End of Month Quiz

The calendar silently turned its pages, and even the bright sunlight over the artificial island couldn't seem to dispel the tension quietly spreading through the air. When Hoshinomiya Chie-sensei walked into Class B's classroom carrying a thick stack of pristine white test papers with her trademark light steps, the string called "end of month" in the air seemed to be plucked by an invisible hand.

"Good morning, everyone!" Hoshinomiya-sensei's voice carried its usual sweet tone, as if coated in honey. She placed the test papers on the podium and smiled brightly as she surveyed the students below, each wearing a different expression. "Time flies so fast, doesn't it? Before we know it, it's the end of the month already~ So," she drew out her final syllable with a playful slyness, "now, we're going to have a little end-of-month quiz!"

A low murmur of resigned sighs rippled through the classroom, expected yet tinged with helplessness.

The test papers quickly reached Shimiya Kuki's desk. He lowered his gaze to scan them. Five main subjects, four small questions each, twenty questions total, full marks one hundred. The difficulty of the first seventeen questions was absurdly low—even easier than the entrance test, all basic concepts and formula applications. Class B's academic ability was generally above average, and most students had relaxed smiles spreading across their faces as the tension rapidly dissipated.

"Relax, relax!" Hoshinomiya-sensei pressed her palms together, her smile sweet and flawless. "This test will only be used as a reference for me to understand everyone. It absolutely won't be reflected on your report cards! There's no risk at all, so just take it easy~" Her words were like warm sugar water, soothing hearts. But then, she playfully put her hands on her hips, tried her best to round her eyes and bare her teeth in a "demon" pose: "However—cheating is strictly forbidden! Or there will be terrible punishments!"

Good-natured laughter filled the classroom.

Only Shimiya Kuki's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his pen.

"Won't be reflected 'on' your report cards"...

That word "on" was used subtly. It seemed to imply that this score, though not appearing on the report card, might be reflected in another form, in another dimension. Something beyond the report card? Class points? Personal evaluation? Or... a probe?

"The test begins!"

The rustling sound of pen tips scratching paper immediately filled the air. For Shimiya Kuki, the first seventeen questions were as natural as breathing. His pen moved like a dragon, encountering no obstacles, flowing as smoothly as if he were transcribing known answers. Kanzaki Ryuji was also progressing smoothly, carefully checking each question after finishing it, showing his usual meticulousness. Ichinose Honami also wore a relaxed smile, writing quickly. The entire Class B was immersed in an atmosphere of "we've got this."

However, when the test papers were flipped over, the last three questions stood like three steep cliffs, rising without warning at the end of a flat plain. Their difficulty compared to the first seventeen was like heaven and earth—instantly raising the level by four or five tiers! This wasn't the difficulty a "quiz" should have; it was even more tricky and obscure than the final questions on the entrance test!

Spatial geometric cutting and reassembly to find volume—required extraordinary spatial imagination and multi-step derivation, approaching competition difficulty.

An abstract momentum conservation problem under non-standard conditions—the problem statement itself was a tangled mess; sorting out and understanding it was already a challenge, and establishing equations to solve it was even harder.

Analyzing core metaphors from an obscure philosophical work's English excerpt—vocabulary was dense, sentence structures complex; reading itself was an obstacle, let alone deep analysis.

"Tch..."

"What... what is this?"

"You've got to be kidding, right?"

"I can't understand it at all!"

Shocked whispers and sharp intakes of breath came from all directions. Relaxed smiles froze on faces, replaced by bewilderment, confusion, and disbelief. Kojou Yume looked at the English question, her small face scrunched up, almost on the verge of tears. Shibata Kaede irritably scratched his hair, glaring at the physics problem. Ninomiya Yui furrowed her delicate brows, repeatedly reading that philosophical English passage, her eyes filled with confusion.

Even Kanzaki Ryuji rarely frowned, clearly surprised by the difficulty of the last few questions. Still, he quickly began sketching geometric figures on his scratch paper, his pen tip moving urgently, sometimes pausing as he sank into deep thought. He seemed to be trying to tackle all three questions, but his brow was full of uncertainty, as if repeatedly verifying whether his approach was correct. Ichinose Honami also put away her smile. She bit her lower lip, her gaze focused first on the English question. She seemed to have a natural sensitivity to language and abstract concepts. Though the vocabulary was dense, she worked hard to sort out the sentence structures and capture the connections between keywords. Her eyes gradually brightened as she began writing her understanding in the answer area. Then, she turned to the math problem. Spatial imagination didn't seem to be her strong suit; her scratch paper was drawn and erased repeatedly until she finally seemed to find a feasible cutting approach, carefully writing down her solution steps. However, when she looked at the physics problem with its bizarre conditions, her brows knitted deeply. She read the problem statement over and over, picked up her pen several times only to put it down again, and finally let out a soft sigh, leaving a helpless blank space in the physics problem area—she had given up.

At the podium, Hoshinomiya-sensei was still holding that cup of black tea, taking small sips, her face wearing a flawless, sweet smile. She didn't patrol the room, just leaned leisurely against the podium. But those curved amber eyes were like the highest-resolution probes, scanning the room without moving a muscle: who was scratching their head, who was staring blankly at the test paper, whose pen was hovering without moving, whose scratch paper was covered in scribbles and torn up, who had already written on the back of their paper... Every subtle expression and movement was precisely captured and analyzed by her. Occasionally, her gaze met that of a struggling student, and she would respond with an encouraging smile, as if saying "keep it up," but deep within that smile was a knowing amusement.

