"...You students really are foolish."
The cold voice rang out in Class D's homeroom at the same time Class A was having their own meeting. It belonged to their homeroom teacher, Chabashira Sae.
The room froze at her blunt, cutting tone.
From the back, Kiyotaka Ayanokoji observed quietly, expression unreadable.
"The points have been transferred. That much is certain. There is no illusion, no clerical error, and no case of your class being overlooked. Do you understand?"
"Well… even if you ask us that…" someone muttered.
Most of the class looked unconvinced, murmurs breaking out, though a few students were starting to piece it together — expressions saying "No way…"
Then, a sudden burst of laughter echoed through the room.
"Hahaha. I see now. So that's what this is, Sensei. The riddle is solved."
The voice belonged to Koenji Rokusuke, flamboyant and smug as ever, blond hair slicked back and feet propped arrogantly on his desk.
"It's simple, really. We, Class D, weren't awarded a single point."
"Your attitude is a problem," Chabashira said sharply. "But Koenji is correct. Some of you may have heard the rumors… but only a handful truly realized what they meant. It's disappointing."
(…Rumors?)
Ayanokoji's brow furrowed slightly — a rare show of emotion. He had never heard such rumors.
He often lamented his lack of social awareness, and now, once again, he was painfully aware of how isolated he truly was.
"What rumors?" another student asked.
"Has anyone heard that our points might be tied to our behavior and performance?"
"…I did," one student said.
"Me too…"
A few nodded, their expressions grim.
"It's true. At this school, points are calculated based on your class's collective conduct," Chabashira confirmed.
"You've been late, absent, talking during lessons… and you didn't even notice. If this surprises you, that in itself is the problem."
"Teacher, can I ask something?" Hirata Yousuke, one of Class D's pillars, raised his hand.
"I heard the rumors too. But if it's true, why didn't the school explain it? If they had just told us—"
"Do you need everything spelled out for you?" Chabashira cut him off coldly.
"Pay attention in class. That's something you should've learned in elementary school. If you don't even grasp that, then yes — you're beneath that level."
"…Still…"
"Didn't it strike you as strange that first-years were handed 100,000 yen with no restrictions?
If rumors like that spread, shouldn't it have made you question things more? This outcome is the result of your shallow thinking — only seeing what's convenient."
Her words were harsh — but true.
Hirata clenched his fists in silent frustration.
"…Then at least tell us how our points were deducted or increased. It would help us moving forward."
"That's not possible."
He made a final plea, but Chabashira refused without hesitation.
They wouldn't disclose the evaluation criteria — and even if someone improved their lifestyle now, there would be no immediate point increases.
After the explanation, Chabashira pinned a sheet of white paper on the blackboard.
"Let's move on to something more productive. This paper shows the point rankings by class. These values multiplied by 100 are the number of points each student receives."
The class turned toward the board — and a hush fell.
The top value stood out sharply.
"Class A got 1000!? That's insane!"
The outburst came from Ike Kanji, one of the so-called "Three Idiots" of Class D.
"That's favoritism!" shouted Haruki Yamauchi, the loudest clown among them.
More voices rose — cries of "unfair" and jealous muttering.
Ayanokoji remained silent, but inside, he felt a subtle jolt.
(It's practically impossible to achieve that just by living normally…)
Each class had 40 students. Naturally, not everyone would behave perfectly.
If you didn't understand the system from Day One… there was no way you'd reach a perfect score.
"Quiet. There's no evidence of wrongdoing in Class A."
At that, Hirata raised his hand again.
"But Sensei… isn't it strange that only Class A had no deductions?
It feels like they knew about the system in advance…"
"All students were given the same information when they enrolled," Chabashira said firmly. "This result was due to one student who correctly guessed the school's rules on the first day."
"A student?"
Ayanokoji's curiosity was piqued. Someone had anticipated the system from day one?
What kind of environment shaped someone like that?
"Still," Chabashira continued, "even knowing the system doesn't make it easy. Class A simply has many exceptional students — unlike you defective Class D students."
"That's uncalled for…" someone whispered.
"Harsh, yes — but true. Even compared to Classes B and C, the gap is clear."
The students glanced at the posted rankings for Classes B and C.
The difference wasn't as shocking as A-Class's perfect score — but it was still significant.
"You should have figured it out by now," Chabashira said coldly. "At this school, students are ranked A to D based on their entrance evaluation.
In other words, you are the ones who received the lowest marks."
