The classroom was silent.

  Not the normal silence of students pretending to listen.

  This silence felt different.

  Heavier.

  At the front of the room, Miro leaned casually against his desk.

  Cheap glasses.

  Messy hair.

  A half-empty can of coffee in his hand.

  He took a slow sip like nothing unusual was happening.

  Across from him, Sato Rika stared at the tablet in her hands.

  The screen displayed the results of the classroom scan.

  Mana readings.

  Energy signatures.

  Student profiles.

  At the top of the screen, a progress bar crept forward.

  Uploading.

  The tablet emitted a soft rhythmic tone.

  Beep.

  Eighty-eight percent.

  Beep.

  Eighty-nine.

  To Sato the sound felt disturbingly similar to a heart monitor.

  If the number reached one hundred, something in this room would flatline.

  Her assistants had already stepped back toward the door.

  Neither of them wanted to be standing near the man by the desk.

  Miro spoke calmly.

  "So, Sato-san."

  His voice sounded relaxed.

  Almost bored.

  "You are an Auditor."

  "You like numbers."

  He lifted one finger.

  "Let us look at this one."

  Sato said nothing.

  Beep.

  Ninety percent.

  "This file," Miro continued, nodding toward the tablet, "contains the full energy scan of this classroom."

  His eyes moved slowly across the room.

  Students.

  Desks.

  Chairs.

  Then briefly toward Nozu.

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  "If that upload finishes, the Association analysts will receive the report within the hour."

  Beep.

  Ninety-two percent.

  Sato felt a cold line of sweat form along the back of her neck.

  She had stood in front of powerful heroes before.

  S-Rank fighters.

  Veterans with overwhelming mana presence.

  They felt powerful.

  Loud.

  Like standing next to a roaring engine.

  But Miro felt different.

  Being near him felt wrong.

  Like standing beside something that should not exist.

  There was no pressure of power.

  No aggressive aura.

  Instead there was… absence.

  A quiet emptiness that seemed to swallow the mana around him.

  The air near him felt thinner.

  Like it was slowly being eaten.

  Sato forced herself to focus on the tablet.

  Beep.

  Ninety-four percent.

  Miro raised a second finger.

  "The analysts will notice something interesting."

  His tone remained calm.

  "There is an inconsistency in the mana readings here."

  He gestured lightly around the classroom.

  "They will start asking questions."

  Beep.

  Ninety-five percent.

  In the back row, a girl dropped her pen.

  It clattered loudly against the floor.

  The sound echoed across the room like a gunshot.

  No one moved to pick it up.

  Nozu sat completely still.

  His eyes moved between the tablet in Sato’s hands and the cracked glasses on his teacher’s face.

  He did not understand everything being said.

  But his instincts were screaming.

  The atmosphere felt like standing near a predator.

  A quiet one.

  The kind that only moved after the prey had already made a mistake.

  Beep.

  Ninety-six percent.

  Miro continued speaking as if this were a simple lecture.

  "When the analysts notice the anomaly, they will send someone to investigate."

  "Researchers."

  "Specialists."

  "Heroes, if necessary."

  His eyes drifted across the classroom again.

  "And eventually they will identify the student responsible."

  Beep.

  Ninety-seven percent.

  Sato finally spoke.

  "My duty is to report irregularities."

  Her voice was tight now.

  "That is the purpose of an audit."

  Miro nodded slightly.

  "Of course."

  He placed the coffee can on his desk.

  "And sometimes audits encounter accidents."

  His eyes flicked toward the small coffee stain on the desk.

  "Liquid damage."

  "Sensor interference."

  "Hardware malfunction."

  Beep.

  Ninety-eight percent.

  Sato’s hands trembled slightly.

  "You are asking me to falsify a report."

  Miro shook his head once.

  "I am offering a reasonable explanation."

  The classroom felt colder.

  The blue light of the tablet reflected in Miro’s glasses.

  The cracks in the lens looked like tiny lightning bolts spreading across the surface.

  Beep.

  Ninety-nine percent.

  Sato could hear her own heartbeat now.

  Loud.

  Heavy.

  If the upload finished, the Association would review the scan.

  They would flag the classroom.

  They would investigate the anomaly.

  And the man standing calmly in front of her would certainly notice who started that chain reaction.

  Beep.

  Ninety-nine point six.

  Sato moved.

  Her fingers blurred across the tablet.

  Override access.

  Emergency command input.

  Manual purge authorization.

  Her assistant stared at the screen in shock.

  The progress bar climbed higher.

  Ninety-nine point eight.

  Ninety-nine point nine.

  Sato slammed the final command.

  PURGE.

  The screen flashed red.

  DATA CORRUPTED.

  SESSION TERMINATED.

  The upload vanished.

  The connection to the Association server cut instantly.

  Silence filled the classroom.

  Sato exhaled slowly.

  She had not realized she had been holding her breath.

  Her hands were shaking.

  She turned toward her assistants.

  "The scan failed."

  Her voice sounded distant.

  "Sensor malfunction."

  She glanced at the tablet again.

  "There is no usable data."

  Her assistants immediately began packing the equipment.

  No questions.

  No hesitation.

  Sato walked toward the door.

  Her hand reached the handle.

  Behind her, Miro spoke.

  "Wait."

  She froze.

  Slowly she turned back.

  "I deleted the report," she whispered.

  "I am already responsible."

  Her eyes locked onto his.

  "What else do you want?"

  Miro picked up a rag and lazily wiped the spilled coffee from his desk.

  "I do not like loose ends."

  Sato swallowed.

  "You have my silence."

  "For now."

  Miro shrugged slightly.

  "Tomorrow morning."

  "Six o’clock."

  "The north courtyard."

  Sato’s eyes narrowed.

  "You expect me to come back?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  Miro paused for a moment.

  Then a quiet chuckle escaped him.

  "Call it curiosity."

  He looked at her through the cracked lens of his glasses.

  "I would like to see how refined your control really is."

  Sato’s expression stiffened.

  "You want to fight?"

  Miro lifted the coffee can again.

  "Maybe."

  He took a slow sip.

  "But if you do come…"

  His eyes sharpened slightly.

  "Wear something you can move in."

  Sato stared at him for a few seconds longer.

  Then she turned and left the classroom.

  The door closed quietly behind her.

  The students remained frozen in their seats.

  Because none of them understood what had just happened.

  But somewhere in that room…

  One student had just avoided becoming the center of the Hero Association’s attention.