Shimizu Akira checked his account balance—160,000 points remaining.
After paying the school 1.2 million, his funds had taken a hit.
Post-dinner, he returned to his dorm for his daily boxing drills.
For two weeks straight, he'd stuck to the basics: footwork, punching speed, breathing rhythm—each practiced relentlessly.
Truthfully, he hadn't noticed any dramatic improvement.
This was the real world—no levels, no "+1 EXP" pop-ups.
But like his morning runs, he'd keep at it.
Consistency was the foundation of mastery.
At 7:30 PM, a knock interrupted his session.
"Who is it?!" He grabbed a towel, wiping sweat off his torso.
"It's me, Shimizu-kun!" A girl's voice chimed from outside.
"?? Could you... say your name? I can't tell who you are."
If it were an old friend, he might've recognized them. But a classmate? Impossible.
This was why he hated when people just said "it's me" at the door—awkward if you guessed wrong.
"It's Karuizawa Kei! How could you not recognize me?" Her tone carried a playful pout.
Shimizu almost laughed.
Wasn't it normal not to?
Recognizing someone by voice alone after a few conversations? That'd be creepy.
Still, she was here now...
With a sigh, he opened the door.
"Shimizu—Wah! Y-You're not wearing a shirt?!"
Karuizawa had been grumbling about his slow response—until the door revealed his bare torso.
His muscles, taut from training, gleamed under the light.
Her gaze locked onto him like a magnet.
(This physique... is unfair!)
Shimizu's build surpassed male models she'd seen in magazines.
(Wait, I've touched it before...)
Last week, she'd grabbed his abs to "bond."
The memory of that firm, sculpted texture resurfaced, making her pulse spike.
(Is this... sexual tension?)
That wordless, primal pull—like animals drawn to the strongest of their kind.
And she craved security more than most.
(No way! I'm not some hormone-crazed beast!)
She forced her eyes away, cheeks burning.
But Shimizu had noticed.
Her eight-second stare was impossible to miss.
"Karuizawa-san... You're acting weird. Was groping me once not enough?"
A glance was one thing. Staring?
That thirsty, huh?
"H-Huh?! Just put on a shirt already!" Her ears reddened as she shoved him lightly, then snatched a T-shirt from his bed and hurled it at him.
Yet she didn't leave—just turned her back.
"..."
Shimizu dressed silently, studying her stiff posture.
"Done."
"Anyway, you didn't come here to sniff my sweat, right?" He toweled off his neck.
Karuizawa spun around, her blush fading into her usual bratty demeanor:
"Who came here for you?! I was passing by and remembered something!"
"Oh?"
"You've skipped boxing club for days! I've been going alone!"
"The captain told me to stay away. Said I 'disrupt' the freshmen."
"Hah? Disrupt how? That black guy from C-Class is just as buff as you!"
Shimizu's brow arched. "As club manager, don't say that to his face. Unless you want to get punched—I won't save you."
He vaguely recalled the C-Class student she meant—just not his name.
Karuizawa froze, realizing her slip. "...Got it."
After a pause, she mumbled: "Also... about my last message. It wasn't about lacking points. I'll pay you back, so don't worry..."
Shimizu noted her forced bravado.
Between the 25,000 fee and upcoming surveillance costs, her account was likely empty—or in the red.
Still pretending?
Then—her phone rang.
She answered without checking.
"Huh? Chiaki? What's up?"
"What? Kushida came to your dorm for the fee?"
"I'm not paying! Don't you dare either! We agreed to stick together!"
"Huh? Where am I? I'm in... Shimizu-kun's room! D-Don't get the wrong idea! We're just discussing club stuff!"
After hanging up, she furiously typed a reply.
Shimizu had heard everything.
So Karuizawa's clique was why the fee collection stalled.
Though in his opinion, she probably just couldn't afford it.