The paper felt heavier than it should have.
Haruto scanned the letter first.
"Initial Conditions – Class 2-B Exchange Game
1. Your class currently holds a fund of 90,000 yen.
2. We will consider this amount as 'Shared Capital'.
3. Every student in Class 2-B will be assigned a **Debt Value** from 0 to 10.
4. Total Debt Value for the class must equal 100.
5. The representative may decide how to distribute these values.
Further rules will be explained after submission. Please fill in the numbers next to each name and place the sheet back into the envelope before leaving the room."
There was no signature. No contact. Just the neat list of twenty-five names and blank spaces waiting.
Haruto read it twice, then looked up at the monitor.
"Is this a joke?" he asked conversationally.
The screen flickered.
THE GAME BEGINS WHEN YOU WRITE.
He glanced at the wall clock. 4:50 p.m. He still had time before anyone wondered where he was.
"If I refuse?"
The monitor paused, as if thinking.
IF YOU REFUSE, WE WILL ASSIGN VALUES OURSELVES.
HOWEVER, WE PREFER TO START WITH YOUR CLASS'S OWN JUDGMENT.
Judgment. An interesting word.
Haruto's gaze dropped back to the list.
Aiko Nakamura
Ryuuji Sato
Shun Takeda
…
Haruto Tanaka
His own name sat near the bottom, like an afterthought.
He took the provided pen from the desk and uncapped it. The click sounded very loud in the quiet room.
He didn't write immediately.
Instead, he imagined Aiko standing here. She would try to be fair. She would calculate based on responsibility, ability to pay, maybe family background. She'd spread the burden out evenly. 4s and 5s, maybe, a few 3s.
She'd hesitate to give anyone a 0. That would feel like favoritism. She'd hesitate to give anyone a 10. That would feel cruel.
She'd end up with something that looked fair on paper and felt terrible to half the class.
Ryuuji, on the other hand, would scribble random numbers and joke until the time ran out.
Haruto tapped the pen against the edge of the desk, thinking.
They wanted him to reveal how he saw his classmates. Who was heavy. Who was light. Who deserved to be crushed if this "debt" became real.
He wrote a single digit next to his own name first.
Haruto Tanaka – 0
No reason to make himself a piece on the board. Not yet.
The act cleared something in his mind. His hand moved more smoothly afterward.
Aiko Nakamura – 8
He could almost hear her protesting the unfairness if she saw it. But if this turned into a game of responsibility, expectation, leadership… her position meant weight. Weight meant debt.
Better to acknowledge that from the start.
Ryuuji Sato – 6
That felt right. Ryuuji could handle pressure, in his own reckless way. People would rush to help him if they knew he was in trouble. It made him a good shield.
A few more names slid into place.
Shun Takeda – 7
Mina Kuroda – 5
Kaito Ishii – 4
He wasn't choosing based on who he liked. It wasn't about kindness. It was about how people moved around each other. Who drew attention. Who got sympathy. Who could disappear.
Some got low numbers because they were careful. Some because no one would notice them suffering. Some because they had nothing to offer yet.
A handful, he gave higher values—not out of malice, but because they were already at the center of too many things. Even if he did nothing, problems would find them.
He totaled the numbers in his head as he went, adjusting when he overshot, lowering one person's debt, raising another's.
The last few placements took the longest.
He paused at Mika Fujimoto's name.
Mika Fujimoto –
She wasn't technically in 2-B, but her name wasn't here. That was good. For now.
He shook off the thought and kept going until all the spaces were filled.
The sum came to exactly 100.
Haruto checked three times. Then he slid the paper back into the envelope and placed it on the desk.
The monitor flashed.
CONFIRMED.
CLASS 2-B DEBT VALUES REGISTERED.
"Is this… symbolic?" he asked. "Or does real money get involved?"
YOU WILL FIND OUT SOON.
The lights near the door flicked on with a soft chime, as if the room itself were releasing him.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION, REPRESENTATIVE.
PLEASE KEEP TODAY'S VISIT A SECRET FOR NOW.
Haruto picked up his bag. "That's a lot to ask."
SECRETS ARE THE FOUNDATION OF EXCHANGE.
He opened the door and stepped back into the empty hallway.
The sky outside had deepened into evening. Club voices echoed faintly from the other wing, distant and normal. The absurdity of what had just happened made everything else feel like a stage set.
On the stairwell, he checked his phone.
No missed calls.
One new message from Ryuuji.
[Where are you? Practice ended early today. I waited at the courtyard but you ghosted me, traitor T_T]
Haruto typed back while descending the stairs.
[Sorry. Got grabbed by a teacher about festival stuff. Convenience store still on?]
Almost immediately:
[Yeah! I'm starving. Meet you at the south gate in 5.]
Haruto slid his phone into his pocket.
So far, the world hadn't ended. No alarms. No ominous music. Just numbers on a hidden list.
It would mean nothing—until someone decided it did.
The convenience store near Seiran's gate was the usual after-school stop. Neon lights hummed. The automatic doors hissed open and shut as students flowed in and out, arms loaded with snacks and instant noodles.
Ryuuji waved dramatically from the drink corner. "Haruto! Over here, you unreliable narrator!"
Haruto raised an eyebrow. "Since when am I narrating?"
"Since you disappeared in the middle of a crucial scene," Ryuuji said. "I had to buy my own sports drink. I feel betrayed."
"You're very emotionally fragile," Haruto said, picking up a canned coffee.
They paid and sat outside on the low concrete ledge, watching the road.
