Dongfang Yi was still working, unaware of the little stories unfolding at the gym.
He also had no idea that he'd made it onto Kushida Kikyo's list of people to keep a closer eye on.
If he had known... well, then he would have known.
That was all.
He wouldn't have cared. For now, he was still focused on learning the ropes at the café and didn't have time to worry about anything else.
Still, in just one hour, his hourly wage had risen to 1,000 points.
It started when Fujimoto Itsuki saw Dongfang Yi's skills and wanted to put them to use.
He promoted him from waiter to resident barista, with coffee-making as his main responsibility,
and raised his pay.
According to Manager Fujimoto, the school had set the rules. Skilled workers naturally earned much more than ordinary waiters.
Waiters made 300–450 points an hour, while an experienced barista earned 650–750 points per hour.
As for Dongfang Yi, he was so talented that he deserved an exception.
But 1,000 points was the absolute maximum,
because the school wouldn't let students from lower-ranked classes climb the ladder by working together.
If student workers were paid too much, everyone would just go to work instead of studying.
Would the school allow that?
Obviously not.
How else would the school produce outstanding graduates?
And without outstanding graduates, how could it swindle... ahem... obtain funding from the Neon government in a perfectly reasonable manner?
So the school had set limits not only on wages but also on work hours—
one month per year for a student in Class A, two months for Class B, four months for Class C, and eight months for Class D.
In practice, though, students in Classes A and B didn't need to work at all. They hardly ever took jobs at the school's shops. The Class Points they received each month were already enough to cover their food and daily expenses.
Dongfang Yi figured the difference in wages also showed the school's attitude to some degree—
a little leniency toward skilled workers, and merciless pressure on the living conditions of the incompetent.
But was it really okay to put so much pressure on ordinary students when they were at an age when they needed to grow?
He didn't understand.
If students in the lower-ranked classes really spent half a year eating grass—vegetable meals—then, in theory, they would have completely lost their chance to graduate from Class A.
Half a year of eating grass meant falling far short of their needs for protein, vitamins, and fat. It was practically like enduring an extremely impoverished wilderness survival challenge.
By then, the class's overall physical fitness would surely drop by one or even several levels, and the students might develop mental health problems, too.
Never mind the other exams. Judging by the three Sports Festivals alone, they wouldn't win a single one. The other classes would beat them down without mercy.
Even the most talented athletes couldn't withstand a life without adequate nutrition. If they weren't earning any points, they couldn't even afford to keep up their regular training.
They'd be better off not training at all.
Not everyone had a cheat like him, Dongfang Yi, whose energy didn't obey the law of conservation~
Still, this was between the people of Neon, and it didn't have much to do with him.
So he straightened his clothes, put on an elegant smile, and greeted the couple who had just arrived:
"Welcome. What can I get for you two?"
The next four hours flew by.
"You've really opened my eyes, Dongfang."
Manager Fujimoto stared at the string of numbers that had suddenly appeared in the sales figures, feeling as though he'd just woken from a dream.
His career had suddenly reached a whole new level.
He was in high spirits.
Although the café's performance wasn't the manager's main source of income,
the café's positive results would also bring him a generous commission.
"It's certainly opened my eyes, too. I never expected so many upperclassmen to like drinking coffee at night."
Dongfang Yi had just escaped a crowd of girls and was now massaging the shoulders and neck of the exhausted Sakura, so he didn't catch the manager's hidden meaning. "Aren't they worried they won't be able to sleep?"
He figured those people who'd downed cup after cup were in for a sleepless night.
It wasn't alcohol, after all. Coffee really wasn't suitable for drinking at night.
"..."
Did he really not know why they'd been chugging so much coffee?
Manager Fujimoto felt as though the poor girls' heartfelt feelings had been thrown to the dogs.
Then it dawned on him that this might be a problem.
There was a limit to how much caffeine a person should consume in a day. Too much was bad for the body, and so was losing sleep.
Dongfang Yi worked from 3:30 in the afternoon until 7:30 in the evening, and most of today's customers had come in during the latter half of his shift.
Even girls who hadn't planned to buy coffee would order a cup after entering the shop, just to get closer to the young man they wanted to talk to.
But if this kept up for long...
It wouldn't be good for the students' physical and mental health.
The manager mulled it over for a moment. "Dongfang, can you make pastries?"
