The morning began with tension so thick you could almost feel it pressing against your chest.
No laughter. No chatter. Just silence.
Even Ike and Yamauchi, who were usually the loudest in any room, sat stiffly in their seats. Phones were off, eyes were down. Everyone was waiting for one thing — the points.
A full month had passed since we'd entered this strange school, and every student had been counting the days until the next deposit. But when the clock hit eight and our devices stayed empty, an uneasy murmur spread through the room.
"What's going on?" someone whispered.
"Maybe it's delayed?" another suggested.
"No way. They said it's automatic."
The atmosphere curdled quickly. The panic was subtle at first — shifting eyes, nervous tapping fingers — until Sudō finally slammed his desk.
"Yo, what the hell's going on?! It's already the first! Where's our points?!"
Nobody answered him.
Then, the door slid open.
Sae Chabashira walked in with her usual measured steps, her face unreadable. She placed her bag on the teacher's desk and looked out across the silent class.
"Good morning, Class D."
No one greeted her back.
"I assume you're all aware of the issue," she continued, her tone sharp but detached. "You haven't received your monthly points."
Ike stood up. "Yeah, about that! Did the system mess up or something? It's supposed to be a hundred thousand each month, right?"
Chabashira tilted her head. "Who told you that?"
"The rules!" Ike sputtered. "You said it yourself on the first day!"
"I said you were given 100,000 points," she corrected. "Not that you would receive 100,000 points every month."
A stunned silence filled the room.
"What do you mean?" Kushida asked, her voice soft but trembling. "Are you saying… we don't get them anymore?"
"Oh, you received them," Chabashira said, smiling faintly. "Exactly as much as your class earned this month — zero."
The word hit like a slap.
"Zero?!" Yamauchi shouted. "That's impossible!"
She didn't flinch. "Not at all. You were evaluated for thirty days, and your collective behavior, attendance, and performance determined your value. The result was zero points. Congratulations."
The class exploded.
"What kind of system is that?! You can't just—"
"Are you saying we've been living off fake money?!"
"This school's insane!"
Hirata, ever the voice of reason, stood up, trying to calm everyone. "Sensei, there must be a mistake. Surely our behavior couldn't result in no points at all?"
Chabashira folded her arms. "No mistake. Your constant tardiness, absences, talking during lessons, sleeping, and using phones in class were all recorded. The system doesn't overlook such things."
Her words cut through the panic like a blade.
"And even if you suddenly decide to behave now," she added coldly, "you will not be compensated retroactively. What's lost is lost."
It felt like the air itself had frozen.
A few students began whispering, others shouting accusations — blaming Sudō for fighting, Ike for causing disruptions, even Kushida for not stopping them sooner. The unity of Class D crumbled instantly.
I sat quietly, arms crossed, watching the storm unfold.
Chabashira raised her voice slightly, regaining the class's attention. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to explain how the school works. You are all divided into four classes — A through D. Class A consists of the elite students. Class D, on the other hand…"
She smiled thinly. "…is for the defective ones."
Gasps and protests followed.
"What do you mean 'defective'?" someone shouted.
"Your skills, discipline, and ability to work as a unit are all lacking," she replied. "That is why you were placed here. If you wish to rise, you must earn class points and surpass the others. Your monthly rewards depend entirely on those points."
Teruhiko Yukimura shot to his feet. "That's ridiculous! We all passed the entrance exam, didn't we? How can you call us defective?"
Chabashira didn't hesitate. "Because your worth isn't measured by tests alone. Your class has already proven that you lack self-control and awareness. You have no one to blame but yourselves."
Yukimura's jaw tightened. He sat down, silent but seething.
Then she reached for a tablet, pressing a few buttons before turning the screen toward us. "These are your mock exam scores."
Names and numbers filled the display. The average was pitiful.
"Seven of you," she said slowly, "would have been expelled had this been a real exam. That's how poorly you performed."
The room fell into despair.
I felt my stomach twist. Even though I'd done decently, it didn't matter. We were a class — and the system punished the class as one.
Chabashira continued mercilessly. "Fail your midterms or finals, and expulsion will not be hypothetical. There will be no appeals, no second chances."
