After lunch, Shimizu Akira went to the supermarket again.
He'd noticed it this morning while riding the bus—the students around him, like himself, were all lightly packed, at most carrying a single shoulder bag. No one was dragging heavy suitcases.
The school notification simply stated that daily necessities could be purchased at the supermarket, but students had many more things to consider.
So he spent the entire afternoon on a big shopping spree at the supermarket.
From slippers, toothpaste, and toothbrushes to bedsheets and duvets, from power strips to toilet paper, and so on.
As Shimizu Akira browsed the shelves, he was surprised to find that the supermarket displayed quite a few high-priced items. The latest handheld consoles, high-spec laptops, all neatly arranged in a dedicated area.
Only the price tags with their strings of numbers were astonishing, with the cheapest starting at fifty thousand points.
He rubbed the phone in his pocket, but in the end, he didn't scan to buy anything.
Although he had a considerable amount of points in his account, spending lavishly on the first day of school might lead to a shortage by the end of the month.
Moreover, his Class D status was like a sword of Damocles hanging over his head. Who knew if he'd still receive points next month?
If his luck was bad, he might have to live hand-to-mouth for the next three years.
Although he carefully selected various affordable items, the small purchases added up.
At checkout, Shimizu Akira's eyes were still pained by the amount displayed on the terminal—a full five thousand points. Plus the one thousand spent on lunch, his account balance plummeted from 235,000 to 229,000.
The night passed uneventfully.
The next day.
At 5:30 AM, Shimizu Akira opened his eyes precisely.
He flipped out of bed without a moment's hesitation, changed into loose sportswear, and began his routine morning exercise.
First, fifteen minutes of systematic stretching. Each movement precise and in place, his joints emitting faint cracking sounds.
After warming up, the real training officially began.
One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats. This basic training was already as natural as breathing to him.
By the time sweat dripped from his jawline onto the floor, he'd already completed three full sets.
At 6:30, Shimizu Akira pushed open the door and arrived at the school's sports field.
He adjusted his breathing and began to run at a steady pace.
For the first eight laps, he maintained a stable rhythm, his breathing perfectly even.
On the ninth lap, he suddenly accelerated, and the last lap was a full sprint.
Today's ten-kilometer run time was 39 minutes and 34 seconds.
The moment Shimizu Akira arrived at his seat, the familiar notification sound rang out in his mind on time.
[Ding ~ Today's intelligence has been updated]
[Intelligence 1: Yamamura of Class D, second year, urgently needs a large amount of private points. She is willing to exchange some rules of the S-System from freshmen for thirty thousand points (the final bottom line is ten thousand points).]
[Intelligence 2: Ichinose Honami of Class B, first year—after only one day of school, her contact list has already exceeded three digits, including many upperclassmen.]
[Intelligence 3: Karuizawa Kei of Class D, first year, is looking for a "fake boyfriend" to act as a shield.]
Shimizu Akira was slightly startled. The classroom clock stopped exactly at eight o'clock.
This intelligence system is even more punctual than an alarm clock.
The first piece of intelligence caught his attention the most.
An upperclassman from Class D, second year, actually wants to exchange "rules of the S-System" for points?
This transaction itself was quite intriguing.
On the second day of school, although Shimizu Akira had already figured out the class grading system and the two rules of unequal monthly point distribution, the most crucial S-System evaluation criteria remained shrouded in mystery.
It was like playing a game of chess without being able to see the opponent's moves.
'Evaluation criteria... For students, the most direct should be test scores, right?'
'If I'm not mistaken, Horikita-san's academic performance should be very good.'
His gaze unconsciously turned to Horikita Suzune next to him.
The girl, as usual, was engrossed in her copy of "Crime and Punishment," her dark long hair falling onto the pages.
"I told you to stop looking at me... Raskolnikov."
The sudden closing of the book pages brought Shimizu Akira back to his senses.
Horikita was watching him with her cool, clear eyes.
Raskolnikov?
Shimizu Akira's pupils widened slightly. This sudden literary reference caught him off guard—the protagonist from "Crime and Punishment" who struggled with moral dilemmas?
Memories of cramming classics in college to impress a literature student were now attacking him.
Those nights spent poring over Dostoevsky were unexpectedly coming in handy.
"I haven't committed murder yet, have I?" he replied calmly, taking the cue.
Horikita's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.
This subtle change in expression confirmed to Shimizu Akira that he'd successfully caught on to this sudden literary exchange.
"Soon! I think the victim is probably Yamauchi Haruki," Horikita interjected coldly.
Shimizu Akira suddenly realized—so she was referring to the incident at the entrance ceremony when he'd grabbed Yamauchi Haruki's wrist.
To describe a classmate as a "victim"—this classmate's sharp tongue was truly merciless.
"He said you were scrawny," Shimizu Akira suddenly remembered something and added lightly.
Horikita Suzune's body instantly stiffened, her pale cheeks flushed visibly, and her usually calm and composed eyes now burned with shame and anger.
She abruptly stood up, walked with sharp steps to Yamauchi Haruki, looked down at him, her voice so cold it seemed to freeze the air.
"Yamauchi-san, mind your mouth from now on. Otherwise, I will mercilessly impose physical sanctions on you."
She narrowed her eyes slightly, saying each word distinctly.
"If there's a next time, I'll make sure you can't hold chopsticks with your left hand for three months."
Yamauchi Haruki's body clearly stiffened for a moment, his lips slightly parted as if to argue, but when he met the girl's icy gaze, all words caught in his throat.
He eventually just lowered his head resentfully, shrinking his neck like a drenched stray dog.
Meanwhile, Shimizu Akira, not far away, blinked with a subtle expression on his face. 'Wait, wasn't that the exact line I just used yesterday at the entrance ceremony?'
The two of them had quite a tacit understanding. When faced with those who didn't know their place and provoked them, they couldn't be bothered to waste words and instead directly used their fists to shut them up.
"Horikita-san, if Yamauchi-san really dies one day, you'll definitely be the prime suspect."
"Wrong. According to Shimizu-san's 'brilliant performance' at the entrance ceremony yesterday, the first person the police would suspect would only be you."