Editing A Simple Survey:Volume2 Reaper03 (section)

===Part 3===

Hiyama was a relatively perfect person.

Some of it came naturally to her and some of it was an intentional facade. It was rare for someone to only have one or the other. In Hiyama’s case, she had set clear values for her goal and worked to achieve them.

This could be seen in her academic history, her occupation, and her qualifications.

And not all of it was that sort of thing that could be filled out on a form. Some categories were more approximate such as her personal relations, her breast size, the feel of her skin, and her weight management. She sought perfection in everything she could think of that was within reach. She always sought perfection. Some might view it as a sort of sickness.

The main force driving her toward perfection were the words of a certain “curse”.

“…This is quite something,” she muttered in shock within the dark hallway.

The wallpaper had been partially torn up and even the window protected by the metal bars had been broken. Most of the unlit fluorescent lights had been broken. With the level of destruction, one would have thought a riot had occurred. Hiyama raised her level of caution once more when she saw how much that man had done on his own.

But she was not afraid of his strength.

She was afraid of how he had not grown tired of the violence until he had destroyed everything so thoroughly.

“That damn deviant,” she spat out.

However, her words were surprisingly calm and lacking any real emotion. Some may have felt those words more sharply than words filled with obvious hatred or scorn.

And then…

The curse came.

She could not tell if it was overflowing from the darkness or from within herself, but the curse that would suddenly make her suffer had arrived.

''“              . That’s her, right?”

''“It       be helped.”

''“That course           horrible             that               you think?”

“…!!”

She heard a strange noise. Despite how “calm” she was supposed to be, it took her several seconds to realize it was the sound of her hand grabbing at her face.

And yet the curse would not end.

Once it began flowing out, it would not stop until it had taken over Hiyama’s heart.

''“After all, the higher ups of the university                  and even said                 .”

''“The latest                   that course              that girl            mistaken.”

''“Or         even become                   . I even heard          a worldwide             .”

Hiyama would not go on a rampage.

She was not the type to force her problems onto others like Kazakami was.

She continued taking shallow breaths for over 20 seconds as she stabilized her mind. She could feel her heartbeat gradually returning to normal.

(To hell with you. To hell with all of you.)

Treating a criminal’s family the same as the criminal was a horrible prejudice, but this curse was even more unreasonable than that. She did not want to remember what idiot it was that had proposed the idea, but it seemed wrong to assume such a great connection just because the “course” of someone’s life (their birthplace, living environment, etc.) was similar to that of a historical criminal. Saying that was no different than saying everyone who ate meat was a mass murderer or everyone who put three sugar cubes in their coffee was a rapist.

She wanted to deny it.

She wanted to deny that curse.

However, she had no intention of arguing against everyone who attacked her. A pointless argument was exactly what they wanted. And anyone listening would not think very hard about who was right. She had no interest in unproductive arguments. Her “counterattack” had to be something more effective.

“…Honestly.”

After finally completely sealing the erupting curse, Hiyama calmly came to a conclusion.

To be blunt, she hated people like Kazakami.

However, the organizers had likely chosen the participants knowing full well Hiyama would feel that way. After all, the organizers wanted to see people painfully struggling. She did not know how they had done it, but it would not surprise her if they had analyzed everyone’s personalities and created a group that would not get along.

In fact, they had no reason to select people who could work together.

“…”

She could not let herself be manipulated.

She had to remain calm.

She could not let any malice be stirred up within her.

She had to remain the same as always.

The attractions the organizers forced on them were unreasonable to the extreme. They would only laugh at their pathetic results if they gave in and acted rashly. She would not let herself do as they expected. She would escape the expectations of the organizers who supposedly controlled the entire situation. She would overcome every problem she was faced with. She would find an opening and take advantage of it. She would return home safely.

And she needed help to escape.

She needed that help even if the only option was some hopeless people who would be nothing but a burden.

“I’ll be fine,” muttered Hiyama.

She had come to a conclusion for the moment. She needed to return to the elevator hall where Higashikawa and the others were, but she had claimed to be getting a bundle of wire from the medical office locker. That meant they would find it odd if she returned without it.

It was annoying, but Hiyama turned toward the medical office.

But then…

“…?”

She heard a crunching noise. When Kazakami had broken the window behind the bars with his wooden stick, the glass shards had scattered across the dark floor. She had stepped on a shard with her pumps. The shard was small enough to not puncture the bottom of the shoe.

But Hiyama was not focused on the floor.

Instead…

“Why is this…?”