Stunned silence swept over the class.
Even those confident in their academic skills — like the girl beside Ayanokoji, Suzune Horikita — looked shaken.
"However," Chabashira added, "you're also the first D-Class in school history to blow through every single point in just one month.
The difference between Class A and Class D is staggering. I'm actually impressed."
With that sarcastic remark, Class D fell completely silent, shoulders slumped.
But their troubles didn't end there.
Promotion to Class A was the only guarantee of a bright future. Failing a single exam could mean expulsion.
The mood in the classroom felt like a funeral.
Yet even now, Ayanokoji's thoughts were elsewhere.
(A student who noticed the system on the first day…)
He didn't know their name or face, but for the first time, he felt intrigued.
Was it empathy? Having grown up in a "special" environment himself?
He wasn't sure.
But in his mind, he addressed this unknown individual.
Could you be… my teaching material?
***
(So... what now?)
After morning homeroom ended, Class A gathered once again for a class meeting after school.
Mamoru sat in his seat, chin resting in his hands, quietly observing the developments as the meeting unfolded.
"Alright, let's begin. Today's topic is preparation for the upcoming midterm exams."
Standing at the blackboard, Katsuragi Kohei opened the meeting.
With his strong presence and composed demeanor, Katsuragi had naturally become the go-to leader in situations like this. His ability to guide the class was widely acknowledged.
"Please hold on a moment."
A calm but firm voice interrupted.
"…Matoba. What is it?"
The student who stood was Shinji Matoba, one of the top scorers on the recent quiz.
"I believe there's something we should settle before this meeting continues."
"What needs settling?" Katsuragi asked, eyebrows narrowing.
It wasn't hostility — just curiosity. Still, Katsuragi's towering frame and naturally stern expression made even neutral reactions feel intense.
But Matoba stood his ground with calm confidence.
"The matter of leadership. Now that inter-class competition has become a reality, I believe we need to formally choose a class leader to foster unity."
"What are you saying? Isn't that already settled with Katsuragi-san?"
The voice came from Yahiko Totsuka, one of Katsuragi's staunchest supporters.
"Why should you get to decide that?" Matoba countered sharply. "You alone don't have the right to choose our leader."
"…What's with that tone?"
Yahiko's voice naturally rose, sensing the challenge in Matoba's words. But before things escalated, Katsuragi raised his hand to defuse the tension.
"Calm down, Yahiko. Matoba has a point."
Then he turned to Matoba. "Are you nominating yourself for the position?"
"No. I would like to nominate Sakayanagi Arisu."
A ripple of surprise passed through the class.
Mamoru turned to look at Arisu. She showed no surprise at all — just a faint, knowing smile.
(Wow... So she laid the groundwork in advance...)
Mamoru quickly pieced it together.
Had they let things play out naturally, Katsuragi would've solidified his role as leader. But Arisu wasn't someone who would quietly follow under another's authority. Naturally, she would make her move.
"As demonstrated by the recent quiz, Sakayanagi-san is clearly the top student academically," Matoba continued. "If we're talking intelligence, I can't think of anyone more qualified."
"I agree."
"Same here."
Supportive voices began rising throughout the room, with several hands going up.
"Hmm… then—"
"May I speak?"
Just as Katsuragi was about to respond, Arisu herself cut in.
At the sound of her voice, the room fell instantly silent.
(Even the way she controls the atmosphere feels calculated… impressive.)
Mamoru couldn't help but admire the way she'd commanded attention with a single line. Whether by charisma or manipulation, the outcome was the same.
"I'm deeply honored by your support," Arisu began.
"But I imagine some of you still harbor doubts about my capabilities. Academic achievement is one thing, but this school demands more than just test scores. In this competitive environment, I understand those concerns. Ignoring those voices would be unbecoming of a true leader."
Mamoru briefly tilted his head in confusion at her modest stance — not at all like her usual self. But her next words made everything clear.
"Which is why I'd like to propose that the matter of leadership be put on hold. Whether I'm more suited to lead… or whether Katsuragi-kun is, let's decide based on the results of the upcoming exams."
It was never about electing a leader — not for Arisu. In fact, she aimed to prevent that very outcome.
If the class had voted today, Katsuragi would've won by majority.
He had been active, visible, and reliable — while Arisu had operated quietly from the shadows. In terms of support base, he had the clear edge.
This move wasn't to take the throne. It was to block it.
"Is that alright with you, Katsuragi-kun?"
