Wednesday morning.
Chris had barely pushed his dorm room door open when he spotted Hirata Yousuke standing by the elevator — clearly having waited there for some time.
The moment Hirata caught sight of him, he walked over.
"Good morning, Chris." Hirata cut straight to the point. "Sorry for bothering you this early, but there's something I need to talk to you about."
Chris stopped in his tracks. His gaze swept briefly over the faint dark circles under Hirata's eyes. He tilted his chin upward, signaling: get on with it.
Hirata took a deep breath, pulled out his phone, opened his personal points screen, and held it up for Chris to see.
Displayed on the screen was his personal account balance.
A full two hundred thousand points — a small fortune by Class D's standards.
"Yesterday, when the school sent out those compensation notifications, you were in the classroom too. I'm sure you heard what Matsushita and the others were saying."
Hirata gripped the phone tightly, his expression grave.
"I think their concerns aren't entirely unfounded. With the school dangling an incentive like that, the difficulty of the upcoming preliminary test and the main exam is going to skyrocket — exponentially."
Chris looked at the figure on the screen without reaching for it. He cut in directly:
"So you quietly pooled this together from the classmates who are scared — and you're here to hire me to look after them when things get dangerous?"
Hirata gave a slow nod, his eyes earnest.
"That's essentially it. I know this amount might be trivial to you. But it's all we can put together, and we're not asking for miracles — just whatever help you can manage within reason."
"Take it back."
Chris shook his head and refused without a moment's hesitation.
"Hirata, you seem to be underestimating just how valuable the 'uninvited' participants are under the Black Sphere's rules."
"Under the Black Sphere's weighted scoring system — if an uninvited participant survives, every eligible contestant earns one point. If an uninvited participant dies, everyone loses one point."
"Add those up, and a single death is a two-point swing out of thin air. And that's before you factor in the chain-punishment mechanic, where consecutive negative scores can get you eliminated entirely."
Chris watched the look of faint surprise spread across Hirata's face and continued.
"Even if you hadn't shown up here with this, Ichinose and I had already agreed — protecting the uninvited classmates in future exams is our top priority. This has nothing to do with morality. It's pure self-interest."
Besides, what could a mere two hundred thousand points even buy in a game where death was always one wrong move away?
That was pocket change. He could shake down Sakayanagi Arisu for more without breaking a sweat.
Sure, Class D had been flat broke before — but thanks to him and Horikita's efforts pushing the class ranking up, everyone's personal balances were already well above what Hirata had scraped together here.
Chris never harbored illusions about human nature.
If he accepted this money today, every classmate who had grudgingly chipped in — or quietly sat it out — would feel entitled to morally strong-arm him the moment things got truly dire.
"I paid! What do you mean you're not saving me?!"
Only an idiot would take on that kind of thankless babysitting job.
As for why he'd made a single exception for Karuizawa Kei?
One — because he understood her. Insecure and drawn to strength by instinct, she was easy to work with. Two... she was easy on the eyes.
Beyond that, he had exactly zero reason to take on extra baggage. If anything, not throwing Class D straight into the exam arena without warning was already him being generous.
Hirata was a sharp guy. After hearing it laid out that plainly, he swallowed once, and slowly lowered the hand he'd been holding out.
He accepted it.
The two walked side by side into the dormitory corridor. Hirata kept Chris's pace in silence for a moment, then spoke again — the way someone does when they're reaching for a natural opening.
"By the way... Ayanokoji mentioned that the two of you ended up crashing into an upperclassmen's exam a couple of days ago. Nothing went wrong, I hope?"
"I'm a cautious person by nature. I stayed in the back the whole time, so I was fine."
Chris answered without looking over. "As for Ayanokoji... judging by the look on his face when the exam ended, things weren't exactly smooth sailing for him."
Hirata pressed on.
"In that case — do you still remember anything about the hidden boss at the end? And how the exam was finally concluded?"
Chris's stride slowed just slightly. He turned to look at Hirata.
"Hirata. Did Ayanokoji send you to fish for information?"
"If he wants to know something, he can come ask me himself. There's nothing worth hiding."
"No, it's not that." Hirata shook his head quickly. "He only mentioned it to me in passing — that he might have lost a life in that exam. And he's convinced that whatever memory-erasing hidden boss showed up then is going to appear again in the next special exam."
"So... he wants to voluntarily sign up for today's test."
Hirata let out a quiet sigh. "I'm a little worried about him."
Watching Hirata's genuinely concerned, almost maternal expression, Chris couldn't help but think — Ayanokoji may have lost his luck with women, but his luck with men seemed to be flourishing just fine.
Was this the universe's idea of compensation?
Nagumo aside — Hirata being this worried about him... was this what they called bonds forged in adversity?
Turning it over internally, Chris kept his expression blank and delivered the carefully prepared answer he'd had ready.
"Probably because of the nature of that boss's abilities — honestly, I don't remember what happened at the very end."
"But given that even Ayanokoji and the Student Council President's elite unit couldn't handle it — and the only one holding the line at that point was Kiryuuin-senpai from the upper grades..."
"Logic suggests she must have landed a decisive ambush at the critical moment and forced the exam to a close."
Chris gave Hirata a light pat on the shoulder, drawing the conversation to an end.
"As for what might actually help Ayanokoji — all I can say is that Kushida has already dumped everything we've compiled into the group chat: all the rules, all the monster weaknesses. The rest is up to him."
Hirata's mouth opened slightly.
But in the end, he stopped walking. He stood still, not following any further.
He tilted his head back, gazing up at the deep blue sky through the stairwell window — his eyes filled with something he couldn't quite put into words.
