Shimizu Akira no longer had time to dwell on Kushida Kikyō's reaction—Horikita Manabu had finally sent the long-awaited message.
[Horikita Manabu]:"Call me. Now."
The terse text radiated his usual no-nonsense efficiency.
Shimizu's eyes sharpened. Without hesitation, he left the classroom and headed for the relative privacy of the restroom.
The moment the call connected, Horikita's trademark calm voice came through:
"The school has approved your request. As I predicted."
"Eight surveillance devices across four classes. Rental period: three weeks, starting this Monday and expiring at month's end." A pause. "However, the school imposed four conditions."
"First, since last week's data is unavailable, the class points already lost by your four classes cannot be recovered."
*"Second, you may only lease the surveillance rights to the respective classes where the cameras are installed. No cross-class transfers. You have three days to sell them—if unsold, the school reserves the right to reclaim the privileges. The buyback price is 400,000 points per device."*
*"Third, you must pay a 1.2 million-point rental fee."*
"Fourth—" A hint of amusement crept into Horikita's tone. "The chairman is intrigued by you. He wishes to speak with you directly. Are these terms acceptable?"
On the other end, Shimizu's lips curved slightly.
"Agreed."
The cost was far lighter than he'd anticipated.
It seemed the president had miscalculated—he'd expected a full month's lease, but the school had only granted three weeks.
Upon reflection, though, the school's reasoning made sense: If surveillance covered an entire month, the point gaps between classes could shrink drastically, rendering the competition meaningless.
If students used cameras to completely eliminate rule-breaking, the school might have to pay out a staggering 100,000 points each to 160 freshmen.
That would be financially unsustainable.
Just the first week's deductions were enough to determine which classes were A-rank and which had fallen to D-rank.
"In that case… D-class is still dead last." Shimizu realized immediately.
Considering D-class's dozens of tardies and absences in Week 1, their points were likely halved at best—but not zeroed out.
As for the second condition, the school's intent was clear:
They wanted students to earn points moderately—not treat peers as surveillance targets or disrupt normal school life.
The subtext? "Know your limits. Use these three days to sell, not spy—or we'll revoke access."
That said, the 400,000-point buyback per device still guaranteed Shimizu a profit.
Truthfully, he'd never planned to hold the rights long-term.
Make a quick profit and move on. No need for extra complications.
The 1.2 million-point fee? A drop in the bucket.
"The chairman is here with me now. He'd like to speak with you—are you available?" Horikita's voice returned.
Shimizu blinked. "Of course."
He didn't know why the chairman wanted him, but you don't refuse the school's top authority.
"Shimizu-kun, hello. I am Sakayanagi Naramori, this school's chairman."
The voice was warm and cultured, carrying the gentle cadence of an elder.
Shimizu's brow rose—the chairman introducing himself so humbly to a student? Unexpected.
Whether genuine or not, it left a positive first impression.
"Chairman Sakayanagi, I'm Shimizu Akira from Class 1-D. It's an honor."
His reply struck the perfect balance—respectful but unflinching.
"You've been here over a week now. Are you settling in well?" Sakayanagi's tone was almost grandfatherly.
Shimizu smirked inwardly at the executive-style small talk.
"Thank you for asking. The campus is excellent—I've adjusted completely."
"I see. And how is your health? Any discomfort lately?"
"I've always been healthy. Frankly, I've never even caught a cold."
"Oh?" The chairman's murmur was loaded with something unreadable."Good physique is rare in youth. Speaking of which…" A sudden pivot. "You jog in the mornings, correct? From my office window, I've seen you running laps. At least 10 kilometers each time, if I'm not mistaken."
"Yes. It's a habit since childhood."
Shimizu stiffened—the chairman's office did overlook the track.
But how had he recognized Shimizu at a glance?
Being spotted was one thing. Being memorized by the chairman? That meant he was already on a watchlist.
He couldn't think of any reason he'd warrant such attention.
"Exercise is an excellent habit." Sakayanagi's voice gained unexpected sincerity."As a parent, nothing matters more than a child growing up healthy and safe…"
Shimizu caught the unmistakable melancholy beneath those words. This wasn't politeness—the chairman had an unusual fixation on "health."
(Is he… ill himself? Wait—)
He decided to probe: "Forgive my forwardness, Chairman Sakayanagi. I know a student named Sakayanagi Arisu. Might she be…?"
A soft inhale. Then a bitter chuckle.
"My daughter… She's been frail since birth."
Shimizu's eyes widened.
My Chairman Father?!
Wait, Sakayanagi Arisu has the chairman as her dad?!
"Don't overthink it, Shimizu-kun." Sakayanagi's voice steadied. "I believe in fair competition. Personal ties won't influence class affairs."
"Shimizu-kun, I initially assumed you were academically weak. It seems I was gravely mistaken. I hope you maintain this trajectory."
With that, the call ended abruptly.
Shimizu stared at his phone, a strange dissonance settling in.
The chairman hadn't asked about the surveillance at all.
Instead, he'd grilled Shimizu on mundane details—the kind of excessive concern that reminded him of a matchmaking interrogation.
"Probably overanalyzing…" Shimizu pocketed his phone.
Elders were just naturally long-winded, right?