Change

On the other side of the classroom, Horikita Suzune took in the entire scene.

Her slender fingers unconsciously tightened around the mechanical pencil in her hand, her knuckles turning slightly white.

Failing the exam meant expulsion—a consequence that was undoubtedly adding insult to injury for Class D, whose class points were already walking on thin ice.

She could not foresee how much of an impact the loss of a classmate would have on their goal of reaching Class A, and she dared not take such a risk lightly.

I cannot just leave this alone... This thought swirled in her mind.

She had the intention to do something, such as tutoring Sudo and the others privately in the library.

But the moment the thought arose, the cold reality poured down on her. How could she bring it up? What reason could she use? She couldn't even strike up a natural conversation with them.

Horikita realized with some frustration that her interpersonal network within the class was practically blank, leaving her as isolated as a transparent person.

The only path she could think of was to request assistance from Hirata.

But Hirata's invitation just now had already hit a wall. Ike and Yamauchi were hindered by Sudo's lack of response, and Sudo himself had shown blatant resistance toward Hirata.

Hirata's influence clearly held no weight in front of those three.

Another name surfaced in Horikita's mind—Kushida Kikyo.

That girl who always wore a sweet smile and was incredibly popular. If Kushida were to step forward and extend an invitation, the trio of idiots might actually listen.

But this thought made Horikita's brow furrow even tighter.

An indescribable intuition, or perhaps a subtle sense of dissonance accumulated from multiple observations, left her deeply distrustful of what lay hidden beneath Kushida's perfect facade.

Ask Kushida for help? This option made her instinctively recoil.

Is this all I'm capable of? Horikita silently questioned herself, a sliver of unwillingness winding around her heart like a tiny vine.

She understood that she could see the problem, yet she could not find a path to the solution.

Change required an opportunity, a driving force, and right now, she was like someone trapped in an invisible glass dome—able to see the predicament outside, but unable to find the hammer to break it, and lacking the courage to reach out and touch it.

This sense of powerlessness weighed heavily on her heart.

She realized clearly that, at this moment, she truly was not capable of doing it.

That night, near the student dormitory.

The moonlight was sliced into narrow strips of light by the high walls on both sides of the alley, and the sound of Horikita Suzune's footsteps came to an abrupt halt on the stone path.

The figure in the shadows turned slowly, lenses glinting with an inorganic, cold light.

"Suzune, you really did follow me here." Horikita Manabu's voice pierced the silence like an ice pick.

"I am no longer the good-for-nothing in Brother's memories." She gripped the hem of her uniform, her fingertips digging into her palms. "I came here to catch up to you."

"Catch up?" Horikita Manabu took half a step forward, the sound of his leather shoes grinding against the gravel echoing clearly in the alley. "You've been assigned to Class D, yet you still spout the same foolish words as you did three years ago—you only stare at my back, unable to even see your own flaws." He suddenly raised his hand, his fingertip nearly poking her brow. "Choosing this school is the greatest failure of your life!"

"I will reach Class A! Soon—"

"Impossible." The three words severed her defense. Horikita Manabu grabbed her wrist, twisted it, and slammed her heavily against the concrete wall!

The dull thud of her spine hitting the wall mixed with Suzune's suppressed groan of pain, and gravel dust drifted down.

"Class D is disgraced because of you, and I am disgraced even more because of you!" He gripped her throat and lifted her upward, forcing her toes to dangle off the ground. "Drop out immediately. Don't make me say it a second time."

Oxygen deprivation made Suzune's vision go black, but a roar squeezed through her teeth: "I... will never drop out!"

"Stubborn!" The malice in Horikita Manabu's eyes surged, and his other hand swung high—

His fist came crashing down with the sound of rushing wind, but at the very last inch, it shifted abruptly, slamming heavily into the wall beside her ear.

The dull sound of the impact echoed in the narrow space, making her eardrums buzz.

A few tiny specks of wall dust drifted down, landing on her pale cheeks.

"See your own weakness clearly, Suzune." Horikita Manabu's voice was very low, sharp as an ice blade. He leaned in close, his breath nearly brushing against the skin that had stiffened from fear and humiliation. "Your so-called 'catching up' is nothing more than using my goal to mask your own cowardice. You can't even face the quagmire of Class D beneath your feet, so what right do you have to talk about Class A?"

Horikita Suzune slid down the cold wall to the ground. The spot on the back of her neck where she had been gripped still burned with pain, but a sharper agony came from her chest—something there had been precisely torn apart by her brother's words; it was the conviction she had relied upon to support herself until now.

The pale moonlight seeped in from the high window, soaking into her unfocused pupils.