"So," Ryuuji said between bites of karaage, "did you hear the announcement again? Teachers are really freaking out about the 'money game' thing."
"I heard."
"They checked the cameras near the AV room," Ryuuji continued. "Apparently, the footage was messed up for like ten minutes. Static. Isn't that straight out of a horror anime?"
Haruto took a sip of coffee. It was bitter and lukewarm. "Maybe the equipment's just old."
"Yeah, maybe…" Ryuuji frowned. "Still, whoever did it has too much free time. And a printer."
He nudged Haruto with his elbow. "You didn't actually go, right?"
Haruto met his eyes, expression mild. "Teacher said not to, didn't they?"
Ryuuji relaxed instantly. "Right. You're way too sensible for that kind of crap."
Haruto let the silence sit for a few seconds, then asked, "If the game were real, would you play?"
Ryuuji considered it, chewing thoughtfully. "What kind of game?"
"Something with money. Debt. Maybe you could triple the class fund. Or lose everything."
"Like betting it all on a rigged slot machine?" Ryuuji snorted. "Hell no. I don't even like gacha."
"But if you were forced?"
"Then I'd win." He grinned. "Obviously."
"Confident."
"I've got good luck." Ryuuji shrugged. "Besides, I can run away faster than the nerds."
He laughed at his own joke.
Haruto smiled.
Luck was a very convenient word. It covered everything people didn't want to look at too closely.
The next day, the first sign that something had changed came not from the Exchange Committee, but from Aiko.
"Everyone, listen up," she said, standing at the front of the classroom before homeroom. Her tone was clipped, like she'd slept badly. "I've just confirmed the totals. Four people still haven't paid the class fund."
Shun shrank in his seat. Two others looked guilty. One stared stubbornly at the desk.
"The deadline is today," Aiko continued. "If you don't pay, we can't cover the festival costs. It's not fair to everyone else."
Shun raised his hand. "I'm really sorry. I'm getting the money after school. My parents said—"
Aiko cut him off with a sigh. "Fine. But that's the last extension. We can't keep changing things for individual cases."
Her eyes moved over the room, calculating. Haruto wondered what kind of numbers she'd assign if she had that list in her hands.
The teacher walked in then, and the subject dropped. For the moment.
First period was English. Second was physics. During the break before lunch, the group chat lit up again.
Unknown number:
Good morning, Class 2-B.
Haruto felt the air around him tighten as phones buzzed one by one.
Unknown number:
We are pleased to inform you that the Exchange Game has begun.
Aiko shot up from her seat. "Who is sending these?" she hissed.
More messages:
Unknown number:
Each of you now carries an invisible **Debt Value** from 0 to 10.
Your class total is 100.
At the end of the week, we will convert this value into real debt.
The room exploded into noise.
"Debt? Real debt? What does that mean?"
"Is this some app scam?"
"Delete the number."
Another line appeared.
Unknown number:
To reduce your personal debt, you may transfer it to others through specific tasks we will send.
The more you trust each other, the more interesting this becomes.
Haruto felt his phone vibrate again. A private message this time.
Exchange Committee:
Representative, please watch closely.
He turned his screen off.
Across the room, Aiko marched to the teacher's desk, phone in hand. "Sensei, we got another message!"
The teacher frowned, adjusting his glasses. "Let me see."
He read, expression darkening. "Everyone, put your phones away. Right now."
"Sensei, is it a scam?" someone asked.
"It doesn't matter what it is. Don't respond. Do not follow any instructions they send. The school will handle this."
Haruto watched the teacher's hands. They were steady, but his voice wasn't.
The announcement at lunch confirmed it:
"The administration is aware of concerning messages involving 'debt games'. All students are to ignore them. We will be contacting parents if necessary."
It sounded like reassurance. It felt like a warning.
During lunch, Haruto found Aiko alone in the hallway, staring at her phone.
"They won't stop," she said quietly when he approached. "Even after the teacher blocked the number on the class phone, they sent it to our personal ones. How did they even get them?"
"School records, maybe," Haruto said. "Or someone leaked them."
She grimaced. "This is bad. If even one person takes it seriously…"
"Then?"
She looked up at him, eyes hard. "Then our class is in trouble. Money changes people."
He didn't disagree.
"Hey, Nakamura," he said. "Hypothetically, if these 'debt values' were real, how do you think they'd be assigned?"
She blinked. "Why are you asking that?"
"Curiosity," he said. "Would it be random? Or based on grades? Behavior? Family income?"
Aiko folded her arms, thinking. "If someone is doing this as a social experiment, they'd probably base it on perception. Who looks like they can handle it. Who looks weak. Who they like or dislike."
"So, biased," Haruto said.
"Of course it'd be biased." She scowled. "There's no such thing as fair debt."
He nodded slowly. "You're right."
For a moment, their eyes met. In that tiny pause, he wondered if she sensed anything off—some hint that he knew more than he let on.
If she did, she didn't say it. She turned away.
"I'm going to the office after school," she said. "I'll keep pushing them to involve the police if this continues."
"That sounds like you," Haruto said.
She shot him a look. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's reassuring," he replied. "Someone has to take it seriously."
She left, her steps brisk.
Haruto stared after her, then checked his phone again.
A new notification waited.
Exchange Committee:
Individual task distribution will begin after classes.
As representative, you will not receive a task today.
Enjoy the show.
He slipped the phone away.
The pace was picking up. The strings were starting to move.
From his seat by the window, Haruto watched his classmates, one by one, laughing and complaining and pretending everything was normal.
He wondered who would be the first to break.