The morning air in the Advanced Nurturiong High School didn't just feel different; it felt heavy, like the static charge preceding a massive summer storm. As Jin walked toward the cafeteria, he felt the weight of eyes upon him.
To his left, near the vending machines, a cluster of students stood like sentinels. At their centre was a girl with short, lilac-tinged hair, leaning lightly on a cane. Sakayanagi Arisu. Her "faction" already possessed the disciplined aura of a private militia.
She didn't wave. She didn't smile. She simply watched him with the clinical curiosity of a biologist observing a new, potentially invasive species.
Jin didn't falter. He turned his gaze toward the Class 1-B wing. He knew the reputation of his own class: a sanctuary of "kindness" and "cooperation."
In this cutthroat system, however, kindness was a currency that devalued rapidly. To lead them—or, more accurately, to ensure they were a tool sharp enough to cut through the competition—he needed a reputation that was more than just "reliable." He needed to be untouchable.
The classroom was already humming with activity. Even the students who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else were at their desks, textbooks open.
The fear of the unknown was a powerful motivator, and Jin had successfully sowed the first seeds of that fear the day before.
"Morning," Jin said as he slid into his seat.
The girl in front of him, Himeno Yuki, didn't jump, but her shoulders stiffened slightly.
She closed her textbook—a rhythmic, deliberate thud—and turned halfway. Her voice was cool, a monotone that lacked warmth but possessed a strange, melodic cadence.
"Good morning, Arima-kun."
Jin leaned back, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You know my name?"
It was a calculated question. In a class of forty, after one chaotic day of introductions, being remembered usually required a specific effort.
Jin had purposely avoided the group karaoke session, opting instead to scout the club buildings.
"When you stood out for your kindness earlier, everybody should remember your name," Himeno explained. She adjusted her grip on her book.
"My memory is… efficient. Given enough time, I could likely memorise the roster of the entire year level."
She paused, her eyes searching his. "Besides, Ichinose-san spoke of you quite often during the gathering yesterday. She seems to think highly of your initiative."
Jin nodded, noting the detail. Ichinose Honami's charisma was a double-edged sword. She could unify the class, but she could also turn him into a public figure before he was ready to step out of the shadows.
"Arima-kun," Himeno continued, her voice dropping an octave, "my first impression of you was unfair. I thought you were merely detached—someone who would be a burden when the school's true nature was revealed. But you explained the points, you secured intelligence from the seniors, and you did it all while we were still trying to find the bathrooms. You're clearly very capable."
"You flatter me, Himeno-san," Jin replied, his tone humble but his eyes sharp. "I just happened to find some upperclassmen who were more interested in quick cash than school secrets."
It was a lie of omission. He deliberately lead Ichinose Honami to the truth, to give them a reason to wake up to reality.
Besides, he didn't mention the 1,500,000 Private Points currently sitting in his account,— the payout from defeating the seniors from Shogi Club and Sakayanagi Arisu in Chess Club. Nor did he mention that the other clubs are his next target for a similar transaction.
To Himeno Yuki and the rest of Class B, he was a resourceful altruist. To himself, he was the architect of a private bank.
Himeno Yuki looked down at her desk, her fingers tracing the edge of her textbook. She seemed to be battling an internal hesitation. Finally, she opened the front cover and turned it toward him.
"Wait a moment... This is my name."
Jin looked at the neat, precise kanji written on the flyleaf. Himeno Yuki.
"A lovely name," Jin said softly. "I'll remember it."
The slight flush on her cheeks was gone as quickly as it appeared, but the bridge had been built.
As the bell neared, Kanzaki Ryuji took the podium. He was the pragmatic contrast to Ichinose Honami's idealism—a man who understood that a fortress needed walls as much as it needed a heart.
"I believe everyone learned the true nature of this school through the chat group yesterday," Kanzaki Ryuji began, his voice commanding the room.
"But to ensure we are all on the same page, let me highlight the essentials." He rattled off the three pillars of their reality.
• Class Points (CP): Their monthly allowance was tied to their collective behaviour.
• The Goal: Only Class A graduates with guaranteed employment or university placement.
• The Struggle: Special Exams would be the primary battlefield for points.
"Does anyone have anything to add?" Kanzaki asked.
Hamaguchi Tetsuya, a student who usually blended into the background, raised his hand. "This intel... it all came from Arima-kun's contact with the senpais, right? How do we know it's not a prank? A hazing ritual?"
