Characters Worthy of Attention

As Mazumi Mami and his three maids successfully broke the initial silence, the atmosphere in the classroom fully came to life.

With the "first person to eat the crab," the subsequent self-introductions unfolded naturally in order.

One student after another stepped up to the podium, introducing themselves either concisely or in detail.

"My name is Kito Hayato. No particular interests..."

A boy with sharply defined features and a somewhat fierce look in his eyes finished speaking succinctly, then strode off the stage, leaving behind a back that said "stay away."

"My name is Morishita Ai. That's all."

A girl with long, straight blue-violet hair and violet eyes spoke in a flat, emotionless tone, as if stating a fact unrelated to herself, equally brief and memorable.

Mazumi Mami sat in his seat, appearing relaxed, but his mind was racing like the most efficient intelligence processing hub.

Every name, every face, the expressions, tones, word choices, and unconscious gestures during self-introductions—he meticulously captured, categorized, and temporarily stored them all.

This was not only a basic skill for an intelligence operative but also an instinctive training for him as a future ruler to read people's hearts.

"Kito Hayato, fierce appearance, likely skilled in physical strength or combat, direct personality, dislikes social niceties. Morishita Ai, emotionally restrained, goal-oriented, prioritizes efficiency..."

He quickly sketched preliminary character profiles in his mind.

"Though their personalities differ greatly, one thing is common—these students, whether seemingly reckless or cold and taciturn, all harbor a certain 'elite' confidence or sharpness deep in their eyes, or at least a clear self-awareness."

This made him even more curious about the "composition" of Class A.

"Is it a strict admissions screening process ensuring the quality of students? Or does the S System, when assigning classes, concentrate people with similar 'potential' or 'traits' into Class A based on some evaluation criteria?"

"Either way, it means this school, or rather the logic behind its operation, is far from simple on the surface. Interesting."

Mazumi Mami thought silently to himself.

At that moment, a boy of exceptionally tall and sturdy build, with a striking bald head, stepped onto the podium.

His physique stood out among high school students, the lines of his muscles clearly visible even under his well-fitted uniform.

"A bald head at this age... a personal preference? Or the aftermath of some illness or treatment?"

Mazumi Mami's observation focused on this particular trait, which usually hinted at a story behind it.

The bald boy stood still, his gaze steady as he swept across the room, his voice deep and powerful.

"Hello everyone, I'm Katsuragi Kohei. From elementary to middle school, I served as student council president. My academics are decent, and my abilities are fairly balanced. My creed is to give my all and take things seriously in everything I do. Over the next three years, I look forward to your guidance."

His self-introduction was clear and logical, his tone sincere and steady, without a hint of boasting, yet it naturally exuded a trustworthy leadership aura.

That calmness honed through years of bearing responsibility was almost palpable.

"Oh?"

A glint of scrutiny flashed in Mazumi Mami's eyes.

"Impressive resume, steady temperament. He certainly fits the traditional 'honor student' mold, with leadership potential."

A thought crossed his mind instinctively: Could he be that 'ultimate masterpiece'?

But almost immediately, he dismissed this hasty judgment.

"No, I can't conclude yet. If such outwardly displayed 'excellence' were enough to determine it, there would be more than one person in this classroom meeting the criteria."

His gaze swept the room again, more subtly this time. The 'masterpiece' the Imperial Intelligence Department sent me to 'inspect' should be more special, perhaps even... more concealed.

"Logically, the best 'masterpiece' should be placed in the best class for observation and comparison? But conversely, to avoid attention, placing it in a less conspicuous class might be the smarter move?"

Just as his thoughts were churning, a crisp, rhythmic sound of footsteps interrupted his train of thought.

"Tap... tap... tap..."

The sound came from the light contact of a pair of small, dark brown leather shoe heels against the smooth floor, steady and unhurried.

Mazumi Mami followed the sound.

What first caught his eye were a pair of slender feet and calves wrapped in pure white velvet stockings.

The cuffs were adorned with delicate lace trim, clinging tightly to the skin, leaving a subtle, suggestive soft indentation just above the ankles.

The lines of her legs, traced by the stockings, were straight and long, yet at the right places revealed a youthful roundness unique to a girl—a perfect balance of fleshiness and slenderness.

