Chapter 141 What have you turned the President's sister into!
"Hello there, cute kouhai. I am Nagumo Miyabi from Second-Year Class A, the current Vice President of the Student Council."
Horikita Suzune was in the middle of whispering with Shimizu Akira about how to earn her brother's attention when she looked up to find a blond male student standing abruptly in front of her, an unidentifiable smile hanging on his face.
She frowned—what was this person smiling at? Was he laughing at how she had been staring at her brother earlier? When she walked in, she clearly saw him chatting with that senior girl wearing the sunflower hairpin; wasn't that his girlfriend?
Still... this person was actually the Student Council Vice President? Among the scripts Shimizu Akira had prepared for her, there was no mention of such a person.
"?" Horikita Suzune subconsciously looked toward Shimizu Akira.
"Why are you looking at me?" Shimizu Akira asked back with a look of total bewilderment.
"What should I say to this person to make my brother think I am being polite?"
"...Uh, your current reaction is already pretty impolite, okay!"
Horikita Suzune was choked by his words, her cheeks quietly flushing with a bit of heat—she had indeed been so preoccupied with her confusion that she forgot basic social etiquette.
Nagumo Miyabi saw this clearly, and the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened. He wasn't angry; he just thought she was quite "moe" in a dazed sort of way.
"It seems this kouhai isn't quite used to talking to strangers? It's fine, I'm a very easygoing person."
He deliberately took a half-step forward, his tone carrying a hint of calculated intimacy.
"As for your brother, he isn't usually this cold in the Student Council. Do you want me to tell you about what he's like when he's working?"
This hit Horikita Suzune's point of interest perfectly. She pursed her lips and didn't immediately pull away, but there was still wariness in her eyes.
Shimizu Akira saw right through it, knowing Nagumo Miyabi was deliberately fishing for conversation. He lightly nudged Horikita's arm and whispered a reminder: "Just give a normal greeting."
Horikita Suzune shot him a look that seemed to say "Why didn't you say so earlier," but she still turned to Nagumo and gave a stiff nod: "Vice President... hello. There is no need to trouble yourself."
Nagumo Miyabi raised his eyebrows with exaggerated flair.
"Your boyfriend and your brother are both in the Student Council office; it's just a chat, why call it a trouble? I'd be very happy to do it for you."
Horikita's brow furrowed again—why was this person so annoying? Besides, on what basis did he decide Shimizu Akira was her boyfriend? Was his eyesight failing him?
"He's not my boyfriend... just a classmate," she paused, then added another sentence.
"Oh? So you aren't!" Nagumo Miyabi acted as if he were sighing in relief, but the look in his eyes grew increasingly blatant.
He was becoming more and more satisfied with the President's sister—she looked like a standard cold honor student, but her reactions were a bit "off-line," carrying a sort of silly, cute clumsiness.
"...Shimizu." Horikita Suzune finally lost her patience and shot a glance at Shimizu Akira.
She really couldn't stand this guy. If they weren't in the Student Council office, she would have lashed out with a cold face long ago. After hesitating for a moment, she cast her gaze toward Shimizu Akira for help.
"...This person should be fine (to deal with)." To her surprise, Shimizu Akira actually nodded.
With that, Horikita Suzune could finally drop the burden. Since even Shimizu Akira said so, it seemed this person's relationship with her brother was likely not great.
"You've been peeking at me since I entered the Student Council office; you haven't stopped since the moment I walked in! If you have something to say, say it directly!"
Horikita Suzune's voice now carried a hint of uncontrollable coldness, her face a mask of indifference.
Nagumo Miyabi was stunned for a moment—why the sudden shift to this cold face?
Yet he continued to smile frankly: "Because you're beautiful. The President's sister is so outstandingly good-looking, what's wrong with taking a few extra looks?"
"Are you an animal? Do you find it impossible to stop yourself from crowding around whenever you see someone good-looking?"
Horikita Suzune gave a cold laugh, firing off a series of questions.
"Are you really the Vice President? Why would my brother recruit someone like you?"
