Kai’s brow furrowed as a feeling of discomfort crept in.

Am I in the right place? This doesn’t look anything like a school.

Hairs rose on the back of his neck. He hesitated, turning halfway around, considering heading back. Something about this place sat wrong with him. He couldn't explain it—only that it didn’t feel open. It didn’t feel like a school. It felt like the kind of place that didn’t want to be found.

"Mr. Fukami."

The voice caught him mid-thought.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in crisp business attire had emerged from the building—sharp-featured, crew cut, and walking with almost military precision. His eyes locked onto Kai with an intensity that felt... just a fraction off. Too focused. Too exacting.

He raised a hand and gestured smoothly.

"I just discovered the buzzer isn’t working at the moment. Please, come in."

Kai blinked. The man had moved fast—too fast, like he’d been watching.

"Ah, yes. Of course. It’s—"

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Fukami. Norio Toki. I’ll be one of your panellists. I spoke with you at the gate. Right this way."

He turned, already leading them inside without checking whether Kai was following.

They moved through clean, windowless halls, the lights above humming faintly. Polished concrete floors echoed just slightly underfoot. Mr. Toki didn’t say much at first—just paced ahead, keeping exactly a stride ahead of Kai without glancing back, as if he’d already memorized the rhythm of his steps.

Kai found his attention drifting again. Everything about this facility felt clinical, precise. And empty.

He must’ve looked puzzled, because Toki broke the silence—just as Kai had started to wonder.

"The program is state-of-the-art," he said smoothly. "Multi-million-dollar facility. Focused heavily on developmental trauma."

Kai frowned. It sounded more like a private hospital than a school.

He lowered his gaze and gave a small shake of the head.

Why the hell are they wasting their time on someone so under-qualified? This is a job for a specialist.

Toki seemed to notice—even though Kai had said nothing.

"I know what you’re thinking. Why you?"

He kept walking, but his voice stayed level, almost rehearsed.

"Truth is, we’ve had no luck with the more 'qualified' types. So far, they've all had... difficulties."

He paused just long enough to leave that word hanging before continuing:

"Too much ego. Not enough empathy. The kids here can read people like a book."

Kai raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it.

Toki turned his head just slightly, watching Kai’s reaction from the corner of his eye.

"We shifted to an interview-only process. Credentials don’t tell us what we need to know. These students are sensitive to being looked down on. They need someone soft-spoken. Quietly present."

They passed a security window. Behind the glass, two more men in formal attire sat inside a low-lit monitoring room. One was facing a wall of camera feeds. The other, seated at a desk, was watching Kai—expression unreadable, body unnervingly still.

Kai didn’t flinch, but his shoulders stiffened slightly.

Toki caught it.

"Security is a priority here," he said quickly. Not threatening. Not defensive. Just... clarifying. "You’ll get used to it. We monitor everything—for your safety, and the students’."

But his tone had dropped just a touch. Softer now. Like he was saying something he wasn’t quite free to say.

They turned one final corner. The hallway opened into a small reception area—plain white walls, a single artificial plant in the corner. Everything was just a little too clean.

"Here we are, Mr. Fukami."

Toki scanned his ID pass against a small black panel. The lock buzzed. He opened the door and stepped aside with a small, polite nod.

"They’re waiting inside."

For the briefest second, as Kai stepped past him, he thought he saw something flicker behind the man’s eyes—tension, maybe. Or warning. But when he glanced back, Toki’s expression was perfectly neutral.

Like he hadn’t said anything at all.