The Staircase Must Be Climbed in Person

The roar of anger outside the convenience store's glass door hit like a tangible shockwave, rattling the doorframe with a low hum. The gathered Class D students were in a frenzy, faces flushed red as they screamed at the air or at each other, venting their immense dissatisfaction over the hundred thousand points and the stigma of being labeled D. At the very front of the crowd, Kazama In clearly spotted Sudo Ken's iconic red hair and burly frame. He was shaking his fist, bellowing at three boys in obvious upperclassman uniforms who blocked the convenience store entrance, spittle nearly flying onto their faces.

"Get out of the way! Don't block the path! I'm going in to buy stuff!"

"Buy stuff? You broke-ass D-class losers, what can a hundred thousand points even get you? Save it!" The lead upperclassman was also fairly tall, with a spiky haircut and undisguised contempt and mockery on his face. He crossed his arms, looking down at Sudo. "Be smart and scram. Don't be an eyesore here, dragging down our school's standards!"

"What did you say?!" Sudo Ken's fury ignited instantly, veins bulging on his forehead, fists cracking as he clenched them, on the verge of charging forward.

The other two upperclassmen stepped up too, flanking him with amused grins, clearly not taking this rabble of first-year D-class students seriously.

Inside the convenience store, Horikita Suzune's face had turned cold as ice, disgust practically oozing from her eyes. She hugged her arms, leaning slightly toward the depths of the shelves, as if trying to cut off those "shameful" classmates with her gaze. "Utterly foolish. Besides venting useless emotions, what else can they do?" she muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with disdain.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka silently retreated another half-step, nearly vanishing into the shadow of the shelves, his calm gaze sweeping over the chaos outside like he was watching a silent play that had nothing to do with him. His posture made it clear: not participating.

Kazama In's gaze flicked rapidly over the furious Sudo outside, the three contemptuous upperclassmen, and the two classmates beside him who were clearly staying out of it. There was no ripple in the depths of his jet-black pupils, only an almost instinctive assessment and decision completed in an instant.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pushed his shopping cart and walked straight toward the door.

The automatic door sensed someone approaching and slid open silently to both sides.

The clamor and gunpowder-laden air from outside surged in. Kazama In's figure appeared clearly in the doorway, standing precisely between Sudo Ken and the three upperclassmen.

His arrival was like a chunk of ice dropped into boiling oil. The noise faltered. Sudo Ken froze for a second, saw it was Kazama In, and though his anger hadn't subsided, he instinctively stopped shouting. The three upperclassmen's eyes also locked onto this sudden freshman.

Kazama In didn't have Sudo's explosive aggression. He stood straight, his dark blue uniform looking especially calm in the evening light. Beneath his three-seven-parted black hair, those jet-black pupils calmly met the upperclassmen's scrutinizing, contemptuous stares. There was no flinch in his eyes, no anger—only a deep, unfathomable stillness like a cold pool.

That stillness, instead, made the three originally arrogant upperclassmen feel a hint of unease. The lead spiky-hair frowned, sizing up Kazama In, trying to find the source of this freshman's "composure." He noticed the striking strands of silver-white and dark red highlights at Kazama In's temples, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by thicker disdain—just another freshman trying to be edgy.

"What? Another D-class waste?" Spiky-hair sneered, trying to reclaim dominance. "Want to stand up for him?" He pointed at Sudo Ken.

Kazama In ignored his provocation, his gaze calmly sweeping over the three. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut clearly through the surrounding noise: "Senpai, are you blocking the convenience store entrance for some special reason?" His tone was flat, like he was asking about a trivial matter.

"Special reason?" One of the upperclassmen with an earring laughed harshly. "We just think you D-class paupers are an eyesore! What, want to buy something? Beg us? Maybe if we're in a good mood, we'll spare you a few points for a pack of tissues?"

Harsh laughter rang out. The surrounding D-class students grew angrier, but faced with the three obviously troublesome upperclassmen, they dared not speak up.

Kazama In's face showed no change in expression. He even tilted his head slightly, glancing inside the convenience store. Through the glass, he could see Horikita Suzune's icy face and Ayanokoji Kiyotaka's figure hidden in the shadows. He withdrew his gaze and looked back at Spiky-hair.

"Senpai's sense of superiority seems to be built on preventing others from buying daily necessities." Kazama In's voice remained steady, as if stating an objective fact, but the implication made Spiky-hair's face stiffen. "According to school rules, maliciously obstructing students from using campus facilities normally and disrupting order is behavior that deducts class points." He paused, his gaze landing like a solid weight on the B-class badge on Spiky-hair's chest. "A B-class senpai should know the value of points better than we do, right?"

