I hadn't gone to the opening ceremony. After taking a quick look around the shopping district, I returned to the dormitory. The luxurious single room made my heart ache a little.
If any college in my previous life had offered free tuition and luxurious single rooms, the capitalists would've been blown to bits.
I lay on the bed, playing with my phone and browsing all sorts of news.
I checked the time on my phone. There was still a while before we had to gather in the classroom, so I might as well do a sign-in.
Sign in.
System:
Today's sign-in reward: ten Nano Cameras
Function: Connects directly to the host's phone. Each camera is nano-sized and can infiltrate a designated target, recording everything that happens in the surrounding area.
I looked at the ten tiny spheres in my hand, each less than a millimeter in diameter, and smiled.
I picked one up and pressed it against a button. The sphere spread over it so quickly that it was impossible to see with the naked eye. The button looked unchanged. I opened the linked app on my phone and could clearly see every angle around it. Even the sound of a finger lightly tapping the desk came through crystal clear.
It seemed Lady Luck was smiling on me. With these, my plans at this school would be much easier.
I checked the time on my phone. It was about time to head to the classroom. I'd lose out if I missed the self-introductions.
I looked at the sign on the classroom door.
1-D
"I hope to become friends with everyone."
A voice came from inside the classroom. I wasn't late; it was self-introduction time. And judging by those words, that had to be Handprint Sister's signature line.
I pushed open the door.
Everyone's eyes turned toward me. Most people might have cowered in a situation like this, but who was I? I was a man destined to become the king of the harem.
"Good morning, everyone!"
I greeted them with a smile.
A moment later, several people came to their senses. Hirata Yosuke, the class's resident nice guy, answered right away.
"G-good morning! You're a student in Class D, too, right? You came at just the right time. We're introducing ourselves now. Want to give it a try?"
"Sure."
I took the cue and walked to the lectern, where I wrote my full name.
"Gojo Satoru."
"That's my name. I'm seventeen, unmarried, and my hobbies these days are singing, dancing, and basketball. I dabble in everything else, too. I like sweets, especially edamame-paste-and-fresh-cream daifuku. I came to this school for a brighter future. That's all!"
After hearing my passionate introduction, everyone seemed unsure how to react.
Noticing their bewildered expressions, Gojo Satoru said, "Huh? I finished introducing myself. Why aren't you applauding? Where's the applause?" Then he started clapping for himself.
Everyone was stunned by his aura of social terror—the kind that made society afraid of him—and Fenfen started clapping.
But Gojo Satoru ignored them, erased his name, then returned to his seat and promptly fell asleep. His classmates were completely at a loss, unsure what to make of the oddball wearing a blindfold. Even those who had wanted to ask why he wore one quietly abandoned the idea.
After a brief silence, the class returned to the self-introductions.
Since Ken Sudō had already been taught a lesson, he didn't kick a desk and walk out. He gave a simple introduction instead. After all, he didn't want both his hands wrapped in bandages.
Without him leading the way, there wasn't a mass exodus of students skipping their introductions, either.
When the introductions ended, everyone fell silent. After all, there was a conspicuous guy asleep at his desk.
They looked at one another, unsure how to break the ice. It wasn't introduction time anymore, and if they disturbed his sleep, who knew what trouble he might cause, given his socially terrifying attitude?
Not long afterward, the classroom door opened again, and a busty, mature-looking woman walked in.
"I'm Chabashira Sae, the homeroom teacher for Class D. This school doesn't change students' classes, so I'll be your homeroom teacher for the next three years, until you graduate."
Her cold words and vacant eyes made the already quiet classroom feel even more subdued.
Chabashira looked at the only student in the classroom who was asleep and wondered, Is this the student who was specially invited? From what the surveillance cameras recorded just now, and judging by his unusual appearance, he doesn't look like a genius at all.
After a brief pause, she continued.
"Wake the sleeping student. What I'm about to say is important. Make sure no one misses it."
"Teacher, I'm listening."
"Then take off that blindfold! You're lying there with a blindfold on. How am I supposed to know whether you're asleep?"
Chabashira-sensei's irritated reply made the mood in class sink even further.
