Shimizu Akira stared at his phone screen in contemplation before finally transferring 50,000 points from his reserve account.
As the notification tone for the successful transaction chimed, he exhaled softly—this piece of information was indeed worth the price.
Chabashira Sae's reply popped up almost immediately:
[You guessed correctly. The school will reward class points based on each class's midterm exam average. The highest possible reward is 100 points.]
This brief message instantly clarified the school's underlying intentions for Shimizu.
"At the very least, you should've taken the day off formally," Shimizu replied calmly.
A brief silence lingered on the other end of the call before an indifferent chuckle followed. "...I just happened to forget today."
"Understood," Shimizu nodded. "Then, when you don't feel like going, make sure to notify Satō-senpai afterward. I won't disturb your fun any longer. Goodbye."
After hanging up, a faint trace of bewilderment surfaced on Shimizu's face.
(What's going on with her? Just last month, during the first two weeks, she was the one reminding me to check in at the boxing club.)
(Why skip today without even a notice?)
As he carefully retraced recent events, he realized that ever since that day she visited his dorm and spoke with Matsushita Chiakira, her attitude had grown increasingly brazen—as if she'd suddenly gained some unspoken leverage.
(Come to think of it, she also borrowed points from several classmates in succession yesterday…)
Narrowing his eyes, he mentally cataloged Karuizawa's recent erratic behavior.
It was as though she had gradually become an entirely different person.
*"She should understand that our arrangement was only a one-month protection deal—once the deadline passes and she fails to deliver the 80,000 points, I won't shield her anymore."*
Shimizu pondered further. Given this month's point distribution, it was unlikely Karuizawa could even scrape together 80,000 points. In a way, the boxing club alone could already serve as her protection.
Those 80,000 points no longer held the same weight for him as they had the previous month.
The agreement had started on Friday of the first week, meaning that once this weekend passed, their connection would be severed entirely.
(But a perfect score… 100 points? That's practically impossible.)
Every class inevitably had underperformers. Securing full marks in even a single subject was difficult, let alone across the board.
However, if they could make proper use of past exam papers—studying from them diligently—it might be feasible to pull the class average up to around 90 points.
It seemed that merely passing wasn't enough. For any class to maximize their points, everyone would need to put in the effort.
Shimizu rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
(Looks like the 'score-suppression' tactic won't work…)
The score-suppression tactic was simple: high-achieving students deliberately kept their scores near the passing threshold, lowering the class average so that weaker students could scrape by with as little as 20 points while still ensuring the class met the minimum requirement.
But now, it was clear that this shortcut would backfire—because class points would also diminish as a result.
(A true dilemma…)
Artificially suppressing scores might help struggling students pass, but it would drag down the class average and reduce their overall points.
On the other hand, if top students pushed for high marks, the average would rise sharply—but those at the bottom would struggle to pass at all.
In other words, the optimal solution seemed to be purchasing past exam papers from upperclassmen and having weaker students memorize them.
Then again… I'm not Class D's leader.
Why should he concern himself with the class's collective benefit?
Suddenly, Horikita Manabu's cryptic remark from before crystallized in his mind:
"A class can never score zero points."
It was true.
There was no scenario where every single student submitted blank papers and scored zero—even Class D had a few high performers.
A new question abruptly surfaced. Shimizu swiftly grabbed his phone:
[Is this mechanism the same for second and third-years?]
Chabashira Sae's reply arrived promptly:
[Second and third-years retain this system as an additional reward.]
Shimizu twirled his pen, struck by the subtle hierarchy between grades.
(Second-years… are in an unexpectedly comfortable position.)
As the middle grade, second-years held a distinct advantage—they could buy past papers from third-years to secure high scores while simultaneously selling their own to first-years for profit.
This month alone, trading exam papers could easily yield two substantial payouts.
In contrast, third-years were in an entirely different predicament.
Graduating seniors no longer had access to higher-level papers, as if a crucial resource had been abruptly cut off.
(But… that makes sense.)
For soon-to-graduate third-years, midterm results were practically irrelevant.
The school's arrangement almost functioned as an unspoken graduation rite—phasing seniors out of the exam-trading cycle to prepare them for university… or society.
Just as Shimizu was about to press Chabashira further, his phone vibrated twice in quick succession.
A message from Satō-senpai abruptly appeared:
[By the way, about Karuizawa Kei—the one you introduced. She didn't show up at the boxing club today.]
[No notice either. Can you check if she's sick or something?]
He blinked at the screen.
Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen that ponytailed, energetic figure during this afternoon's boxing club session.
Normally, Karuizawa would already be bustling around by now—takirang attendance, distributing water bottles and towels, logging the freshmen's physical conditions, and so on.
He swiftly switched back to his messages, fingers pausing briefly before replying:
[Got it. I'll contact her right away.]
Since he was the one who'd brought her in, being questioned like this by Satō-senpai left Shimizu feeling slightly embarrassed.
Satō had always treated him well.
He scrolled through his chat history and dialed Karuizawa's number.
"Duu—" The call connected surprisingly fast.
"Hello? Shimizu-kun?" Karuizawa's voice came through, bright and breezy. "What's up?"
Her lively tone made Shimizu hesitate—clearly, the "I'm sick" excuse was off the table.
In the background, muffled music and laughter seeped through, prompting an involuntary frown.
"Where are you right now?" His voice carried a hint of skepticism.
"Karaoke~" Karuizawa answered airily, underscored by Mori Nene's off-key singing. "Hanging out with Nene-chan and the others!"
Shimizu cut straight to the point. "You skipped the boxing club today. Satō-senpai reached out to me. Doesn't seem like you're unwell."
The line went quiet for a few seconds.
"Helping out at the boxing club every day is exhausting~" Her voice took on a playful, almost coquettish lilt. "I just wanted a day off to relax."