Skipped Class, Brothers

As the figures of Sakayanagi Arisu and Kamuro Masumi vanished behind the bustling crowd.

Linmu Fujimiya completely cast this sudden little interlude to the back of his mind.

To him, these were merely two slightly peculiar passersby he had encountered while running his stall.

Even if the other party possessed a prominent status, it was far less tangible or important than the constant stream of customers and the steadily rising points.

Whether it was the young lady from Class A or the daughter of the acting director, as long as they didn't interfere with his money-making or his future life, they had nothing to do with him.

He pulled his attention back to his "workstation," still leaning lazily against that small folding stool.

He swapped in a fresh lemon-flavored lollipop, the sweet and sour taste spreading across his tongue, dispelling the faint drowsiness of the afternoon.

Maintaining that boneless, lazy posture, he mechanically repeated the process he had long since mastered.

He signaled for the customer to draw a card or choose the Crystal Ball, stared for a moment, then spat out a few concise yet piercing "prophecies," and finally confirmed the points had been transferred.

(There are no such things as prophecies in this world; perhaps it is just a matter of probability. As for what level one wants to reach or what dreams one wants to realize, it only comes down to effort, effort, and more effort.)

He was a man of few words throughout the entire process; aside from the necessary explanations of the rules and interpretations, he never said an extra word, and the expression on his face remained consistently calm and indifferent.

Yet, he could always use just a few words to precisely strike at the most secret confusion or the deepest desire in the other person's heart.

Not far away, the noise in the Club Recruitment Plaza was still deafening, with various music, shouting, and trial-play sounds mixing together to form a vibrant background.

And in front of his divination stall, although the line was slightly shorter than during the peak, it remained at a considerable length, orderly and disciplined.

Among the people waiting in line, upperclassmen from the second and third years still accounted for a significant proportion.

Their personal points, accumulated or saved over a period of time, were relatively more abundant, and they were better able to understand the value brought by this "precise prophecy" that required a high price to purchase.

At the same time, there was no shortage of bold first-year freshmen or those troubled by a specific problem who gritted their teeth, scraped together their points, or even pooled their resources to come for a divination.

After receiving answers that were often astonishingly accurate, they would all turn into wide-eyed believers, spontaneously becoming Linmu's most diligent free promoters.

They would vividly describe the magic of the "Divination Immortal" in their respective classes or small circles.

Linmu's fingers would occasionally tap the velvet-covered tabletop seemingly unconsciously.

With every tap, his Psychokinesis would act like the most obedient sprite, pushing the shuffled Tarot Cards box to the most convenient position for the customer without a trace.

Or, he would make the Crystal Ball on the table reflect sunlight at a specific angle without anyone touching it, creating a fleeting, imperceptible hazy halo.

These little tricks maintained the indispensable atmosphere of a "mysterious diviner" just right, without requiring him to do anything himself, perfectly fitting his "slacker" principle of "if you can be lazy, be lazy; if you can save trouble, save trouble."

The point balance on his terminal screen continued to jump and climb steadily as if it had a life of its own.

Having long since broken the million-point threshold, it was steadily marching toward an even higher number.

Linmu didn't even have the interest to check it carefully, only glancing at the growing string of numbers with his peripheral vision during occasional gaps, having a rough idea in his mind.

Today's harvest would certainly not be worse than yesterday's "grand opening" performance, and might even be better.

This made the sweetness of the lollipop in his mouth seem even richer.

As for skipping class today? Linmu didn't have the slightest psychological burden.

Are you kidding? Sitting in the classroom and listening to lectures obediently now was the biggest waste of time and energy.

What's more, through his precognition ability and reading the memories of Chabashira Sae, he had already clearly "seen" the outcome for Class D next month—class points wiped out, personal points suspended.

The "reason" that led to all of this seemed to be right before his eyes.

(Enough talk, skipping class, bros.)

Since he knew early on that putting on a show of effort in the classroom for a month would ultimately result in nothing, it was better to just not go and spend his time on things with more "efficiency," like running a stall to earn points.

Anyway, he had no interest in the hot-blooded drama of "leading Class D to counterattack and rise to Class A."

Through Chabashira-sensei, he knew there was a rule in the academy: if personal points accumulate to twenty million, one can apply to change classes.

Since there was this "pay-to-win channel," why would he bother to lead a group of "strangers" he wasn't familiar with—who might even drag each other down—to fight for a collective victory, only to let those who might not have contributed anything share the fruits of his labor?

He believed in equivalent exchange: you get what you put in.

As for roles like "savior" or "leader," whoever wants them can have them; just don't disturb his peace.

Time slipped quietly into the afternoon, and the scorching sun gradually became gentle, tinged with a golden-red hue.

Through the increasingly dense branches and leaves of the cherry blossom trees by the plaza, mottled and swaying light and shadows were cast onto the light-colored fabric of the tent.

The queue naturally thinned as the day grew late, but a dozen people still stubbornly guarded their spots.

Unwilling to miss today's divination opportunity, it was as if they felt that if they were a step late, the mysterious window into fate would close.

Just as Linmu finished a divination for a third-year senior who was struggling with "whether he should...", the man thanked him repeatedly with a thoughtful expression before turning to leave.

Linmu's gaze, like a leisurely bird, inadvertently swept across a quiet patch of shade not far away.

Then, he saw that figure.

The golden-blonde hair no longer bounced with the vitality of previous days as she walked, but hung quietly over her shoulders.

The brows and eyes that were always curved into crescent moons and filled with warm smiles were now slightly furrowed, veiled in a thin layer of melancholy.

The signature sweet curve of her lips vanished, replaced by a trace of undisguised disappointment.

She unconsciously gripped the hem of her uniform skirt with both hands, standing in place with a wandering gaze that eventually settled on the fortune-telling stall of Lin Mu, her eyes a tangle of hesitation, nervousness, and a hint of imperceptible hope.

Her entire being was shrouded in an aura of loneliness that felt completely out of place amidst the surrounding bustle.

It was Ichinose Honami.

The moment he saw her, Lin Mu had already guessed the reason for her appearance here.

He even "heard" the chaotic echoes of the thoughts deep within her heart.

(I hear the Echo of Calamity, hehehe)

As it happened, Class B had no classes this afternoon.

And as expected, she had failed her Student Council selection.

(Failed art student...)

(Event duration: May 1st to May 5th)