Her brother's words were like an iron bell striker, repeatedly slamming against the empty cavity of her skull—

He had never denied her ability; he had only torn away her deepest form of escapism.

For all these years, she had lashed her entire life to the mast of "catching up to Horikita Manabu," never once asking which sea "Horikita Suzune" should be sailing toward.

This obsession was her sturdiest shield, warding off any self-reflection.

Only now did she slowly understand that the "disgrace" her brother spoke of regarding her status in Class D was, in fact, a twisted form of protection.

In this place of strict hierarchy and survival of the fittest, the brand of Class D meant walking on the edge of a cliff.

Her brother forcing her to drop out was merely his way of trying to drag her away from the whirlpool before the storm tore her apart.

The dull ache where her shoulder blades had hit the wall was still spreading, but the lingering sensation of suffocation in her throat had turned into a bone-chilling sobering agent.

The physical oppression had finally crushed the prison of her spirit:

Her high and lonely armor was nothing more than a gilded coffin for her solitude;

The arrogance of her refusal to connect will lead not to the summit, but to a cliff of self-destruction.

Her fingertips brushed the stinging mark on the side of her neck, and Horikita Suzune suddenly let out a low laugh.

The dry laughter cracked in the night air, like the first fine fissure appearing on a sheet of ice.

"You're right, Brother..." She tilted her head back, moonlight flowing along the taut arc of her jawline, "I have been using the obsession of chasing you... to avoid seeing myself clearly."

She took a deep breath, used all her strength to brace against the wall behind her, and stood up shakily. Her dust-stained skirt billowed in the night wind blowing through the corridor.

"From today on—" She stared straight into her brother's bottomless eyes, each word as clear as if it had been chiseled, "I am not chasing you anymore. What I must surpass is the limit of 'Horikita Suzune' at this very moment."

Back in the cold single dormitory, Horikita Suzune slid down to the floor with her back against the door panel.

She pulled out her phone, the screen's light making her squint, and the name "Kushida Kikyo" lay coldly in her contacts.

The near-instinctive repulsion she felt toward Kushida during the day still occupied her chest, like a mass of sticky thorns.

However, her brother's icy words—"zero points," "defective product," "cowardice"—and the glaring, inescapable reality of Class D's zero-point total now transformed into heavy iron chains, tightly binding all her paths of retreat.

That sense of humiliation, which threatened to sear through her self-esteem, was like a red-hot branding iron, finally crushing her last, fragile reserve.

On the other side of the classroom, Horikita Suzune took in everything.

Her slender fingers unconsciously tightened around the mechanical pencil in her hand, her knuckles turning slightly white.

Failing the exam meant expulsion—a consequence that was undoubtedly adding insult to injury for Class D, whose class points were already walking on thin ice.

She could not predict how much of an impact someone from the class being expelled would have on reaching Class A, and she dared not take such a risk lightly.

"I can't just leave it alone..." This thought swirled in her mind.

She had the intention to do something, such as tutoring Sudo and the others privately in the library.

But as soon as the thought arose, the cold reality poured down on her. How could she bring it up? With what excuse? She couldn't even hold a natural conversation with them.

Horikita realized with some annoyance that her interpersonal network in the class was nearly blank; she was as isolated as a transparent person.

The only path she could think of was to request Hirata's assistance.

But Hirata's invitation just now had already hit a wall. Ike and Yamauchi were hindered by Sudo's lack of response, and Sudo himself showed blatant resistance toward Hirata.

Hirata's influence clearly didn't work on those three.

Another name surfaced in Horikita's mind—Kushida Kikyo.

That girl with the sweet smile and excellent popularity. If Kushida were to step forward and invite them, the trio of idiots might actually listen.

But this thought made Horikita's brow furrow even tighter.

An indescribable intuition, or perhaps a subtle sense of incongruity accumulated after multiple observations, made her deeply distrustful of what lay beneath Kushida's perfect facade.

Ask Kushida for help? This option made her instinctively recoil.

"Is this all I'm capable of?" Horikita silently questioned herself, a sliver of unwillingness winding around her heart like a tiny vine.

She understood that she saw the problem, but could not find the path to a solution.

Change required an opportunity, a driving force, and right now, she was like someone trapped in an invisible glass dome—able to see the predicament outside, but unable to find the hammer to break it, and lacking the courage to reach out and touch it.

This sense of powerlessness weighed heavily on her heart.

She realized clearly that, at this moment, she truly could not do it.

That night, near the student dormitories.

The moonlight was sliced into narrow strips of light by the high walls on both sides of the alley, and Horikita Suzune's footsteps came to an abrupt halt on the stone path.

The figure in the shadows turned slowly, his lenses reflecting a cold, inorganic glint in the dim light.

