028 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 2 - Mirai’s POV

  Wow. Everyone was so hyped up.

  The energy in the room was electric—anticipation, aggression, and barely restrained chaos rolling off my cssmates in waves. Thanks to my new application of Heroine’s Heart—Eloquence—I could feel it all, like standing in the middle of a raging storm with my hands outstretched.

  It was intense.

  Eloquence was a kind of empathic ability, which meant everyone’s fighting spirit was practically infecting me. Their excitement, their eagerness to win—it was fueling me too. And thanks to the recess before the next round, I’d managed to top off my Luck energy to the max. I was feeling… confident. Surprisingly so.

  Professor Merrick’s gaze slid toward his buzzing phone. His brow furrowed for a split second before he slipped it out of his coat pocket and gnced at the screen. His eyes sharpened.

  “I need to take this,” he said, voice clipped. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward the door, heels clicking against the floor with sharp precision. The door clicked shut behind him.

  The training room fell into an awkward silence.

  “That’s not suspicious at all,” Gina muttered.

  Matt scoffed from the back of the room, arms crossed. “Why would it be? He’s a teacher. He’s probably handling administrative business.”

  “Or,” Greg said with a light, almost zy tone, “he’s getting called in to cover up some scandalous school secret.”

  Anna snorted. “I’m pretty sure Professor Merrick is the scandalous school secret.”

  There were a few scattered ughs. I gnced at the door where Merrick had disappeared. That call had looked… serious. And for Merrick to excuse himself so abruptly — especially right after revealing the next phase of the tournament — it didn’t feel normal.

  “He’s not the type to step out during css,” I said quietly.

  “It isn’t funny,” Mark said from behind me, his tone dry. “I can’t believe you are so clumsy, considering your ESP… You spilled my drink on my shoe…”

  “Shut up, you’re not my mom, chump,” Anna shot back immediately. “And what do you know about my ESP? People trip sometimes, jerk. Stop manspining to me what I already know… and it isn’t my fault you spilled your energy drink. Wait, you aren’t thinking of keeping it as a souvenir, because you had a sshared an indirect kiss with Mira, using that thin… Yuck…”

  “Stop it, guys…” I sighed.

  They were standing close, faces inches apart, gring at each other. They were bickering. Mark looked unimpressed as always, while Anna had that gleam in her eye like she was seconds away from unching a punch at his face. I was already bracing for impact when—

  “You’re ugly.”

  I blinked.

  Greg was standing in front of me, hands stuffed into his pockets, head tilted with that big, clueless grin on his face.

  “Excuse me?” I said, feeling my smile twitch.

  Mark and Anna stopped mid-bicker, their heads swiveling toward Greg like they couldn’t believe what they’d just heard either.

  Greg shrugged. “Just saying what I see.” His green eyes sparkled with an unsettling amount of cheerfulness.

  …What.

  Through Eloquence, I could feel his emotions radiating off him in bright, cshing bursts. Giddy, excited, positively beaming with good intentions. It was… weird.

  Because this was the same guy who, just a few hours ago, had been handing out cacti to everyone and decring that they were now his friends. I’d felt it then too—his emotions had been genuine, bright, and bizarrely contradictory.

  How could someone insult me to my face and still mean well?

  Not to mention his schemes…

  I think my ESP was broken.

  Greg turned and started walking away, arms swinging back and forth like a cartoon character. “Oh, and Mark?” He threw a gnce over his shoulder. “You’re boring.”

  Mark’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”

  “And Gina,” Greg continued, strolling toward her. “You smell funny.”

  “You little—!” Gina lunged, only for Anna to wrap her arms around her waist, physically holding her back.

  “Let me go!” Gina shouted, her arms filing wildly. “I’m gonna beat that bastard into a bloody pulp!”

  Greg skipped backward, grinning like this was all part of some big game. “Love the fighting spirit, Gina!”

  “What the hell is wrong with him?” Anna hissed, struggling to keep Gina from breaking free.

  I watched as Greg proceeded to trash-talk the rest of his would-be competitors with the same bizarre mix of cheerful malice. Greg was a menace. And here I thought he might be a nice guy.

  No, scratch that—Greg was a force of chaos wrapped in a deceptively cheerful smile.

