Time trickled by like sand through an hourglass amid the seemingly peaceful routines of campus life. Before long, the next month's points were about to be issued. That day, the air in Class D's classroom seemed to have frozen, heavy with a tension that was almost tangible—a mixture of faint hope and deep anxiety. As midnight struck, it was as if an invisible command had gone out. Almost every student eagerly pulled out their Student Terminals, fingers trembling ever so slightly as they opened the account balance screen.
But reality was often crueler than even the worst expectations.
The number that appeared on the screens hit everyone like a cold iron hammer: 5,000 Private Points.
A brief, deathly silence.
Then the classroom erupted like a pond into which a boulder had been thrown. Disbelieving cries, despairing groans, and barely restrained complaints rose one after another, weaving together into a dirge of failure.
"Only 5,000 points?! You've got to be kidding!"
"How could that possibly be enough? We'll barely be able to afford food!"
"It's over... It's really over..."
Compared to the dazzling 100,000 points they'd received in their first month, which had seemed capable of satisfying every desire, this paltry 5,000 was insultingly meager. It was a cruel declaration of Class D's bottom-tier standing in the school's ruthless evaluation system, and it shattered the lingering hopes many students had of returning to their former "affluent" lives. Even covering only the most basic three meals a day—though they could eat the free Mountain Vegetable Set Meal, they still occasionally needed other sources of nutrition—along with essential living expenses would stretch that amount to its limits. Any extra spending, whether buying a long-awaited book, a slightly better bottle of shampoo, or taking part in the most ordinary group activity, had become an unattainable luxury. The invisible shackles of survival seemed to tighten another notch, further shrinking the room they had to move freely. A suffocating gloom weighed heavily on every Class D student.
Fūki Ran calmly studied the enormous balance displayed on his terminal, a figure completely out of place beside the numbers on everyone else's screens and enough to leave anyone dumbfounded. It was the spoils he'd seized like a hunter in the Club Undercurrent, far beyond anything this pitiful class allocation could match. His heart was as still as a deep, ancient well. He had long since seen through the cold logic of this school, hidden beneath Chabashira Sae's languid indifference. Class D's overall evaluation was an insurmountable chasm that determined the minimum resources they could receive. The present situation was simply the clearest possible confirmation of the rule that "ability is everything."
Amid the din of disappointment and panic, his Student Terminal gave a soft, preset chime. The screen lit up, showing a new message from [Karuizawa Kei]. Fūki's gaze shifted slightly as he opened it. Instead of the transfer notification he'd expected, he found a carefully worded message. The cold text clearly conveyed the sender's current predicament, anxiety, and deep remorse:
[Fūki, good evening. I'm so, so sorry to bother you at this hour. This month's points have been issued, and I'm sure you've seen them too... They're really too few, aren't they? (;ω;｀) I've carefully worked it out, and this month I have to set aside enough for basic living expenses and... and some necessary costs that I absolutely can't cut, so... I really can't repay the 3,000 points I borrowed from you at Beech Shopping Center last month... I'm truly sorry! I know it's awful of me to go back on my word, and I understand this might cause you trouble, but I swear on my character that next month! As soon as next month's points come in, I'll repay you right away, with interest! I'm really sorry. Could you please give me one more month? I'm begging you! (´;ω;｀)]
At the end of the message, she'd added a carefully chosen, pitifully apologetic emoticon, hoping to stir as much sympathy as possible.
Fūki read the message word by word, his expression unchanged, as though he were reading an experimental report that had nothing to do with him. Karuizawa's reply had been unexpected, but on reflection, it made perfect sense. For someone who needed to maintain her former polished appearance, take part in certain social activities, and possibly cover other expenses she hadn't disclosed, a mere 5,000 points would be a drop in the bucket. It might not even be enough to maintain her usual standard of living. Her always immaculate makeup and the occasional accessories or clothing she wore—items the school's free options couldn't provide—clearly showed that she was trying to sustain a lifestyle of above-average consumption. These 5,000 points could very well have left her struggling to make ends meet.
What truly caught Fūki's attention and gave him pause, however, wasn't her financial hardship itself, but the "priority" she'd assigned to this debt. By convention, repaying a debt—especially one owed to a classmate she didn't know well, who seemed unfathomable and unwise to offend—should have ranked fairly high. Paying it off quickly would prevent unnecessary trouble, a possible deterioration in their relationship, and even the risk of being held at someone's mercy. Yet almost as soon as the points arrived, she'd chosen to clearly inform him that her repayment would be delayed. This strongly suggested that her current financial plan included something more urgent than returning his 3,000 points, something that needed to take priority when allocating her precious points.
What was this mysterious "something"? Was it her unwillingness to give up her expensive habits and vanity? Or, as he'd previously suspected, did it involve a secret or relationship she couldn't let come to light—something that required points to keep quiet, or a steady investment of resources just to keep it going?
Fūki didn't reply at once to her apologetic, tentative message. He wanted the silence itself to exert a subtle pressure. He closed his chat with Karuizawa and quickly swiped across the screen, opening his encrypted conversation with Kushida Kikyo. It was time to begin a targeted investigation into Karuizawa Kei and the network around her. This rabbit, which had unexpectedly wandered into his field of view, might lead him to discover more hidden paths in the forest.
He didn't mention the loan itself to Kushida; that would reveal his interest and sources of information too soon. Instead, in his usual calm, unquestionable tone, he gave the carefully positioned pawn a new instruction:
[Kikyo, starting tomorrow, shift part of your focus to Karuizawa Kei and the key members of her little circle. Pay attention to what they've been spending lately—for example, whether they've bought anything new that clearly exceeds their current means—as well as subtle shifts in their moods, any concealed anxiety or nervousness, and anything unusual in their behavior patterns, like frequently going off on their own, avoiding Hirata Yousuke or certain other people, or changes in their communication habits. Make sure to act completely natural and blend your observations into your everyday interactions. Don't arouse suspicion.]
Kushida's reply appeared almost instantly, her words brimming with excitement and eagerness at being entrusted with an important task: [Got it! I understand completely! Don't worry, Fūki! I've always felt there's something... well, a little off about Karuizawa and her group! I'll chat and hang out with them like I always do, and keep my eyes wide open while I'm at it! (^▽^)]
Putting away his terminal, Fūki slowly rose and walked to the window of his dorm room, his deep gaze fixed on the campus outside, shrouded in thick darkness. The sparse streetlights cast small halos of yellow light into the night. Farther off, the buildings were only vague silhouettes, with countless unknowns lurking in the quiet. Karuizawa Kei's unusual loan and delayed repayment were like a stone dropped into a mist-covered lake. He'd clearly heard the plop and sensed the ripples spreading, but he still couldn't see what truth lay at their center, stirring the waters.
This delayed repayment wasn't merely the postponement of a small debt. It was more like a warning signal, strongly suggesting that beneath Class D's seemingly simple, even foolish, collective facade lay personal troubles more tangled than he'd initially expected, a more complex web of secrets, and stronger undercurrents.
He wasn't in a hurry to demand the 3,000 points. Compared to the information he might uncover about Class D's internal power structure, weaknesses in its relationships, and even personal secrets, that negligible cost was hardly worth considering. He had more than enough patience and composure. Like a seasoned hunter, he would wait for the fox in trouble to reveal more of its tail in its anxiety—or wait for Kushida Kikyo, the little bird he was gradually taming and who depended on him, to bring back crucial clues from the depths of the tangled social jungle, enough to piece together the truth.
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