Nagumo Miyabi was choked by her words, and the smile on his face finally stiffened halfway. He never expected that the girl who was slightly reserved just a moment ago would turn into a completely different person the moment the boy next to her spoke—her tongue was so sharp.
Nagumo knew in his heart that his conduct wasn't exactly upright and indeed didn't match the righteous atmosphere of the Student Council. Most second-years were well aware of this, but
aside from his childhood friend Asahina Nazuna, no one dared to point it out to his face. He didn't expect to have his sore spot poked directly by a first-year kouhai today.
"Since he's someone your brother recruited, by saying that, aren't you saying your brother lacks the eye for judging character?"
At that moment, the boy beside her spoke up to advise her.
"I didn't mean it that way," Horikita Suzune said, turning her head to the side as if she couldn't be bothered to look at Nagumo anymore. Although her words still had a bit of an edge, her attitude had clearly softened, losing all its aggression.
'So obedient?
How exactly does he get her to be this obedient?
He can even train the Student Council President's sister to this extent?'
Nagumo Miyabi was indeed a bit annoyed, but he was mostly shocked—why did Horikita Suzune listen to that guy named Shimizu so much?
To be honest, since entering the school, he had had deep interactions with many girls, but nine out of ten were not sincere. They either coveted his looks, his status, or his points. He didn't have the ability to make a girl listen to him so willingly.
Could these two be involved with each other already? His reaction just now might have just been a part of their "play"!
"My thanks to this fellow student for 'speaking up to help.'" Nagumo Miyabi withdrew his gaze, his tone carrying an unidentifiable meaning. When he looked at Shimizu Akira, the arrogance in his eyes faded slightly. Although it didn't sound like he was speaking for him, the result was that he indeed stopped Horikita Suzune's poisonous tongue.
It was clear the other party also knew that this "sister" valued her President brother immensely, so he knew how to use roundabout persuasion.
"It's nothing, Vice President Nagumo, merely a 'slight effort,'" Shimizu Akira responded immediately.
"Shimizu-kun, you look a bit familiar." Nagumo Miyabi sized him up—though the boy's looks couldn't compare to his own, he was still a one-in-a-hundred handsome guy. For some reason, his first reaction was that he looked familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere. He usually never forgot a beautiful girl from any class, but facing a boy, he couldn't quite recall where they had met.
"Last Saturday, I saw you at a parfait shop. You probably saw me then." Shimizu Akira's answer remained flat.
"Ah! Come to think of it, that's true!" Nagumo Miyabi slapped his forehead, finally remembering.
"Right, weren't you also with a very eye-catching girl at the time? It seems Shimizu-kun is quite popular."
He remembered the other party was indeed with a girl, so he deliberately emphasized his tone—intending to use this to drive a wedge between him and Horikita Suzune. He stole a glance at Horikita's sister, only to see her face remained completely unruffled, as if she had known about it all along.
'Wait? What's the situation? She actually already knew?'
Chapter 142 Horikita Suzune: I don't know how to talk to people, I have no friends, and I have a bad personality
Shimizu Akira saw it clearly—Nagumo Miyabi was looking for trouble on purpose. He hadn't offended the man at all, yet Nagumo went out of his way to mention his outing with Kushida Kikyou, specifically for Horikita Suzune to hear.
What did it mean? Did he have his eye on Horikita Suzune? Or did he view Shimizu as a rival?
Although the other party was the Student Council Vice President, he was ultimately a student, not a teacher. Moreover, the Student Council President was right in front of them. With that in mind, Shimizu Akira felt there was no need to worry about Nagumo's feelings.
"Vice President Nagumo, there's no need to beat around the bush. When it comes to being popular, I am far inferior to you."
"Heh~" Nagumo Miyabi suddenly looked up at him, somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected this kid to be so stiff-necked. Facing a Vice President, he could remain so calm. That line "far inferior to you in popularity" sounded like a roundabout way of calling him a playboy.
"Ahem."
The sound of the telephone behind the desk stopped. Horikita Manabu hung up the receiver, glanced at the corner, stood up, and walked into the middle of the group. He asked coldly, "What are you arguing about?"
