Chabashira Sae slowly set down the phone, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk.
The resolution had come faster than expected—from the revelation of Kōenji Rokusuke's deliberately lowered scores to the school's decision, it had taken less than thirty minutes.
The responsible staff member was immediately dismissed, the whistleblower received a 50,000-point hush payment, and Kōenji's class assignment remained unchanged.
**"Just as I thought."** She scoffed, tossing her phone onto the desk.
After eight years teaching at this school, she knew its inner workings all too well.
Every student was labeled during their entrance interview: Class A for the meticulously selected geniuses, Class D for the discarded "defective goods."
160 seats, 160 pawns—their fates sealed the moment classes were assigned.
In this school, only the chosen elites of Class A ever achieved the vaunted 100% advancement rate.
Chabashira's gaze drifted to the Class D roster, lingering on Shimizu Akira's admission records.
**[Academic Ability: E-]**
**[Judgment: B]**
**[Intelligence: E-]**
**[Physical Ability: A]**
**[Teamwork: E-]**
Her finger paused mid-air.
On paper, Shimizu was thoroughly unremarkable—aside from slightly above-average physical ability and judgment, every other category bore the glaring "E-" stamp. Such scores made Class D placement seem inevitable.
Yet the boy's methodical reasoning during their conversation starkly contradicted this evaluation.
She swiftly unlocked her phone, located "Shimizu Akira" in the pending friend requests, and sent the invitation without hesitation.
**"Interesting."** A cold smirk tugged at her lips.
The school had just emphasized over the phone that class assignment rules were confidential, known only to select administrators.
Meaning no interviewer would ever say—*"An arrogant student like this belongs in Class D."*
**"So, Shimizu-kun... were you lying to test me?"**
Her eyes returned to that suspiciously perfect low-score evaluation.
Perhaps this "report" wasn't motivated by justice at all, but a calculated probe—that boy might have already discerned Class D's true nature as a dumping ground for defectives.
Her fingers resumed their rhythmic tapping.
**"I see..."** she murmured, her smirk deepening.
His deliberate inquiry about the student council likely wasn't idle curiosity either—he'd been gathering evidence to confirm his suspicions about the school's twisted rules.
After all, in this "meritocracy," the student council presidency was reserved for the absolute best.
Horikita Manabu—the most exceptional council president in the school's history—hailed indisputably from Class 3-A.
Those two pieces of intel were damning proof: Class A represented the elite, while Class D was the institutionally designated gathering place for rejects.
Had he really pieced it all together from just that brief exchange and come to test her within minutes?
**"Could this year's Class D actually...?"** Her voice held rare uncertainty.
In eight years of teaching, she'd never encountered a student who saw through the class system on day one. Even in Class A, such individuals were vanishingly rare.
**"Hah! This year's Class A is something else!"** A booming male voice interrupted.
Masaki Tomoya—her longtime colleague and Class A's homeroom teacher—leaned against the doorway, his burly frame blocking much of the light.
Chabashira glanced up to see an unusual look of astonishment on his face. **"That Sakayanagi Arisu in my class,"** he rubbed his stubbled chin, **"the moment I finished explaining school rules, she cornered me and deduced the entire merit-based class system and point rules flawlessly."** He shook his head. **"Some students learn this from upperclassmen, but to reconstruct the truth just from my explanation? First time in my career."**
**"She even said she's going to the convenience store to 'verify something'!"** Masaki scratched his head, perplexed. **"Probably checking out the free supplies, right?"**
Chabashira knew those discreet "special provisions" hidden in store corners all too well—relief items prepared by the school for financially struggling students.
She'd witnessed countless Class D students barely scraping by with those supplies during her own school days.
But... to anticipate this arrangement before even stepping foot in the store?
She flipped open Sakayanagi's file—near-perfect scores across the board, every category marked with glaring "A" ratings except physical ability and teamwork.
A monster like this would undoubtedly become Class A's undisputed leader.
**"Can he win?"** The thought of Shimizu surfaced unbidden.
To graduate perfectly, one must claim Class A's throne.
Meaning Shimizu would have to defeat Sakayanagi Arisu in this brutal competition.
...
When Shimizu entered the convenience store, it was already packed with excited freshmen.
Students darted between shelves with baskets overflowing with snacks and daily necessities—the sudden windfall of 100,000 points had clearly unleashed reckless spending.
Yet his gaze eventually settled on a corner marked "Free Supplies."
The shelf held basic items—bandages, notebooks, shampoo, even simple toiletry kits. A prominent sign read: *Limit 3 items per person monthly.*
After observing quietly, several upperclassmen approached.
Weariness lined their faces as they mechanically collected essentials before hurrying away.
*(So point depletion is real...)* His eyes narrowed slightly. *(No other reason for them to be this desperate on opening day.)*
**"You've been observing since entering, yet your attention never left the free supplies... You noticed those Class D seniors too, didn't you? It seems we've both discerned the truth behind the point system."**
A voice laced with amusement came from his side.
Shimizu turned—
A silver-haired girl leaned against a shelf, her cane propped beside her.
The pure white ribbon at her collar accentuated her near-translucent complexion, making her resemble a delicately carved ice sculpture.
Now, those intrigued eyes studied him with keen interest.