The message status had shown "Read" for hours.
Just as she was about to give up waiting, the screen lit up—
[Horikita Manabu]:Meet me behind the first-year dorms.
Horikita Suzune changed into her uniform at lightning speed but froze just before opening the door—
Her phone vibrated again.
[Shimizu Akira]:Good evening, Horikita-san.
Her fingers stiffened.
Shimizu Akira had initiated contact?
Outside, the night was deep.
Receiving a message from a male classmate this late set her nerves on edge.
Her gaze darted between the door and her screen before she finally typed:
[Horikita Suzune]:What is it? I'm busy. State your purpose directly.
She exhaled softly after hitting send.
This was already an exception—for anyone else, she wouldn't have even acknowledged the message.
[Shimizu Akira]:Remember our last transaction?
Her reply was terse:
[Horikita Suzune]:I do.
The next message popped up instantly:
[Shimizu Akira]:I'm refunding you 16,000 points.
Her breath hitched.
(A refund?)
Her eyes flicked to her balance—9,900. With 16,000, she'd exactly cover the 25,000 fee...
[Horikita Suzune]:Explain. Conditions?
[Shimizu Akira]:Recall my rule? I said intel is 20% off. You paid 80,000—so 16,000 back.
A pause, then:
[Shimizu Akira]:This isn't charity.
Horikita stared at that last line, her fingertip pressing lightly against the screen's edge.
(I see...)
He was just honoring their deal, nothing more.
Not pity. Not ulterior motives.
Yet a strange dissonance prickled at her.
(He calculated this... perfectly.)
This precision should've unsettled her, but oddly... it didn't.
Still, her pride forbade one-sided favors.
She initially typed: I can't accept this outright. Next month, I'll repay double—
(But that's an empty promise. Next month's points might not even reach 50,000.)
Her lips pressed together as she deleted the second half.
What she sent instead was the most tangible repayment she could offer now:
[Horikita Suzune]:I won't take points for nothing. I'll tutor you in Japanese Literature. Your grades there are unacceptably poor. That's fair.
The reply came swiftly:
[Shimizu Akira]:Deal. I could use the help.
[Shimizu Akira]:By the way, I'm near the dorms now. Just saw your brother.
Only then did Horikita realize—she'd kept Manabu waiting.
And Shimizu was right outside?
She barely managed a reply before dashing out the door.
Behind the dorms, Horikita Manabu stood waiting, his posture rigid.
All her prepared words vanished the moment she saw him.
With Shimizu potentially lurking nearby, she defaulted to unfamiliar formality:
"President Horikita. What did you need?"
"Suzune..." Manabu adjusted his glasses. "'President'? I expected you to barrage me with boasts, as always."
He stepped closer, each word weighted with disdain:
"Too preoccupied with trivial growth to maintain proper distance."
"But it seems..." His gaze held something she'd never seen before, "you're finally learning boundaries."
That near-praise sent a thrill through her.
"Brother, I'm not—"
The instant the familial term left her lips, his eyes frosted over.
Manabu retreated half a step, his disappointment palpable:
"More empty words? My mistake—nothing's changed."
His voice was soft yet piercing:
"D-Class, I hear. Just like three years ago—chasing my shadow, blind to your own flaws. This school was another mistake."
"The class system is flawed—" Suzune began reflexively.
Manabu's voice sharpened:
"Enough!"
He advanced, his anger a physical force:
"Still making excuses? Still blaming the system? Pathetic. Must you hit rock bottom to self-reflect?"
Suzune's shoulders involuntarily hunched.
Her brother's fury suffocated her.
Shimizu pocketed his phone and followed the raised voices.
"—The class system's unfair!"
"—Always deflecting blame!"
(These siblings argue this loudly?)
(Are they about to throw hands?)
He rounded the corner, making no effort to hide his approach.
Horikita Suzune and her brother stood two meters apart, tension thick enough to cut—but thankfully, no physical altercation yet.
"Good evening, you two."
Manabu turned, scrutinizing him. "You're... the first-year from Sato's boxing club?"
Shimizu's eyebrows rose. "The student president remembers me?"
Genuine surprise—though on reflection, his club captain was a third-year A-Class elite, and his entrance ceremony stunt had been... memorable.
"Hmph." Manabu adjusted his glasses. "So. You're Suzune's friend? Another D-Class?"
Shimizu shrugged. "Something like—"
"We're not!" Horikita interjected, unusually flustered. "He's just—"
"A random passerby?" Manabu's smirk was icy. "Can't even admit an acquaintance? This is your growth?"
His gaze shifted back to Shimizu. "Well? Any thoughts on our family drama? Or will you pretend you saw nothing?"
"Not a passerby—otherwise, I wouldn't have shown myself." Shimizu sighed, meeting both their eyes. "And yes, I overheard enough. Since you asked..."
He pointed at Horikita Suzune, his tone blunt:
"Horikita-san, you're the one at fault here."
Manabu's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Not you, Student President." Shimizu waved him off. "Your sister's logic and words are the real issue."
Horikita Suzune's eyes widened, her composure cracking for a split second before indignation took over.
(This guy just gave me 16,000 points! How dare he turn on me now?!)