"Nothing. It seems I misunderstood this student," Nagumo Miyabi raised an eyebrow and said no more. Crossing his arms, he shot a deliberate glance at Shimizu Akira before turning to Horikita Manabu.
"President, I have things to do, so I'll take my leave."
Without waiting for Manabu's response or greeting his own childhood friend, he walked straight out of the Student Council office. Nagumo Miyabi gave Horikita Manabu absolutely no face. Not only was he indiscreet in private, but he was also blatant in public. The moment the President hung up the phone, he dared to just walk out.
"Sorry, President," Asahina Nazuna stood up as well, an apologetic look in her eyes as she looked at Horikita Manabu.
"Miyabi has always been like this; he's just trying to provoke you on purpose. If you could beat him just once, he might behave for a while. I'm not going to speak for him; he really lacks discipline."
Horikita Manabu's gaze lingered on Asahina Nazuna's face for two seconds. His tone betrayed no emotion.
"I am aware of his temperament. After all, I was the one who recruited him."
Asahina Nazuna wanted to say more, but the President had already turned around and sat back down behind his desk.
"If there's nothing else, you may head back first."
She opened her mouth but ultimately remained silent. Horikita Manabu was always like this; no matter how big the provocation, it was like a stone falling into a deep pool, leaving not even a ripple. Yet Nagumo Miyabi was obsessed with this, always thinking he could stir up some waves in that pool. This situation between the two had persisted for nearly half a year.
She had actually thought: It's a good thing they are both boys. If one of them were a different gender, things probably wouldn't be this troublesome.
"Then I'll take my leave." Asahina Nazuna bowed slightly. As she turned, she caught sight of Shimizu Akira and Horikita Suzune standing in the corner. Her footsteps paused for a moment before she slowly walked away.
"You two, come to the reception room," Horikita Manabu instructed flatly, glancing at Shimizu Akira and his sister.
"Shimizu-kun, Horikita-san, come in and have some tea." At that moment, Tachibana Akane walked over with two cups of tea, greeting them with a smile.
Shimizu Akira and Horikita Suzune followed, walking one after the other into the innermost reception room. Horikita Manabu sat in the innermost seat of the room but reached out to pull out the chair closest to him.
Horikita Suzune hesitated on the spot—she was just wondering if she should sit next to her brother when her brother spoke up, calling a name directly: "Shimizu Akira, you sit here."
Shimizu was startled, then nodded to Manabu. "Okay."
He walked over and sat in the chair that had been specially pulled out—this position was only an arm's length from Horikita Manabu, even closer than where Horikita Suzune was standing. Suzune's footsteps halted. She had originally planned to sit to her brother's left, but now that spot was occupied by Shimizu Akira, making her feel like an extra.
"Why are you standing?" Horikita Manabu looked up at her, his voice devoid of ups and downs. "There are empty seats over there."
She followed her brother's gaze; the remaining chair happened to be directly opposite Shimizu Akira. Horikita Suzune pursed her lips and slowly walked over to sit down. After sitting, Shimizu Akira picked up his teacup and took a sip.
"Speak. What is it you want?" Horikita Manabu asked with his usual calm.
"There are quite a few things, but let's start with the first one." Shimizu Akira took the cue and looked at Horikita Suzune.
"President, our Class D's Horikita has indeed made many changes after what happened last month. You two are siblings after all; even if you don't have time to meet, surely you can manage to send a few messages every week."
Horikita Manabu was silent for a few seconds, his gaze falling on his sister. "...Suzune, if you have time to obsess over such trivial matters, you should spend more time thinking about how to get your class promoted to Class A."
Horikita Suzune's face turned pale instantly—as expected, her brother would say that. The words she had spent so long building the courage to say were instantly blocked by the phrase "trivial matters."
Horikita Manabu glanced at her again.
"Fine! Since even Shimizu says so... tell me your flaws. List them clearly one by one. I'll give you three seconds to think. If you can't answer, don't call me 'brother' anymore."
Suzune was stunned. She froze for two seconds before looking up, her voice lower than before but very honest: "My social skills are very poor; I'm not good at dealing with people. I have a bad personality, which makes it easy for others to find me unapproachable. I have no one around me I can call a friend... These should be the main reasons I was assigned to Class D."
