"Wait... could he be..."
Chabashira Sae's Sudden Concern
(Were people in Class A really not all as clever as Sakayanagi?)
(A student with a theft record could get into Class A, while an honor student like Horikita ended up in Class D... This school was getting harder and harder to understand.)
Did the people assigning classes simply not care much about students' dark pasts?!
Still, from what he could tell, being assigned to Class A didn't seem like a good thing for Kamuro.
When he'd parted ways with Sakayanagi Arisu just now, he'd happened to catch the look she gave Kamuro Masumi.
She'd looked at her like she was prey, her gaze filled with cool amusement and casual confidence.
The shrewd young beauty had already decided Kamuro Masumi would make an excellent pawn.
Thinking about it, if he hadn't stepped in when he did, Kamuro Masumi would probably have become Sakayanagi Arisu's plaything over the stolen beer.
He'd simply handed her the beer he'd just taken from the shelf, then casually offered her a few words of advice.
He'd told her to be careful and not let some bad woman trick her or anything.
She should have understood what he meant.
After all, she was in Class A. Her intelligence ought to be at least decent.
Probably.
That morning, Shimizu Akira went to the staff room again and spoke with Chabashira Sae in private.
Chabashira Sae explained the outcome of the earlier report and transferred 50,000 Private Points into his account.
She didn't say it outright, but the implication was clear: it was hush money.
Shimizu Akira readily accepted the arrangement.
After all, he'd made the report in the first place to test the limits of the school's rules through Chabashira Sae.
Now that he'd achieved his goal, there was no need to keep dragging the matter out.
Shimizu Akira also transferred 15,000 points back to her.
That included the cost of the canned beer—less than 300 yen per can, for a total of about 5,000 points.
The remaining 10,000 was payment for running the errand.
He'd made a net profit of 85,000 points.
With the additional 50,000-point reward and his original 100,000 points, Shimizu Akira now had 235,000 points.
Chabashira Sae casually asked, "Who was the opponent you beat in that bet?"
"Sakayanagi Arisu from Class A," Shimizu Akira replied offhandedly.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed how peculiar Chabashira Sae's expression had become.
A strange light flashed in her eyes—a complex mix of surprise, anticipation, and even a hint of excitement.
She parted her lips slightly, as if she wanted to say something important, but in the end, she only murmured, "Still... let's wait until a month from now." She seemed to be saying it both to Shimizu Akira and to herself.
As he was leaving, Chabashira Sae suddenly gave him an uncharacteristic reminder: "Be careful with your Private Points... Don't spend them carelessly."
Her tone held a rare note of concern, completely at odds with her usual cold demeanor.
Shimizu Akira sounded the alarm in his mind.
When someone who was usually cold suddenly showed you kindness, there had to be some carefully calculated motive behind that gentleness.
But for now, he couldn't see what lay beneath her warm mask.
Shimizu Akira shook his head and decided to set his doubts aside for the time being.
After all, Chabashira Sae was still Class D's homeroom teacher.
Even if she had an ulterior motive, she probably wouldn't do anything to harm her own students—at least on the surface, their interests as teacher and students were aligned.
The new students' first check-in was the completion of their move-in procedures.
When Shimizu Akira followed the map to the first-year dormitory, the building before him made him stop in his tracks. It was an upscale, modern apartment building.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he could make out the simple yet comfortable interior. It perfectly matched the promise in the enrollment manual: every student would have a private room.
In his high school memories, the word "dormitory" had always meant eight-person rooms, cramped bunk beds, and never enough lockers.
At his age, this was the first time he'd ever had his own room as a student.
He felt a little excited for no particular reason.
Shimizu Akira stood in line to complete the move-in procedures.
Then he noticed that this apartment building housed both boys and girls.
On the wall beside him, a notice titled "Student Dormitory Rules" was neatly posted in black text on a white background.
Under "Rules for Student Relationships," the School Administration neither explicitly prohibited relationships between boys and girls nor set any restrictions. It merely included the ambiguous line: "Relationships that are not appropriate for high school students are prohibited."
(This sounds like they're playing with words...)
Shimizu Akira grumbled to himself.
What did "not appropriate" mean? Were they hinting that teacher-student relationships were forbidden? Or did they not care as long as it didn't affect students' studies?
When his gaze drifted to the vending machine in the corner, he saw it stocked with condoms in a variety of sizes.
(I see... They don't prohibit it, but you still have to practice safe sex? As long as nobody gets pregnant, it's fine?!)
Soon, it was his turn to complete the procedures.
After confirming that he'd been assigned room 402, the careful Shimizu Akira made a point of asking about utilities and rent.
"All the costs of your accommodation are covered by the School Administration, students," the staff member explained kindly. "Just be careful not to waste too much."
Shimizu Akira couldn't help but click his tongue at the answer. The dormitory was almost too nice.
Thinking about it, perhaps this was a safeguard the school had carefully designed: even if students ran out of their monthly points, at least their basic housing needs would still be met.
Shimizu Akira thoughtfully rubbed the key card in his hand, then suddenly asked, "Excuse me, is there only one key card? What if I lose it...?"
The staff member gently pushed up his glasses and explained in a warm tone, "The standard setup does include only one primary card. However..." He paused deliberately. "If you provide the necessary proof, we can issue a secondary card for a specific person."
