Some were relieved they weren't in Class 1-D. Others felt the looming weight of cutthroat competition—and the very real risk of expulsion.
Once the deeper rules of the school were revealed, the entire Class 1-B fell into a heavy silence.
The school's educational philosophy—one that resembled a survival-of-the-fittest system—was shocking, leaving many unsure of how to respond.
According to Hoshinomiya Chie, only Class 1-A was guaranteed a secure path to graduation. The other classes had no such certainty.
It didn't take much imagination to understand what this meant—an intense, unforgiving class competition.
At first glance, Class 1-B was positioned advantageously. As long as they could surpass Class 1-A, they would seize victory. But based on the school's class placement rules, the students in Class 1-A were undeniably the most well-rounded and capable. Overcoming them would be no easy feat.
And they weren't the only threat.
The two lower-ranked classes, Class 1-C and Class 1-D, wouldn't sit idly by either. If they wanted to climb the ranks, the natural stepping stone in their way was Class 1-B.
With that in mind, if Class 1-B wanted to move up, they couldn't just focus on surpassing Class 1-A—they had to prevent the other two classes from overtaking them as well.
This was, without a doubt, exactly what the school intended. A system that forced all students to compete at their absolute limits.
---
Seated at her desk, Ichinose Honami could sense the tense atmosphere settling over the class.
Seeing her classmates looking uneasy, her strong sense of responsibility was immediately triggered—she wanted to step up and lead.
However, just as she was about to take action, her classmate Jin, stood up first.
"Hoshinomiya-sensei, we don't have any more classes this morning, correct?"
"That's right," Hoshinomiya Chie replied with a smile. "After this homeroom session, your next class is self study."
"In that case, could you spare a moment? I want to ask you some questions and these are paid by me only not by class."
"Arima-kun wants to become hero? Alright. Ask away but I won't give any more discounts just so you know." Hoshinomiya Chie replied with playful smile.
"First question, according to rules, suppose someone transferred to our class spending 20 million private points, does that mean our class have 41 students or weakest member from our class will have to retire?"
The moment Jin asked the question, silent ripples started to appear in class. Nobody ever thought that way.
"20,000 private points." Hoshinomiya Chie replied, asking him to pay first and Jin did paid up 20,000 private points.
"No, even if someone transfers, nobody has to leave class because of this. The class would hold the advantage of an extra pocket of private points also the class would carry the liability of another person to carry forward." Hearing that everyone sighed in relief.
"Second question, What are the conditions and how much does it cost to replace... A Class Advisor?"
BOOM!
Jin's question itself felt like a detonation of bomb whole class started to buzz.
The silence in Class 1-B was no longer just heavy; it was suffocating. It was the kind of silence that precedes a landslide—a physical pressure that made the air feel thin.
Hoshinomiya Chie, usually the personification of breezy nonchalance, felt the smile freeze on her face. Her violet eyes, typically sparkling with a mix of mischief and boredom, sharpened into something cold and wary. The playful "big sister" persona she cultivated was a mask, and Jin had just driven a chisel into its surface.
"Arima-kun," she said, her voice dropping an octave, losing its melodic lilt. "That is a very... unconventional curiosity you have there."
Jin didn't flinch. He sat with his hands folded on his desk, the posture of a man discussing the weather rather than the systemic dismantling of a faculty member's career.
Beside him, Ichinose Honami was frozen. Her hand, which had been halfway raised to comfort a nearby classmate, stayed suspended in mid-air. Her mind, usually quick to find the "right" moral path, was reeling.
Replacing a teacher? The thought hadn't even entered the realm of possibility for her. To Ichinose Honami, teachers were the keepers of the rules, not pieces on the board to be captured.
"Curiosity is the engine of meritocracy, Sensei," Jin replied calmly. "You told us everything has a price. You told us points can buy anything. 'Anything' is a definitive word. It doesn't exclude the faculty."
Hoshinomiya Chie exhaled a sharp, jagged breath. She looked around the room. The students were pale.
Kanzaki Ryuji had narrowed his eyes, his analytical mind already racing to catch up with Jin's trajectory. He wasn't disgusted by the question; he was terrified by the fact that he hadn't thought to ask it.