Whether it was Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, or Horikita Suzune, or Chris —
Why was it that whenever these three faced the danger of the Black Sphere exams, they seemed to simply... accept it? As naturally as breathing.
There wasn't even a trace of the fear that any normal person would feel.
He genuinely couldn't understand it.
---
Chris came down from the dormitory building.
He hadn't gone far when he caught the sound of a precise, rhythmic click — click — click.
Sakayanagi Arisu was moving ahead of him — her cane tapping the ground in a measured beat — walking at an unhurried pace that left him with a view of her petite, elegant back.
She was clearly lying in wait for him.
Chris didn't even feel like bothering with a greeting. He immediately veered sideways to go around her.
"Listening to those footsteps — so perfectly decisive in their attempt to flee..."
Sakayanagi Arisu, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, turned around in an instant — smile already in full bloom.
"Why, it must be Chris-kun. What a coincidence — running into you this early in the morning."
Forced to stop, Chris glanced at the still-lit phone screen in her hand and exhaled in mild resignation.
"I don't understand your Japanese concepts of 'reading the room' or social pleasantries. Say what you need to say."
"How cold."
Sakayanagi didn't take offense. She simply gave her phone a light wave.
"It's just that while observing that newly transferred student yesterday, I caught some rather interesting footage — footage I believe directly concerns you."
She tilted her head slightly, dangling the bait. "Interested?"
Chris answered without a moment's thought.
"Not remotely. Anything else? No? Then I'm heading out."
Seeing that tactic fall completely flat, Sakayanagi tapped her cane against the ground once and set aside the roundabout approach.
"Then I'll be direct."
"I want temporary borrowing rights to the X-GUN (X-SHOTGUN) you redeemed last exam — just for the duration of the upcoming test."
Chris responded without a hint of hesitation.
"Fine."
"In exchange, I can offer you — wait, what?"
Sakayanagi had instinctively begun laying out her bargaining chips — but stopped dead mid-sentence. Her eyebrows shot up. Her pale violet eyes widened with undisguised surprise.
"You just... agreed? Just like that? Not a single condition?"
Chris spread his hands, as if the answer were self-evident.
"You're an original fixed member of the group — you have to participate in every exam. But given your physical limitations, the moment things go sideways you'll almost inevitably need someone beside you for protection. That makes you a liability that disrupts team formation."
"If lending you the X-GUN lets you provide fire support from the outer perimeter, that's a net positive for the whole team."
He looked her up and down briefly. "At the very least, it means we won't have to dedicate an entire person to babysitting you."
The corner of Sakayanagi's eye twitched.
Then — with the fury of someone who had been insulted to their face and had no choice but to laugh about it — she bit out from between clenched teeth:
"Well then... I suppose I should thank you."
"Don't mention it, Zoffy."
Chris gave a dismissive wave and turned to walk around the fuming little firecracker, already moving on.
But as they passed each other, Sakayanagi's voice drifted back to him — light and casual, like an afterthought:
"About that Amasawa Ichika... she should be from the same place as Ayanokoji."
"I'm sure someone as perceptive as you has already noticed the particular quality Ayanokoji carries. I can only say this much — be careful with that transfer student."
Chris's footsteps slowed for just a beat.
"Doesn't matter. If she wants to come, let her come."
Even if Amasawa Ichika didn't make the first move, Chris would create an opportunity to draw her in himself.
After all, the number of genuinely valuable core characters in Classroom of the Elite was limited.
Why leave a sharp, lovably devious little devil of a kouhai — with an IQ that came online at least occasionally — sitting on the sidelines, and instead pour energy into roughnecks like Sudou Ken or Ikebe Koji?
That sounded absolutely miserable.
Speaking of which...
Back when Ichinose had come clean to Hirata about the Black Sphere exams — Koenji Rokusuke hadn't been able to help himself. He'd used his phone to contact his family.
Trying to bring the heavy hand of old money down to forcibly shut this inherently twisted institution.
It hadn't worked. But what Koenji had done was still a violation of school rules.
Of course, there was no question of actually letting him withdraw over it.
But still...
You can't escape all consequences.
Just like all the other ordinary students who'd tried to secretly call the police or reach their families in the dead of night —
A small deduction from their Resurrection Count would do nicely. A fitting penalty for ignoring the rules of the game.
That said — Ichinose should have one deducted too, come to think of it.
An impartial judge cannot play favorites! Deduct it! It MUST be deducted!
With a single thought from Chris, GANTZ loyally delivered the punishment notifications straight to every offender's account.
---
With the troublemakers handled, Chris turned his attention to designing the specific mechanics for this afternoon's Preliminary Test.
The last round — the Heart 7: Wolf and Sheep Game, played in that sealed room — had leaned heavily on psychological warfare and exploiting human nature. This time, to give more participants a genuine sense of involvement, he wanted something different.
Still drawing from Alice in Borderland, the game he'd selected was:
Club K: Score War.
He was confident it would slot perfectly into the Classroom of the Elite setting — a world where class points defined everything.
He was also genuinely curious to see what sparks would fly when these particular people were backed into a corner.
The only remaining question was who to select.
In the original, Club K ran with five players per group.
But given that Classroom of the Elite had four classes — one per group was too few, and five was too many — he'd simply shift it to a three-person format.
As for who exactly should participate in the Score War...
Morishita Ai from Class A? Kohashi Yume from Class B? Or Ibuki Mio from Class C?
"...Forget it."
"I'll do it the same way as a proper Black Sphere game — let them choose for themselves."
"Otherwise, with me handpicking every single participant... this Overseer of mine starts looking just a little too heavy-handed, doesn't it?"
____
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