No Obligation to Inform

Just as Sakayanagi Arisu had said—a line he now used as his own excuse—answers obtained too easily are often the least valuable.

When it comes to human relationships, if one relies on "cheating" to see through everything from the start, the subsequent development will likely lose much of its unexpected joy and authentic texture.

To put it bluntly, the process of solving a problem is an experience in itself, even if he spent most of his time just wanting to hand in a blank paper.

(It's similar to how when you know how to solve a problem, you only want to write down the answer and not the equation, but if you only know the answer without the process, you feel a strange, indescribable sensation...)

Days passed like sand slipping through fingers, with Linmu Fujimiya half-absent and Class D half-sleepwalking.

The cherry blossoms outside the window had long since fallen, replaced by lush, vibrant greenery.

In the blink of an eye, it was the first day of May, the day designated by the school for the distribution of personal points.

On this day, Linmu arrived at the Class D classroom right on time for a change, taking his seat.

He had a freshly opened grape-flavored lollipop in his mouth, the sweet and sour taste spreading across his tongue as his gaze swept calmly across the classroom.

Compared to the usual rowdiness, today's classroom seemed to hold a subtle, imperceptible atmosphere mixed with anticipation and the customary lethargy.

Most students were still chatting or playing on their phones, but one could vaguely sense that many were actually diverting a portion of their attention to wait for the vibration notification on their wrist terminals.

They didn't know yet that the "ding-dong" sound they were expecting would not ring today.

Linmu leaned back in his seat, composed, like a spectator who had bought a VIP seat, waiting for the show to begin.

The homeroom teacher, Sae Chabashira, stepped into the classroom right on time as usual.

But unlike other days, she didn't start the lecture immediately. Instead, she walked straight to the whiteboard, picked up a black marker, and began to write with her back to the students.

Her movements were steady, and the expression on her face was her usual indifference, forming a strange contrast with the gradually quieting noise in the classroom.

It wasn't until she had written a few lines of clear text on the whiteboard that she put down the marker, turned around to face the still somewhat inattentive students, and began to clap slowly, one beat at a time.

"Clap. Clap. Clap."

The crisp, monotonous applause sounded exceptionally abrupt, even a bit harsh, in the suddenly silent classroom.

All the students in Class D, including those who were still secretly playing on their phones, were drawn by this abnormal behavior and looked up in unison, their faces filled with confusion and bewilderment.

Clearly, last month, no matter how lazy or noisy they were, Sae Chabashira had almost turned a blind eye, never once disciplining or reprimanding them.

Was the sun rising from the west today?

Or was she planning to make an example of someone to enforce discipline?

For a moment, those students who had been distracted, whispering, or playing on their phones were like people hit by a pause button.

They quickly reined in their actions and looked toward the podium with anxiety, guessing what kind of medicine the teacher was hiding in her gourd.

Sae Chabashira's gaze slowly swept over every confused face in the room.

There seemed to be no warmth in her eyes, no disappointment, not even the usual sternness; there was only a kind of near-numb calmness, and beneath that calmness, an undisguised mockery.

She raised her hand and tapped the whiteboard behind her with her knuckles, making a "knock-knock" sound, forcing everyone's attention toward the numbers that would determine their fate from here on out—

First-Year Class Point Ranking

Class A: 940 CP

Class B: 750 CP

Class C: 490 CP

Class D: 0 CP

The cold numbers on the whiteboard struck the hearts of every Class D student like a heavy, unadorned hammer, leaving them dizzy and breathless.

"Look."

Sae Chabashira's voice was flat and waveless, yet it carried clearly to every corner of the now-silent classroom, laced with a bone-scraping, icy mockery.

"You in Class D have perfectly proven your existence at the bottom."

"The worst... collection of inferior goods in the entire grade."

The words "inferior goods" felt like poison-tipped needles, piercing deeply into the eardrums of many.

The moment her voice fell, the classroom sank into a long silence, as if the very air had frozen.

The next second, a massive uproar erupted like a bursting dam!

"Zero points?! How is that possible!"

"Our class has zero points? Are you kidding me!"

"...Then what about this month's points..."

"...I even ordered a new game yesterday..."

Shock, disappointment, confusion, disbelief... all sorts of emotions intertwined and churned on the faces of the Class D students.

Some turned slightly pale, some widened their eyes as if to confirm they hadn't misread, some cursed under their breath, and many more fell into a state of bewildered stagnation.

The massive sense of disparity left them unable to accept reality for a moment.

Right in the midst of this chaos and low pressure, a hand was raised calmly from the back of the classroom.

It was Linmu Fujimiya.

He still wore that lazy, half-asleep expression, the plastic stick of a grape-flavored lollipop swaying gently against his lips as he spoke.

He stood up, his posture straight, meeting the cold eyes of Sae Chabashira with a calm gaze. His tone was flat, yet carried an unquestionable, clear sense of inquiry:

"Teacher Chabashira," his voice was not loud, yet it eerily pierced through the noise in the classroom.

"I personally think that, as our homeroom teacher, you must have been well aware of the school's rules linking class points to private points from the very beginning.

Yet you never explained this to anyone in Class D, and even intentionally indulged our previous slackness.

In my view, this is at least... a dereliction of duty to some extent, isn't it?"

The words of Lin Mu were like an ice cube dropped into boiling oil, instantly triggering an even more violent reaction!

The students of Class D, who had just been immersed in shock and disappointment, seemed to have suddenly found an outlet for their emotions and someone to hold accountable.

They cast their gazes toward Sae Chabashira on the podium one after another, clamoring in a chaotic mess:

"That's right! Why didn't you tell us sooner, Teacher!"

"If we had known about these class points, we wouldn't have been so careless!"

"This is clearly the teacher's responsibility! You deliberately didn't make it clear!"

"Exactly! It's so unfair!"

Facing the surging wave of accusations and questioning from below, Sae Chabashira's expression did not change in the slightest; she didn't even twitch an eyebrow.

She simply raised her hand again, making a concise and forceful downward gesture, and her icy gaze swept across the room, causing the clamor to involuntarily die down.

"I am under no obligation to inform you of every single detail regarding the school's rules."

(Chabashira is like someone who has already given up on their dreams; slacking off has become a daily routine... In reality, she could have actually given Class D a heads-up, but she still chose to slack off.)

Her voice remained steady, yet it carried a sense of condescending indifference.