Shimizu Akira subtly averted his gaze from the podium.
(Just as expected... Kushida-san is still too naive.)
He'd anticipated this outcome—because last night, he'd deliberately sent the same intel to both Hirata and Kushida using the same anonymous account.
Chabashira wanted him to pick a side?
Better to let these two "central figures"fight it out themselves than be used as her pawn.
The results were clear:
Hirata chose the pragmatic approach—sharing the intel overnight with select classmates, reinforcing trust through transparency.
Kushida, meanwhile, treated it as a performance prop, plotting a "savior" reveal for maximum impact.
Shimizu glanced at the girl forcing a smile onstage. The usual sparkle in her eyes now flickered with barely concealed panic.
Too bad. Her carefully orchestrated spectacle had become Hirata's stepping stone.
Beside him, Horikita Suzune had been silently observing.
"Shimizu-kun... Was this your doing?"
She'd witnessed yesterday's deal with Chabashira. She'd assumed he'd halfheartedly pick a side—not play both factions against each other.
"Mn." Shimizu flipped a textbook page. "Keep it quiet, would you?"
"...I've no interest in gossip." Horikita turned away with a scoff, yet her eyes lingered on his profile.
This wasn't mischief—it was a political experiment. By equalizing information access, he'd avoided taking sides while testing both leaders' mettle.
Horikita's gaze sharpened.
(All intel originated from Shimizu.)
(Hirata and Kushida were mere mouthpieces... The gap between them and him is staggering.)
Even without knowing Class A's so-called geniuses, Shimizu's strategic acumen clearly surpassed Class D's standards.
"If you're this capable..." She lowered her voice, a rare hint of curiosity slipping through. "Why not reveal the intel yourself?"
Chabashira had given him three methods—one being public disclosure.
Shimizu tilted his head. "Horikita-san, I told you—I refuse to be a blood bag." A pause. "Now that you know the truth, any thoughts?"
Horikita's lips tightened. "...This was never where I belonged."
"I see." Shimizu raised a brow.
Even now, she wouldn't yield. Perhaps only her brother's direct condemnation could crush her defiance.
(From an older brother's perspective... such a stubborn little sister must be exhausting.)
His eyes flicked to the intel again—and he nearly sighed.
(But beating her? Really?)
(What could Horikita possibly say to warrant that?)
(...Might as well check tonight.)
"I still don't understand..." Horikita's voice was laced with frustration. "How can you remain so... indifferent?"
These past days, beyond her resentment toward Class D, Shimizu's detachment baffled her most.
He—whose abilities far surpassed hers—had been dumped into the same "garbage heap." Yet he'd never once complained, as if it were all...
"Fair." Shimizu answered plainly. "Given my entrance performance, Class D fits."
His exam results had been abysmal outside physical scores. Class D was inescapable logic.
To Horikita, his tone carried unnerving serenity. This boy—her age—radiated a maturity that inexplicably doused her simmering rage.
Meanwhile, Shimizu's attention returned to the podium.
Contrary to expectations, Hirata didn't seize the spotlight. Instead, he ceded the stage to Kushida, letting her explain the rules to the class.
Kushida seized the opportunity, outlining the S System's mechanics with flawless clarity.
Some students nodded along; others paled in shock.
The classroom erupted—but under Hirata's gentle guidance and Kushida's soothing reassurances, morale swiftly rebounded.
Thankfully, only two weeks had passed. There was still time to recover class points.
Both Hirata and Kushida proved sharper than they seemed.
Through unspoken agreement, they omitted the cruelest truth:
Class D's "defective goods" label.
The rigid hierarchy's immutability.
Instead, they peddled hopeful half-truths:
"Follow basic rules, and points won't drop!"
"Other classes might not know yet—we have the advantage!"
Thus, three delusions took root:
"We're ahead!"
"We can win!"
"Next month, we'll be Class A!"
The fragile harmony shattered as the door slammed open.
Chabashira Sae strode in, her glare pinning Hirata and Kushida.
"You two." Her fingers drummed against her arm. "With me. Now."
The pair exchanged glances but followed her into the hallway's shadows.
Chabashira leaned against the windowsill. "Explain. How did you uncover those rules?"
Hirata hesitated. "A... person named Tsuki Ao messaged me—"
"Same here!" Kushida cut in, shooting Hirata a sideways glance. "They added me out of nowhere and dumped all this intel..."
Chabashira's face twisted with the disappointment of a gambler revealing a losing hand.
"...So he chose neither of you. Just spammed both."
She slammed a palm against the sill. "Fine. You're both now vice reps. Your first task: collect 25,000 points from every classmate as class funds."
Hirata's brow furrowed. "Sensei, what do you mean?"
Her smile was arctic.
"1 million points. That's what the intel cost." A pause. "Did you truly believe it was free?"