"You...!" Spiky-hair choked on Kazama In's calm words that struck right at the soft spot of the rules. Deducting class points! That was absolutely the last thing they wanted. Kazama In's eyes were too calm, calm enough to make him feel a bit creeped out, as if the other party wasn't bluffing but really knew something... or simply didn't care about the consequences.

The other two upperclassmen's expressions shifted too, their arrogance visibly dampened. They just wanted some fun, bullying some low-tier freshmen, not actually cause trouble, especially not something that could affect their own class points—the core interest!

"Hmph! A sharp-tongued brat!" Spiky-hair blustered, trying to save face. "D-class trash, all talk! Let's go!" He shot Kazama In a vicious glare, swept his eyes over the still-fuming Sudo Ken, and turned, shoving through the crowd with his two lackeys, cursing as they left. Before going, the one with the earring spat back: "Tch! Bad luck!"

Once the upperclassmen were gone, the gathered D-class students, though still resentful, had lost a clear target for their anger. Kazama In's earlier words had also reminded them of the strictness of the rules. The crowd began to disperse slowly, each carrying a heavy heart as they left.

"Bastards! Lucky they ran fast! Or I'd have beaten them to a pulp!" Sudo Ken shook his fist fiercely in the direction the upperclassmen had gone, still simmering with rage. He spun around abruptly, spotting a half-full trash can nearby. With nowhere to vent the fire in his chest, he raised his foot to kick it hard!

A long, slender hand pressed firmly onto his shoulder.

Sudo Ken whipped his head around, meeting Kazama In's calm, jet-black pupils.

"Calm down, Sudo." Kazama In's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a strange penetrating force. "Kicking it over does nothing but create trash, trouble the cleaners, and possibly attract the attention of the disciplinary committee to deduct our already pitiful points."

Sudo Ken panted heavily, glaring at Kazama In. Kazama In's gaze met his calmly and openly, the hand on his shoulder steady and strong, carrying an undeniable sense of force that made Sudo's violent impulse crash against an invisible wall.

"But... but those bastards!" Sudo Ken growled unwillingly, but his foot slowly lowered.

"They're gone." Kazama In released his hand, his tone flat. "Wasting emotions on pointless provocation is the behavior of the weak."

Those words seemed to hit a nerve in Sudo Ken. He froze for a moment, looking at Kazama In's calm face, recalling how the other had driven off three upperclassmen with just a few words—something pure anger couldn't solve... The fire in his chest oddly began to subside. Though his expression was still grim, he was at least no longer so out of control.

Just then, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka also walked out of the convenience store, holding a small bag with a few basic items, his expression still flat and unreadable.

Kazama In's gaze shifted between Sudo Ken and Ayanokoji Kiyotaka. A scene from that Love Song of Green Seasons flashed through his mind—the male protagonist proactively suggesting they go eat together to bridge the distance with a friend.

'Invitation... shared activity... building understanding...' The theory from the book surfaced clearly. Though it was meant for romantic relationships... the principle for getting closer to classmates should be similar, right?

Kazama In looked at Sudo Ken, still fuming but noticeably calmer, then glanced at the silent Ayanokoji beside him, and spoke: "Don't dwell on what just happened. Want to grab something to eat?" His tone was direct, without enthusiasm, but not cold either, like he was stating a proposal.

Sudo Ken froze, clearly not expecting this cold-looking guy with weirdly strong skills to suddenly invite him. He scratched his head: "Eat? Where? The points..."

"My treat." Kazama In was concise. A hundred thousand points wasn't much to him, but it was more than enough for a simple meal.

"Ah? Oh... alright." Sudo Ken was still a bit awkward, but with someone treating, and since Kazama In had helped him earlier (though he didn't want to admit it), he nodded.

Kazama In's gaze turned to Ayanokoji Kiyotaka: "Ayanokoji, want to come?"

Ayanokoji's calm, emotionless eyes looked at Kazama In, silent for a second, as if evaluating the intent of the invitation, then nodded too: "Sure." His voice was flat.

Kazama In then remembered Horikita Suzune inside the store. He turned his head, looking through the glass door. Horikita was walking out with her shopping bag, her face still icy, clearly uninterested in anything that had just happened outside.

"Horikita," Kazama In called out, "Want to join?" He asked directly, no extra words.

Horikita Suzune didn't even pause her step, didn't even glance at the three of them, her cool voice falling like ice beads: "Not interested." With that, she walked straight past them, heading toward the dormitory area without looking back, her back straight and aloof.

Kazama In wasn't surprised by this outcome. He withdrew his gaze, looked at Sudo Ken and Ayanokoji Kiyotaka: "Let's go."

They didn't go far, just to a student café next to the convenience store that served simple meals and drinks. Kazama In ordered three basic curry rice sets. The atmosphere was a bit silent and awkward.