Horikita Manabu listened quietly. When she finished, a hint of imperceptible approval appeared in his eyes.
"Not bad. It seems you have finally distinguished the boundary between pride and loneliness, seen your own flaws, and understood the importance of partners. To achieve this is indeed a significant step forward for you. Fine, I will send you a few messages every week."
Suzune's expression immediately brightened. Just as she was about to respond, she was interrupted by Manabu.
"However—" He shifted his tone, his gaze moving between his sister and Shimizu Akira. He asked out of the blue, "Were those words taught to you by Shimizu, or did you figure them out yourself?"
"The things I said to Tachibana-senpai... Shimizu told me to say those." Horikita Suzune paused, looking at her brother with an exceptionally serious tone.
"But the flaws I just mentioned were all things I figured out on my own."
She wasn't lying. Shimizu Akira really hadn't prepared any script for that part. That self-analysis was an answer she had come up with herself recently. She had intended to keep it buried in her heart, but now that her brother had asked, she poured it all out at once.
Horikita Manabu was silent for several seconds before speaking. "...I didn't mean to blame you." He glanced over the two of them.
"Knowing how to leverage the strength of your companions is, in itself, a type of ability."
Chapter 143 Horikita Manabu: Every time I see my sister, I want to scold her
On the surface, Horikita Manabu maintained his usual unshakeable expression. The words he spoke were less of a compliment and more of a neutral critique. However, those who knew him well understood that this was already a rare and significant affirmation for his younger sister.
He understood his sister's personality better than anyone. She appeared cold and distant, but in reality, she was simply a "hard-mouthed, soft-hearted" person who didn't know how to interact with others, leading her to gradually adopt a persona that kept people at a distance.
She always prided herself on being excellent, yet she couldn't even manage a natural conversation—her social skills were likely inferior to those of a primary school student.
He recalled taking the bus to school three years ago; the elementary students he encountered would smile and shout "Hello, Big Brother!" without a trace of fear. Could Horikita Suzune do that? Even when facing him, her own biological brother, she tensed up every time they met as if she were facing some monumental figure, becoming incredibly stiff for no apparent reason.
No matter what she did, she treated him as a benchmark, constantly thinking about measuring up to him. Even her opening line when meeting was perpetually the same: "Brother, I am no longer the person I used to be."
After hearing that so many times, Horikita Manabu felt a faint throb in his temples. He truly couldn't fathom where the cultivation of his younger sister had gone wrong.
In truth, he had been very good to her when they were younger.
He would occasionally take her out to eat; whether it was BBQ or hotpot, he almost never let her lift a finger, personally grilling the meat or mixing the dipping sauces for her. Yet, for some reason, all he got in return was her head-on imitation of him.
It would have been one thing to imitate seventy or eighty percent of him, but when had he ever acted like her—wearing a cold face all day and treating classmates like they were miles away? He was perfectly capable of normal communication with students from all classes, everyone respected him, and he occasionally looked out for students who lacked points. Why did she choose not to learn those good traits?
In particular, every time he saw his sister, she would inadvertently reveal a look that said, "Brother, look, am I not learning to be just like you?"—a look filled with anticipation and a hidden, boastful excitement.
This almost "idiotic" attitude made him suppress the urge to reprimand her every time.
He never harbored any notions of "cute clumsiness" or tolerance. In his view, stupidity was stupidity, and it had nothing to do with looks. Even setting aside her excellent appearance that mirrored his own, what remained was nothing but a fool who couldn't identify the main priorities.
Furthermore, her imitation felt to him like a silent mockery—more like she was deliberately copying his mannerisms to provoke him.
Of course, Manabu knew in his heart that his sister wasn't a "troll"; she was just genuinely dim-witted. Even so, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disdain—just looking at her was irritating. This is how an older brother feels toward an unpromising younger sister. No one likes a "low-quality knockoff" that clumsily imitates them.
Last month, when they met for the first time in two years, his sister hadn't made a single bit of progress; he had been so angry he nearly couldn't restrain himself from laying a hand on her to teach her a lesson.
