Dinnertime arrived.
The two parted ways with unspoken agreement.
Shimizu watched Shiina's retreating figure, a flicker of doubt surfacing.
She didn't press for D-Class's core members' identities... Unexpected.
Perhaps it was deliberate—avoiding cross-class conflict.
Before leaving, Shiina said she'd text him before their next investigation.
Shimizu agreed outwardly while internally strategizing:
Next time, I can't let her extract intel so easily.
He had to admit—Shiina's deduction was sharp.
Objectively, if Ichinosei knew nearly everyone, the "mystery seller" had no reason to only ask for Ryūen's contact.
After all, D-Class had rented cameras too.
The conclusion was obvious:
The seller must know D-Class's leaders.
Just as she'd guessed—he'd already been friends with Kushida Kikyou, hence no need to ask Ichinosei.
I got sloppy. Should've covered every angle.
Who'd have guessed a detective-type lurked among first-years?
Then again, being exposed might not be catastrophic:
B-Class's Ichinosei had no hard feelings.
D-Class's Kushida openly praised the 530-point boost at yesterday's meeting.
A-Class's Sakayanagi was surely plotting something, but that was inevitable.
C-Class's Ryūen, though...
(Why's he wasting effort investigating this?!)
It was just 3 million personal points—their class points rose too!
Was Ryūen that obsessed with personal points?
Shouldn't his priority be boosting class points to reach A-Class?
Unless... he aimed to save 20 million to transfer alone? Unlikely—his actions screamed "team player".
Or the absurd: 800 million to buy all 40 classmates into A-Class?
His phone lit up as he entered his dorm.
Sato-senpai had sent last year's midterm exams—screenshots, not originals.
(Of course no physical copies...)
Understandable. Free leaks risked school penalties.
Clear screenshots were a godsend; printing them would be his task.
Cross-legged on his bed, Shimizu scrolled through the goldmine.
Sato's scores were aesthetic—95+ in every subject.
Then again, as an A-Class elite with past papers, such marks were expected.
He pulled out last week's tests—already graded and returned.
Side-by-side on his desk, his eyes darted between old and new.
(The overlap...)
Not identical, but 90% matched.
Basic questions varied slightly, but the killer final problems—word-for-word, punctuation-perfect replicas.
Shimizu set the papers down, pensive.
(Passing midterms just got effortless...)
Even with minor changes, memorizing past papers guaranteed 90% scores.
But...
(English is another beast.)
For weak students, English would be the ultimate wall.
If they couldn't grasp basic vocabulary, blindly copying letters would be torture—possibly harder than all other subjects combined.
Shimizu shook his head.
Even with leaked papers, English would demand double the effort.
Such was the "knowledge barrier".
Yet as he stared at the tests, his brow furrowed.
(This exam... is too simple.)
No way the school designed such a straightforward test.
Other class leaders must've noticed—those final questions weren't solvable through normal study.
Though passing via basics was manageable...
(Is barely passing enough?)
All classes could avoid expulsion by passing, but... what about higher scores? Extra rewards?
The thought sparked action—he grabbed his phone, messaging Chabashira:
[Shimizu Akira]:Do midterm averages grant bonus class points?
Notably, since his blunt "stop bothering me with class affairs" last month, their contact had dwindled to near-zero.
Would she hold a grudge, leaving him on read?
But Shimizu wasn't worried—students querying rules was normal.
Whereas her repeatedly seeking his input as a mere student? That defied logic.
To his surprise, Chabashira's reply was agonizingly slow. When it finally came:
[Chabashira Sae]:50,000 personal points for this answer.
Shimizu's finger froze mid-air.
(That's... an indirect confirmation?)
Her response all but admitted his guess was right.
But the cost implied more—how many points? What metrics?
Those details were worth paying for.