Deadly Nine-Headed Shark

Beihai wasn't in the best mood today to begin with—three people had taken turns inviting him out, seriously slowing down his study pace.

He never expected Honami Ichinose to suddenly swoop in and clinch the match, and Beihai, without lifting a finger, slipped away cleanly back to his dorm.

The moment he returned to his desk, Beihai dropped the act and started rubbing his hands together like a fly. So, who should he grace with his attention tonight? Lord Math Homework, or that little brat Vocabulary?

Every time this moment came, Beihai was tormented. He couldn't afford to lose points in any subject—losing one meant he'd have to make up for it by grinding another even harder.

That back-and-forth was textbook choice paralysis. But when it hit, Beihai always made his decision in the shortest time possible: he'd flip a wooden tile.

He knocked over the pile of tiles, grabbed one at random, and flipped it over to see the word "English." Beihai nodded with satisfaction.

"Not bad, looks like Lady English is on duty tonight. Fine, I suppose I'll dabble in some foreign stuff."

He flipped open his English vocabulary book, ready to drill or maybe tackle some listening exercises—

But then a knock came at the door. What perfect timing. Beihai's momentum shattered, so he trudged over and opened it, only to be met with another round of dead fish eyes versus dark circles.

Kiyotaka Kiyotaka held a game disc in one hand as usual, and a movie disc in the other. Truly armed to the teeth.

All that was missing was a "Bro, time to hit the battlefield—let's play!"

But Beihai wasn't about to let him have his way. Games were fine once in a while for relaxation—once a month at most.

If it became a daily thing, that meant his study efficiency was slipping. And if his study efficiency slipped, that meant Beihai couldn't win the College Entrance Exam.

If he couldn't win the College Entrance Exam, that meant Beihai couldn't break free from his birth family.

And if he couldn't break free from his family, that meant facing that deadbeat dad and a rundown house as his only home.

So Beihai turned him down sternly!

"It's great that you've seen the light, but did you ever consider my feelings?"

Kiyotaka Kiyotaka nodded without backing down.

"Of course I did. But the reason I'm so confident is that I've got a masterpiece here."

The word "masterpiece" made even Beihai pause for a moment, a flicker of temptation stirring inside him.

In his past life, Beihai hadn't exactly been a saint. Back when he was a big shot in a resource group, he might've seemed aloof, but let's be real—it was a resource group, so the rest goes without saying.

Here, that side of him was just temporarily suppressed, but its essence couldn't be hidden.

And honestly, Beihai had never seen this world's "masterpieces." After all, he'd been through brutal language system training and had the College Entrance Exam as his goal—he'd forcibly kicked his bad habits.

Some wise man once said, treasure your bad habits—they might be your only joy in life.

Without realizing it, Beihai shifted his body, making room at the door.

"What masterpiece? Let me see it."

Kiyotaka Kiyotaka successfully made it into Beihai's room. Nothing much had changed in the layout. He walked in and casually handed the disc to Beihai.

The moment it was in his hands, Beihai couldn't wait to flip it over and check the cover. What greeted his eyes was a Nine-Headed Great White Shark, and the title was simple: Deadly Nine-Headed Shark.

"Tch?"

A bit incredulous, he subconsciously rubbed his eyes, and even wiped the disc for good measure. But after all that fuss, nothing changed.

Right then, a doubt crept into Beihai's mind. It can't be what I'm thinking, can it? Are this world's works really this abstract?

He didn't follow this stuff and rarely touched it, but entertainment media couldn't be this bad, could it? And this was supposed to be a masterpiece?

"Uh, Kiyotaka, are you sure this is what you call a masterpiece?"

Kiyotaka Kiyotaka nodded, his expression flawless—because he was a total deadpan. He'd found it online; supposedly the style was abstract and meant to be a comedy.

They said it had made it to a ninth installment—that alone was pretty godly. It was already the mudslide representative of the film world.

What bad intentions could Kiyotaka Kiyotaka have? He was a half-baked amateur who didn't know anything either. He hadn't seen it himself, and never had the chance.

So when he stumbled upon a masterpiece, of course he had to share it with a good friend.

Seeing the other's guarantee, Beihai set aside his doubts. After all, the guy was pretty capable, so his taste in movies probably wasn't bad either.

And so, with mutual anticipation, they slid the disc in. As the movie slowly started, Beihai realized he had made a huge mistake.

He had not only neglected his homework and wasted time, but also subjected his fragile little heart to a brutal two-and-a-half-hour assault.

Let's not even talk about the plot of Deadly Nine-Headed Shark. Cheap CGI was everywhere—there was even a sharknado, with a plastic nine-headed shark wreaking havoc through the city. That was probably the only somewhat expensive special effect in the whole film.

He'd been duped. Back in the day, Around the Atlantic at least had one word different from Pacific Rim, and Beihai had fallen for it once—watched half the movie and never saw any Jaeger.

Now, both the cover and the title screamed that this was a trash movie not worth watching, but it was too late.

Kiyotaka Kiyotaka watched with a furrowed brow the whole time. He couldn't say it was great, nor could he say he'd shot himself in the foot.

He was just wondering what was wrong with this world—why would something like this be made? Why was it called a masterpiece? Was the entertainment industry beyond saving?

Or had the public's taste gotten so heavy that he was completely out of touch with society?

And so, the TV plug was yanked out, Kiyotaka Kiyotaka was shown the door, and it slammed shut behind him.

For the first time, Kiyotaka Kiyotaka understood what embarrassment felt like. He finally went back to his own room.

By the next day, Beihai was still half-dead as he dragged himself to his seat, barely holding on. He checked the balance on his Terminal—still no Points issued. So it wasn't the school's problem.

Thank goodness, thank goodness—his Points were enough for now.

Class advisor Sae Chabashira walked into the classroom, and as always, someone couldn't wait to ask about the distribution of points.

After all, not everyone had as many points as Beihai; they had gone nearly three full months without any, and if it went on much longer, they'd really be eating dirt.

The news she brought this time wasn't about school issues, but about Class D itself.

Sudo Ken had gotten into a dispute with Class C and seriously injured one of their students. The school had already begun an investigation into this severe bullying incident.

Either the other party would drop out and Class Points would reset to zero, or they'd have to find a way to resolve the problem.

Sudo's hot temper flared up immediately. What do you mean I went up and beat three people? Was I really that strong? I didn't even know it myself.

At first, it was just a minor argument.