Actually, just seeing her long, straight black hair made his anger flare up again. If he remembered correctly, suggesting she try that hairstyle was something he had said to her long ago.
He waited for two full years, and the result? She was still her old self, not changed one bit.
What was interesting, however, was that just as he was about to lose his temper back then, that kouhai named Shimizu Akira happened to appear.
His sister seemed to care about him exceptionally much—and what surprised Manabu even more was that the kouhai's words were very interesting; like himself, there was a sense of disdain for Suzune between the lines.
Later, Shimizu Akira proposed the plan to rent out the surveillance footage and earned twelve million points in one go—that maneuver made Manabu look at him in a new light.
Horikita Manabu's evaluation of this kouhai was very high: his IQ and EQ were both quite outstanding. Initially, he subconsciously compared him to Nagumo Miyabi—both possessed a wisdom far beyond their peers. But after thinking it over, he felt the two were diametrically opposite.
Nagumo Miyabi's sharpness was like a drawn blade, always carrying a deliberate aggression as if he needed to gain the upper hand in every confrontation.
Shimizu Akira was different; his intelligence was hidden beneath a gentle exterior, like a stone wrapped in cotton—appearing harmless, but capable of striking a vital point with stability when he truly applied force.
Take the surveillance rental incident: if it had been Nagumo Miyabi, he probably would have used a more flamboyant method to force concessions, perhaps even deliberately leaving a flaw to embarrass his opponents.
But Shimizu Akira did it flawlessly from start to finish.
He earned plenty of points without offending anyone, as he operated entirely through an anonymous account. This kouhai understood the art of "hiding" better than Nagumo. After all,
he was just a freshman starting in Class D; knowing how to bide one's time and hide one's light was not a bad thing.
And today, seeing him bring his sister over—after that meeting last month, Manabu could clearly feel that his sister had truly changed.
It was a change visible to the naked eye: her personality had become much more straightforward. At the very least, she could frankly state her own flaws, listing three of them the moment she opened her mouth.
For her, who had always been awkward and stubborn, this was already a gratifying improvement.
Horikita Manabu took a sip of tea, having a general idea of the situation—if he wasn't mistaken, these changes were likely the result of Shimizu Akira's indirect influence.
It seemed being assigned to Class D wasn't entirely a bad thing for his sister.
In a sense, he should be glad she was thrown into that environment; it was this severe blow to her self-esteem that finally made her willing to look down at herself. Otherwise, he really didn't dare imagine what kind of personality she would have upon graduation three years later—she'd likely still be clinging to that pathetic pride, unable to learn even one sincere word.
Letting her graduate and become a shut-in who burdens others would be worse than having her drop out immediately.
"So, Shimizu." Horikita Manabu temporarily suppressed his thoughts about his sister and looked at the kouhai across from him, his tone returning to a businesslike calm.
"What is your second matter?"
Last time he came with a plan to rent surveillance; what would it be this time?
"The nature is similar to last time," Shimizu Akira replied calmly.
"Is that so?" Horikita Manabu actually felt a bit of anticipation.
However, for the moment, he had more pressing matters to handle.
"Suzune, you head back first."
Manabu's gaze turned to his sister, his tone carrying an unquestionable sense of command.
"I have important matters to discuss with Shimizu."
He was actually quite satisfied with his sister's recent performance—at least it was much more pleasing to the eye than her previous "eyes-above-the-head" attitude. But since Shimizu Akira specifically came to find him, they were likely discussing things not suitable for others to hear; his sister naturally shouldn't stay.
"...Alright, Brother."
Horikita Suzune did not hesitate for a second and stood up immediately. When she reached the door, her footsteps subconsciously slowed by half a beat, and she couldn't help but steal a glance back into the reception room—her brother was looking at Shimizu Akira, who was holding his teacup, and the atmosphere between them was strangely harmonious.
Of course, she didn't dare voice a single objection to her brother, but the moment she turned to close the door, she inconspicuously gave Shimizu Akira a glare.
She gave him a look, leaving him to figure out the meaning for himself.
