Shimizu Akira ranked first in Class D for both math and English.
No one could surpass his scores.
The reason was simple—the exams were absurdly difficult.
The final problems on each test far exceeded first-year high school curriculum.
The math exam, in particular, included matrix algebra—a topic no ordinary freshman could solve.
Even as bonus questions, the difficulty was ludicrous.
The last problem of each subject was especially brutal.
For an average student, scoring full marks was impossible.
(Did I stumble into the Chunin Exams from Naruto?)
This was Shimizu's immediate thought.
The Chunin written test—deliberately filled with advanced material, sprinkled with perfect-scoring plants, and allowing five cheating attempts before disqualification.
It made sense for ninja selection, testing intel-gathering and stealth.
But this was just a normal school. He was just a normal student.
Ordinary students couldn't score perfectly or cheat freely.
Getting caught meant instant zeroes and disciplinary action—no exceptions.
Yet if the school designed exams this way, like Month 1's challenges, there had to be a hidden purpose.
(Is this... Month 2's secret evaluation?)
The moment this thought crystallized, everything clicked into place.
A notification chimed, interrupting Shimizu's thoughts.
He set down his chopsticks and checked his phone—Kamuro Masumi had messaged:
[Didn't expect you to scrape by. Thought you'd be at zero.]
Shimizu's brow arched. So Class A knew about Class D's 530 points? Was this... praise?
After a month together, he'd learned to auto-translate Kamuro's tsundere-speak.
For example, this message actually meant: "Scoring 530 class points? Not bad, Shimizu!"
—Okay, maybe not that earnest, but the core sentiment was there.
Yet the moment it showed "read", she recalled it.
Before he could ponder why, a new message arrived:
[Where's your dorm?!]
Shimizu deliberated before replying:
[402. Why, Kamuro-san?]
Her next text radiated murderous intent:
[Good! I'm coming at 7 PM! Reflect on your sins before I get there—or die!]
Even through text, her seething rage was palpable.
(Huh? Did my hidden identity leak? But why so angry...?)
(Wait... did she find out about my bet with Sakayanagi?)
(That's probably it.)
Shimizu broke into a cold sweat.
Technically, he had prevented Kamuro's theft, but as the bet's subject, she'd rightfully feel violated.
Objectively, Kamuro had been exceptionally kind to him—warning him about overspending, treating him to meals, even loaning him money.
But then it hit him: Kamuro couldn't have learned this randomly. Someonetoldher.
"That damn brat did this!"
He quickly messaged the prime suspect:
[Was it you?]
The reply was instantaneous—
Sakayanagi Arisu:?
Shimizu stared, struck by déjà vu.
(This feels... familiar?)
He suddenly recalled—last time, she had abruptly accused him with "Was it you?", and he had replied with "?".
(Her pettiness exceeds expectations...)
He typed:
[Intentional or accidental?]
Sakayanagi's response dripped mock innocence:
[Fufu~ Accidental, of course! I thought she knew already~]
Shimizu saw through it instantly—this was 100% deliberate.
Then she pivoted:
[Speaking of which, I want Kamuro as an ally. Help persuade her?]
[No.] Shimizu shut it down flatly.
He wasn't her subordinate, nor obligated to enable her schemes.
More baffling was her confidence he'd comply. Kamuro's stubbornness made persuasion impossible—especially after Shimizu's warnings about Sakayanagi.
Sure enough, Sakayanagi proposed:
[Wanna bet? I'll tame Kamuro within a week.]
[No.] Shimizu refused instantly. [Save your points.]
His refusal had two layers:
He didn't need points.
Kamuro was already furious about similar bets. Agreeing would be suicidal.
Sakayanagi Arisu:95,000 points? Bet?!
Shimizu nearly facepalmed.
Was she addicted to gambling?!
Shimizu Akira:Keep your points! I'm eating—chat later!
He ignored her protests and closed the chat.
(Now... how to calm Kamuro down?)
Her past threat echoed in his mind—
"Unless you dogeza and let me step on your face, don't expect forgiveness!"
Shimizu's cheek twitched.
He had to admit—Kamuro's long legs were aesthetically pleasing, especially sheathed in black tights, their curves so enticing one might—
(WAIT, STOP!)
He shook his head violently, banishing the dangerous imagery.
Face-stepping was not an option. He lacked those proclivities.
Upon reflection, this wasn't that dire.
Kamuro, despite her fiery demeanor, wasn't unreasonable.
Shimizu never saw apologies as emasculating—especially not to Kamuro.
When girls vented, they usually just wanted acknowledgment.
(A sincere apology should suffice... probably?)
(Room 402 will be livelier than usual tonight...)
His phone buzzed again.
Kamuro's latest message glared up at him:
[Prepare to die!]