Tuesday.
Another new day.
Shimizu Akira stared at the freshly updated intel, his eyes scanning each entry carefully.
[1. The "fake human" in Class 1-D is Ayanokōji Kiyotaka.]
[2. Shiina Hiyori from Class 1-C, currently investigating the surveillance incident, struggles with social interactions and urgently seeks an assistant. Today at 5:30 PM, she will return to the library to scout for candidates, offering 10,000–20,000 points as compensation. Her ideal assistant would: enjoy mystery novels, be kind-hearted, share common interests; communicate smoothly with students from all four first-year classes; possess a calm, rational personality that complements her own.]
[3. The school permits lowerclassmen to proactively purchase past exam papers from upperclassmen.]
(Wait… What the hell is a "fake human"? Did I stumble into some sci-fi plot?!)
Shimizu's cheek twitched at the first piece of intel.
In his understanding, a "fake human" (ningen-mozō) should refer to emotionless androids or biomechanical constructs.
But Ayanokōji Kiyotaka—by all appearances, he was a living, breathing human, wasn't he?
(Unless… he's a robot wearing human skin?)
The absurd thought made him glance sideways at his classmate.
He casually called out, "Morning, Ayanokōji-kun."
The other boy turned, his calm eyes meeting Shimizu's. "Morning, Shimizu-kun."
(…Seems normal enough?)
Shimizu mentally frowned.
(Vocal cord vibrations are natural. His facial microexpressions are minimal, but his physiology during swimming class was completely ordinary—no signs of non-human traits.)
This intel was like an unsolvable riddle, leaving him utterly baffled.
(Whatever. Just file it away for now.)
The second intel was far more coherent, though unusually detailed—the longest entry so far.
(Looking for an assistant? Makes sense. Her investigation must be hitting roadblocks.)
After a moment's thought, Shimizu understood why Shiina Hiyori was struggling.
Quiet and reserved, she likely only engaged with people who shared her niche interests.
Naturally, someone like her would find it hard to initiate conversations for the sake of gathering information.
Hence, she needed an assistant—someone to help her probe for clues.
He noted her specific requirements for an assistant, which seemed to reflect her inner thoughts: must enjoy mystery novels, must have common topics…
(Wait… this might be an opportunity?)
It suddenly hit him. Just yesterday, he'd been worrying about Shiina uncovering the truth. What if he joined her investigation as her assistant?
That way, he could monitor her progress and subtly steer her deductions in the wrong direction—killing two birds with one stone.
Looks like he'd be visiting the library after school.
As for the third intel…
Shimizu paused.
The school only allows lowerclassmen to buy exams from upperclassmen? Did that imply the reverse was prohibited—that upperclassmen couldn't sell to lowerclassmen?
But why would upperclassmen's exams hold any value? And why ban the opposite transaction?
The answer was obvious.
Does that mean… this year's midterms will reuse old questions?
Shimizu turned to Horikita Suzune, who had just taken her seat. "I might not make it to tutoring these next few days. Something came up—consider it a break for you too."
It was only fair. For the past two weeks, they'd spent at least four or five afternoons studying for nearly ninety minutes each session.
"Something came up?" Her tone was neutral, but she stopped mid-way through opening her textbook.
"Yeah, personal stuff." Shimizu replied vaguely—he couldn't exactly say he was helping investigate himself.
Horikita was silent for two seconds before tapping her desk lightly. "Fine. But—"
She abruptly changed topics, pulling a sticky note from her pencil case. "This is the key review scope for the next few days. If you have time, go through it yourself."
She slid the note toward him. Neatly written on it were Japanese literature focus areas and common pitfalls, complete with example page numbers.
Shimizu blinked at the note. "You prepared a schedule?"
"I just don't want to re-teach last week's content during our next session." Horikita averted her gaze. "Also, your mock exam is still with me. Remember to take it back for corrections."
With that, she reopened her textbook as if the note had been an afterthought.
Holding the thin slip of paper, Shimizu realized this "break" might not be so relaxing—his tutor had already mapped out his self-study progress.
After school, the boxing club's president, Satō-senpai, suddenly texted him to come by the clubroom.
Shimizu thought it over. He had been slacking off lately, showing up only two or three times a week—mostly just to learn the week's drills before practicing alone.
Come to think of it, Satō-senpai had mentioned he'd be allowed to start using boxing gloves this month.
But if he was heading to the library to meet Shiina Hiyori, he'd need to wrap things up quickly at the club. A brief appearance and explanation should suffice.
As he approached the clubroom, the muffled thuds of gloves hitting sandbags echoed from inside.
When Shimizu entered, Satō-senpai—currently on the practice ring—nodded at him.
He nodded back and joined the line of first-years.
There were four newcomers now, including a tall foreign student wearing sunglasses—Yamada Albert from Class C, one of Ryūen Kōhei's lackeys.
At nearly 190 cm, the guy was built for fighting.
Shimizu adjusted his stance under the seniors' guidance and trained for a while.
A glance at the wall clock—4:10 PM.
Time for a quick meal before meeting Shiina at the library.
"Satō-senpai, got a minute?"
"Sure. Let's step outside—I need a breather anyway."
Once they were in a secluded corner, Shimizu cut to the chase. "Can I buy first-year midterm and monthly exam papers from you?"
"Ah! Right, it's that time of year!" Satō-senpai blinked, then smacked his fist into his palm. "Damn, you caught on fast—it's only the second day. Sure, I'll dig them up for you. Don't worry about the points—consider it this month's club funding."