinkai! The man who believes in you more than you believe in yourselves."

The students exchanged skeptical glances.

“Right now,” he continued, “you’re… let’s say… unpolished. But give me a year, and you’ll be unrecognizable—in a good way, of course.” He smirked. “I tried this before with the best of the best—geniuses, prodigies, you name it—but they cracked under the pressure. You? I believe you’ll do just fine. You’ll become the future of Japan.”

The students minds were racing with many questions.

“You’ll be the ones to change the anger, hatred, and injustice in this country,” Arata added, his voice turning serious.

Ren leaned back in his chair, arms casually folded, a faint smile on his lips as Arata delivered his speech.

"Impressive monologue," Ren said, loud enough for the others to hear. "Did you rehearse that in front of the mirror, or just improvised it?"

Arata’s gaze flicked to him—sharp, curious. Ren met it head-on, his smile widening just a little.

Sayuri's gaze stayed fixed on Ren, his words cutting through the room like a blade. “Impressive monologue,” he said, his tone dripping with a mockery. How dare he, she thought.

"I see you’re not afraid to speak up, Ren. That’s rare." Arata smirked, like a predator sizing up its prey.

Ren unfazed. "And you like rare things, right, thats why we're all here, right?"

Sayuri's eyes flickered to Arata. For the briefest moment—barely noticeable, like a whisper—his expression faltered. She knew him well enough to see it.

Arata suddenly leaned forward, his grin widening. “You're here because I’m the one who got you expelled. Yup, it was me. I told your old schools everything. It was mean, I know, but…”

“What?!” Hiroto and Kaede shouted in unison.

Hiroto, a tall and muscular boy took a step forward, his fists clenched. But Sayuri was at his side in an instant, her hand on his shoulder. The students couldn’t believe how fast she was, especially Hiroto, she was like a ninja.

Arata raised a hand, unperturbed. “Calm down! It was for a good cause. I know it sounds harsh, but sometimes, great change requires a little… disruption.”

He pulled a bag of chocolate bread from a bag that was on his desk. “That’s why I brought you this. Chocolate bread makes betrayal taste better!”

He threw one to each of them, then tore open his bag and took a bite. “Mmm. So good,” he added with a wink.

The students stared at him in disbelief.

“Why would you do something like that?” Hiroto's voice was still icy.

Ignoring him, Arata began introducing them to each other with unsettling enthusiasm.

He gestured toward Kaede first. “Kaede, the girl so pretty she weaponized her beauty. You created a "business," recruited an army of lovestruck boys to work for you part-time, and somehow convinced them not to ask for salaries. Genius!” He popped another piece of bread into his mouth. “Genius. Ruthless. I respect that.”

He continued,

“I mean, look at her. She’s so pretty, even I’d give you all my money, all you need to do is ask,” he said, winking. “Feel free to report me for sexual harassment. Not that it would change anything. No one can touch me.”

Kaede bristled.

“Who are you?” Ren asked.

While Kaede fumed, Arata turned to Hiroto, ignoring Ren. “And you—Hiroto! The sports club king, right? Basketball, volleyball, tennis—you coached all the teams. Somehow convinced your high school to put you in charge and raked in all the sponsorship money.”

Hiroto still had his eyebrows frowned.

Arata nodded approvingly. “I can see the fire in your eyes.”

Meanwhile, Ren had slowly moved closer to Kaede, attempting small talk with her, “hey, so—”

But before he could say much, Arata interrupted.

“Ah, hello! I know she’s pretty, but couldn’t you wait a little longer before you confess your for her?”

Ren smirked. “No, I can’t wait. You already showed interest in her. I’m not going to let her fall for you first.”

Arata laughed, clapping his hands. “Bold! I like you."

Sayuri cleared her throat "Arata-sama," signaling him that it was time to leave.

“Yes, yes, Sayuri-chan,”

Arata stepped forward, his voice cold and precise. “You’re here to join Classroom 48, a special club where you’ll learn to take your natural skills to another level. You’ll come here every week for a year, even during holidays. Each week, you’ll learn something new about playing the power games. Then you’ll be tested.” His eyes were sharp and predatory. “Succeed in all of them, and I’ll give you anything you want. Absolutely anything.”

Kaede interrupted, her voice filled with confidence unlike before, it was as if Ren gave her confidence to speak up when he sat next to her. “Oh, so you brought us here so you’d give us anything we want, huh?”

Arata expression suddenly became serious, and started at all of them dead in the eye. "You’re here because you’re angry. Angry at the world. Angry at the injustice. You’ve got this fire inside you, but you don’t know how to use it yet. You’re like a hurricane with no direction. That’s why you’ve been fighting, getting into trouble—picking battles you can’t win. But with my help…”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “With my help, you’ll learn how to win.”

The three students were silent, processing the weight of his words.

Ren had seen enough power games to last a lifetime, but that, that was something else.

Watching Arata Shinkai, with his bright shirt and unsettling smile, made him feel like a pawn on someone else’s chessboard.

The problem was, Ren wasn’t sure how to get off the board—or if he even wanted to.

Sayuri suddenly spoke into the small walkie-talkie in her ear. “He’s leaving.”

The sound of helicopter blades filled the air, growing louder.

“I have to go now, my ride’s waiting.”

Ren exclaimed, “That’s not a ride; that’s a helicopter! Wow!”

“Next week, you’ll start school like any other student here, even though this is a public school, you'll come to realise that not like any other public school. Blend in. Study hard. Make friends—or enemies. I don’t care. Just remember that classroom 48 is your real education. Fail here, and you’ll regret it.”

The man stepped out of the classroom, his voice trailing behind him.