I jolted awake, the dorm’s soft bed a cruel lie against the restless ache in my chest. No visions—just Zen’s absence, a gaping hole I couldn’t fill. Mom’s face fshed in my mind, alone and waiting, while Zen—wherever he was—needed me. I’d used my power yesterday in the gym, pinpointing this isnd and that damn bear, but it hadn’t refreshed yet. One question a day, and I was still waiting. My notebook y bnk beside me, no clues, just a desperate itch to do something. I rubbed my face, shoving the fog away. No time to crumble. I had to find a way out—starting now. A knock rattled the door. “Mita? You up?” Yuko’s voice, softer than usual, slipped through. I stumbled over, unlocking it. Her pink hair glowed in the hall’s dim light, but her eyes were shadowed, her usual cheer dimmed.“You okay?” I asked, stepping aside as she slipped in.She fidgeted, clutching her Monopad. “I… saw my video st night. My little sister—she’s lost without me. Crying, wandering the house…” Her voice cracked, and she forced a smile. “But we’ll get out, right?”My chest tightened. “Yeah. We will.” No visions to guide me—just a hunch cwing at my gut. “Let’s check the library. I’ve got a feeling.”As we stepped into the hall, a nky girl with short bck hair approached, twirling a pencil like a nervous tic. “Um, hi,” she mumbled. “I saw you yesterday—I’m Hana Mori, Ultimate Mathematician. Are you… okay after that bear thing?”

  I nodded, sizing her up. Jittery, but sharp—maybe useful. “I’m Mita Maki, Ultimate Seer. Yeah, I’m fine. You?”She shrugged, pencil spinning faster. “Freaked out. But I’ll live.” A beat, then, “You headed somewhere?”“Library,” Yuko chirped, saving me. “Wanna come?”Hana blinked, then nodded. “Sure. Beats sitting around.” The library smelled of dust and old paper, shelves towering like silent guards. Kagami and Saito were already there, hunched over a torn map on a table. Kagami’s blond hair caught the light as he gnced up, his blue eyes narrowing. “Mita. You poking around too?”“Just looking,” I said, brushing past the bookshelf that felt… off. No vision—just instinct.Saito, bck hair falling over sharp features, stepped closer. “This map’s got a basement marked—ripped, though.” His calm voice steadied the air.A stocky boy with a buzz cut barged in, arms full of cookbooks. “Oi, you lot hogging the good stuff? I’m Taro Kudo, Ultimate Chef. Found these—food’s stocked in the cafeteria, but no damn exits.” His voice boomed, blunt as a hammer. “Anything weird?” I asked, testing him.He scratched his head. “Locked pantry back there. Smelled off—bleach, maybe.” Saito knelt by the shelf I’d lingered near, fingers tracing a seam. “There’s a tch.” A click, and the wood slid aside, revealing a spiral staircase plunging into shadow. A chill draft licked my skin, carrying a faint drip-drip-drip.Kagami straightened. “We’re checking this ter—together. No solo runs.”I swallowed. Zen could be down there—my gut screamed it—but I had no proof. Not yet.

  The afternoon meeting buzzed with restless voices in the gymnasium. Our group reported the stairs. Otsuka, red hair glinting like a warning, leaned against a wall, smirking. “What, a sewer escape? Lame.”Reina Kato, the purple-haired journalist, fixed me with a smoky stare. “Your doing, Seer? What else you hiding?” Her pen tapped her notebook.Kenji Sato, the Ultimate Game Designer, grinned through his round gsses. “A hidden staircase? Cssic dungeon level!”“Traps!” Ryuichi Tanaka, the wild-haired Survivalist, bellowed. “It’s a setup!”A quiet voice cut in. “I’m Aiko Shimizu, Ultimate Illustrator.” A silver-haired girl held up a sketchbook, her drawing of the stairs exact—down to a bear-paw symbol. “I sketched what you said. This was there, right?” Monokuma’s mark. My stomach twisted.“Bear paw?” A wiry boy with green-tinted gsses smirked. “Sounds like security tech, my specialty. I’m Daichi Nakamura, Ultimate Hacker. I can break it.” His sly edge made me wary.

  Monokuma’s voice crackled over the Monopads. “Time for a push, kiddos!” Videos flickered on: Mom sobbing, Zen’s parents pleading, Kagami’s family in ruins. Hana’s pencil snapped. Taro muttered, “Gotta cook for my folks…” Aiko’s sketchbook trembled. A tall girl with red braids stormed forward. “I’m Emi Fujimoto, Ultimate Martial Artist. My brother’s hurt in that video—I’ll smash that bear!”Otsuka’s lip curled. “Someone’s dying for this.” Kagami snapped, “We stick together!” But the chaos swelled.I slipped to a corner, heart pounding. It’d been a day since the gym—my power was back. “How do I escape and save Zen with my ability?” I whispered, bracing myself. The vision hit like a hammer: the library bookshelf sliding open, spiral stairs down to a concrete room. Zen sat there, bound and pale, a keypad glowing behind him. I punched in 4-9-2—the van’s pte, X7K-492—and the door opened to a stormy shore. Zen stumbled out, free—but a gatling gun spun from the ceiling, Monokuma cackling, “Rule #3: Kill to graduate, or no dice!” Bullets rained as the vision cut. I gasped, clutching the wall, knees buckling. Zen was alive—here, code 492—and I could get us out. But escape meant murder, or we’d both die. The truth was mine—clear, brutal, and heavy.Night fell, shadows stretching cold. “Yuko, Saito, Kagami—library, now,” I whispered, slipping out. “Hana, Daichi—come too.” Math and hacking—I needed them. Otsuka tailed us, uninvited, smirking.The stairs spiraled down, damp air clinging. The concrete room waited—empty, no Zen, just a keypad glowing. Bloodstains streaked the floor. A scratched “Z” marked the wall—Zen had been here.Monokuma giggled. “Lost a friend? Hurry—time’s ticking!”Hana knelt by the keypad, muttering numbers, but froze. “Too many variables…” Daichi shoved her, plugging in a device. Sparks flew—beep. “Locked tighter now,” he spat. Otsuka lunged, “Useless geek!” Kagami hauled him back.Saito traced the “Z,” voice low. “Something’s scratched here, Mita. Recent, too.” My heart skipped—Zen’s mark, but I couldn’t say it. Not yet.A sharp cng echoed upstairs—metal on tile, loud and jarring.We bolted up, pulses racing. The library was empty, but the bookshelf hung ajar, a single Monopad lying on the floor—Kenta Ito’s, its screen cracked, fshing static. No one in sight.Monokuma’s giggle crackled through the speakers. “Oops, someone’s getting creative! Night’s young, kiddos!” Yuko gripped my arm, eyes wide. Hana stammered, “W-where’d he go?” I clutched my Monopad, Zen’s “Z” burning in my mind. He’s alive—but something’s starting, and I don’t know what.