Her gaze swept over us, landing on Horikita for a fraction of a second, then on Ayanokōji. "Only students in Class A are guaranteed full support after graduation — scholarships, career placements, security. You in Class D have nothing."
Silence. Pure, heavy silence.
Finally, she said, "Your midterms will be in three weeks. Do what you wish. I don't expect much."
And with that, she left.
The door closed behind her like a final judgment.
The moment she was gone, chaos erupted again.
"This is a nightmare!"
"I can't live with zero points! How are we supposed to buy food?!"
"Who's fault is this?! Sudō, you started half the trouble!"
"Hey! Don't blame me!"
Horikita sat at her desk, unmoving, expression unreadable. Ayanokōji leaned back, observing the scene with that same cool detachment. I stayed quiet — not because I didn't have thoughts, but because I needed to see how everyone reacted first.
Kushida rose from her seat and began calming people down, her voice gentle, soothing, perfectly pitched to diffuse panic. "Everyone, please! Arguing won't help us. We should focus on what we can do to improve. If we behave better, maybe next month's points will go up again!"
Her optimism settled some of the noise. For now.
But the resentment simmered beneath the surface.
Ike muttered, "Like that'll fix anything…"
Sudō slammed his fist again. "This whole school's rigged!"
Horikita finally stood, arms crossed. "Then maybe you should start acting like a student instead of a delinquent."
He glared. "What did you say?!"
"Your behavior drags us all down. Try thinking for once."
I stepped in before things got physical. "Enough. Fighting won't get our points back."
They both looked at me — then away.
After a few minutes, Chabashira's warning began to sink in. The noise died down to mutters and frustrated sighs. Hirata, ever the peacemaker, gathered a few students together and spoke in a low voice.
"We need a plan," he said. "If the school evaluates class points monthly, then we have to improve before the next evaluation."
He turned toward Horikita and Ayanokōji. "Would you two be willing to help?"
Horikita shook her head immediately. "I work better alone."
Ayanokōji gave a mild smile. "I'm not much of a leader."
Their polite refusals didn't seem to surprise Hirata. He just sighed. "All right. I'll see what I can organize myself."
As he walked off, Horikita glanced at me. "You're awfully quiet."
"I'm listening," I said.
"And?"
"And learning who's going to crack first."
Her lips curved slightly — not quite a smile, but close. "You think this is a test."
"I know it is."
That evening, as the classroom emptied, the announcement system crackled to life.
"Student Kiyotaka Ayanokōji, please report to the staff room."
Heads turned. Ayanokōji raised a brow, then stood up, gathering his bag.
"Guess I'm in trouble," he said under his breath.
I considered following, but thought better of it. Whatever the school wanted with him, it was better not to draw attention — yet.
The halls were unnervingly quiet when Ayanokōji left for the staff room.I lingered a moment after him, pretending to pack up my books while watching through the corner of my eye. Horikita also remained seated, staring blankly at her notes — though I could tell her mind was racing just as fast as mine.
When she finally stood and left the room, I followed from a distance. Something about the timing of that announcement felt too precise.
I stopped near the vending machines, pretending to get a drink while she disappeared down the faculty corridor. A few moments later, I caught sight of her outside the guidance office, talking to Chabashira. The door closed behind them — and that's when I noticed another teacher standing near the entrance.
A woman with dyed hair and an easy smile — Chie Hoshinomiya.
Even from here, her body language screamed mischief. She leaned against the wall, teasing someone inside the staff room. Moments later, Ayanokōji emerged, expression as blank as ever.
I ducked behind a column, listening.
"Ah, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji," Hoshinomiya purred. "You're the quiet one from Class D, aren't you?"
He nodded politely. "Yes, ma'am."
"I've heard interesting things about you. How about transferring to my class instead? You seem wasted under Sae's care."
Before he could respond, Chabashira's sharp voice cut through the hall like glass. "Chie. Don't you have paperwork to complete?"
"Oh, come on, Sae. No need to be so possessive."
Chabashira glared at her. "Guidance room. Now."
The two teachers exchanged icy smiles, then walked off — Ayanokōji trailing behind them.
Guidance room, huh?
I didn't need to think twice. I followed, careful not to be seen. When I reached the corner, I heard voices from inside — faint but clear enough through the thin wall.
"Stay in here and don't say a word," Chabashira ordered.