Sudo Ken buried his head and ate in big mouthfuls, clearly using the food as an outlet for his anger. Ayanokoji Kiyotaka ate slowly and methodically, his movements as precise as a textbook, his eyes vacant, lost in thought. Kazama In ate quietly, his motions neat but graceful, occasionally sweeping his gaze over the two across from him, as if observing.

During the meal, Sudo Ken mumbled a few complaints about too few points and those bastard upperclassmen. Kazama In just listened quietly, neither agreeing nor refuting. Ayanokoji remained silent throughout.

The meal ended quickly, and it didn't really foster much camaraderie—more like a mission dinner. When paying, Kazama In swiped his student card for the points, and they parted ways to return to their dorms.

Back in his own spartan, empty single dorm room, Kazama In locked the door behind him.

Outside the window, night had already shrouded the campus, the lights of distant teaching buildings scattered like stars. The main light in the room was off, leaving only the faint blue glow from the school phone on the desk—now "liberated."

Kazama In walked over to the desk and sat down. The calm mask he wore to navigate campus life instantly fell away, replaced by a near-icy focus. He picked up the phone, his fingertips gliding swiftly across the screen. Instead of entering the regular interface, he executed a series of extremely complex key combinations and gestures, diving directly into a command-line mode with deep-rooted permissions.

Green code cascaded down the pitch-black screen like a waterfall.

He began running the deep-scan program he had implanted. The program, like an invisible ghost, silently infiltrated the campus network system of Advanced Nurturing High School. Its targets were clear:

1. Check whether his intervention in the convenience store conflict, and his earlier phone cracking, had left any abnormal traces or triggered alarms in the school's surveillance system.

2. Attempt to obtain more core parameters and weight data regarding the "Class Points" evaluation mechanism.

3. Conduct a preliminary probe into the school's network architecture for any other noteworthy encrypted nodes or anomalous data streams.

His fingertips flew across the virtual keyboard, inputting lines of commands with precision. The scrolling code on the screen felt like an extension of his thoughts, silently prowling, probing, and analyzing through the network world.

Time passed in silence. The scan ran unusually smoothly. The surveillance records concerning him seemed to have been perfectly bypassed—or perhaps the school's monitoring of new students in the early days was relatively lax. The record of the convenience store conflict was logged as an ordinary "freshman dispute, resolved after upperclassmen intervened," with no abnormal markers flagged.

Information on Class Points, however, was protected with extreme rigor. The core evaluation algorithm was locked inside physically isolated servers, inaccessible from the external network. Only from some peripheral logs could he infer that the evaluation involved multiple dimensions: classroom discipline, exam scores, club activity participation, dormitory hygiene spot checks, and so on. But the specific weights and calculation formulas remained unknown.

Just as Kazama In was about to end his probe, the scan program returned feedback on an extremely faint stream of anomalous information, nearly drowned out by the regular data flow.

The encryption method of this information stream was exceptionally unique—not the standard protocol used by the school, but bearing a covert, organization-specific encryption signature. It slithered like a cunning dark snake through the campus network's underlying channels, flashing by briefly, its direction seemingly pointing toward... the student council office area?

Kazama In's fingertips hovered over the keyboard for a moment. His jet-black pupils contracted slightly in the screen's faint glow.

The student council... Horikita Manabu?

The information stream had appeared for only a very short time, and its content was indecipherable. But that distinctive encryption signature—Kazama In would never mistake it. It belonged to an extremely secretive international intelligence brokerage organization that had once had subtle dealings with the Kazama Family—"The Courier."

Why would a Courier encrypted signal appear on the campus network of Advanced Nurturing High School? And it seemed to be connected to the student council?

Kazama In immediately attempted to trace it, but the signal had already vanished completely, as if it had never existed. The other party had clearly used top-tier anti-tracking techniques.

He stopped the scan program and exited command-line mode. The phone screen returned to its normal desktop, the faint blue glow illuminating his calm, composed profile.

Outside the window, the night was deep. Beneath the tranquil surface of Advanced Nurturing High School, there seemed to be undercurrents far deeper than he had anticipated. Point competition, class promotions and demotions—these were merely the tip of the iceberg above the water.

Had his father really sent him here just to experience the "steps"? And the secret hidden deep within his mother's gentle eyes—was it also connected to this school?

Kazama In picked up the phone, his fingertips unconsciously gliding across the screen. On the main screen, that message from an unknown number still lay quietly in the notification bar:

[The steps must be climbed in person.]

He stared silently at those seven characters. Deep within his jet-black pupils, like an unfathomable, icy pool, reflected the faint blue light of the screen—and the boundless night outside the window.