The self-introductions ended amid laughter and cheerful chatter. Filled with anticipation for their new lives and the excitement of meeting one another, the students left the classroom in groups of two or three. Shimiya Kuki hadn't joined any group. He stepped alone into the spacious, brightly lit hallway. The enormous floor-to-ceiling windows divided the afternoon sunlight into neat blocks that fell across the mirror-smooth floor. The air carried the faint smell typical of a new building, mixed with the invisible pressure of something called "rules."
He didn't head straight back to the dormitory. In Hoshinomiya-sensei's gentle words, the phrase "the corresponding amount of Personal Points will be issued each month"—especially the word "corresponding"—had made him wary. The points system had already placed firm limits on the material conditions of the next three years. Before he understood their true value, the initial 100,000 Private Points weren't just an abstract number. His survival instinct drove him to act at once: he needed to understand what really circulated on This Island—supplies and their prices—and test his suspicions.
After crossing the skybridge, the view opened up. A neatly laid-out, modern Shopping Street stretched before him. The streets were clean, shops lined both sides, and soft LED signs glimmered enticingly. The air was filled with the scents of coffee and fruit, along with a restless energy called "consumption."
Quite a few new students had already gathered there. Excitement and curiosity shone on their faces as they streamed into the shops in groups of three or five. A short line had formed at the vending machines. Shimiya Kuki's gaze swept over the price tags:
● Vending machine mineral water: 60 PP
● Convenience Store bread: 100 PP
● Basic notebook at the stationery store: 100 PP
● Set Meal at the cafeteria: from 200 PP
Every item that supported survival or offered convenience had a clearly marked price. He headed straight for a large general supermarket. He took a cart and moved silently between the brightly lit shelves. His pace was unhurried, his eyes keenly scanning the price tags as his mind coolly calculated each item's value for money.
Toiletries: He picked up the most basic toothpaste-and-toothbrush set (300 PP), passing over a similar product beside it that claimed to whiten teeth (800 PP). For a towel, he chose the plain one with a decent feel and the lowest price (500 PP).
Cleaning supplies: A broom-and-dustpan set (800 PP) was a necessity, so he took the most basic one.
Underwear: Several sets of plain underwear (1,500 PP per set), comfortable but undecorated.
When he reached the kitchenware section, he stopped. The shelves displayed all kinds of cookware, from basic items to luxury sets. He picked up a mid-priced stainless steel kitchen knife (2,500 PP), carefully testing the handle's grip and the sharpness of the blade with his fingertips. But his eyes kept drifting toward the sign pointing to the "school cafeteria." Set Meals started at 200 PP, but he didn't know how they tasted or how nutritious they were, and relying on the cafeteria long-term would inevitably be expensive.
After a fierce internal debate, he finally decided: one basic but complete set of cookware (wok, soup pot, and so on: 6,000 PP), an entry-level knife set containing a kitchen knife, a fruit knife, and a peeler (4,500 PP), a sturdy cutting board (1,000 PP), and a few essential utensils (spatula, ladle, and so on: about 2,000 PP in total).
This wasn't an impulse purchase, but a cool-headed decision based on a survival strategy. He was used to controlling what he consumed, both in terms of taste and cost. He didn't know how the cafeteria food tasted, but perhaps he could try it sometime. He was quite confident in his own cooking.
Pushing his cart, now piled with necessities, toward the checkout, he glanced at the box marked [Basic Supplies · Free] in the corner by the supermarket entrance: cheap pens, thin notebooks, rough white sheets, duvet covers and pillowcases, Inferior Soap, and hard, dry Free Towels.
"Free." He picked up a Free Towel. It felt rough. Nearby, a new student took the thin bedding set from the [Free Supplies] box, looking plainly displeased. His companion, meanwhile, was holding a brand-new game console box and excitedly patting him on the shoulder. "Come on, just make do with the free stuff for now! Points'll be in next month, and then you can get whatever you want! Look at my new game console—it's awesome!" He waved the box, printed with a flashy design, clearly having spent a considerable number of Points on it.
Shimiya Kuki put the Free Towel down without changing expression. The Cold Sense of Reality cut deep: free only meant "the bare minimum needed to survive"—rough, cheap, and utterly undignified. It ensured only that you wouldn't freeze or starve to death. Since these supplies existed, there had to be a demand for them. He didn't believe they were intended only for new students; there were abundant supplies here. Some new students might spend a lot of Points to indulge themselves, but there couldn't be more than twenty of them at most, while these supplies were enough for an entire year group.
At checkout, the number on the electronic screen finally settled at [18,500 PP]. The cashier handed him the receipt and delivery slip. "The kitchenware will be delivered and installed shortly." Shimiya Kuki calmly paid with the Welcome Points issued by the school. This "gift" happened to cover the entire purchase. As he watched the number disappear, one realization became crystal clear in his mind: Points were the lifeblood of This Island. Their increase or decrease "correspondingly" determined one's quality of life. Losing them meant losing far more than pocket money. To him, the students' excited faces as they bought game consoles, new clothes, and electronics seemed rather naive about the value of that "lifeblood." At least until the Points were issued next month, he couldn't spend them carelessly.
Besides, Hoshinomiya-sensei had only said that the corresponding Personal Points would be issued next month. She hadn't said the amount would be 100,000.
Carrying his heavy shopping bags, he left the bustling Shopping Street. Following the directions on his terminal, he headed for Dormitory Area B. The gray-and-white exterior looked stark in the sunlight. He swiped his card to enter. The corridor, its floor covered in new carpet, was unusually quiet, and smelled of disinfectant and fresh carpeting.
He found [B-307] and swiped his card to open the door.
The room was small and compactly laid out. The single bed by the window was covered with the glaringly rough free bedding. On the desk lay the Dormitory Management Manual. Shimiya put down his things and quickly flipped through the manual, scanning the key rules:
● Water and electricity: Free within the basic allowance (5 tons of cold water per month, 3 tons of hot water per month, 200 kilowatt-hours of electricity per month). Excess usage is charged (cold water: 100 PP per ton; hot water: 300 PP per ton; electricity: 5 PP per kilowatt-hour).
● Shared facilities: Each floor has a shared Laundry Room (200 PP per use) and Public Kitchen (reservations required; users must clean up thoroughly afterward; violations will incur a fine).
He could check the cost of using the Public Kitchen later.
● High-power appliances (such as Rice Cookers and Induction Cookers) are not prohibited in rooms. However, the School Administration must arrange for staff to install such equipment, and some appliances will be fitted with safety devices (the School Administration will cover the cost; students who modify equipment themselves will face severe penalties).
He put away his purchases. He folded the free bedding and placed it in a corner, then made the bed with the slightly softer sheets and duvet cover he'd bought—a basic investment in "sleep quality" that he considered worthwhile. He put his toiletries in the bathroom and placed his stationery on the desk.
When he'd finished, he stood by the window. In the courtyard, several new students were excitedly showing off their new Sneakers and game consoles. Their laughter drifted faintly through the air. The sun was bright, and everything on the Artificial Island was new and clean.
But in Shimiya Kuki's eyes, beneath that polished surface lay the S System's cold measurements, the humiliating baseline set by the free supplies, and the cost traps woven into the dormitory rules. His kitchenware hadn't arrived yet, so today he'd treat himself to a taste of the school food.
Before you continue