The final day of the Puzzle Festival draped the school in chaos—but the most chaotic trio was us: me, Koharu, and Mitsuki. We may have looked like the love-child of a misfit video game party—brains, brawn, and sarcastic chaos—but there was no ignoring the tension crackling between us.
We stood at the last station: the old library annex, transformed overnight into a cryptic maze of coded lockers and flickering projectors. Mitsuki had rigged a "meta-clue system"—one part logic puzzle, one part murder-mystery party. I knew it sounded dramatic, but hell, so did half of life these days.
Koharu grimaced, stirring the code wheel she kept for good luck. "If this is a democracy, I'm officially voting 'never doing puzzles again.'"
I shrugged, adjusting the clue sheet shoved into my blazer. "This is about to decide if the Puzzle Club loses face—or maybe it already did."
Mitsuki gave a single nod. "Focus. The final clue unlocks the culprit file."
We stepped into the maze of lockers; each was tagged with names, dates, and… internal metadata stamps. Mitsuki had pre-programmed each to open with a code wordic clue from earlier stations.
"We need four stamps," she said, pointing to the board up front. "Once we hit them all, we'll pull up the culprit's logs."
Koharu pressed her hand to her forehead. "I don't even understand what those stamps are for."
"You just press the right locker and see if it unlocks a message," I whispered. "Here—try this."
I guided her to "Locker C47." She punched in the code. The locker pinged. A slip of paper fell out:
> "Timestamp: 07:14. Data accessed: Student E's confession. Logged by: user 1183."
Koharu eyed it. "07:14… That's when that freaky confession began."
Mitsuki murmured, "Good. We're getting somewhere."
We moved on. Station two: gym annex, locker G22. Third: science prep, locker S11 at 12:03. Each time, another timestamp, another log line. Each time, the pieces snapped into place.
"Three more clues, one last locker," Mitsuki said, voice flat. "Then we'll run the correlation."
Koharu nodded, her expression fierce: "I'll do it."
I picked locker J09 in the art room. Code typed. Click. Inside:
> "Timestamp: 08:47. Data accessed: Senpai's monologue performance stats. Logged by user 1183."
My throat clenched. The logs had my code, but who was user 1183? The same person behind everything. The person manipulating kids' emotions by spying on them for puzzle points.
Mitsuki's voice was calm, but I heard the urgency behind it. "This is it. That user ID is tied to the club database. We just need to check access logs."
I tapped the handheld scanner Mitsuki gave me, it beeped three times. Data scrolling:
> user1183 – Accessed private student logs: Ami, Minami, library assistant, Koharu, MC. All 07‑09 hrs. Only one club member had those admin privileges…
I felt Koharu's gaze on me. "So… who is it?"
I swallowed. "It's… the Puzzle Club president."
Silence. The projector whirred. Mitsuki gave me a small nod. "Yes. And the logs confirm they exported a student list—complete with locker combinations. That's how the letters were everywhere."
Koharu clenched her fists. I grabbed her gloved hand—she stared. "Hey—breathe."
She exhaled. "You… you figured it out."
I nodded once. "Yeah."
Mitsuki stepped forward. "Announce it?"
I hesitated—then cleared my voice: "The culprit behind the confession chaos is… our club president. They were using Puzzle Club access to gather personal data and manipulate feelings. It stops now."
A collective gasp came from the small crowd of festival-goers hiding behind stacks of props. Some scowled. Others murmured. Koharu squeezed my hand.
In that moment, I realized the puzzles we solved weren't fun after all—they were harm disguised as logic.
The president, red-faced and desperate, tried to argue but collapsed under Mitsuki's evidence and the weight of their confession. Another puzzle solved—but one gnawed like acid.
The festival staff escorted them out. Mitsuki closed her laptop with quiet authority.
We walked out into the courtyard, where cherry blossoms fell like silent witnesses.
Koharu turned to me, bruised and triumphant. She curled into me, hugging me tightly. Vibrating with relief and pride.
"Senpai… you… you saved the club's reputation. Our club."
I hesitated, awkward as always, before wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
When she pulled back, her eyes glistened.
"I—I don't really know how to puzzle, but… I know how to fight," she admitted. "And today… you were amazing."
I shook my head. "You were too. We were."
Her lips curved. "You're the best partner."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'm not even good at puzzles. I just… pay attention."
She blinked.
I added, "Paying attention to you."
For the first time that festival, the audio booth stopped. The fluttering petals hushed.
Koharu opened her mouth, eyes bright. Then snapped them shut.
Before I could lean in—
A loud mid-fest bell rang.
Someone had triggered the cosplay club's firework alarm by pressing the wrong button again.
Chaos took back the stage.
Mitsuki stared at us, expression unreadable. Then—hnn. A tiny nod.
Across the courtyard, I spotted Riku watching from the balcony. He tipped his head, a smirk lifting one corner of his lips.
Ami sprinted by, waving confetti. Minami high-fived me. The library assistant gave me a shy thumbs-up.
Koharu squeezed my hand.
I squeezed back.
We didn't speak, but the unspoken was loud: we'd solved things. Together.
And once again—maybe for the first time—I realized this story was ours.