"Suzune, you really did follow me here." Horikita Manabu's voice pierced the silence like an ice pick.

"I am no longer the good-for-nothing in your memories." She gripped the hem of her school uniform, her fingertips digging into her palms, "I came here to chase after you."

"Chase?" Horikita Manabu took a half-step forward, the sound of his leather shoes crushing the gravel ringing out clearly in the alley, "You've been assigned to Class D, yet you still spout the same foolish words as three years ago—you only stare at my back, unable to even see your own flaws." He raised his hand abruptly, his fingertip nearly poking her brow, "Choosing this school was the greatest failure of your life!"

"I will reach Class A! Soon—"

"Impossible." The three words severed her defense, and Horikita Manabu grabbed her wrist, twisting it as he slammed her hard against the concrete wall!

The dull thud of her spine hitting the wall mixed with Suzune's stifled groan, and bits of gravel rained down.

"Class D is disgraced because of you, and I am even more disgraced because of you!" He gripped her throat and lifted her up, her toes forced to dangle off the ground. "Drop out immediately; don't make me say it a second time."

Oxygen deprivation made Suzune's vision go black, but a roar squeezed through her teeth: "I... will never drop out!"

"Stubborn fool!" The murderous intent in Horikita Manabu's eyes surged, and his other hand swung high—

His fist smashed toward her with the sound of wind, but at the very last inch, it veered sharply, slamming heavily into the wall beside her ear.

The dull impact echoed in the narrow space, making her eardrums ring.

A few tiny specks of wall dust fell, landing on her pale cheeks.

"See your own weakness clearly, Suzune." Horikita Manabu's voice was very low, sharp as an ice blade. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against the skin that had stiffened from fear and humiliation, "Your so-called 'chasing' is nothing more than using my goals to mask your own cowardice. You can't even face the quagmire of Class D beneath your feet, so what right do you have to talk about Class A?"

Horikita Suzune slid down the cold wall until she hit the floor. The spot on the back of her neck where she had been grabbed still burned, but a sharper pain radiated from her chest—something inside her had been precisely torn apart by her brother's words, the very conviction she had relied upon to sustain herself until now.

Pale moonlight seeped in from the high window, soaking into her unfocused pupils.

Her brother's words were like an ice-forged bell striker, repeatedly slamming against the hollow cavity of her skull—

He had never denied her ability; he had only ripped open her deepest form of avoidance.

For all these years, she had lashed her entire life to the mast of "chasing Horikita Manabu," yet she had never once asked which sea "Horikita Suzune" was meant to sail toward.

This obsession was her sturdiest shield, blocking out any and all self-examination.

Only now did she slowly comprehend that the "disgrace" her brother spoke of regarding her status in Class D was, in reality, a twisted form of protection.

In this place governed by strict hierarchy and the law of the jungle, the brand of Class D meant walking along the edge of a cliff.

Her brother forcing her to drop out was merely his attempt to pull her from the vortex with his own hands before the storm could tear her apart.

The dull ache where her shoulder blades had struck the wall continued to spread, but the lingering sensation of suffocation in her throat had transformed into a bone-chilling stimulant.

The physical pressure had finally crushed the prison of her spirit:

Her aloof armor was nothing more than a gilded coffin of loneliness;

The arrogance with which she refused to connect with others would not lead to the summit, but to a cliff of self-destruction.

As her fingertips brushed the stinging mark on her neck, Horikita Suzune suddenly let out a low laugh.

The dry, raspy sound cracked through the night, like the first fissure appearing on a sheet of ice.

"You were right, brother..." She tilted her head back, the moonlight flowing along the taut arc of her jawline, "I have been using the obsession of chasing you... to avoid seeing myself clearly."

She took a deep breath, used all her strength to press against the wall behind her, and stood up unsteadily. Her dust-stained skirt billowed in the draft of the night wind.

"From today on—" She stared directly into her brother's bottomless eyes, each word as clear as if it had been chiseled into stone, "I am not chasing you anymore. What I will surpass is the limit of 'Horikita Suzune' at this very moment."

Back in her cold, single dormitory room, Horikita Suzune leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor.

She pulled out her phone, the screen's light making her squint; the name "Kushida Kikyo" lay coldly in her contact list.

The almost instinctive repulsion she felt toward Kushida during the day still occupied her chest like a clump of sticky thorns.

However, her brother's icy words—"zero points," "defective product," "cowardice"—and the glaring, unchangeable reality of Class D's zero-point score now transformed into heavy iron chains, tightly binding all of her paths of retreat.

That humiliation, which threatened to burn through her self-esteem, felt like a red-hot branding iron, finally crushing her last, fragile shred of reserve.