Horikita's life had always been overshadowed by a single presence.
It was the back of her brother.
Someone once jokingly called her a "brother complex," but she knew very well—it wasn't a twisted attachment, but pure admiration.
And now, fate had played its cruelest joke on her.
When she finally entered this academy where her brother presided over the Student Council, she was greeted with the label of Class D.
Between her and her brother, who held a high position in Class A, lay a chasm of three letters.
Her fingernails dug deep into her palms.
She thought of her perfect attendance record for three years in middle school, her consistently top-ranking report cards, and those disciplined, even harsh, days and nights.
All these proofs of excellence were now shattered by the Class D label.
"The class assignment system is very unreasonable!..."
Horikita's voice seeped through her tightly clenched teeth.
Anger boiled in her chest—not self-doubt, but the most intense rejection of this evaluation system.
"Shimizu-san! Let's exchange contact information!" Horikita suddenly stood up.
"Oh? So proactive all of a sudden?" Akira raised an eyebrow. They had just exchanged contacts and hadn't had time to say much when his phone received a transfer notification.
"Eighty thousand points. It's for you. We're completely even," she said. Her actions were astonishingly fast. The moment she put away her phone, her delicate face had returned to its usual coldness, as if silently declaring, "Try to speak to me again, and I'll kill you."
Watching the girl's quick departure, Akira smiled wryly and shook his head. "She's not going to confront Chabashira-sensei, is she?"
His gaze followed that stubborn figure until she disappeared through the cafeteria entrance.
Horikita possessed an almost arrogant self-confidence.
When reality deviated from her expectations, she never wasted time on self-doubt—this almost obsessive certainty spared her from unnecessary mental exhaustion.
However, this confidence was about to collide with cold reality.
Koenji was the best example.
Akira's report on Monday about the interviewer intentionally lowering his score ultimately failed to change his class assignment.
'Eighty thousand points right off the bat... Horikita-san is unexpectedly generous.'
Akira gently rubbed his phone screen, the light from the transfer notification reflecting on his thoughtful face.
He had only intended to charge a symbolic amount, as it was just a piece of information he provided casually.
'Could the Student Council President have secretly transferred her some pocket money?'
This thought had barely surfaced before he dismissed it—given her brother's personality, he probably wouldn't indulge his sister in such a way.
'Wait... if this is most of her savings...'
'Then she'll be eating dirt next month...'
However, Akira's thoughts were quickly drawn to his account balance—the number had already surpassed the three hundred thousand mark.
Adding the eighty thousand transferred by Horikita, this amount might seem considerable to ordinary students.
But he merely unconsciously converted it: according to the school's exchange rate, it was equivalent to a typical office worker's monthly salary.
300,000 yen in Tokyo probably wouldn't even rent a decent house.
'This is still far from enough... It needs to at least break the million mark.'
Akira locked his phone and put it in his pocket, his fingertips touching the folded note inside.
He slowly unfolded it, and unfamiliar handwriting came into view:
[Come find me in room 1203 after dinner tonight.]
The handwriting was quite elegant, definitely a girl's.
If he remembered correctly, the upper floor should be an exclusive floor for girls.
'An invitation from the girls' dormitory...?'
If it were Yamauchi or Ike, they would probably be jumping for joy by now.
After leaving the cafeteria, Akira went to the front desk of the dormitory lobby and began to inquire about who lived in room 1203.
"Student resident information is confidential.~" The front desk lady, wearing round-rimmed glasses, had a mischievous smile flash behind her lenses. "It's better not to ask too many questions, but do be careful."
She lightly tapped her lips with her fingertip, revealing an ambiguous expression.
This reaction undoubtedly confirmed the most obvious guess: it was indeed the girls' dormitory.
Akira took the elevator, paused for a moment in front of room 1203, and gently knocked on the door.
"Coming!" A clear, pleasant voice responded from inside.
The door was quickly opened, and Akira recognized the person at a glance.
Karuizawa was wearing a loose, short-sleeved T-shirt and casual shorts, her long legs appearing exceptionally fair in the hallway light.
She leaned casually against the doorframe, her hair still slightly damp, as if she had just showered.
"Shimizu-kun is here," she said, tilting her head, a faint smile on her lips.
Akira unconsciously took a second look, then quickly averted his gaze.
"Come on in!" Karuizawa suddenly stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms intimately around Akira's arm.
The girl's soft touch was clearly felt through the uniform fabric, carrying a faint scent of shower gel.
She half-pulled, half-pushed Akira into the room, like dragging a large doll.
However, rather than her forcefully pulling him, it was more like Akira half-heartedly cooperating with her actions—if he had resisted even slightly, this somewhat ambiguous "kidnapping" would have immediately failed.
He could clearly feel the soft pressure on his arm.
Instinctively, he had to admit that the touch indeed stirred his heart—but reason told him that this sudden intimacy was too deliberate.
Because they were just classmates.
Karuizawa looked up, her cheeks flushed, her voice a mix of shyness and determination. "Shimizu-kun... Actually, I noticed you from the day of the entrance ceremony, when you stood up to Yamauchi-san." She paused, unconsciously twisting the corner of her shirt with her fingertips. "Of course... part of it was also because of your looks..."
She took a deep breath, as if expending all her strength to squeeze out the next sentence. "Um, please... date me, with the prerequisite that you protect me."
Akira was completely stunned after hearing these words.
What kind of dating declaration was this? Others would at least say "with marriage as a prerequisite."
This classmate, however, went straight for "with protection as a prerequisite"—it was almost like discussing a bodyguard contract.