The white pleated skirt swayed gently with her steps, and between the hem and the stocking tops, a patch of flawless, jade-like skin was exposed, glowing with a healthy, soft luster under the indoor lights.

As his gaze rose, he saw the well-tailored school blazer, a dark tie tied at her slender neck, and above the collar, the elegantly shaped collarbones.

The fingers gripping the metal walking cane were clad in white silk gloves, making her knuckles appear even more slender and refined.

Finally, there was that face—pitiable yet carrying a certain aloofness.

Her silver-white hair, reaching her shoulders, was smooth and glossy. A small beret sat atop her head, and beneath its brim, a pair of clear purple eyes gazed out, as still and distant as a deep winter pond.

Her complexion was a genuine, bloodless pallor, different from Mazumi Mami's deliberately feigned "sickly white," closer to the weakness of long-term poor health.

She walked steadily to the podium, despite relying on the cane, her posture impeccable, as if every step had been meticulously calculated.

"My name is Sakayanagi Arisu."

Her voice was soft, yet carried a peculiar penetrative quality, clearly reaching everyone's ears.

"I have no particular hobbies. If I had to name one... it would probably be chess."

She turned around and wrote her name on the blackboard.

Her handwriting was elegant and neat, just like the impression she gave—delicate, fragile, yet containing an underlying structure.

Whether it was an illusion or not, when she turned to write or faced the audience, Mazumi Mami felt that the gaze of those purple eyes seemed to linger on him intentionally or unintentionally for a fleeting moment.

That look was calm and unruffled, yet it made him instinctively raise his guard.

"What does this mean?"

He pondered inwardly.

"Has she noticed me? Is she curious about this 'sickly heir' who brought a maid and took the initiative to stand out? Or... is it some deeper investigation?"

The girl naturally wouldn't answer his doubts. After finishing her simple introduction, she turned gracefully, leaned on her cane, and walked down the podium with the same measured steps.

On her way back to her seat, as she passed by Mazumi Mami, her gaze shifted again, briefly meeting his eyes in the air.

Only for a single instant.

Mazumi Mami didn't look away; he met her gaze openly.

In the depths of those purple pupils, he seemed to catch an extremely faint, elusive ripple—like a tiny pebble dropped into a calm lake, or perhaps just an optical illusion.

The gaze parted, and Sakayanagi Arisu walked calmly to her seat.

But Mazumi Mami was already certain that this seemingly frail, elegantly mannered silver-haired girl was far from as simple as she appeared on the surface.

Her seemingly casual lingering gaze and brief eye contact felt more like a silent probe or confirmation.

"I'll need to have Walnut investigate this Sakayanagi Arisu's background thoroughly."

He made the decision immediately.

The Empire's intelligence database might have her basic records, but clearly not enough depth.

There was an aura about this girl that made his instincts tell him she required focused attention.

Finally, after everyone's self-introductions were over, Mazumi Mami stood up again, leaning on his wooden cane, and walked back to the podium with a slightly slow but purposeful gait.

"Thank you all for sharing."

He smiled, his gaze sweeping warmly across the class.

"To make it easier for us to stay in touch and communicate in the future, I've just created a class group."

He turned and wrote a string of numbers on the blackboard.

"Please join. After all, we're in an information-based society now. From now on, any class announcements, activities, or if anyone wants to privately discuss studies or daily life, we can communicate in the group. Of course, the premise is to follow school rules and not affect normal studies."

His proposal was reasonable and carried the goodwill of providing convenience for everyone.

Having just gone through the self-introductions and Mazumi Mami's initial move to break the deadlock, many students subconsciously already saw him as a reliable, proactive "initiator."

Seeing him be so thoughtful now only increased their favorable impression.

Many immediately took out the school-issued smartphones and began operating them to join the group.

Watching the students below fiddling with their phones or quietly exchanging the group number, Mazumi Mami nodded slightly to himself.

"Good, an official and practical communication channel has been established. A preliminary collection point for information can often become a potential node of influence."

It was just a tiny step, but a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

In controlling the situation, gathering information, and even for the possible "inspection" tasks ahead, a relatively tight class communication network with him as some kind of invisible core might play an unexpected role.

The first day of Class A passed quietly amid these seemingly ordinary self-introductions and group-creation activities.

Beneath the surface calm, the undercurrents of observation, evaluation, and probing had already begun to stir.