Chapter 144 Shortcuts can be taken, but you cannot rely on them alone
However, for Horikita Manabu, what he wanted to know more at this moment was the other party's evaluation of this month's exam.
"I am suddenly a bit curious. Have you found out the specific content of this month's special exam and the secrets hidden within the exam papers?"
"More or less."
"Tell me your thoughts."
"I think I understand what the school is trying to test the students on through this exam." Shimizu Akira looked up at him.
"But there is one thing I'm not quite clear on—why make the 'exam paper' itself the theme of the exam this time? Since it's a school, logically, the core focus should be on basic academic ability, shouldn't it? Also, what exactly is the background of this school? Aren't they afraid of being reported?"
"The background of this school is far deeper than what you see on the surface." Horikita Manabu tapped his fingertips lightly on the tabletop.
"Besides, this is just using the 'exam paper' as a special exam; there are many more exams to come."
He paused before answering Shimizu Akira's doubt: "As for the exam theme you mentioned—for this special exam, the school is actually simulating a workplace environment. The exam paper is equivalent to a work product. Unless your 'professional competence' is so top-tier that you can get a perfect score, you have to learn to find another way.
Just like the act of first-years buying papers from second-years; the school is actually sending a signal: once you enter society, don't just bury your head in your work. Being a little 'clever' occasionally and knowing how to leverage external help isn't a bad thing."
"In that case, is the school encouraging this kind of 'corner-cutting' behavior?" Shimizu Akira followed up.
"Not necessarily." Horikita Manabu immediately denied it, holding up his fingers to list the reasons. "First, this kind of special exam is only held once a year. Future final exams will absolutely not use old questions again, to prevent speculation from becoming the norm; academic ability is the most fundamental thing for every student.
Second, this is also a 'protection period' left for the freshmen—allowing those whose grades are temporarily lagging to have some breathing room so they aren't eliminated too quickly. Third, regarding the 'unfairness of the papers' you mentioned, there were actually large-scale reports a few years ago, and the school responded by directly replacing the entire set of papers."
After a half-second pause, he added: "The school allows 'shortcuts,' but it absolutely does not permit 'reliance on shortcuts.' This school always values 'academic ability' above all else—after all, solid ability is the foundation. But the school also doesn't want to cultivate nerds who only know how to study books. Only by valuing foundations while knowing how to think can one climb higher in society. Do you understand these words?"
"I understand." Shimizu Akira nodded slowly.
He had previously sensed that this special exam allowing "shortcuts" could never become a regular occurrence—and sure enough, subsequent final exams would not use old questions.
Horikita Manabu was right. Taking Class D as an example, eight people failed the last assessment, himself included. If it weren't for this special exam acting as a buffer, and if they didn't study hard this month, those people would likely be facing expulsion.
What needs to be learned must still be learned. After all, when it comes to the final exam, there won't be another chance to "take a shortcut."
What interested him more was the matter of "reporting the papers"—it turns out someone really did try it, and the school really would change the papers because of it.
He looked at Horikita Manabu, a trace of realization in his eyes: "So, the school has actually considered all the possibilities long ago."
"The school's ultimate goal is exactly that: to constantly strive to cultivate people who possess both rock-solid abilities and the flexibility to adapt." Horikita Manabu stood up and walked to the window, looking down at the students passing by in small groups.
"Those who only study books can only get the basic score, while those who only know how to speculate won't get very far."
Shimizu Akira was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled: "Is the President reminding me not to always think about taking shortcuts?"
"I am reminding you that shortcuts can be taken, but you cannot rely on them alone." When Horikita Manabu turned back, there was a rare hint of seriousness in his gaze.
"The fact that you thought of renting surveillance to earn points last month, and could see through the exam rules and the tricks in the papers, is indeed outstanding. But basic ability must be valued equally—it is the most fundamental stepping stone."
His tone grew deeper: "In this school, the standard for measuring foundations is still simple; it is nothing more than the two words 'academic ability.' But out in society, this 'foundation' becomes your core competence. To put it simply, it's those certifications and hard skills that allow you to gain a foothold.
