Chapter 2 – Classroom 1-D: Welcome to the Bottom
The moment I stepped into Class 1-D, I felt it in my chest — that subtle tension.
Not the heavy, oppressive kind. More like walking into a room full of strangers who are all pretending not to stare.
The classroom was wide, sterile, and lined with spotless windows that looked out onto an empty courtyard. Forty desks. One for each student. Some kids were already seated, heads down or chatting softly. Others stood in cliques near the back, making early power plays — laughing a little too loudly or scanning the room like it was a jungle and they were picking prey.
I took a middle-row seat by the window. Not too visible, not too hidden. Strategic.
Chronos ticked faintly in my palm.
"Analyzing social structure… Observation: approximately 16 of the 39 present students display signs of heightened anxiety. Three are feigning confidence. One is abnormally still."
"Let me guess," I whispered. "The still one's him."
I didn't need to look to know who Chronos meant.
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka sat three seats away, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed. Not stiff. Not defensive. Just… quiet. Like he belonged in the background and liked it that way.
Most people would overlook him.
I wouldn't.
Before I could stew on it too long, a girl dropped her bag onto the desk in front of mine. Her blonde ponytail bounced with the motion, and her perfume hit me a second later — faintly floral, not overpowering. Intentional.
Ichika Amasaki.
Nope.
Not in the original cast.
She turned around and gave me a cheeky grin.
"Yo. You've got the kind of face people punch in dramas."
I blinked. "Thank you?"
"I meant it in a cool way. You know, like — pretty-boy villain type. Main rival energy."
"I'm flattered. I think."
"I'm Ichika." She extended a hand over her chair. Her nails were painted, but subtly — just enough to bend the school rules without breaking them.
"Kazuki." I shook her hand, and her grip surprised me. Firm. Confident.
Her eyes glanced at the weird analog watch embedded in my palm but didn't linger.
Points for not prying. Yet.
Before either of us could speak again, a figure stepped into the room. The murmurs died instantly.
Our homeroom teacher.
Chabashira-sensei.
Tall, composed, sharp features. Her presence was commanding without being theatrical.
She walked briskly to the front of the room and turned to face us, arms crossed. Her tone was dry, almost bored.
"Welcome to Class 1-D. I'll spare you the fluffy welcome speech. My name is Chabashira-sensei. I'm your homeroom teacher. For the next three years, whether you like it or not, your academic future is in my hands."
No one dared cough.
She continued, eyes sweeping across the room like radar.
"This school is not normal. The moment you passed the entrance exam, you agreed to be evaluated by standards far beyond simple grades. This institution does not merely educate. It filters."
A few students sat up straighter. Ichika leaned back and kicked off her shoes.
"The points system will be explained shortly," Chabashira added. "Until then, feel free to look around, socialize, or waste time however you prefer. I'm only here to observe your initial behavior."
Subtle emphasis. A test within a test.
I met Ichika's glance. "So... you like gambling?"
"With other people's egos? Always."
She leaned sideways to whisper. "That girl in the front with the dead-inside eyes? Horikita Suzune. I sat next to her on the bus. Tried to talk. She looked at me like I asked to borrow her organs."
"Yeah," I said. "She's a delight."
By the end of homeroom, I had two things:
Confirmation we were all gifted 100,000 "private points" monthly.
A very strong suspicion that was complete bull.
Everyone in the room lit up when they heard the amount. Phones came out instantly. Half the students were already planning shopping sprees. One kid in the back started Googling limited edition sneakers before Chabashira even left the room.
I stayed quiet.
Chronos ticked once.
"Observe closely. Systemic traps are rarely obvious."
"No kidding," I muttered.
Lunch Break
The cafeteria was massive — two floors, sleek and bright with soft music playing overhead. I stood near the entrance, scanning the sea of tables.
Students from other classes had flooded in. Most were already grouped off. I spotted Horikita alone in the corner, phone out, ignoring the world.
Ayanokouji was harder to find. Purposefully, probably. He had a talent for invisibility.
I grabbed a standard meal — nothing too expensive, nothing too frugal — and looked for a neutral table.
Ichika beat me to it.
"Yo, Kaz. Sit here," she called, waving a tray with fries and what looked like karaage chicken.
I obliged.
"You look suspiciously calm," I said as I sat. "Most of the class is already spending like lottery winners."
She shrugged. "That's 'cause I'm not stupid. You don't just get handed cash in schools like this."
"You think they're baiting us?"
"I think they want to see who plays the fool first."
I took a bite of rice. "That's… unexpectedly insightful."
"I'm full of surprises." She winked, then pointed her chopsticks at my embedded clock. "So... what's the deal with that, anyway? You some kind of prosthetic model student?"
"You'd be surprised," I said, trying not to overplay it. "Inherited it. Can't remove it. Been stuck since I was a kid."
Not a complete lie. Just... recycled truth.
Ichika didn't press, which I appreciated. Instead, she grinned.
"Well, if it starts talking to you, let me know. I have a therapist recommendation."
I snorted. "You and me both."
Later, I passed by Ayanokouji in the hallway. He glanced at me, expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he'd just walk past.
But then he stopped.
"You're new," he said. Not a question.
I raised a brow. "Aren't we all?"
"No. I mean... you feel out of place. Not nervous. Not excited. Just... watching."
I let a slow smile creep onto my face.
"Observation's underrated."
He studied me for a second longer, then nodded slightly and walked off without another word.
Chronos ticked again.
"Analyzing proximity to target subject. Personality alignment: 36% similarity. Strategic divergence: high."
"Yeah," I muttered. "He's better at hiding."
But I had something he didn't.
Chronos.
And maybe, a little more freedom to stir the pot.
Later that evening, Dormitory 1-D
The room was cleaner than I expected. Minimalist. A bed, a desk, a closet, and a bathroom.
I threw my bag down and lay back on the bed. My palm faced the ceiling. The clock on it ticked once more — softly, but never quite silent.
"Alright, Chronos," I said. "You dropped me in here. Now what?"
"Now? You live. And wait. When the system fails, you act."
"And if it doesn't fail?"
A pause.
"Then you will."