  I watched, half in horror, half in morbid fascination, as he continued his verbal onsught.

  “Fiona,” Greg called out sweetly, “you’re too fat.”

  Fiona’s eye twitched. “What did you just say?”

  Greg’s grin widened. “You heard me.”

  “You little—” Fiona’s fists clenched, her aura fring dangerously. I could feel her rage through Eloquence—a bright, heated burst of anger mixed with shame.

  Greg ignored her, already pivoting toward Peter, who had been standing awkwardly to the side.

  “And Peter,” Greg said, eyes sparkling, “why don’t you go swallow a dick?”

  “What the hell, man?!” Peter’s face went bright red. “I swear, I am gonna kill—”

  “Just a suggestion!” Greg said, hands raised in mock innocence.

  My jaw dropped. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

  Greg wasn’t done. He spun toward Iris, still beaming. “And Iris…”

  I braced myself.

  “You should choke on lots of dicks.”

  The room collectively inhaled. Just on time, Professor Merrick returned, looking utterly fbbergasted by what he was seeing. “What’s going on?”

  “What the hell?” Iris’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You want to repeat that, you freak?”

  “Someone got a dirty mind~!” Greg sang, “I actually mean ‘Dick’ as in a person… You know? Dick, Tom, and Harry?”

  “Hey, don’t involve me,” snarled Tom.

  Anna shot up from her spot, looking furious. “Okay, this is getting ridiculous!” She whirled toward Greg. “Professor Merrick, are we seriously letting him get away with this? That has to be, like, a demerit for inappropriate nguage, right?”

  Greg’s grin sharpened. “Oh, Anna.” He shook his head, looking at her like she was some naive child. “You poor, simple fool.”

  Anna’s eye twitched. “What?”

  “You just don’t understand the depth of my strategy.” Greg’s eyes gleamed. “That’s your problem.”

  Anna looked one second away from trying to deck him.

  Greg, looking pleased with himself, sauntered toward Karl.

  “Karl!” Greg sang. “Did you know that ginger hair is scientifically linked to a higher pain threshold? So is it true that you don’t mind taking it in the rear?”

  I didn’t get what Greg was saying, but I have a feeling it was meant to be insulting.

  Karl stared at him, dead-eyed. “I’m not ginger. I have red hair.”

  Greg actually stopped mid-step. His mouth opened. Then closed. His brows furrowed. “…That’s the same thing.”

  Karl shook his head slowly. “No. It isn’t.”

  Greg stood there, visibly struggling to comprehend this. After a moment, he scratched his head and shrugged. “Okay then.” He walked off, looking genuinely baffled.

  I facepalmed. What the hell was going through Karl’s head?

  But Greg wasn’t done. He turned toward Elena.

  “Elena,” he called out, voice light.

  Elena, who had been sitting calmly on the edge of the ptform, turned toward him with her usual unreadable expression.

  Greg’s smile turned sharp. “Your nipple’s showing.”

  A few gasps rang out. My heart jumped into my throat.

  Elena didn’t blink. “Greg,” she said ftly. “Your fly’s open.”

  Greg looked down. “No, it isn’t.”

  “Do you want it to be?” Elena asked.

  Greg paused, visibly considering this. “…Maybe?”

  Elena’s lip curled in quiet disgust. “Creep.”

  Greg shrugged. “Hey, just trying to match the energy.”

  Before Elena could respond, Professor Merrick’s voice cut through the room like a whip.

  “Enough.”

  Silence crashed down.

  I turned, wide-eyed. For the first time since I’d known him, Professor Merrick actually looked… stressed. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowed in a way that made him look years older.

  His eyes opened, sharp and cold. “Mirai Valeska, Gina Morse, Fiona Core—step forward.”

  Professor Merrick stood at the center. His expression was as cold and impartial as ever. His gaze swept over the three of us: me, Gina, and Fiona.

  "The rules are the same as previous engagements," he began. His voice was steady, precise. "Knock your opponent out, nd a decisive fatal blow, or force them out of bounds. Surrender is always an option."

  He held up one finger. "However, this time, there will be a fifteen-minute timer for each fight. If no winner is determined by the end of the timer, the victor will be judged based on performance."