"Do you mean egg-yolk pastries, mung bean cakes, flower pastries, or glutinous rice rolls?" The man with A+ cooking skills thought for a moment, then continued, "Or croissants, toast, pudding, mille-feuille, or Swiss rolls?"
"Of course, I can make a few Japanese-style treats, too... daifuku, matcha rolls, taiyaki, that sort of thing."
"...You can make a few?"
The manager recalled the way Dongfang Yi had acted while making latte art—as if he could "make a few"—and asked tentatively.
"I can make a few."
"Like you make coffee?"
"Like I make coffee."
"You're a real talent, Dongfang!"
Manager Fujimoto was stunned by the young man's abilities.
He'd been admitted to Class A, had such polished coffee-making skills, and could even make desserts! He was also so young and handsome!
Was there anything you couldn't do, Dongfang?
"I wouldn't call myself a talent. I just happened to learn a few things before." Dongfang Yi smiled and nodded.
Humility was a virtue, and as it happened, he had plenty of it.
"Then would you like to try making pastries tomorrow, Dongfang? After six."
"We're not selling coffee tomorrow?"
"Let Nishikawa handle the evenings. If your sales keep up like this, the school's going to want to talk to me."
"..."
Dongfang Yi didn't quite understand what the manager meant, but his advanced cooking skills were clearly much more useful than making coffee.
So he nodded and agreed.
Before he left, Fujimoto Itsuki stuffed a pile of unsold food nearing its expiration date into his hands for dinner, calling it an employee benefit.
"Now that's a pretty good benefit. The manager's certainly generous."
Dongfang Yi carried a big bag of prepared and half-prepared food as he walked back to the dorm with Sakura Airi.
He hefted the bag. Even if it were full of nothing but rice, it would've been an incredible bargain.
Free food. Sweet!
But he was walking very slowly now, matching the pace of the socially anxious girl beside him.
Sakura had been on her feet for four hours straight and was clearly exhausted. Her bangs, damp with sweat, clung to her skin, and she trudged along at a snail's pace.
She didn't even have the energy to agree with Dongfang Yi.
The school's assessment was right: compared to Dongfang Yi, Sakura Airi's D- stamina was pitiful.
And judging by the original story, it was precisely because she fell short in stamina, academics, and social skills that the girl had earned the highest ranking in the OAA System.
Last in her year.
In the end, she'd been mercilessly sacrificed in Volume 16.
Though Volume 17 said she'd found success in her career,
could this girl really sing and dance onstage as a professional idol?
Dongfang Yi's answer was an unequivocal no.
Becoming a professional idol wasn't easy. It required years of grueling training: practicing some bizarre dance routine hundreds of times and stumbling over the lyrics was all part of the job.
Sakura Airi clearly couldn't stick with it right now.
If she did keep training, she'd end up with occupational injuries like muscle strains—and besides...
Even the meager, almost charity-like wages paid to idol trainees might not be enough to put food on the table.
After all, the industry was one where the rich got richer and the poor got poorer. Only a handful of top stars made real money.
What's more, this airhead stuttered whenever she got nervous.
If Sakura wanted to become an idol, there was no way she could do it without giving something up.
Even top male entertainers couldn't keep their asses safe, let alone a sheltered young girl who'd barely seen the world.
There were plenty of perverts in Neon!
At the thought, a flash of killing intent crossed Dongfang Yi's eyes.
He accepted that human nature was greedy. After all, he, Dongfang Yi, had no desire to be a good person, either.
But to ruin an innocent airhead's life for one's own selfish desires, then congratulate oneself on growing as a person after sacrificing someone else?
Give me a break. Disgusting was disgusting. Since when did someone else have to pay the price for your growth?
He scoffed at the notion.
Dongfang Yi glanced at the girl trudging slowly beside him and asked softly, "Are you going to work tomorrow, too?"
"I—I am!"
"You're still going after working this hard?"
"I-I'm fine!" Sakura panted, but she still insisted.
Even she didn't know why she'd said that.
Dongfang Yi gave a helpless smile and reached out to rub the girl's head.
Hmm. She was covered in sweat.
He said nothing more and looked up at the lights in the distance.
He hoped those scum in Class D would learn to keep their eyes open. Otherwise...
I wouldn't mind giving you a taste of...
what they call growth.
Before you continue