Chapter 3: Suspicions and Alliances

The survey allowed 60 minutes to answer. Once you finished, it locked. The clock at the front of the room ticked, the second hand moving much too slow.

The class was silent at first, then people began talking. Chairs squeaked, sneakers tapped, someone chewed nervously on their pen cap.

It looked like the class president was still leading the discussion.

"I just checked—everyone’s first question is the same. Not answering gets you punished, but we don’t know what happens if you do answer. I suggest everyone vote for themselves. Even if the survey punishes, it can’t punish us all at once, or there’s no point. My method doesn’t hurt anyone and we all get points."

The ever-spoiling chat bubbles scrolled quickly:

[I think this class president is the real hero. Pretty smart, but let’s see how many days he lasts. This is a survival game—the more survivors, the more brutal it gets.]

[Sigh, I remember in the beginning, everyone tried to play nice. No one went all out.]

[Just wait. This is a survival game. They’re not at each other’s throats yet because their interests haven’t clashed.]

Not everyone bought the president’s suggestion.

The survey only said to pick the person you dislike most. It didn’t say the person with the most votes would be erased. Compared to voting for themselves, some thought it safer to shift the risk to others.

For a while, no one spoke. Everyone was struggling over whether to pick the person they truly disliked. The pressure was building like a pot about to boil over.

At this point, the rich kid realized something was wrong. If anyone was hated, he’d be the top pick. He stood up, face dark:

"I’m warning you, anyone who votes for me, I’ll make sure you regret it. But stick with me, and I’ll Venmo you five grand, swear to God."

Several classmates, tempted by money, gathered around him. Some exchanged glances, unsure whether to trust the bribe.

"The class president is right. The safest thing is to vote for ourselves. That way, everyone ties, and the survey can’t take us all out at once."

The class split into three camps:

The AP kids huddled by the whiteboard, the athletes slouched in the back, the rich kid’s crew clustered by the windows. The last group was undecided, wanting to wait and see.

Time ticked by—the bell never rang. Everyone found they couldn’t leave the classroom. As long as they didn’t choose, the whole of Homeroom 3B was stuck here. The air felt thick, the walls closer than usual.

At that moment, my usually silent desk partner Eliot suddenly looked up and said coolly:

"For now, the class president’s method is best, but you’re missing something: someone already answered before everyone else, and got a title from the survey."

His words cut through the noise, cool and sharp. For the first time, everyone actually listened.

I looked at Eliot in surprise. Everyone turned to look at Caleb, who’d gotten the title.

That’s right—Caleb was the first to vote. Who did he pick? If he picked someone else, and that person voted for themselves, that’s two votes. Now, to avoid risk, everyone would want him to say who he voted for. Once he spoke, he and that person would become enemies, and that person would definitely vote for him in return.

I instantly understood the stakes and couldn’t help but give a mental thumbs up. Eliot’s move was ruthless. His voice was cold and sharp, slicing right through the tension.

The class started pressing Caleb to reveal who he picked. Someone even tapped his shoulder, demanding an answer.

I quietly hung back, pretending to be calm—because compared to Caleb, what I did was even more sneaky. I voted for everyone, so everyone would have at least two votes.

[Haha, the big boss makes his move and you can tell. For some reason, I feel like he really doesn’t like the main guy—set him up to be hated right at the start.]

[Tsk tsk, Caleb played it safe in the first round and of course picked the most hated rich kid.]

[That grudge is set. The rich kid and his group will target him next.]

[Now it’s up to Caleb: will he tell the truth or lie?]

Right, the survey didn’t say you couldn’t lie. The result would only be revealed after everyone chose.

Soon, Caleb replied calmly:

"I voted for myself. I don’t dislike anyone in this class. So you can all vote for yourselves. There won’t be any extra votes."

Everyone relaxed at this—except me, because I knew Caleb was lying. I could almost see it in the way his fingers tapped nervously on his desk.

[Caleb is so sneaky—lying straight-faced. He clearly voted for the rich kid but won’t admit it.]

[Told you the rich kid was a goner. Even with money, he can’t escape his fate.]

[You really think the rich kid is that dumb? Just wait, there’s a twist.]

After that, Eliot stayed silent. I did too, to avoid attention. Everyone was busy voting. The air was thick with unspoken accusations.

"Ding! Time’s up. Survey results are in. Let’s see who’s moving on to the next round."

[One more thing: the student with the most votes will enter overtime.]

The system voice rang out again.

"Next, everyone will see their voting results. Five students tied and will enter an overtime question."

Phones buzzed, whispers darted across the room. I caught someone’s eyes—wide, scared, pretending not to care.

Soon, I heard exclamations around me.

"What the hell, I have two votes—one from myself, but who gave me the other?"

A guy cursed, face dark.

"Damn, I have two votes too!"

"Me too! Who did this? Just wait till I find out!"

More and more classmates found they had two votes and started grouping up. The suspicion in the air was palpable, friends eyeing each other with new distrust.

I calmly opened my own screen—only one vote. No one else voted for me. Relief washed over me, though I kept my face neutral.

Did I dodge the fate the chat bubbles described?

Because you couldn’t see others’ screens unless they showed you, more and more classmates found they had two votes and started gathering in groups. Accusations were whispered, alliances shifting by the second.

The class president forced himself to stay calm and stepped up again.

"I also have two votes. Besides my own, someone else voted for me. Even if someone didn’t follow my suggestion and voted for others, it shouldn’t be this many people with two votes. There’s only one possibility: someone in the class exploited a loophole and voted for everyone."

The class president was sharp—he quickly realized something was up. He adjusted his glasses, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

But a few students looked especially grim.

"But I... I have three votes."

Someone gasped. The numbers on the screens started to flicker. And for the first time, I wondered—had I just made myself the next target?