-atom 084- Ameri Ichinose Sneaked Into The Room Pretending To Tutor Students Official

"Nice work with the fake fumble. You missed your calling as a teacher."

One student, a lanky boy with a nose piercing, kept glancing at the clock. Another, a girl with violet hair clips, was frantically typing on her phone under the desk. But Ameri’s focus was on the third row, second seat.

Ameri smiled, pulling off the wire-rimmed glasses. She tossed them into a recycling bin.

She had to get it. But she couldn't just grab it. The room had eyes. The girl with the violet hair clips was the lookout—her phone's camera was aimed not at her notes, but at the door. "Nice work with the fake fumble

He’s not here to learn, Ameri thought. He’s here to receive a drop.

Taro stared at her. His eyes narrowed. He glanced at his laptop riser. Nothing. The drive was gone. His face went pale, then a dangerous red.

She turned the corner at the end of the hall and pressed her back against the lockers. She pulled out the USB drive. It was warm. But Ameri’s focus was on the third row, second seat

She packed her borrowed textbook, gave a little wave, and walked out the door. She didn't run. Running was a tell. She walked with the measured pace of a teacher who had a faculty meeting to attend.

Undercover. And her target was in this room.

In one fluid, microsecond movement, her hand darted under the riser. Her thumb and forefinger pinched the USB drive. It slid into her palm, then into the hidden pocket sewn into the seam of her cardigan. She had to get it

That’s when she saw it. Tucked under his laptop riser, invisible from every other angle but this one, was a slim, metallic USB drive. It wasn't a standard model. It was a Phantom Circuit data-siphon—capable of draining an entire hard drive in seconds.

Taro Kishimoto. The science prodigy. The chess champion. The suspected data mule for the Phantom Circuit, a cyber-criminal syndicate that had been leaking state secrets through encoded messages hidden in academic papers.

At exactly 4:47 PM, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A single, pre-arranged text: EVAC.

Taro didn't look up. "It's already balanced if you consider combustion," he muttered. "Glucose plus six oxygens yields six carbons diox and six waters. Boring."