  A time limit meant I couldn’t afford to stall or turtle up for too long.

  "Competitors," Merrick continued, "separate yourselves by two to three meters."

  I stepped back, measuring the distance. My feet slid into a familiar stance. Gina shifted to my right, crouched slightly, muscles coiled like a spring. Fiona stood further back, light on her feet, arms crossed. Her silver and bck hair was tied into a ponytail, her calm expression hiding any readable intent.

  My eyes narrowed. This setup was bad for me.

  I’m a melee fighter. Closing the gap was the core of my strategy — especially with my ESP. Heroine’s Heart allowed me to store and manipute luck. Most of the time, it transted into perfect execution — nding a hit at just the right angle, dodging an attack at the st possible moment, or just finding myself in a favorable position by pure coincidence.

  But relying too much on luck was a trap. Luck was passive. It’s reactive. If I wanted to win, I had to make my own openings — not wait for fate to hand them to me. That’s why I worked hard on my self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Sure, learning from internet videos wasn’t exactly ideal, but with Heroine’s Heart enhancing my reaction time and execution, it had been enough.

  As long as it was humanly possible, I could pull it off.

  Gina, though… she was a problem.

  She had brown hair and sharp blue eyes. Her ESP was adhesive powers — weird but brutally effective. I’d seen how she fought before. Gina was the bane of every melee fighter — if you got within her range, she could stick you in pce and pick you apart piece by piece.

  And judging by the way she was eyeing me, she wanted to deal with me first.

  Great.

  Meanwhile, Fiona had the opposite strategy. She drifted toward the edge of the zone, maximizing the distance between us. Smart. Gina’s adhesive powers would wreck Fiona’s fighting style if they got too close, so keeping her distance was the safest bet.

  Unfortunately for me, that also meant Fiona had a clean shot at me if Gina forced me into a defensive position.

  Through Eloquence, my empathic sense sharpened. I could feel Gina's and Fiona's intentions crystal clear.

  Gina: I’ll take down Mirai first.Fiona: Eliminate Mirai early and deal with Gina afterward.

  Damn it.

  A two-on-one setup right from the start.

  Professor Merrick raised his hand. His gaze sharpened.

  "Ready yourselves."

  My heart thudded. I rolled my shoulders, adjusting my stance. Gina’s muscles tensed. Fiona’s eyes darkened.

  Merrick's hand cut through the air.

  "Begin."

  Gina lunged.

  Fiona’s hands flicked out.

  And I moved.

  Fiona’s ESP was reted to gravity — or maybe it was more accurate to say weight control.

  I’d seen her st match. She used her power in melee surprisingly well, reinforcing her own strikes and maniputing momentum to throw off her opponent. It was subtle but brutal. Even more dangerous was her ability to influence the weight of others. I hoped that her range was limited to touch — close-quarters combat would at least give me a fighting chance.

  Yeah… wishful thinking.

  Fiona raised her index finger toward me, her silver and bck ponytail swaying behind her. Her gaze sharpened, and then —

  My entire body locked up.

  Oh crap.

  It felt like I’d been pinned under a boulder. My limbs turned to lead, my breath hitched, and my knees buckled. My body was impossibly heavy — like I’d been turned into an anchor.

  So much for the touch theory.

  Gina’s movement registered at the edge of my vision. I forced my eyes toward her just in time to see her closing the distance — fast. Her brown hair swept behind her as her fist cut through the air in a clean arc, aimed directly for my jaw.

  I calcuted the angle. If Gina’s fist connected with the full weight of Fiona’s gravity pressure on me, she’d break her hand. No way a simple punch could knock over something that weighed a ton.

  I didn’t know physics that well, but that math checked out, right?

  Gravity well? No… gravity anchor? Whatever.

  To surmised, Fiona must let go of her ESP on me if she intended to eliminate me first.

  My ESP fred. A subtle pulse in my chest. My luck stored and ready. I let it leak out, a small release — waiting for the exact moment Fiona would have to let go to keep Gina from breaking her bones.

  Gina’s fist came within inches of my face —

  Fiona’s pressure snapped away.

  Now!

