An Afternoon Tea Party and Approaching Footsteps

The results of the midterm exam were like a precise diagnosis, laying bare the flaws within Class D. Chabashira Sae offered no superfluous criticism during the homeroom meeting; she merely announced the grades in her characteristic, slightly languid and indifferent tone, projecting the score sheet bearing the words "Class D" onto the screen. That silent display was more devastating than any reprimand.

The atmosphere in the class remained persistently low. Sudo Ken and the others had sunk into complete dejection, and even Kushida Kikyo's trademark smile seemed to have dimmed a few shades, barely maintained through effort. Hirata Yousuke's gentle encouragement yielded little effect, while Yukimura Teruhiko and his ilk burrowed deeper into their own worlds.

Amidst this oppression, Fūki Ran's daily rhythm remained undisturbed. He kept to his regular schedule—classroom, library, dormitory—a straight line connecting three points. Only, the scope of his observations had broadened and deepened. He was assessing everyone's value, calculating how to maximize the use of the resources and... pawns at his disposal in the coming storm.

That afternoon, with no club activities for a change, the sky was clear and the sunlight warm. Fūki brought a book on cognitive psychology to the nearly unused rooftop terrace atop the school building. The view was expansive, overlooking most of the campus—a place he occasionally visited for quiet contemplation.

However, someone had arrived before him today.

Horikita Suzune stood alone by the railing, a thick English original novel in her hands, the sunlight casting a silky luster over her jet-black hair. Her brows were slightly furrowed, as if she were immersed in the world of her book, radiating an icy aura that warned others to keep their distance.

Fūki paused for a moment but didn't leave. He walked naturally to the other side of the railing, a few meters away from her, leaned against it in the same manner, and opened the book he had brought.

For a time, only the sounds of pages turning and the breeze drifting across the terrace filled the air.

This deliberate, mutually non-intrusive coexistence lasted about ten minutes. In the end, it was Horikita who broke the silence. She closed her book but didn't leave, her gaze still fixed on the sports field in the distance. Her tone was flat, as if she were talking to herself or seeking confirmation: "Even if an individual's grades are excellent, it doesn't change the fact that they're in Class D. The collective's drag will eventually affect the resources an individual can obtain." This was the first time she had voluntarily brought up the class's overall problem, though her tone remained distant.

Fūki's eyes didn't leave the page, his voice equally calm: "The total amount of resources is fixed, but the method of distribution can change. The key lies in who holds the power to define 'value' and set the rules of distribution."

Horikiti tilted her head slightly, glancing at him. "Do you think there's someone in Class D who holds that kind of power?"

"Not at the moment." Fūki finally looked up, meeting her probing gaze. "But that's precisely an opportunity. A vacuum in the rules often implies the possibility of reshaping them. The Special Exam might be just such a chance."

"You seem to have expectations for the Special Exam?" Horikita keenly caught the implication in his words.

"I prefer to see it as an equation with a large number of variables." Fūki closed his book. "The known condition is the current situation of Class D. The unknowns are the specific rules of the exam and the behavior of our opponents. The process of solving the equation is itself full of challenge and enjoyment, isn't it?"

This analogy, likening brutal competition to a mathematical problem, sparked a strange glint in Horikita's eyes. She was silent for a moment before murmuring, "...An interesting analogy. But solving the equation requires sufficient ability and... collaborators."

"Ability can be cultivated, and collaborators... need to be screened and tempered during the solving process." Fūki replied meaningfully.

This time, Horikita didn't immediately retort. She turned her gaze back to the distance, lost in thought.

This brief exchange, like a bout between masters, didn't result in any explicit agreement, but a subtle understanding seemed to quietly form between them. Both recognized the other's unusual nature, and both were probing the possibility of cooperation.

Meanwhile, Fūki also noticed another change. Since that thrilling "transaction" in the old garden that night, Kushida Kikyo's perfect smile, when facing him, had gained a barely perceptible stiffness and... fear. She still greeted him warmly and sought his opinion when organizing class activities, but her eyes occasionally flickered, unable to meet his for too long.

Fūki knew that the dark seed had been planted and was taking root in her heart. He wasn't in a hurry to force it to grow; he only needed to wait patiently, letting it bear the fruit he desired at the right moment.

A few nights later, Fūki was in his dormitory analyzing fragmented information gathered from various sources about the school's past Special Exam formats. Although the specific content changed each year, the style and general direction might leave traces. At the door came an extremely faint, almost imperceptible knock.

Knock, knock-knock.

The rhythm was peculiar, carrying hesitation and probing.

Fūki put down his materials, the corner of his mouth curving upward almost imperceptibly. He walked to the door, not opening it immediately, but looking through the peephole.

Outside the door, Kushida Kikyo had her head lowered, her short orange hair hiding her expression. Her hands were clenched nervously in front of her, her body slightly tense. She wasn't wearing her school uniform but had changed into an inconspicuous dark outfit, as if trying to blend into the night.

Fūki opened the door.

Kushida jerked her head up like a startled rabbit. Her face bore none of her usual smile—only pallor, unease, and a desperate, reckless resolve. She quickly scanned the empty hallway, then slipped sideways into the room like a fish.

Fūki closed the door and locked it, the crisp click echoing. The sound made Kushida's body tremble visibly.

The door to Dorm 129 had opened for the first time to the hidden "demon." And the footsteps of the Special Exam, beneath this seemingly calm daily life, drew ever closer.