The school stood like a fortress, surrounded by towering stone walls, ancient yet impeccably maintained. Every inch of the sprawling campus seemed flawless—modern facilities, endless resources, and a carefully cultivated air of excellence. My friends and I marveled at its perfection, but something about it felt… off. It was too perfect, like a game in which the odds were stacked unnaturally high.

"There's no way this place exists without competition," I muttered to my friend as we wandered through one of the lesser-used corridors. “No one achieves this level of perfection without a hidden struggle.”

We explored deeper into the labyrinth of hallways and discovered an odd section of the wall left exposed, an intentional breach in the otherwise impenetrable stone structure. As we stood there, gazing out over the landscape beyond the school, I felt a creeping sense of unease.

“Why would the owner leave this part open?” my friend asked, staring into the gap.

“Because they’re confident,” I whispered. “They don’t believe anyone can challenge them.”

It wasn’t until one late afternoon that I truly understood the gravity of the situation. Alone, I ventured around the outskirts of the school, tracing the fortress-like walls. That’s when I saw them—seven figures lurking in the shadows, moving with a sense of purpose.

I crouched low behind a bush, carefully watching their every move. These weren’t random trespassers; they were strategizing, their hushed voices carrying hints of something far more dangerous. It didn’t take long before I realized the truth. They were competitors, rivals who had come to seize control of the school.

“They’re here to take it,” I whispered to myself. Their conversation confirmed my suspicions—the school's owner had perfected the place so thoroughly, accomplishing every mission flawlessly, that these intruders had no choice but to attempt a hostile takeover.

What those competitors didn’t know was that I was already involved, deeply woven into the school’s secrets. The owner had confided in me, revealing the layers of challenges that had made this place invincible. I was their eyes and ears, and now it was my job to stop the intruders.

After watching them for a while longer, I understood the key word they used in their planning—“Boom.” Each time they whispered it, they referred to a weak point in the walls, where certain segments of the fortress touched. When they said "Boom," it indicated specific sections of the walls that formed a peculiar pattern resembling “ᅩᅥᅡᅮ.” This unique configuration marked the areas of vulnerability in the fortress. Their whole plan hinged on this phrase—on identifying and exploiting these precise points where the walls connected.

Silently, I began to move, one by one approaching the rivals. Carefully and without being detected, I whispered the word “Boom” to each of them, planting the seed of confusion among their ranks. They gathered together, certain they had all the information they needed. Confident in their false lead, they prepared to strike.

I slipped back inside the school, vaulting over the stone wall and making my way to the secretive underbelly of the campus, where the true heart of the school lay. As I crossed the bridge over the rushing river beneath the school, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was coming.

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. “Someone just crossed into the school,” one of the intruders said.

I didn’t stop. I ran straight ahead, deeper into the school, vanishing into the safety of its walls.

After the close call, I made contact with the intruders again. This time, I offered them help. “I know the school's secrets,” I told them. “The students here already know everything, and I can lead you through the codes and missions you need to complete.”

Their eyes lit up, hope flickering in their minds. Little did they know that this was part of the plan. I had to pretend to betray the owner to earn their trust. As I revealed the first few codes—simple ones, like the layout of the wall’s perimeter—they believed me completely.

“Let’s move,” one of them said, eager to reach the endgame. I guided them through the next stages of the school’s defenses, revealing just enough to keep them moving forward. All the while, I kept their trust by offering small praises, building their confidence. To three of the women in the group, I whispered words of encouragement. “You’re brilliant, geniuses really. We can do this.”

It worked like a charm.

One of the men from the U.S., who seemed to be their leader, promised to take responsibility if my betrayal was ever discovered. “If they find out you helped us, I’ll take the fall. You have my word.”

I smiled, knowing that his confidence would eventually lead to his downfall.

As we approached the final stretch, the path became more dangerous, riddled with cryptic codes and hidden challenges. In the middle of the courtyard, a towering column stood, inscribed with intricate rules that governed the school’s final secret. The intruders knew most of the puzzle, but not all. The last cipher—the most crucial one—remained hidden from them.

I led them to the base of the column and watched as they frantically tried to decipher the rules. They had come so far, yet were still so far from the truth. At last, they turned to me, expecting answers.

But I didn’t know the final code either.

Frustration grew, and as the group scattered, I quietly approached the owner. “The last cipher, what is it?” I asked, urgency in my voice.

The owner smiled, revealing the answer. “It’s simple. Vol. 2. The Roman numeral for 10, and if you subtract the O, it becomes 13.”

It was a riddle, a simple game of numbers and symbols. The answer had been there all along, but the logic was twisted enough to confuse anyone not deeply embedded in the school’s mysteries.

I returned to the group, pretending ignorance. “I don’t know the answer,” I said, my voice steady. They believed me.

But their time was running out.

Suddenly, a commotion arose. The American competitor, who had promised to protect me, realized something was wrong. He tried to grab me, realizing too late that I had deceived them. The others followed suit, their trust in me shattered. They captured both of us, though I pretended it was a mistake on my part.

As we were held in the school's hidden chambers, the woman from the U.S. stood by my side. She had believed in me, and even now, with everything crumbling, she promised to protect me. “I’ll take care of this,” she said softly. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

But even as the world around us spiraled into chaos, I knew the truth. This was the owner’s game. The fortress would stand, and the intruders—no matter how clever—would never break through.