Of course, there are two types of extremely special people who are exceptions. One is the honor student whose foundation is solid to the extreme—even for 'extra credit questions' far beyond the scope of the textbook, they can steadily get a perfect score. It doesn't matter if
this type of person isn't good at socializing; their rock-solid strength itself is their confidence. They can succeed just as well in society; no company will fire a technician with superior skills.
The other is the person who is 'clever' to the extreme. They can dig out cracks in social rules that others can't see, and rely on that to obtain a vast amount of resources. Even if this type of person doesn't understand any basic skills, they can find their own way to survive in society and thrive."
This Student Council President's understanding of the school was very thorough—he could naturally link the rules of a single exam to the logic of social survival. And the words Horikita Manabu said, upon reflection, were indeed correct.
No wonder Class A students from this school are guaranteed admission to any university after graduation—people cultivated under this logic can truly be called "all-rounders." Such people, regardless of what goals they carry into society, can likely gain a foothold quickly, rise to the top, and succeed anywhere.
"Have most of the senpais who graduated from Class A already become top talents in their respective fields?"
"Indeed. The rapid development of this school in recent years is inseparable from the support of Class A elite graduates in all walks of life—otherwise, it wouldn't have become the best high school in Japan today."
"To give the simplest example." When Horikita Manabu spoke of this, he specifically sat back in his seat.
"Among Class A graduates, quite a few were young masters and ladies from financial conglomerates. Last year, one of them directly donated a small island back to their alma mater—specifically to be used for hosting special exams."
Hearing this, Shimizu Akira immediately felt some interest. It turned out that when the school holds special exams, they occasionally change locations.
But taking an exam on an island? Testing what? It couldn't be survival, could it? But since they were high schoolers, the school surely wouldn't just dump students on a deserted island.
"We've strayed from the topic. Shimizu, tell me the second thing you want to do. I hope what you say won't disappoint me."
Horikita Manabu coughed lightly, secretly feeling he had said a bit too much just now. To a first-year student, those words might have been a bit deep, but he believed Shimizu Akira should be able to understand. It was precisely because he thought highly of the boy that he had unknowingly rambled so much.
"It's about the 'exam papers'." Shimizu Akira thought for a moment. "Similar to last time, it should be another good opportunity to earn points, so I hope to receive the President's assistance."
Chapter 145 Modifying the Exam Questions—How many sheep did I count that night?
Just as Horikita Manabu had said, the school was constantly cultivating people who possessed two traits—they had to have solid hard strength, and they also had to know how to be flexible and adaptable.
If you replaced the context of "society" with "school," it would likely mean an all-rounder who both has top-tier academic ability and can keenly discover the "standard answers" (such as rule loopholes or shortcut paths) within special exams.
Regrettably, while this school was not lacking in talent, most of those who graduated from Class A were "specialized"—they were either honor students who could get full marks in every subject, or they were "rule players" who could see through the rules of special exams at the first opportunity and quickly find the optimal solution. True "top-tier academics quick thinkers" were few and far between.
After all, high achievers often view "shortcuts" as opportunistic and reject them from the bottom of their hearts; meanwhile, those good at adapting often look down on those honor students who "grind away at books," feeling they lack flexibility.
When the school held the special exam for the second month, these two factions in previous years often argued over the "exam papers"—the honor students thought the "shortcut-takers" were opportunistic, while the shortcut-takers thought the honor students were too set in their ways. From the school's perspective, however, they perhaps expected to see the two types of people come together to cooperate, or even hoped for the emergence of a talent who possessed both traits.
But even Horikita Manabu could not state definitively which type of person society lacked most.
Personally, he held respect for both.
The former builds a solid foundation for ten years, rising up through the prestige of a famous school; this resilience is inherently worthy of admiration.
The latter has an agile mind, always able to seize fleeting opportunities to achieve a leap in social class; this keenness is equally rare.
In his view, Shimizu Akira was undoubtedly a genius who possessed both traits.
The latter needed no explanation—the fact that he earned points by renting out surveillance last month was proof enough of his flexibility and keenness.
As for the former, there were already traces of it.
When he called the Chairman previously, the Chairman mentioned that Shimizu Akira was persistent in exercising his body. Later, he woke up early and caught a glimpse of a figure running on the playground at 6:30 in the morning through the morning mist—judging by the build, it was indeed Shimizu Akira.