"Why?" Ayanokōji's calm tone carried easily.
"Because I said so. Speak, and you're expelled."
That shut him up.
I recognized the pattern. She wasn't scolding him — she was setting up an observation.
Moments later, footsteps echoed again — lighter this time. Horikita.
She entered the adjacent room, unaware that she had an audience.
"Chabashira-sensei, I need to know something." Her voice was firm, controlled. "Why was I placed in Class D?"
I could almost hear Chabashira's smirk. "Because you belong here."
"That's impossible. My scores were third overall on the entrance exam. My academic record has always been among the best."
"Academics aren't the only measure of merit," Chabashira said, tone mocking. "There are other traits — social aptitude, leadership, emotional intelligence. You're lacking in all of them."
Horikita's silence said more than words ever could.
Finally, she said quietly, "Then this placement was intentional. A message."
"Perhaps." Chabashira paused. "But since you're so eager, I'll give you a hint. If you want to reach Class A, you'll need more than just good grades."
I heard the click of her heels, then a door opening. "Come in, Ayanokōji."
A soft gasp from Horikita followed. "You were listening?"
Ayanokōji didn't bother denying it. "She told me to."
"Unbelievable." Her tone sharpened with irritation.
Chabashira ignored the tension. "Tell me something, Ayanokōji. On the mock exam, you scored exactly fifty points in every subject — the bare minimum to pass. And yet, you correctly solved one of the hardest problems that even advanced students missed."
He answered without hesitation. "Coincidence."
Chabashira raised a brow. "And the easiest question you got wrong?"
"Another coincidence."
Her expression tightened — frustrated, but also intrigued. "You're either a fool or hiding something."
"Probably both," he said flatly.
I almost laughed out loud. That dry sarcasm of his was starting to become a weapon in itself.
Chabashira dismissed them both after a few more exchanges, though her voice carried an undercurrent of interest — as if she'd just stumbled onto a puzzle worth solving.
As soon as the door opened again, I slipped away before they could see me.
Later, outside the dorms, I caught up with Ayanokōji and Horikita as they walked together. The evening air was crisp, the streetlights glowing softly above the quiet campus road.
"…so that's what she told me," Horikita was saying. "She thinks I'm defective because I lack 'social aptitude.' Ridiculous."
"You did insult half the class today," Ayanokōji noted casually.
"That's because half of them act like children."
"Which proves her point."
Horikita glared at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"I find it entertaining," he admitted. "You're passionate about climbing to Class A, but you refuse to cooperate with anyone."
"And you?" she countered. "You just watch from the sidelines like this doesn't concern you."
"Because it doesn't. Not yet."
I stepped forward from the shadows. "Then maybe it should."
Both turned. Horikita's expression hardened. "You were listening?"
"Not intentionally," I lied smoothly. "But you two talk loudly enough for anyone nearby to hear. You're planning to raise our class's points, right?"
She hesitated. "…Yes."
"Then count me in."
Ayanokōji raised a brow. "Why?"
"Because I don't like being broke," I said bluntly. "And because this school isn't as simple as it looks. It's not just testing us — it's ranking us like products."
He gave a small smile. "You're not wrong."
Horikita crossed her arms. "Fine. But if you're joining, you follow my lead."
"Sure," I said, though inwardly I smirked. I'll follow… for now.
That night, in my dorm, I opened the Miyamoto Group chat — our private network.
The others had been restless since the zero-point reveal. I could feel it in the flurry of messages.
Haruka: No points?? Are they serious?!Yukimura: This system is irrational. I'm starting to think this is psychological warfare.Airi: I can't even afford snacks anymore…Okitani: So what's the plan, boss?
I typed calmly:
Miyamoto: The school is judging our collective behavior. That means our surveillance, information, and patterns matter more than grades. Keep your teams running.Hasebe / Mei: Keep blending with the girl groups. Listen for rumors about Class A and B.Airi / An: Keep tracking the camera blind spots. The school might monitor more than we think.Yukimura / Akito: Gather data on past class rankings from the upper floors.Okitani / Ijuin: Stay close to the Class C boys — I want to know how they're handling this too.
Then I added one last line:
Miyamoto: And don't panic. Zero points means freedom. No one expects anything from the bottom. That's when we can move the most freely.