The click of the lock echoed in the quiet hallway of the dormitories. Jin pocketed his key, adjusted his collar, and headed for the elevator.
The transition from the isolation of his room to the social battlefield of the Advanced Nurturing High School was seamless.
When the doors slid open on the ground floor, he wasn't met with a vacant lobby, but with the radiant presence of Class B's heart and soul: Ichinose Honami.
"I'm heading to the cafeteria—want to come along?" she asked, her voice carrying a natural warmth that seemed to brighten the sterile fluorescent lighting of the lobby.
As she stepped out, she pulled the heavy door shut behind her with a gentle click. She looked up at Jin; the height difference was significant, forcing her to tilt her head back, which only added to the earnestness in her gaze.
"Sure," Jin replied. It wasn't just politeness. In a school where information was the only true currency, walking beside a social nexus like Ichinose was an investment.
"You know, after you left earlier, everyone went to karaoke," Ichinose said, her tone carrying a hint of a playful pout—a small "complaint" from the class representative.
"We learned about each other's hobbies and bonded. It really made the friendship even tighter. You should definitely come next time, Arima-kun."
Jin offered a noncommittal hum. "It seems you didn't find the trap within Hoshimiya-sensei's explanation."
The playfulness vanished from Ichinose's face, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "What trap are you talking about? Why can't I understand what you are saying?"
"Try to remember," Jin said, his voice dropping to a more serious register. "Our class advisor said 100,000 private points were already credited to our accounts, and that the next issue of points would be next month. But think carefully—she never explicitly stated that the next deposit would be another 100,000."
Ichinose stopped walking. The gears were turning behind her blue eyes. She replayed the homeroom scene in her mind, dissecting the vague phrasing of their eccentric teacher.
Slowly, her eyes widened as the realization took hold. The "merit" in the school's name wasn't just a label; it was a warning.
"It seems Arima-kun is very observant," she whispered, her voice tinged with genuine awe. "Nobody else realized this, but you found it out. You are really impressive."
Her mind was already racing, likely calculating how to relay this to her classmates without causing a panic.
For Jin, observing her was enough. She was a "good person," but in this school, being good was a liability unless it was backed by the kind of sharp intuition he was currently feeding her.
As they neared the campus convenience store, the atmosphere shifted. The polished aesthetic of the school was interrupted by a jarring sight: a tall boy with fashionable haircut, Sudo Ken, squatting on the pavement. He was slurping cup noodles with a desperate, undignified intensity.
"Isn't he in our year?" Ichinose asked, her brow furrowing with concern.
"Yeah. I saw him at the opening ceremony," Jin noted, keeping his voice flat. "He stood nearby. Must be Class D."
He knew Sudo's name, of course, but there was no tactical advantage in appearing overly familiar with the "defects" of Class D.
Before they could pass, a group of older students—sophomores, by the look of their slightly worn uniforms—swaggered toward Sudo. They, too, were clutching cheap instant noodles.
"Hey, you first years?" one of the upperclassmen sneered. "This turf's ours."
Sudo didn't even look up at first, his mouth full of processed wheat. "I was here first—scram if you don't want a beating!" He glared up, his eyes bloodshot and murderous.
"Feisty freshman…" The second-year student stepped closer, looming over Sudo. "Seeing a second-year and you still don't step aside? You wanna swing at us?"
The provocation worked instantly. Sudo, never one for impulse control, hurled his half-finished noodles to the ground. The plastic cup bounced, splashing broth across the pavement. He lunged forward, grabbing the leader by his collar, his knuckles white.
"You think I won't?!"
The upperclassman didn't flinch. In fact, he looked delighted.
"Ooh, so scary… I bet you're from Class D, right?"
"So what?!" Sudo roared.
The sophomores erupted into a chorus of mocking laughter. The one in Sudo's grip effortlessly brushed the freshman's hands off his lapels, as if he were flicking away a piece of lint.
"I knew it! Poor defective goods," the leader laughed, turning to his friends. "Let it go for today. Enjoy your sweet campus life while it lasts, kid. Next, you'll see real hell."
They walked off, their laughter echoing against the brick walls, leaving Sudo trembling with rage. He kicked a nearby trash can with a deafening clang, cursed under his breath, and stormed off toward the dorms, leaving the spilled mess behind him.
Jin turned to Ichinose, whose expression was a mix of shock and pity.
"Ichinose-san, look at them," Jin said, pointing subtly toward the departing sophomores. "They are living on cup noodles on day one. They're broke. This confirms our theory."
"If the school provided 100,000 points every month, they'd have over a million points a year. No one with that kind of money eats like that."
Ichinose nodded, her face pale. "You're right. Their remarks about 'real hell'... they weren't just insults. They were a warning. The points can be taken away. They can even be zero."
"Exactly," Jin said. "And those upperclassmen? They're an easy source to buy intel. They need the points more than we do right now."
He turned to continue, but Ichinose had stopped again. He looked back to find her bent over the trash can Sudo had kicked.
She was righting the bin, then meticulously picking up the discarded noodle cup and the spilled mess, tossing it back into the receptacle.
"Sorry, I slowed us down," she said, looking up with a sheepish smile. "Seeing litter just made me act."
"No worries—you did the right thing," Jin replied. He suspected that the school's hidden surveillance was logging every action.
While Sudo was losing "Social Contribution" points, Ichinose was likely gaining them.
"Let's catch them," Jin said.
They jogged a short distance, catching up to the sophomores who had settled back into a gangster-style squat to finish their own noodles. Their movements were rough, aggressive—reminiscent of the thugs that followed Ryuen in Class 1-C.
"Are you new students from Class 1-D too?" the leader asked, looking at Jin with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. "What, you want to get justice for your friend?"
"No, we are—" Ichinose started, her instinct to be honest kicking in but this time Jin beat her to it.
"Senpai, you misunderstood," Jin interrupted, his voice cool and confident. "We are students from Class 1-A."
Ichinose blinked, but she was smart enough not to correct him in front of the "enemy."
Jin knew that based on the school's trajectory, with his assistance, Class 1-B would likely overtake Class 1-A soon enough anyway.
It wasn't a lie—it was a projection of future status.
The shift in the upperclassmen was instantaneous. The contempt vanished, replaced by a guarded respect. In this school, the letter 'A' carried the weight of royalty.
"What does a student from Class A want with us?" the leader asked.
"To be honest," Jin said, leaning in slightly, "we in Class A feel that this school has too many strange aspects. We happened to hear your conversation with that Class 1-D student. We want to purchase information from you."
He paused, letting the word purchase hang in the air like a lifeline.
"Did you just say... purchase information?" The upperclassmen's eyebrows shot up.
"The Class Advisor once said that points can be used to purchase everything in this school," Jin reminded them. "I assume that includes the wisdom of our senpais too."
The sophomores exchanged glances. Their bravado had melted away, replaced by the hungry look of people who hadn't seen a high-quality meal in months.
Jin knew he had them. They were about to sell the secrets of the S-System for the price of a few luxury bento boxes.