Noticing the surprise on Shimizu Akira's face, the staff member smiled knowingly. "Whether it's a close friend or a romantic partner, you can apply as long as both parties agree." He added meaningfully, "Of course, it must be entirely voluntary."
"I see. Thanks for explaining." Shimizu Akira nodded politely.
He had no use for the service at the moment, but he was still quite surprised by how open-minded the school was.
He wondered what the criteria were. Surely a girl couldn't just claim to be his girlfriend and get a key card without any trouble.
A Chance Encounter with the Withdrawn and Introverted Ayanokouji Kiyotaka
Shimizu Akira was about to hold his key card up to the sensor on room 402's door when the door to room 401 suddenly slid open without a sound.
A boy with short brown hair stepped out, his face expressionless. The two of them met eyes in the narrow hallway.
Shimizu Akira immediately recognized his classmate, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
He was the boy who'd been incredibly awkward during introductions, "so introverted it was worrying," at least according to Kanji Ike.
Ayanokouji's gaze was as still as a dead pool of water. He showed neither surprise at running into a classmate nor any intention of greeting him.
Shimizu Akira's hand paused around the key card.
The aura the boy gave off felt less like introversion and more like an unfathomable reserve.
Like an undercurrent flowing beneath a calm sea, he seemed unruffled on the surface, yet somehow made people instinctively feel he was dangerous.
Introversion and reserve might sound similar, but they meant completely different things.
Introverts were afraid to express themselves, while reserved people chose not to.
This classmate was clearly the latter.
(This Ayanokouji... He doesn't seem as simple as he looks. Could it be that all the other students in Class D are hidden talents?)
While he was lost in thought, Ayanokouji had already set off toward the elevator with steps as precise as a machine's.
Shimizu Akira eventually looked away.
After all, they were classmates, and only Horikita Suzune stood between them. They'd have plenty of chances to talk later.
Shimizu Akira turned and gently closed the door behind him. With a soft click, he officially stepped into the place that would soon become his private space.
He looked around. Sunlight streamed through the bright windows, the private bathroom was clean and tidy, and the air conditioner hung quietly on the wall.
The accommodations were much better than he'd expected.
Shimizu Akira's attention was drawn to the landline on the small table beside the bed.
Curious, he opened the dormitory rules manual the front desk had given him.
His eyes skimmed the garbage-sorting schedule and daily rules before settling on a special note:
"The landline in each room can be used to contact the front desk. In an emergency, it can also be used to contact a classmate."
His eyes widened slightly at this discovery.
An emergency? Did that mean you couldn't make calls if you didn't have any points to pay for phone service?
If every room had the same kind of landline and the front desk had the information for every student... that meant, with a suitable reason, he could have the front desk connect him to any first-year student.
Still, with Shimizu Akira's current social circle, the service wouldn't be much use—he could count the classmates he knew on one hand.
(I have a feeling this will come in handy someday...)
He quietly tucked the discovery away in his mind.
April already carried the heat of early summer, and Shimizu Akira felt a thin layer of sweat forming on his back.
Even though the dorm room was stuffy, he stuck to the One Punch Man principle of exercising without air conditioning and decided to take a cold shower.
About ten minutes later, after a quick shower, Shimizu Akira stood in the steamy bathroom and casually wiped the water droplets off the mirror.
Through the swirling steam, his youthful body came into view. His six-pack was clearly defined, but not exaggerated—he had the typical build of an East Asian.
Unlike the imposing blocky muscles of Western bodybuilders, his physique was more like a streamlined cheetah's, every muscle refined and graceful.
As the steam in the bathroom slowly cleared, he wiped the water from his body.
He'd already finished his morning workout, and he'd just taken a shower, so he didn't plan to start another training session today.
Shimizu Akira pulled on another loose T-shirt and tossed his uniform into the laundry basket.
He gave the floor a quick sweep, and the sunlight outside had already turned scorching.
His phone showed 11:30, and his stomach began to protest right on cue.
"Time to get something to eat."
Shimizu Akira quickly put on his uniform pants, tied his shoes, and headed out, shutting the dorm door behind him.
The early summer breeze carried the sound of cicadas in through the window at the end of the hallway.
Today, he decided to check out the cafeteria for lunch.
After all, it was the first day of school, and he had plenty of points. There was no need to stand in front of the convenience store's refrigerated display debating between rice balls and bread.
As someone from China, Shimizu Akira had never been able to get used to the Japanese habit of eating bread for breakfast and rice balls for lunch.
He wanted to eat something hot whenever he could. A steaming bowl of noodles or freshly fried rice would do. Only when that familiar hot food reached his stomach could he truly feel satisfied that he'd eaten a meal.
Shimizu Akira pushed open the cafeteria's heavy glass doors, and the commotion inside made him stop in his tracks.
The spacious hall, with its ceiling nearly two stories high, was much larger than he'd imagined. Rows of pale-colored tables stretched into the distance like a chessboard, with room for at least four or five hundred people by his rough estimate.
He remembered the figures in the enrollment manual: four classes per grade, forty students per class, for a total of 480 students across all three grades.
The lines for food were still long, but Shimizu Akira noticed a window in the corner that served free meals.
There was no "Limit of three servings per person" sign at this window—not that the school could let students who ran out of points go hungry.
In sharp contrast with the crowded paid-service windows, only a handful of upperclassmen stood at the free-meal window.
Shimizu Akira wondered to himself: most of the seniors who'd ended up eating free meals right at the start of the school year were probably from Class D.
Before you continue