May 1st

The morning light of May 1st had just spilled over the eaves of the dormitory building, the air still clinging to the lingering warmth of late April.

The wind swept cherry blossom petals across the playground, leaving them to settle on the freshly wiped window glass—as if quietly affixing a pale pink label to the first day of a new month.

In room 506 of the dormitory, the faucet was running with a steady splash.

Uesugi Hara wiped his face with a towel while carelessly swiping open his terminal—the screen was densely packed with notifications, most of them related to points.

There was a long message from Katsuragi, the lines between the words conveying his thoughts on the point fluctuations; an inquiry from Karuizawa Kei followed, her tone tinged with confusion as she asked why the school hadn't issued any points; Kushida Kikyo had sent a voice message directly, her voice clear yet laced with indignation as she questioned the school's failure to distribute points.

None of that mattered, however; they would soon witness the cruelty of this school for themselves.

He swiped his fingertip upward, finally stopping at the message from Sakayanagi Arisu. It was only a short line, yet he could almost see the expression on her face as she spoke: "Yare yare~ It seems Uesugi-kun guessed correctly~" The tilde at the end was an undisguised provocation.

"Tsk." Uesugi Hara hung his towel on the hook and paused his fingertip on the terminal screen—Sakayanagi's line was still glowing. He straightened his bangs in the mirror, already calculating in his mind: I need to find an opportunity to deal with this brat.

Arriving at the classroom.

The group didn't show much excitement regarding the change in points, having already analyzed the relevant rules at the start of the term.

Moreover, under the management of Katsuragi and the others, they had been extra careful with attendance, assignments, and other areas prone to point deductions, resulting in significantly fewer penalties than in the original story.

Although the amount of points distributed hadn't increased, this stable state was enough to make the students of Class A feel at ease.

Mashima Tomoya walked in, clutching his books. His pace was much lighter than usual, yet it still carried a crisp, rhythmic cadence.

He wore his usual stern expression, but the slight upward curve at the corners of his mouth couldn't be hidden—it was clear he was struggling to contain his happiness.

He stepped onto the podium and tapped his fingertips twice on the desk. Once the faint murmurs in the classroom died down and everyone's gaze was fixed on him, he cleared his throat: "Next, we will hold a class meeting."

He first wrote a series of figures on the blackboard:

Class A: 981

Class B: 650

Class C: 490

Class D: 0

"First, I must congratulate you all—you have passed the school's assessment in your first month. Not only have you firmly secured your position as Class A, but the results you achieved rank among the best in the history of Class A."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the class, his tone adding a touch of solemnity, "This is proof of your self-discipline and capability. As your homeroom teacher, I am proud of you."

As soon as he finished speaking, he led the applause. The sound of palms clapping was exceptionally clear in the quiet classroom: "Congratulations, everyone."

Once the applause gradually subsided, he continued: "Next, I will introduce the rules regarding the school."

"The April test was designed to observe your daily behavior to evaluate your understanding of the rules and your self-management skills."

"Will this type of testing continue in the future?" Katsuragi asked, his gaze fixed earnestly on the podium.

"Of course." Mashima Tomoya tapped his fingertip on the edge of his lesson plan. "If any student is absent, late, leaves early, or talks privately during class in the future, class points will still be deducted. However, the scale of the deduction will be significantly lower than in the first month—though, I assume no student would want their class points deducted for no reason, right?"

The last sentence carried a gentle reminder, and as his gaze swept across the classroom, it lingered specifically on a few boys prone to distraction.

Afterward, Mashima Tomoya continued to explain the subsequent rules: what the numbers on the blackboard represented, the rules for class transfers, the rules for class changes, the 100% graduation rate, the employment rate exclusive to Class A... and the midterm exams for this month.

Below, Katsuragi unconsciously gripped his notebook, his knuckles turning white. Almost every rule the teacher mentioned matched the intelligence Uesugi Hara had provided him—the position of Class A was never the finish line, but a front that needed to be defended with careful strategy.

He looked up at Uesugi Hara, who was sitting diagonally behind him. The other boy was staring out the window, his profile somewhat blurred in the sunlight, but Katsuragi suddenly felt that this person had likely grasped these rules long ago.

Uesugi Hara, however, wasn't really listening to the content on the podium. He was lightly tracing the edge of his textbook, his mind wandering through the plot of Class D from the original story.

Thinking of that abstract Chabashira Sae, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly—it was fortunate he hadn't been assigned to Class D; otherwise, just dealing with that teacher's "slacker-style guidance" would have been quite a chore.

With these thoughts, Uesugi Hara pulled his terminal from his pocket and operated it quickly with his fingertips—first transferring 50,000 points to Karuizawa Kei, and then transferring the same amount to Kushida Kikyo.

Two notifications popped up in the message box: "Points received." He immediately typed: "Don't reveal the source of the points. Continue collecting intelligence for me. Use the points sparingly."

He added an extra line to the message for Kushida: "Also, please look after Airi more. She has a soft personality; don't let those ill-intentioned people in Class D bully her. Tell me immediately if anything happens."

After doing this, he glanced at the articulate Mashima Tomoya on the podium and swept his gaze over the straight-backed students around him, suddenly feeling that the current atmosphere in Class A was indeed much less troublesome than he had imagined.

Mashima Tomoya finished explaining everything that needed to be covered and patiently answered the last student's question before tucking his lesson plan under his arm and turning to leave the classroom.

The sound of the door closing gently seemed to loosen the tension of the previous serious atmosphere, leaving everyone in deep thought.

But before the lingering effect of that contemplation could fade, the back door of the classroom was pushed open. The subject teacher walked in, clutching textbooks, and placed them on the podium with a crisp click.

"Alright, take out the notes from the last lesson." The teacher began while flipping through the book, their voice not loud but carrying a natural authority.

The moment the bell rang for the end of the first period and the teacher walked out of the classroom with their lesson plan, Katsuragi stood up from his seat. Instead of organizing his notes as usual, he walked straight to the podium and cleared his throat.

The students below, who were just about to get up and move around, stopped their movements and looked toward the podium. Katsuragi scanned the class, his voice clear and steady: "We will hold a class meeting after school this afternoon—mainly to discuss the class's future planning and development."

As his words fell, a few low murmurs of agreement echoed in the classroom. Some had already taken out their planners to mark the afternoon slot—after all, this concerned the future of the class, and no one dared to be negligent.

Sakayanagi Arisu sat in her seat, her fingertips resting lightly on her cane, her gaze fixed on Katsuragi at the podium. Hearing him finish the arrangements for the class meeting, she curved her lips into a faint smile and nodded very slightly—her eyes filled with a touch of approval.

Sunlight filtered through the glass window onto her hair, making that smile appear even clearer. She didn't speak, merely turning her head back to look at her cane, her fingertips tracing the patterns on the shaft as if she had already begun to ponder what would be discussed at the afternoon meeting.