"…Yeah. I don't want the role if it means ignoring dissenting voices."
Katsuragi nodded, unable to oppose her logic.
After all, Arisu hadn't said anything wrong — and Katsuragi wasn't the type to forcefully shut others out.
(This is the classic "match-pump"...)
Mamoru internally sighed.
She instigated the whole idea of choosing a leader, then shut it down — after planting the seed of doubt. It was a masterclass in manipulation.
"Well then, if it's alright with everyone, I'd like to shift back to our original topic: midterm exam strategies."
"Wait, before that — may I propose something?"
"Go ahead," Katsuragi replied.
"Thank you. For the next test… I'd like to propose a little game."
"…A game?"
Katsuragi gave her a wary look.
"Yes. A way to determine the most suitable leader — through our midterm results.
We'll split into two groups: those who support me, and those who support Katsuragi-kun. The group with the higher average scores wins."
"That's absurd," Katsuragi frowned. "Why split the class and compete internally? That's inefficient."
"Is it, though? A little competition can be healthy — even in academics. Frankly, I think classes B and below lack serious contenders. In that case, wouldn't internal competition raise everyone's motivation?"
Katsuragi didn't respond immediately this time. Perhaps he saw some merit in the idea.
"…If we go through with this, how do we ensure fairness?
If it's just about averages, we could simply gather all the best scorers to one side."
"I'm not suggesting we manipulate outcomes," Arisu replied. "Participation will be voluntary.
Tomorrow morning, we'll take sign-ups. Students will declare which camp they support. If anyone wants to support a third group, they can.
The results will be judged on average scores in each subject for each group."
"…So the winner becomes the class leader?"
"No — it's only a test of leadership."
She smiled gently.
"As you said, if someone only recruits top scorers and ignores the weaker students, can they really be called a leader? Winning or losing isn't the goal. The real value lies in how each side supports its members."
Katsuragi couldn't argue. There was no downside, and if it helped the class improve academically, there was no reason to oppose it.
"…Fine. Let's go with that."
"I'm glad you understand," Arisu said with a soft smile.
But she wasn't done.
"Oh, and one more thing. While I don't care much about winning or losing — it'd be more exciting if we raised the stakes. Let's say the losing group pays points to the winning side."
"What?! That's reckless! Gambling affects class evaluations!"
"No need to worry. I asked Professor Mashima about this myself. The school won't intervene in point transfers if both parties consent and it's framed as a competition, not a wager."
(Oh, right… that did happen about ten days ago.)
Mamoru vaguely recalled tagging along with her at the time.
(So she planned this far ahead... Creepy)
Though Mamoru had kept his distance, Katsuragi didn't hide his displeasure. For a moment, it seemed he might shut the whole thing down.
But then—
"Sounds fun. I'm in," said Hashimoto, raising his hand.
Others followed. Arisu's groundwork had paid off — but that wasn't the only reason.
For the past month, Class A had lived under pressure, not knowing what might affect their standing. This game offered both structure and release — all within the realm of academics.
"Katsuragi-san, let's do this. We're not gonna lose."
Even Yahiko, his loyal supporter, encouraged him.
At this point, declining would only damage Katsuragi's standing.
"…Alright. Let's do it."
And just like that, what began as a strategy meeting for exams became a heated discussion over game rules.
(We're all dancing in the palm of her hand…)
Mamoru watched in detached awe.
Though framed as a game, the stakes were real. Winners would receive points. Losers would bear resentment. And that resentment would be aimed squarely at their representatives.
In other words, this game was a convenient way to sort out friend, foe, and neutral — to solidify factions.
And once formed, those factions wouldn't easily dissolve.
(Seriously... Can I go home now?)
Uninterested in the power struggle, Mamoru sighed inwardly.
Still, one thing was clear: the midterms would no longer just be a test of academics — but a battlefield for leadership itself.
◆◇◆
Class A's Internal Competition: Overview
A score-based competition between two or more camps.
Each camp must have at least 6 members including a representative; no upper limit.
The winning team is determined by total subject wins (based on average scores per subject). In case of a tie, the camp with the highest overall average score will win.
If all camps tie, no winner is declared.
[Rewards]
All members of the losing camp must pay 20,000 Private Points (PR) to each member of the winning camp.
The winning team's total points will be equally divided among its participants.
[Rules]
Participation is voluntary.
Participants may only attend study sessions hosted by their own camp.
Non-participants may join any camp's study sessions, with the representative's permission.