Chapter 230 Closing the "Mystery" / Shiina Hiyori's Sure-Win Method
Shimizu Akira had to admit that his previous words were a deliberate probe directed at Ibuki Mio.
The result was exactly as he expected—Ibuki was, at her core, a straightforward person who wasn't very good at hiding things.
Earlier, she had answered most questions quickly and smoothly, almost without hesitation, as if reciting standard answers from a textbook.
It was clear she had been coached on her lines.
However, regarding that final question about whether the three of them were the leader, she had answered, but Shimizu caught a faint, nearly imperceptible hesitation. It didn't seem like she was lying; rather, it seemed like she hadn't expected to be asked that and had reflexively blurted out the truth.
In the end, it came back to the same logic: Ryuen Kakeru would never allow a spy to be Class C's leader. Having the leader inside another class's camp was far too risky. If someone accidentally saw a keycard in their luggage or caught them checking in, wouldn't that be handing the "Class C Leader's Identity" over on a silver platter?
If Shimizu previously believed there was a 60% chance that Ryuen was still on the island acting as the leader, this probe pushed his confidence up by another 20%. He was now 80% certain.
Shimizu's gaze drifted toward Hiyori.
Since the "Cute Lady of the Library" was already signaling him with her eyes that she wanted to speak privately, he didn't intend to press Ibuki further. He had already extracted the most critical information; continuing would only make his intent seem too obvious. Besides, Hiyori had stepped in to smooth things over, so she must have realized the true purpose of his questioning.
On the other side, Ibuki blinked her clear eyes, completely unable to fathom why Hiyori suddenly wanted a private talk with Shimizu. But since it was her friend's request, she nodded after a brief thought and didn't ask questions. She suddenly recalled the events of June—back when Ryuen wanted to target Shimizu, hadn't Hiyori been the one to flatly shut him down? Thinking about it, the relationship between these two was clearly not as simple as just "library reading buddies."
True to her blunt nature, Ibuki didn't overthink it, but she gave Shimizu an uneasy glance. "Shimizu Akira, right? Hiyori has actually done quite a lot for you behind your back. I'm going to use the bathroom; you two talk." With that, she walked away.
"I know," Shimizu replied with a nod, his tone calm and level.
"Eh?" Hiyori froze on the spot, blinking blankly.
He said he "knew"—but what exactly did he know? Did he know that she had specifically vetoed Ryuen's plans against him to "protect" him? But how was that possible? Ryuen strictly forbade anyone from leaking meeting contents, especially plans targeting other classes. Shimizu was in the boxing club; could Albert Yamada have secretly told him? But Albert wasn't the type to talk much.
While Hiyori was drowning in confusion, Shimizu shifted the topic.
"Hiyori, speaking of which, what clue did you use to find out I was the one who 'rented the surveillance cameras'?"
This was something Shimizu had wondered about for a long time. Back in June, this "Lady Detective" had suddenly messaged him saying she had seen through his identity, but she never detailed her reasoning.
As a mystery lover himself, he was curious about the details of that "decryption" from two months ago.
Hiyori's confusion softened as she explained softly, "It was because a transfer record was missing from your phone. In May, I transferred a commission fee to you, but at the time, your phone didn't show that record at all."
Shimizu thought for a moment, and the past details instantly linked together.
He realized the truth.
In May, Hiyori had indeed hired him as an assistant and transferred 30,000 Private Points to his account. In this school's consumption system, grocery purchases only show a total amount, but transfers between accounts are different—every transaction clearly records the "sender" and "recipient," and these records cannot be deleted.
Since the transfer record couldn't just vanish, the only explanation was that the phone Shimizu produced at the time wasn't actually his own.
Once she realized that, her deduction followed naturally: if Shimizu had to swap phones to hide a transfer record, he was clearly concealing his identity.
Combined with previous clues about the cameras, the answer was obvious.
"Your thinking was very agile, Shimizu-kun, to think of swapping phones as a cover," Hiyori said with a hint of admiration, adding reflectively, "I was also biased at the time, instinctively thinking everyone's phone was unique, forgetting that in this school, all freshmen use the same model. Swapping them wouldn't be easily noticed."
Looking back, she had been misled primarily because Shimizu had refuted her deductions one after another—his "I don't have a laptop" excuse and his explanation of the spreadsheet data had left her no room to think. By the time he showed her "his" phone, she was so consumed with guilt—thinking she had wrongly accused him—that she didn't look closer.
Moreover, Shimizu had acted so convincingly; he didn't show a trace of being the "camera renter," instead looking like an innocent student who trusted her completely.
Then again, even though she had explicitly said she would help him hide his identity, Shimizu had still chosen to keep her in the dark.
With her gentle nature, she wouldn't say much, but she did have a slight grievance in her heart. Because of that, she had only told him the result ("I know your identity") while keeping the reasoning a secret as a small "punishment."
It wasn't until today that she finally shared the process. Of course, after calming down, she would worry if she was being too mean. After all, if she had a riddle stuck in her heart for over a month without an answer, she'd be itching with curiosity.