Shimiya Kuki withdrew his gaze and refocused on the back of the test paper. Unlike others, he didn't show obvious distress; instead, his eyes became more focused and calm. He quickly scanned the three difficult questions, his brain operating like a precision instrument at high speed. Spatial geometric cutting... non-standard momentum conservation... philosophical metaphor...

Spatial geometry? A clear three-dimensional model instantly formed in his mind, as if precisely cut, rotated, and reassembled by an invisible blade. The volume calculation formula emerged naturally like flowing water. His pen tip then moved smoothly across the answer area—lines, formulas, derivation steps all completed in one go.

Abstract momentum conservation? The chaotic non-standard conditions in the problem statement were quickly stripped of redundancy, extracting the core physics scenario. He established a coordinate system, set variables, and rapidly constructed the non-standard equation on scratch paper, the solving process concise and powerful.

Philosophical metaphor? The dense English vocabulary and complex sentence structures were like transparent codes in his eyes. Core concepts were instantly captured, the author's intent hidden beneath flowery language was calmly dissected and stripped away, transformed into precise and insightful analytical text.

His pen barely paused. Thinking and writing proceeded simultaneously, with astonishing efficiency. The three problems that seemed like insurmountable chasms to others were like smooth paths already laid before him, crossed with ease.

"Ring—"

The class dismissal bell sounded like a horn of liberation, and also like a ruthless gate slamming shut.

"Time's up! Please stop writing. Pass the papers from back to front!" Hoshinomiya-sensei put down her teacup.

The classroom instantly exploded.

"What the heck! Was that last question even meant for humans?"

"I couldn't even draw the figure for the math problem!"

"I couldn't even understand the physics problem statement!"

"That English passage was like a heavenly book!"

"Good thing the teacher said it's just for reference and won't count!"

"That scared me to death!"

A wave of complaints and confusion swept through the classroom. Shibata Kaede loudly declared, "Whatever! As long as it doesn't count!" Kojou Yume patted her chest, looking relieved. Ninomiya Yui quietly packed her stationery, her brows still slightly furrowed.

Kanzaki Ryuji sat at his desk, the back of his test paper covered in calculation processes. He had attempted all three questions. But now he was staring at his answers, his fingers unconsciously tracing on the desk, his brows tightly knit, his sharp eyes shuttling back and forth between his scratch paper and the test paper, clearly deliberating and verifying, full of uncertainty about his solutions. "The answers seem reasonable... but are the steps complete? Is that assumption sufficiently justified? Are there any loopholes in the physics equation setup?" Whispered self-questioning circled in his mind.

Ichinose Honami walked over to Kanzaki's side, a helpless but frank smile on her face: "Kanzaki-kun, still checking? You did all three? That's amazing! I had no clue about the physics problem, so I just gave up. I managed to write something for English and math, but I don't know if it's right..." She pointed at the relatively sparse writing in the English and math answer areas on the back of her test paper, and the glaring blank space where the physics problem should be.

Kanzaki's gaze swept over Ichinose's test paper, then back to his own filled but questionable answers. He analyzed calmly: "The questions being beyond the curriculum is a fact. But the teacher emphasized they 'won't be reflected on the report card,' yet she didn't say the test itself was meaningless. The timing and difficulty of those last three questions are too deliberate. This is more like..." He paused, his gaze deepening, "a probe of ability limits. Especially stress resistance and depth of thought when facing unknown difficult problems."

Ichinose blinked, thoughtful: "A probe?"

Shimiya Kuki had already placed his test paper on top of the stack being passed forward. On the back of his paper, beneath the three major problems, were clear, complete, logically rigorous solution processes, neatly written with almost no signs of erasure. It formed a sharp contrast with the large blank spaces and messy drafts on the surrounding papers.

He stood up calmly and gathered his things. Hoshinomiya-sensei was organizing the test papers at the front of the podium. When her gaze fell on that fully written, completely solved test paper, her sweet smile froze for a split second. Her long eyelashes trembled slightly, and deep within her amber pupils, an extremely subtle, barely perceptible flicker of surprise passed through—like a tiny ripple on a calm lake surface stirred by a small pebble. But this anomaly vanished in an instant, so fast one might think it was an illusion. She quickly recovered her perfect smile and continued organizing the papers, as if that flawless answer sheet had caused no stir at all.

Shimiya Kuki caught that fleeting flicker of surprise. His expression unchanged, he walked out of the classroom, the noisy discussion about "beyond the curriculum" and "not counting" from Class B behind him. And in his heart, that doubt about "beyond the report card" was no longer a ripple but had sunk into deeper, darker waters. This quiz was a probe. And he, whether intentionally or not, had revealed to the observer beneath that sweet smile the depth the probe could reach. Was this exposure a blessing or a curse? The answer might lie within those test papers, now about to be taken back to the office by Hoshinomiya-sensei, carrying the secrets of Class B's ability limits. The beacon at the edge of the fog seemed to flicker with an unusual light because of his overly "complete" answer sheet.