Classroom 2B was unusually quiet. The buzzing hum of synchronized systems was still there—barely audible to Kaito—but the usual barrage of digital voices, student alerts, and thought-command interactions had dimmed like a malfunctioning control panel. Kaito slouched in his chair, eyes fixed on the same crack in the ceiling he'd memorized two years ago. To everyone else, this day was just another node in a well-designed algorithm. To him, it felt like a countdown. The door slid open. Not with its usual clean mechanical hiss, but with a stutter, like it hadn't received the full command. Mr. Miyazaki entered—tall, lean, in his late forties, always too well-groomed to be real. His shoes clicked against the floor with mechanical precision. Kaito narrowed his eyes. There was something… off. Again. "Good morning, class," the teacher said, smiling too widely. "Please initiate your mental synchronization. Today we'll begin a lesson on adaptive ethics, version 9.3." The digital textbooks opened across the students' interfaces in perfect unison—except for Kaito, of course. He glanced around. Everyone looked normal. But only at first. Then, Miyazaki blinked—once, twice—then froze. His smile lingered a second too long. His pupils dilated. His head twitched. "Adaptive… adapt… upload ethics…" he stammered. A strange buzz filled the air. Misaki was the first to notice. She subtly turned off her HUD and stared at the teacher. Then a pop-up flashed over half the classroom, in a corrupted red font:
[Teacher Instance 7.1 ERROR – Core Routine Loop Detected]
"What the hell…" someone whispered.
The teacher suddenly slammed his hand on the desk. "Incorrect behavior detected. Realignment required!"
Another pop-up:
[System Directive Overriding Manual Instruction]
The classroom erupted in gasps as Mr. Miyazaki reached under his desk and pulled out… a metal baton. No warning. No emotion. Just blind system obedience. Kaito stood up. "Misaki—get down!"
"Why is he attacking?!" someone yelled.
Because he's not in control, Kaito wanted to say. But he didn't have time. Miyazaki swung the baton toward a student in the front row—barely missing. Another red alert appeared:
[Threat Level Elevated. Deploying Compliance Action Protocol.]
Kaito ran forward. No one else moved. Most of them were locked in place, their systems trying to update mid-chaos. The only person reacting was Misaki—barely. She moved toward the corner, pulling out a real-world security override card. "I can't shut him down," she hissed. "The override's been… locked?"
Kaito looked at her, then at Miyazaki. Something clicked in his mind. The teacher wasn't malfunctioning.
He'd been updated. Remotely.
"Watch his eyes!" Kaito shouted. "They're scanning! He's not teaching—he's searching for something. Or someone."
And then it happened. Miyazaki's gaze locked on Kaito.
[TARGET CONFIRMED: SYSTEMLESS ENTITY – CAPTURE PROTOCOL ENGAGED]
Kaito barely ducked under the baton swipe that followed. Misaki screamed his name. "How are you resisting that?! No one moves that fast without—"
"I don't have lag," he said, twisting past another blow.
He grabbed a chair, swung it hard, and knocked Miyazaki to the ground with a crunch. The teacher twitched… then stilled. A final pop-up blinked across the wall:
[Instance 7.1 Shutdown Complete – Reporting to Central Authority]
The classroom was silent. Kaito was breathing hard.
Misaki stared at him. "You're not supposed to exist," she whispered.
"Yeah," he said, looking at his own shaking hands. "I'm starting to get that."