  I jerked my neck to the left. The hook grazed my ear, the force of the swing cutting through the air with a harsh snap.

  Gina’s eyes widened.

  Fiona’s brows twitched, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple. Maintaining that hold must have taken serious effort. That’s good to know.

  Time to push back.

  I threw a punch aimed for Gina’s midriff — not her body directly, just her shirt. Contact with her skin would be a death sentence. Gina’s adhesive powers were devastating if she could lock you down.

  Gina’s arm swung upward, moving clumsily as she tried to recover from the missed hook. Her fist arced close to my face — too close.

  She’s trying to graze me.

  If even a gncing blow connected, her adhesive power could activate — and then I’d be glued down and completely exposed.

  Sorry, Gina.

  I canceled my punch mid-motion and dropped forward, face-first toward the floor. My luck adjusted my momentum, letting me nd just right. My foot shot out in a smooth hook behind Gina’s ankle.

  Her footing vanished.

  She stumbled forward —

  — and hit the ground face-first.

  There was a sickening crack. Gina’s hands shot up to her face as blood began to trickle from her nose.

  "Ow— damn it!" she hissed, clutching her face.

  No time to sympathize.

  I rolled to my feet and sprang toward Fiona.

  Her eyes sharpened — and she raised her hand again.

  Yeah, not this time.

  I pushed my luck. Hard. My body blurred forward, gravity bending at the edges of my awareness as I dodged Fiona’s invisible attacks. Fiona’s hand twitched upward —

  But I was already there.

  My fist swung toward her chest.

  Her mouth opened slightly in surprise —

  And then my luck ran out.

  But I wasn’t done yet.

  Luck wasn’t just some passive force that I had to wait for. I could make my own luck.

  It was still an experimental application of my ESP, but I’d tested it enough to have some confidence in it. See, whenever I got embarrassed — flustered, humiliated, or even just emotionally off-bance — my luck would recover a little. Like my ESP was wired to compensate for social disasters.

  Somehow, I could recover luck if I suffer a misfortune…

  Weird? Yeah. Useful? Absolutely.

  So… if I needed luck back, there was a very simple solution.

  With heat rushing to my ears, I took a breath —

  —and made sure my voice was loud enough to be heard by everyone.

  "I really like Mark’s side dishes every time during lunch!"

  Fiona’s eyes widened. Her mouth parted slightly.

  The audience stilled.

  Somewhere in the background, I heard Anna’s sharp gasp, followed immediately by a long, dramatic "Ooooooh~!"

  Fiona’s composure cracked like gss. Her cheeks flushed red. Her mouth opened — no doubt to say something cutting — but she was too stunned.

  My fist opened into a palm.

  I lunged forward and shoved Fiona square in the chest.

  Her feet scraped against the ground, but her shock dulled her reflexes. She staggered backward, heels skidding against the floor —

  — and then crossed the white boundary line.

  Out of bounds.

  Professor Merrick’s voice cut through the tension with brutal efficiency.

  "Fiona Core — eliminated."

  Fiona’s gaze sharpened as she realized what just happened. She shot me a dark look, equal parts scandalized and irritated, but I caught the subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth — a smirk she was fighting back.

  I shrugged, smirking back. "A win’s a win."

  Fiona exhaled through her nose, brushing stray strands of silver-bck hair behind her ear. "Hmph. Lucky shot."

  Yeah, I wonder why.

  I let my gaze drift toward the audience.

  That’s when I saw him.

  Mark was sitting near the back of the bleachers, looking utterly traumatized. His face was frozen in an expression of wide-eyed horror. His mouth hung open slightly like he’d just been hit in the face with a brick.

  Anna sat beside him, viciously poking his cheek with a manic grin.

  "Oh my god, Mark," she gasped, poking him again and again. "Mirai likes your side dishes! That’s practically a love confession!"

  "Wh— I—" Mark made a strangled noise, his face rapidly darkening to the color of a cooked tomato.

  Anna leaned in closer, eyes glinting dangerously. "Soooooo… when’s the wedding?"

  "I’m going to die," Mark mumbled, clutching his face.

  Recovering luck through embarrassment?Yeah. That was definitely a reliable strategy.

  Professor Merrick better give me good grades.