Yet Shimizu's behavior recently had surprised her again. Despite her telling him she knew the truth, he never actively asked for the details or chased her down in person. She had wanted to tell him several times, feeling more anxious than the person she was keeping the secret from.
Fortunately, he finally asked today. The "mystery" that had lasted over two months finally had a satisfying conclusion.
'Shimizu-kun couldn't have done that on purpose, right?'
She had started out wanting to punish him slightly by withholding the process, but in the end, she was the one who couldn't sit still. It seemed less like she was punishing him and more like she was being quietly "played" by him, her emotions following his rhythm.
"I truly did wrong by you back then," Shimizu said sincerely after a moment of thought. He looked at Hiyori and apologized, "I let my competitive spirit get the better of me and didn't tell you the truth, making you spend so much time guessing when you were already planning to help me. I was wrong, Hiyori."
He genuinely felt he had mishandled it. Since he knew he was in the wrong, there was no point in hesitating—he simply apologized.
"It's okay," Hiyori's voice softened instantly, and her lingering frustration vanished. She wasn't the type to hold a grudge; as long as the apology was sincere, she was happy to move on. To her, the process of "investigating his identity" wasn't a waste; she had confirmed his identity through her own reasoning, which made up for her previous regrets.
Hiyori's mind then jumped to several unsolved riddles—like how Shimizu knew she was investigating him at the library, where his initial funds for the cameras came from, and where his laptop actually went.
Since the conversation was open, she asked them freely. Shimizu saw no need to hide most of it, though he had to find a safe way to explain the "prior knowledge" since he couldn't mention the Daily Intel system.
"Actually, after meeting you as a 'fellow reader' at the library, I slowly noticed something off and guessed you might be investigating me," he said. As for the other two, he was honest: "The starting funds came from selling information I gathered about the 'S-System' at the start of the term. As for the laptop, I asked a classmate to take it away temporarily, which is why it wasn't in my dorm."
"I see... so you only noticed after we became 'fellow readers'?" Hiyori's eyes lit up, looking much happier.
Shimizu was a bit puzzled—he had just said something very ordinary without any intent to flatter, but seeing her expression, she seemed to value the term "fellow reader" more than any other explanation.
'She must really be fond of that word.'
However, Shimizu had one question he still wanted to ask. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke: "Hiyori, when I was in the boxing match in June, I saw you sitting with Sakayanagi Arisu from Class A. What did you two talk about? Is it convenient to tell me?"
"That... Shimizu-kun... we just talked about your boxing match," Hiyori replied, her eyes drifting away as she avoided his gaze.
She really was a terrible liar. Even someone not trained in micro-expressions could see she was hiding something—the shifting eyes and the stiff tone practically screamed "I'm not telling the whole truth." But he didn't plan to push her. Hiyori had always been kind to him; if she didn't want to say, he would respect her wishes.
Suddenly, Hiyori set aside her gentleness, her tone turning serious.
"Shimizu-kun, regarding the events in June, it was Class C that initiated the trouble. As a member of Class C, I feel I owe you an apology."
"You don't need to apologize at all," Shimizu waved it off.
"You couldn't have decided that. Class conflicts are one thing; they won't affect our personal relationship. Besides, from the results, Class C was the one who took a big loss. Why should you apologize to me?"
He knew she was referring to the trap Ryuen had set for Class C. But Hiyori had zero responsibility: Ryuen was the mastermind, she had defended Shimizu in the meetings, and she didn't have the power to command Ryuen.
"Besides, didn't we already agree? The class is the class, and the individual is the individual," Shimizu reminded her.
That agreement was simple. Since they were in different classes, conflict was inevitable. Hiyori had been the one to propose it: when the time comes, they wouldn't let their "fellow reader" status hold them back. Both would fight for their respective class's interests without hesitation or guilt, even as opponents.
For Shimizu, this was a relief—it meant that even if he trapped Class C for profit, it wouldn't ruin his bond with Hiyori.
Hearing the word "agreement," Hiyori thought for a moment and said somewhat bashfully, "In this island exam, the final result might not be what you hope for... because I have already thought of a 'Sure-Win Method' that will prevent any other class from guessing our leader."
"You thought of a Sure-Win Method?" Shimizu was stunned, his eyes full of disbelief.
The gentle Hiyori, who rarely got involved in class struggles, was telling him she had a "Sure-Win Method"? And to say it was "absolutely impossible to guess" showed more confidence than he expected.
Actually, on the first day, Shimizu had thought of a sure-win method himself: switching the leader at the very last moment before the exam ended to bypass everyone's guesses.
'Could Hiyori have thought of the same thing?'
Hiyori didn't answer directly. She said softly, with a touch of sheepishness, "I will explain the details to you later—at the latest, right after the special exam ends."
Shimizu didn't press her. He knew the boundaries of their respective positions. For her to promise to tell him later was already a sign of great sincerity. And as they had agreed, during the competition, they were rivals.
This "Lady Detective" was certainly full of surprises.
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