The old science building hadn't been used in years. No students passed through its rusting halls. No teachers came by to check for squatters or missing supplies. That's why Kusuke chose it.
Haruka stepped carefully over loose tiles and dusty floorboards. She clutched her phone in one hand, thumb hovering near the emergency call button — just in case.
Kusuke was already waiting.
He stood in the middle of the room like he owned it, tablet in one hand, a mechanical cube clicking in the other. His glasses gleamed in the dim light.
"You came," he said with no surprise.
"I'm not stupid," Haruka said, folding her arms. "You said you knew something about Makoto. About… a system?"
Kusuke's smile widened, all teeth. "Still chasing the truth, are we?"
"Makoto's in trouble," she said tightly. "He's acting weird. He talks to things that aren't there. He's making decisions that don't make sense. And you—you knew before anyone."
Kusuke gave a noncommittal shrug. "I don't particularly care if he's in trouble. I only care about my little brother."
She blinked. "Saiki?"
Kusuke chuckled, as if amused by the very idea. "Yes, that Saiki. The one your beloved Makoto has been pawing at like a dog begging for scraps."
Her nostrils flared. "He's not a dog. And Saiki's not even good enough for him! He barely talks! He doesn't deserve someone like Makoto—someone brilliant, passionate, luminous—"
"Ah," Kusuke interrupted, "but that's where you're wrong."
Haruka stilled.
Kusuke stepped forward, flipping the cube in his hand. "Makoto is… interesting, I'll grant you that. But he's still just a monkey. An attractive one, perhaps, but a monkey all the same."
She opened her mouth to argue, but Kusuke didn't let her.
"Saiki, on the other hand," he said, tone sharpening, "is not like the rest of you. He's never been. That's why I keep an eye on him. That's why I build devices, keep files, install precautions. Because he's not human in the way that matters."
Haruka's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'not human'?"
"Let's just say," Kusuke said smoothly, "he has potential that you and your delusional fan club couldn't begin to comprehend. He has power. Real power. Not just celebrity nonsense."
"But Makoto—"
"Makoto has a system."
Haruka froze.
She hadn't said that aloud.
Kusuke's smile returned. "You were smart enough to suspect it, I'll give you credit. Yes, it's real. Something outside our world has taken interest in your precious idol. It whispers instructions, alters probability, shields him from discovery. A fascinating tool. Dangerous, if misused."
Haruka's throat went dry. "So it's… controlling him?"
"Not quite," Kusuke mused. "It guides. Nudges. Tempts. But the choices are still his. That's what makes this entertaining."
"Then—then Saiki has to know something's wrong!" she said. "He must see it too—he has to realize Makoto's being manipulated!"
Kusuke gave a cruel laugh. "Oh, Saiki knows. Of course he does. But whether he cares…" His eyes gleamed. "Now that's the real mystery."
Haruka stared at him, stunned.
Kusuke tucked the cube into his pocket and stepped back. "If Makoto is willing to throw himself into the flames, that's his business. Maybe he'll rise above monkey status. Maybe he won't. But don't kid yourself—he's the one who chased Saiki. Not the other way around."
Haruka's voice dropped. "You're awful."
"I'm honest," Kusuke replied, already walking toward the exit. "If you want to keep playing the game, you'd better level up."
He left her alone in the silence, gears spinning in her head.
Makoto had a system. Saiki knew. And neither of them seemed to be running away from each other.
Haruka clenched her fists.
If she wanted to save Makoto… she'd have to go deeper.
Saiki returned home later than usual, hoping for silence.
No such luck.
Kusuke was in the kitchen, sipping tea with all the smugness of someone who had no intention of leaving soon.
"You're late," Kusuke said, without looking up. "Rough day with the boyfriend?"
Saiki grabbed a coffee jelly from the fridge and ignored him.
"You should sit," Kusuke continued lightly, tapping his phone. "I have a gift."
That got Saiki's attention — warily. He sat, arms crossed.
Kusuke hit play.
Makoto's voice came through clear, flustered and unguarded:
"Okay, System. Real talk. Saiki kissed me this morning. Well, I kissed him first, but he kissed back, so it totally counts, right? That's a win!"
A beat of silence.
"No, I'm not blushing. That's lighting. Shut up."
Then, sheepishly:
"…Okay, maybe I'm blushing. But that doesn't mean I want to kiss him twenty more times today. Though… once more for science wouldn't kill him, right?"
A laugh — the kind that made Saiki's fingers twitch slightly. It was genuine. Too genuine.
"Oh my god. I've turned into one of those girls in shoujo manga. Is this karma for middle school? This is karma. This is because I said romance subplots were boring."
A dramatic sigh.
"Anyway, if anyone asks, I am not in love. I'm just experiencing prolonged exposure to Saiki's face and that is medically unfair."
Click. Silence.
Kusuke let the moment hang.
"That was from Haruka," he said smoothly. "Apparently she overheard it the day after the festival. You remember. When things were heating up."
Saiki stared at the table.
Kusuke set the phone down between them. "It's cute. Almost touching. But let me remind you of something you already know—he was talking to the system. Still talking to it. Still keeping it from you."
Saiki didn't respond, but the tension in his shoulders was hard to miss.
"Either the system is real," Kusuke said, eyes sharp, "or he's completely insane. Pick whichever one gives you more peace of mind."
He let that sink in before adding, "You're both hiding things. You haven't told him you're a psychic. He hasn't told you about the system. I'm just wondering—how long can a relationship like that last?"
Still, no answer.
Kusuke smirked. "You don't read his mind anymore, do you? Trying to give him space. Trust. That's adorable. Truly."
He leaned forward, voice softening with mock sympathy. "But while you're busy playing nice, he's out there talking to an interdimensional AI about how many times he wants to kiss you without ever admitting how he actually feels."
Saiki's fingers tapped once against his knee.
Kusuke stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. "Anyway, just thought you should hear it from him. In his own words."
As he walked past, he added, too casually, "If I were you, I'd ask myself: when exactly is he going to stop hiding?"
The front door clicked shut a moment later.
Saiki sat in the kitchen, Makoto's voice still echoing in his head.