Exam

The busy review period quietly slipped away amidst the subtle friction of pen tips against pages.

Even though the study group's location had moved to Hoshino Kanade's dormitory, the tension and desperation that permeated the air, almost solidifying, were still clearly palpable when Hoshino took some time one afternoon to borrow psychology books from the library.

There were noticeably more students rushing around the hallways with heavy books, the reading room was packed, and even the hushed discussions were steeped in a nearly tragic seriousness.

Through the glass door of the reading room, Hoshino's gaze inadvertently caught sight of the infamous "Idiot Trio" from Class D.

Sudo Ken was irritably running his striking red hair, baring his teeth at an open English Exercise Book, as if trying to bore through the tadpole-like letters; beside him, Yamauchi Haruki and Ike Kanji were like two defeated roosters, dejectedly slumped over their desks, frowning at their math papers. However, the pen tips constantly moving in their hands, occasionally scribbling a few lines on scratch paper, silently declared that they were still struggling desperately.

Yet, Hoshino understood in his heart that the direction of this struggle seemed to have deviated from the correct path from the very beginning.

A few days before the exam, a heart-sinking piece of news was delivered like a delayed verdict, under an almost absurd circumstance—it was accidentally let slip by a Class C student during an argument and provocation with Class D students in the library.

Upon hearing the wind, the Class D students finally cornered their homeroom teacher, Chabashira Sae, in the hallway as she was about to return to the office.

Their faces were a mixture of the last shred of hope and deep unease, their voices trembling almost imperceptibly, "Teacher... has the exam scope... changed?"

Chabashira Sae stopped, habitually crossing her arms, her eyes, which always carried a hint of weariness, swept over the anxious and tense faces before her.

Her tone was as flat as if she were discussing the irrelevant weather outside the window, "Oh? That..." She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable as to whether it was premonition or pure indifference, "...Oh yes, the scope for the midterm exam changed last Friday. Sorry, it seems I forgot to tell you."

Her tone was unruffled, as if merely answering a very ordinary question.

This overly nonchalant attitude instantly froze the students surrounding her, their faces turning from confusion to ashen white.

Clearly, she had known about this so-called "change" for a long time but had never proactively disclosed a single bit of it to her class.

Hoshino Kanade and Kiyona were sitting side-by-side on a long bench in the open-air corridor connecting the two teaching buildings.

The afternoon sun streamed through the glass ceiling, casting dappled light on the notebooks spread open on their laps.

Kiyona's shoulder gently brushed against Hoshino's arm, the warm sensation transmitted through their thin shirts.

The dazed Class D students passed by them, their discussions like eggplants wilted by frost, filled with bewilderment and the anger of being toyed with.

"We only know now... how can we possibly make it in time..." "The scope for all five subjects has changed, what are we going to do?" ...No one mentioned, or rather, no one even thought of digging up past exam papers, searching for "archaeological questions" as clues and direction for their review.

In Hoshino Kanade's view, this was almost common sense for exam preparation strategies—after all, past exam papers often contained the teacher's preferences and the password to their emphasis on knowledge points.

He certainly knew the school's convention—midterm and final exam papers directly used the previous year's papers. (He was somewhat puzzled if the school's exam papers hadn't changed in ten years, given they always used the previous year's.)

Hoshino Kanade's fingers, gripping the book spine, unconsciously caressed the rough edge of the cover. The subtle friction was felt at his fingertips, but in the end, he merely suppressed the thought.

Selling this information? The risk was far too great. Whether it was interacting with upperclassmen, exposing himself to the teachers' view, or choosing an insider to pass on the message.

What was more troublesome was that regardless of whether Class D performed well or poorly in the end, he was very likely to be dragged into the vortex of trouble.

Moreover, the Personal Points reward he could gain from this information was pitifully small compared to the risks he needed to bear.

The cost invested and the potential revenue were severely out of balance on the invisible scale in his heart.

Not worth it, completely not worth it.

Furthermore, his gaze passed through the throng of people and once again fell on the red figure scratching his ear in the distance.

Looking at Sudo Ken's anxious state, almost on the verge of exploding at the English Exercise Book, a flicker of almost pitying understanding crossed Hoshino Kanade's mind.

He remembered that in another similar timeline, even if someone had practically laid out the complete "original questions" and answers before Sudo, his despairing English Foundation would still have been a chasm that could not be crossed, ultimately resulting in a Fail.

Hoshino Kanade found it difficult to understand: even if he didn't recognize a single letter and just memorized the answer positions for the multiple-choice questions, he shouldn't have scored that low... This level of difficulty was almost inhuman.

Now, even this theoretically existing "original questions" assistance was gone. Sudo's probability of passing, in Hoshino Kanade's calm assessment, was as faint as a waning candle flickering in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

He sighed inwardly, a barely perceptible trace of regret flashing across his face—he hoped that this young man, who lived and breathed basketball, could continue to burn his pure passion in the vast world outside after this inevitable setback, and ultimately achieve his dream.

'Amen.' This silent sigh only caused a ripple in his own Heart Lake, which then subsided back to calm.

Everything that followed proceeded step-by-step, like a precisely set program.

The day of the midterm exam arrived as scheduled.

A solemn silence permeated the teaching building, broken only by the footsteps of the invigilators and the rustling sound of papers being distributed.

Countless test papers, carrying anxiety and hope, were passed into hands that were either tense or steady under the fluorescent lights.

The rustling sound of pen tips scratching across paper converged into the most prevalent, monotonous yet captivating notes in the examination hall.

Hoshino Kanade sat calmly in his seat, his gaze sweeping over the questions on the test paper.

His brain functioned like a highly efficient, precise instrument. There were few questions that truly posed a difficulty; his vast knowledge reserve was sufficient to handle them with ease.

The afternoon sun slanted through the glass window, casting square patches of light on the smooth desk surface, quietly witnessing the life trajectories of these countless individuals being silently outlined in this few hours of silence.

The bell signaling the end of the exam suddenly rang out, breaking the solidified air.

A brief clamor surged through the hallway like a tide, and then gradually subsided into silence.

The dust settled, and everything seemed to return to its previous track: desks, books, chalk... Only the yet-to-be-announced report card, carrying judgment and the future, hung like an unfallen scale, quietly awaiting the moment it would drop and pronounce the verdict.