To be able to maintain such regular self-discipline while balancing "shortcuts" is not something an ordinary person can do.
Horikita Manabu never cared about other people's definitions of "genius"—in his heart, having only academic talent wasn't enough, and only knowing how to take shortcuts wasn't enough either. Only when the two merged into one did a person deserve the four words: "A True Genius."
Since he took office as Student Council President in his first year, he had only seen two such promising seedlings among the freshmen: one was Nagumo Miyabi, and the other was Shimizu Akira.
In the traditions of the Student Council through the years, only talents who possessed both strength and flexibility were qualified to sit in the President's chair. It was precisely for this reason that he had proactively extended an invitation to Shimizu Akira for the position of Vice President.
So, when he heard Shimizu Akira say he wanted to make a move centered on the "exam papers," he suddenly felt a wave of curiosity.
"Can I use points to buy the right to modify the exam questions? For example, if I want to modify a few questions, roughly how many points would it cost?" Shimizu Akira's eyes lit up as he tossed out the first idea he had been mulling over for the past few days.
"One million points. You can modify up to five questions in total—ten points per question." Horikita Manabu quoted the figure in a flat tone, then paused and added, "There were indeed students who tried this in the past. One of the questions that person modified was: 'How many sheep did I count on that specific night?'"
"Ah... that..." Shimizu Akira was momentarily speechless.
So a senpai had already played this hand. Asking how many sheep he counted? The answer to such a question was obviously known only to himself. This meant other classes would absolutely be unable to answer it—as a result, the opponent's average score would inevitably be lowered, thereby achieving the goal of reducing their class points.
A thought flashed through his mind: what if he modified five questions on the same paper, all of them being questions only he could answer? In that case, anyone taking that paper could get 50 points at most. But he suppressed the thought as soon as it emerged—the school had clearly anticipated such a maneuver, which is why they set the rule of "half the average score as the passing line."
This meant that even if the entire class's score for that subject was only 50, the passing line would only be 25. Calculating it this way, five questions totaling 50 points would only result in the opponent's class points decreasing by 10. Spending one million points for a 10-point gap... Shimizu Akira couldn't quite calculate for a moment whether this was a profitable deal or a loss.
"If there's a limit on how many times a single student can do it, what about a different person?" The inquiry in Shimizu's eyes grew deeper.
"For example, if two people modify the same question at the same time, or cooperate to modify ten questions—is that feasible?"
"The modification privilege can only be used once per person, and there is at most one slot for the entire school year. The scope is limited to this year's exam papers. You should be the first in this year to have this idea; at least until now, I haven't received any notification of modification."
He looked up at Shimizu Akira and suddenly asked back: "Why? Do you really plan to change the papers? Ten class points might look insignificant, but don't underestimate those ten points—in the records of previous years, the gap between many classes was stuck on just those few key points."
As Student Council President, he had seen too many similar cases: "There was once a Class B that was only nine points away from Class A before graduation, and in the end, they still failed to promote."
After all, with class points, a single point more or less can make a world of difference. Take just these ten class points—converted, everyone in the class gets an extra 1,000 personal points. There are 40 people in the class, so that's 40,000 personal points per month. With 35 months to go, if that advantage is maintained, the cumulative total would be 1.4 million personal points.
"But from an individual perspective, the personal profit that these ten class points can bring isn't necessarily much," Horikita Manabu added.
"Even if other classes were willing to pay points for this, at most they would pay 300,000 for the class points—what you could get in your hands would probably be around 200,000. It's also possible you won't even break even. This strategy is generally used primarily to weaken other classes; it's not very suitable for individual action."
"Indeed." Shimizu Akira immediately dropped the idea.
Spending 1 million personal points to change the papers? Other classes might not necessarily act for the sake of 10 class points.
Not to mention, even if they agreed, 300,000 points to buy the answers to five questions? Just to get 10 class points? Shimizu Akira didn't think other classes would be that generous. He thought about it, and just like the President said, this strategy was better suited for weakening other classes.