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Chapter 54: Murder, the Deceased Haruki Yamauchi
🕑 Added 2025-12-08 16:30:39 +0000 UTCThe coin traced a cold arc through the mid-air.
Although he didn't know why, Haruki Yamauchi felt as if time itself stretched in that instant, his attention instinctively locked onto the coin continuously flipping in the air along with Natsuki Subaru's movement.
All the clamor in the classroom, the whispers, or the gazes tinged with a hint of schadenfreude seemed to hit pause in that moment. The coin in mid-air became the absolute focus.
Thus, the coin flipped to its apex before slowly descending, finally landing on the back of Natsuki Subaru's hand.
It was heads.
“Haruki Yamauchi-kun.”
Natsuki Subaru looked at the commemorative coin on the back of his hand and smiled. “Your luck is really quite good.”
It was merely tossing a coin, yet Haruki Yamauchi found his body trembling uncontrollably.
It was an indescribable sensation, impossible to articulate or describe. The only thing Haruki Yamauchi could feel was an overwhelming pressure that could utterly crush him.
‘！！！！！’
Kiyotaka Ayanokōji, who had been sitting relatively calmly in his seat, reacted before his mind could process—the instant the coin landed on Natsuki Subaru's hand, his body moved on instinct.
Kiyotaka Ayanokōji sprang from his seat, instantly creating distance between himself and Natsuki Subaru.
This wasn't mere vigilance.
It was an almost primal evasion.
Like a docile herbivore detecting the nearly tangible bloody scent emanating from a top predator.
‘Wrong. Very wrong.’
‘Natsuki Subaru is about to do something—killing intent? Completely unconcealed killing intent? Here?!’
For the first time, a shocked expression appeared uncontrollably on Kiyotaka Ayanokōji's perpetually blank face.
Kiyotaka Ayanokōji realized he had been gravely mistaken.
He had only ever categorized Natsuki Subaru as a 'dangerous individual'?
Natsuki Subaru couldn't even be called a desperado!
A desperado wouldn't qualify to shine Natsuki Subaru's shoes.
During his time in the White Room, as its ultimate weapon, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji had encountered killers.
Even serial murderers who had slain dozens paled in comparison to the instinctive shudder and terror Natsuki Subaru evoked in him now.
Those perverted killers were like harmless kittens before Natsuki Subaru.
Subconsciously, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji assumed his perfect defensive posture—muscles tensed, breath locked on target.
This was the utmost limit of what he, the White Room's greatest masterpiece, could achieve.
At the same time, another in Year 1, Class D who clearly sensed the anomaly—Rokusuke Koenji—slowly rose to his feet. The usual carefree nonchalance on his face vanished entirely in that instant.
“What a... chilling discovery...”
“Yamauchi-kun, it seems you've provoked someone you absolutely shouldn't have...”
Rokusuke Koenji's voice lost its habitual smoothness and allure, carrying a faint dryness.
In this moment, the senses he prided as synonymous with perfection issued unprecedented warnings—a sensation of utter despair.
Born into a zaibatsu family, Rokusuke Koenji's life had always been smooth sailing.
Yet now, he acutely felt fear and despair.
A chill crept up Rokusuke Koenji's spine—this place was far too dangerous; he couldn't remain. With that realization, he slowly retreated toward the door.
“Ayanokōji...”
“What's this?”
Suzune Horikita frowned slightly, her gaze shifting between Kiyotaka Ayanokōji—poised in high alert with a flawless defensive stance—and Rokusuke Koenji, retreating toward the door with an unprecedentedly grave expression.
Finally, Suzune Horikita's eyes settled back on Natsuki Subaru, still calmly seated with a faint smile playing on his lips.
Suzune Horikita could sense something was off—very off.
Her senses were keen; she detected the tension and chill permeating the air.
She also picked up the intense stress reactions from Haruki Yamauchi and Kiyotaka Ayanokōji. These were exceptional senses that mildly surprised even Natsuki Subaru—it was normal for her to notice.
However, the true problem was her inability to comprehend.
From Suzune Horikita's perspective, Natsuki Subaru had simply refused the loan, tossed a coin, and said something ambiguous. No harsh words, no anger at all.
What was Haruki Yamauchi trembling about?
Why had Kiyotaka Ayanokōji reacted so exaggeratedly, like a startled cat?
Even that arrogant, narcissistic, self-proclaimed perfect Rokusuke Koenji acted the same.
It was like standing at the storm's edge, feeling the gale's fury, yet unable to grasp the destructive force at its eye.
“I... I...”
Haruki Yamauchi regretted it. He was terrified.
He wanted to end it there; he swore never to provoke Natsuki Subaru again—even dropping out was fine, paradise-like school or not.
He wanted to apologize, beg forgiveness for his earlier actions, but his mouth wouldn't obey. Squeezing out two words was his utmost effort.
He even felt an uncontrollable warm trickle from his lower body.
“Can't even speak properly?”
“Indeed, still just a child.”
Natsuki Subaru regarded Haruki Yamauchi, crushed by fear in an instant, with a gentle yet slightly helpless smile. He stood and said, “Even so, I'll give you a moment to speak.”
“Anything else to say?”
“Haruki Yamauchi-kun?”
“S-sor... ry...”
Haruki Yamauchi's teeth chattered.
“Uh...”
A short, tuneless gasp escaped Haruki Yamauchi's throat. Natsuki Subaru watched him—throat gripped, hoisted into the air, thrashing wildly—with a trace of regret.
“Time's up.”
“Next time, watch the clock.”
Crack!
A crisp snap—not overly loud—reached every ear in the room that instant.
Followed by a scream potent enough to nearly topple the building.