"Huh? No way. Every time I take off my blindfold, people bother me. Being handsome is such a burden~"
I had so many skills now that I could get by just fine without covering my eyes. But constantly taking in a bunch of useless information would be a pain. It was more comfortable to keep the blindfold on. I could switch to sunglasses later if I had to. They wouldn't cover as much, but they were better than nothing.
Hearing Gojo Satoru's obnoxiously smug voice, Chabashira's forehead bulged with veins. She looked as if she wanted to say something more, but all she could manage was a sigh.
"I'll distribute the information about the school. Pass it back from the front."
As the documents and student IDs made their way down the rows, Gojo Satoru felt puzzled.
Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School
99.9% of graduates find employment in their desired field. The school has the latest facilities. It provides students with monthly funds, and its school culture is extremely liberal about hairstyles and personal belongings. The school handbook describes a place full of wonderful promises.
But the reality is that everything is judged by individual ability. This is a school that practices absolute meritocracy.
Students are assigned to classes based on their overall entrance exam scores, including written and oral examinations, from highest to lowest, starting with Class A. Those with the highest abilities are placed in Class A. Those with the lowest abilities are placed in Class D, so the gap between their points will inevitably widen after enrollment.
The outstanding are treated with the respect their status deserves. Since personal appearance counts for more than written and oral exam scores, Class D is bound to be filled with problem students—defectives.
Why was I placed in Class D? My academic and athletic records are impeccable, and my thinking skills are far beyond the norm. I'm not antisocial, either. In middle school, I led the basketball team to three consecutive national championships—meaning I toyed with nine opponents single-handedly in every game. So the most likely reason must be a trial!
Since the school was founded, no class has started in Class D and finished in Class A. The closest was Chabashira-sensei's year, which made it to Class B, falling just short of Class A.
And I'm an absolute genius. At fourteen, I won the Nobel Prize in Literature for my mystery novel, My Name Is Red. The president of the University of Tokyo even invited me to enroll personally, but I turned him down. Finding a wife here is more important than that. It'll be interesting to have an absolute genius of a boy, showered with all kinds of awards, break this school's record.
Even though I'd guessed the reason, being placed in Class D still felt unfair. So it wouldn't hurt to trick the chairman once, would it?
I'd just settled on my mischievous plan when I heard that icy voice.
"First, this school has a special rule: all students must live on campus.
"Your freedom to leave campus will be restricted, and all outside communication will be cut off. But don't worry. There are all kinds of facilities here, and you can buy everything you need for daily life.
"There's plenty of entertainment, too. You won't find your daily life boring—in fact, you might even enjoy it more than you did before."
After speaking, Chabashira Sae raised her phone and waved it once, then continued.
"All purchases at this school must be made with the points on your Student ID Terminal System. It works much like online payment. You can buy anything at this school with points!"
"Points are automatically credited on the first of each month. One point equals one yen. Your student ID accounts have already been credited with 100,000 points for this month."
As soon as she finished speaking, the whole class erupted with excitement.
For a high school student, 100,000 yen was a considerable sum. They'd receive it every month, and they'd gotten it so easily.
Getting 100,000 points each month without doing anything made it hard for most students to keep their grins down. But a few of them sensed something was off.
The teacher's next words silenced that small group.
"Don't be surprised by the points the school has given you. This school judges everything by students' abilities. If you have these points, it means you have the ability to earn them."
"There's one thing you should pay special attention to. Points can be transferred between students, but you must not threaten anyone. This school has very strict punishments for bullying."
It sounded as if she'd explained all the rules, but plenty of questions remained.
Would the 100,000 points be credited on the first of every month? Could the points increase or decrease? What would cause them to change?
Countless mysteries remained unsolved, but most students couldn't be bothered to ask. They were already captivated by their beautiful fantasies.
It didn't matter. There was no ordinary way to get Class D into Class A.
Even if I explained the entire S system to them right now, it wouldn't guarantee that we'd be Class A next month. We might not even make it to Class B.
If they wanted to let loose, I'd do the same. It would be nice to enjoy a month of freedom.
But even if we really did get 100,000 points each month, that was far too little for me. I spent at least 500,000 points a month on sweets alone, so I'd have to earn a little pocket money.
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