"The price," Chie said, her voice regaining a forced cheerfulness as she tapped her tablet, "for information regarding the employment and contractual status of school personnel... that's not cheap."
"Information on school rules is one thing. Information on the 'S-System's' authority over staff? That will be 100,000 Private Points. Still want to play, Arima-kun?"
She expected him to back down. 100,000 points was a fortune for a student on their first day, especially after he had already spent 200,000 to confirm the class system and 20,000 on the transfer query.
*ping*
"Done."
"Eh? Arima-kun, that's..." Ichinose stammered.
The "ping" of the transaction felt like a gavel striking a block. She understood, or precisely, the whole class understood, the private points were transfered by Jin alone, from his own terminal not from the class collective fund Ichinose gathered earlier.
"It's an investment in our sovereignty," Jin interrupted, his gaze fixed on Hoshinomiya Chie. "If we are to be a class that wins, we must know the exact height of the ceiling above us. Or if there is a ceiling at all."
Hoshinomiya Chie's expression shifted. The playfulness died entirely. She leaned against the podium, her posture suddenly professional, almost predatory.
"Fine. You've paid for the truth, so here it is. Class Advisors are assigned by the school administration based on their own internal metrics. However, the S-System acknowledges the 'Right of Petition.'
If a class can aggregate 30,000,000 Private Points, they can request a 'Faculty Audit' and a subsequent 'Advisor Exchange.'"
The class gasped. Thirty million. It was a number so vast it felt imaginary. "But," Hoshinomiya Chie continued, her eyes glinting, "There's a catch."
"It's not just about points. You must provide 'Just Cause'—proof of gross negligence, or a failure to maintain the class's competitive parity. And if the administration denies the petition, the points are forfeited. Gone. Into the void."
She leaned forward, her face inches from the front row. "So, Arima-kun. Am I doing such a bad job already? I haven't even finished the first morning."
"On the contrary, Sensei," Jin smiled, and this time the chill in the room deepened. "I'm not asking because I want you gone. I'm asking so you know exactly how much your loyalty is worth to us. And how much our compliance is worth to you."
"In this school, the shepherd protects the sheep from the wolves. But if the shepherd is the one leading the sheep to the cliff... the sheep need to know how to change shepherds."
Hoshinomiya Chie felt a genuine shiver run down her spine. She had been a teacher at this institution for years. She had seen geniuses, she had seen thugs, and she had seen saints.
But Jin Jin was something else. He wasn't looking at the school as a challenge to be overcome; he was looking at it as a machine to be reprogrammed.
"You're a Devil," she whispered, almost to herself. "That's only Natural." Jin's answer stunned her. She didn't think he could hear her whisper. She didn't know how close she was from the truth.
Jin turned his attention away from the stunned teacher and toward the class. The silence was different now. The shock had transitioned into a grim realization.
The "fun" of the high school experience had evaporated, replaced by the cold mechanics of a business.
"Listen to me, Class B," Jin's voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the room. "We are told Class A is the best. We are told we are 'slightly inferior.' That is a lie designed to make you settle for second place. The school hasn't ranked our potential; they've ranked our current 'value' based on a middle-school record that no longer matters."
He stood up and walked to the whiteboard, picking up a marker. He drew a single horizontal line.
"This is the 20 million point threshold. The price of a life. The price of a transfer. The price of a second chance."
He drew a second line much higher. "This is the 30 million point threshold. The price of power over the system itself."
He turned back to them. "The school wants us to fight Classes C and D to keep our crumbs. They want us to look at Class A with envy. I propose a different path. We don't just 'compete.' We hoard. We treat every single Private Point not as currency for snacks or games, but as a vote for our own freedom."
Ichinose Honami stood up then, her eyes regaining their fire. She saw the fear in her classmates' eyes and realized that Jin had provided the "threat," but she needed to provide the "hope."
"Arima-kun is right about the stakes," she said, her voice clear and resonant. "But we won't win through fear. We'll win because Class B is a family. If 20 million points saves one person, then we will make sure we have 20 million points ready at all times. No one gets left behind. Not one person in this room will be expelled. That is my promise."
The tension in the room broke. It didn't disappear, but it transformed. The students of Class 1-B, who moments ago were looking at each other as potential liabilities, now looked at Ichinose Honami as their heart and Jin as their shield.