The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell in thin, colorless threads, clinging to the gray windows of the bus as it wound up a narrow mountain road. Inside, twenty students sat in uneasy silence, their uniforms still damp from the morning's downpour. None of them spoke, though a few exchanged nervous glances, as if each one suspected the others of knowing something they didn't.
Hitomi Oga sat near the back, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Her expression was unreadable—soft, distant, almost serene. She watched the mist curl around the road and vanish into the trees. To anyone looking, she was just another quiet girl on a school trip she hadn't volunteered for.
The bus stopped at the top of the hill, before a looming structure that looked half like a school and half like a forgotten factory. Its gates were locked from the outside. No signs, no staff, no welcoming teacher. Just silence, and the hum of the rain.
A voice from the front—a boy named Ryu—broke the quiet.
"Why are we even here? The message said this was some kind of scholarship test, right?"
A few nodded. Most just stared at the building. Each of them had received the same letter, the same invitation. A chance to start over. A second chance after the mistakes they'd made.
Hitomi smiled faintly. "Maybe it's real," she said, her tone calm enough to make a few people relax.
No one noticed the way her eyes lingered on the gate, calculating, as if she were checking something off a list.
They entered the facility together. The doors swung open easily—too easily. Inside, the air was stale, metallic, with the faint scent of disinfectant. The hallways stretched long and pale, lined with old lockers and fluorescent lights that flickered like dying stars.
Somewhere deeper inside, a generator hummed to life.
The group spread out. They found classrooms, dormitories, and a cafeteria stocked with sealed food. Everything seemed prepared for them, though no one had been seen. Phones had no signal. Windows were unbreakable.
"Someone must be watching us," whispered Aya, a girl with a trembling voice.
Ryu snorted. "You're paranoid."
But even as he said it, his eyes darted to the corners of the ceiling where small, black cameras blinked red.
By evening, tension filled every breath. The students gathered in what looked like a gymnasium, their voices bouncing off the walls. Some argued to leave. Others wanted to wait for the organizers to show up. Hitomi suggested they rest and think rationally, her voice carrying a calm authority that no one questioned.
It was almost midnight when the lights went out.
A mechanical click echoed through the building, followed by the static hiss of speakers hidden in the ceiling. Every student froze.
Then, a distorted voice spoke:
> "Welcome, participants. You have all been chosen for The Game."
The words rippled through the air like a slow infection. Someone screamed. Others looked around wildly.
> "The rules are simple," the voice continued. "Among you is an Imposter. Your task is to find them before they find you. Eliminate the Imposter, and you will all go free. Fail… and you will not see morning."
Gasps. Whispers. Panic.
> "You may choose to trust one another," the voice said, now softer, almost mocking. "Or you may choose to survive."
Silence followed. Then the lights flickered back on.
A low mechanical tone sounded from their watches—devices they hadn't noticed before, clasped around each of their wrists. Each one displayed a timer, slowly ticking down from 24:00:00.
Ryu cursed and tried to rip his off. It wouldn't budge.
Aya began to cry. Someone shouted at the ceiling.
Through it all, Hitomi stood still, watching.
She reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression faintly puzzled, as though she were just as frightened as the rest.
No one noticed the almost imperceptible curve of her lips—too small to be called a smile, too quick to be remembered later.
Outside, the rain began again, soft and endless. The timer ticked down one second.
And The Imposter's Game had begun.