Jin watched with amusement. He knew Hamaguchi Tetsuya was a plant. Kanzaki Ryuji had likely coached him to ask this to provide an opening for a 'verified' explanation. It was a classic rhetorical tactic.
"We verify it with the faculty," Kanzaki Ryuji answered immediately. "And even if it were a lie, what do we lose by behaving like model students for a month? Two hundred and fifty points each? A small price for a safety net."
The class murmured in agreement. Kanzaki Ryuji was building trust, but Jin noticed the flaw in his logic.
Kanzaki Ryuji was playing defense. He was teaching the class how not to lose. He wasn't teaching them how to win.
The classroom door slid open, and Hoshinomiya Chie sauntered in. She looked less like a teacher and more like someone who had wandered away from a high-end lounge. Her movements were fluid, her smile practiced and deceptively sweet.
As she scanned the room, her eyes didn't linger on Kanzaki Ryuji or Ichinose Honami. They snapped to Jin.
A shark in the koi pond, she thought. She had seen students like him before, but rarely in Class B. Usually, the "problem children" or the "geniuses" were diverted to D or A.
This boy had a sharp bone structure and eyes that didn't just look at you—they weighed you.
"What is it, student? Sensei will answer your question~" she chirped, leaning against the teacher's desk with a playful tilt of her head.
Jin stood up. The room went silent. "I'd like to ask—are the 100,000 points truly credited automatically every month, regardless of our merit?"
The question was a trap. If she said "yes," she was lying. If she said "no," she was revealing the S-System.
"Ah, well… that's a bit tricky," Hoshinomiya feigned a pout, tapping her chin. "Sensei can't answer that right now. It wouldn't be fair to the mystery, would it?"
Jin's smirk widened. It wasn't a smile of friendliness; it was the look of a gambler who had seen the dealer's hole card.
"In that case—if I pay, will you tell me?" The class gasped. Kanzaki Ryuji leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. Ichinose Honami's breath hitched.
"After all," Jin continued, his voice echoing in the quiet room, "Yesterday you said everything in this school can be bought with points. That includes the truth about school rules, right? Name your price, Hoshinomiya-sensei."
Hoshinomiya Chie's heart hammered against her ribs. This was the spark she had been waiting for. The "boredom" she felt moments ago evaporated, replaced by a predatory excitement.
"Well, you're not wrong… but can you afford it?" she challenged, her voice dropping its sugary facade.
"How much?"
Hoshinomiya Chie leaned in, her eyes locking onto his. "Flat price—2,000,000 Private Points. Pay that, and I'll tell you everything you want to know. The exams, the deductions, the history of this school... everything."
The number sent a shockwave through the room. Two million? It was an impossible sum for a student on their second day.
Jin didn't blink. He didn't look discouraged. Instead, he reached into his pocket and tapped his phone screen, looking at the balance he'd already begun to accumulate.
"Two million," Jin repeated quietly. He looked at his classmates, who were staring at him in a mixture of awe and confusion. "Give me two weeks, Sensei. I think I can make that happen."
Hoshinomiya Chie's grin turned genuine—and slightly dangerous. "I'll be looking forward to it, Arima-kun. Don't keep a lady waiting."
There was no doubt that Ichinose Honami was a sharp individual.
Although the school's extravagant distribution of 100,000 Private Points had initially left her stunned, she quickly pieced together an understanding of the situation.
Hoshinomiya-sensei's refusal to answer directly was, in itself, an answer.
This meant that the school indeed had hidden core rules that the new students were unaware of—rules so crucial that even acquiring them required a staggering 2,000,000 Private Points. That alone spoke volumes about their importance.
This also means they were not cheated by the upperclassmen and Arima-kun's observation skills are too sharp.
With this realization, Ichinose Honami decided to act.
"Arima-kun, please wait a moment."
Jim had been expecting her to step in, so he immediately countered, "Oh? Does Ichinose-san think I was wrong?"
"No," she replied confidently, "I trust your judgment. If this school really has hidden rules, then the cost of 2,000,000 Private Points should be shared by everyone."
Raising 2,000,000 Private Points meant that each student in Class 1-B would need to contribute half of their freshly issued 100,000 Private Points—which was no small request.
This was where Ichinose's strengths came into play. Since she had already built strong rapport with her classmates on the very first day, she was in the best position to persuade them.