Class 1-B
The moment the news reached her—that Class C had been "eaten" by Class A—Arisu Sakayanagi felt it settle on her chest like a stone.
And it kept getting heavier.
So it really was the right call… working with Kōhei Katsuragi.
After that standoff, Sakayanagi's answer had been a simple "yes."
Class B was now organized—integrated—much like Classes A and C.
But unlike them, Class B had two leaders.
From here on, major decisions would be decided by a vote through three blocs: Aggressive, Defensive, and Neutral. Whichever faction won would set the class's course.
At least… that was what Katsuragi believed.
"Princess, is there anything this subordinate can do to lighten your burden?" Masayoshi Hashimoto dipped into a gentlemanly half-bow, eyes sharp with timing, and waited for orders.
Sakayanagi didn't even look at him.
The gap between people was sometimes wider than the gap between a person and a dog.
And if they were both human, why did Hashimoto act like such a perfect lapdog?
It wasn't the first time Masumi Kamuro had thought it, but seeing the scene again made her irritation spike anyway.
This was the modern era. Slavery shouldn't exist.
I—Masumi Kamuro—should not be a slave to that damn pint-sized tyrant, Arisu Sakayanagi.
She screamed it in her head.
"Kamuro," Sakayanagi said, calm and bored, "I'm hungry."
Hashimoto was right there, practically begging to be used.
Sakayanagi ignored him completely and tossed the order over her shoulder.
What you couldn't fully claim was always more entertaining. What hadn't been broken in was always more fun to toy with.
Compared to Hashimoto, Sakayanagi preferred using little errands like this to keep Kamuro on a leash.
"Yes…"
Kamuro's shoulders sagged. She lowered her head and left the classroom.
Halfway out, a bitter thought flashed through her.
If I just sucked up like Hashimoto, would I get stuck with fewer of these garbage chores?
"Sakayanagi-san," Katsuragi stepped in beside her, voice even. "What exactly happened between Class A and Class C?"
Yesterday's meeting hadn't been subtle. Both classes had filed into the conference room. No one could pretend they hadn't noticed.
But all anyone really knew was the outcome: Class A won. Class C lost.
The details were locked down.
Both classes had been gagged—by written contract, by the leaders' warnings, or both.
Katsuragi wanted clarity. Know the enemy, know yourself.
So he asked.
Sakayanagi didn't indulge him. "Class A won. Class C lost. That's all I know as well."
She'd been curious too. Curious enough to consider going to her father's office and digging up the entire process herself.
But—
There were no surveillance records.
None.
It was as if the cameras hadn't existed in that room at all.
Impossible.
So there was only one answer.
The footage had been erased—and the authority to do that should only belong to her father.
He wouldn't do it without a reason.
Was he hiding something?
Sakayanagi decided she would listen to his tone again tonight. Press him lightly. See what slipped.
"Still," she added, voice unchanged, "one thing is certain. Class C paid a heavy price."
It sounded obvious.
And that was the problem.
"How heavy" was enough to set off the worst kind of imagination.
Had Class C been crippled for the month?
Or had they been gutted—class points wiped clean in one stroke?
No one knew. Not anyone outside the two classes involved.
—
Class 1-D
Suzune Horikita heard the same news, of course. She watched the other three classes too closely to miss it.
And the moment she did, her mind ran ahead of reality.
If Class C had their points stripped because of this… then the climb to Class C would come faster. Closer. Her path would open.
A voice cut in, cold and blunt.
"Horikita," Kiyotaka Ayanokōji said, "stop clinging to fantasies that don't exist."
He knew exactly where her thoughts were headed.
But it was unrealistic—at least until Horikita became Class D's true leader. Until then, it was just noise.
Nearby, another kind of desperation was playing out.
"Miu Wang-san, can you lend me some points? Please—please!" Kei Karuizawa pleaded, hair pulled into a flashy high ponytail that gleamed under the lights.
She'd positioned herself as the class gyaru. That image came with rules—rules that didn't allow her to swallow her pride and live off the school's free set meals.
So she borrowed. Or tried to.
Mei, twin tails bouncing slightly as she shifted, was the perfect target.
Mei had a quiet crush on Karuizawa's boyfriend, Yōsuke Hirata.
That made her useful.
Karuizawa could bring her clique's pressure down, force the loan through, and at the same time slap down a girl who had eyes on her man.
Two birds. One stone.
"Karuizawa-san," Mei said, not flinching, and produced her student ID card. The point balance displayed was just as miserable as Karuizawa's. "I don't have much left either."
No room. No leverage.
Karuizawa clicked her tongue inwardly and swung her gaze around the room.
Most of the class dodged her without even speaking.
A lot of Class D had blown points in the first month—before they understood the rules—then watched their balances dry up as nothing came in for two straight months.
They'd already surrendered to the free supplies and meals. And even the ones who'd saved weren't eager to lend.
No one knew how long this squeeze would last. Only what you held in your own hands was real.
There was only one student who looked "rich" on the surface—Rokusuke Kōenji—but nobody had the nerve to go near him and ask.
"Kushida-san!" Karuizawa's eyes locked onto Kikyō Kushida. She didn't even bother hiding the desperation. "Please."
Kushida's smile came out stiff, like it had been dragged onto her face with a hook.
"Um… Karuizawa-san," she said sweetly, "I don't have many points left either."
Inside, she was spitting poison.
Is this woman insane? Does she not understand how bad it is for Class D? Now she wants to drag me down with her, too?
Ren had been right.
Kikyō Kushida really was white on the outside and black on the inside—pitch-black.
"8,000 points," Karuizawa pushed, voice rising with confidence the moment she sensed hesitation. "Kushida-san, just lend me 8,000."
She'd latched on.
Back when Ren had transferred points to Kushida, everyone had been staring. Everyone knew Kushida was sitting on a huge pile now.
Too embarrassed to beg Kōenji, but not embarrassed to bleed you, huh?
And thanks to the "little angel" persona Kushida had built in Class D, Karuizawa wasn't worried. She assumed Kushida couldn't refuse.
"Karuizawa-san… 8,000 is too much…" Kushida forced her expression into something troubled and gentle.
Motherfucker.
Lend, lend, lend. And when I ask for it back, what are you going to repay me with? Air?
You keep saying "borrow" and never say a damn word about paying it back, you bitch.
Kushida's inner voice was vicious enough to make her own skin crawl.
"4,000, then," Karuizawa snapped, cutting it in half like she was being generous. She raised her voice on purpose. "4,000 is fine, right, Kushida-san?"
Heads turned.
Eyes landed.
A clean little trap.
If Kushida lent the points, she lost money.
If she didn't, her image cracked right in front of everyone.
A guilt-trip with the lights on.
"Karuizawa-san," Kushida said softly, swallowing the rage until it tasted like blood. "4,000 points… right? Here."
She just wanted out. Now.
She pulled out her student ID card and transferred the points.
While the numbers moved, she repeated the same mantra to herself like a curse.
Pay to avoid trouble. Pay to avoid trouble. Pay now so I can kill you later, Karuizawa, you bitch.
Fuck.
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