Chapter Text
I made my way over to the group of boys shouting at each other, weaving through a few lingering students who were watching from a distance but clearly didn’t want to get involved.
As I got closer, I could finally make out what was being said.
"This is our spot," one of the older students sneered, leaning casually against the wall like he owned the place. His friend stood beside him, a smug grin on his face, clearly enjoying the reaction they were provoking.
They weren’t trying to resolve anything — they were deliberately winding the red-haired boy up. Taunting him. Testing how far they could push him before he snapped.
And judging by the way his hands were balled into tight fists, veins visible on his neck, they were doing a good job of it.
"You first-years really don’t know your place," the older student added, practically daring him to throw the first punch.
The tall, red-haired boy from Class 1-D wasn’t taking it well. His whole body radiated anger — his eyes burning with frustration.
“Tch, like I give a damn about your stupid spot,” the red-haired guy shot back, scowling. “You second-years acting all high and mighty just because you’ve been here longer? Pathetic. You’re just a bunch of losers trying to act tough!" He spat, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You seriously think I’m scared of guys like you?"
His insults only fueled their mockery.
"Aww, look at that! He thinks he's a tough guy!" one of the upperclassmen laughed, nudging his friend. "Big talk for Class D trash."
It was obvious what they were doing — baiting him, pushing him right to the edge. I could see it was getting to him in the slight shift of his stance, the way his weight moved to his back foot — winding up for a punch.
Too obvious.
I stepped in just as his fist came flying forward, grabbing his wrist mid-swing. The impact of his momentum tugged at my arm, but I held firm.
His eyes snapped to me, furious. "The hell—?! Let go!"
The older students started laughing even harder.
“Well, well,” one of them grinned, eyeing me up and down. “Look at this, playing hero, are we?”
"Who the hell are you supposed to be? Another idiot from Class D?" The other added, tone dripping with mockery. “This ain’t got nothing to do with you, pal. Best walk away while you still can.”
I ignored them, keeping my grip steady on the red-haired guy’s wrist. His breathing was rough, shoulders tense.
I didn’t even know his name yet.
But if he’d landed that punch… this situation would’ve gone from bad to catastrophic real fast.
"Relax," I said calmly, my voice low enough so only he could hear. "You punch them here, you lose more than your temper."
For a second, he just glared at me like I’d insulted his pride. But then... hesitation. The tiniest pause. Maybe a hint of reason breaking through the anger.
These guys wanted him to hit them. They were baiting him, knowing full well it’d look bad — especially with that camera still recording everything overhead.
I let go of the red-haired guy’s wrist and turned my attention to the second-years, keeping my tone casual.
"You know, you could get in serious trouble for this," I said, gesturing subtly with my chin. "That camera over there — it’s been recording this whole time. And it's pointed right at us."
The second-years burst out laughing like I’d just told the funniest joke they’d heard all week.
"Oh-ho? Look at this guy," one of them snorted. "Fair enough, except for one tiny detail... those cameras only record video, not sound. All anyone's gonna see is us kindly trying to calm down an out-of-control first-year while he loses his temper and tries to throw hands."
"Yeah!" the other one chimed in with a grin. "And when we bring this little incident to Nagumo-kun — future student council president, by the way — who do you think he’s gonna believe? His reliable, well-behaved classmates... or some nobody from Class 1-D?"
At that, the red-haired guy bristled. "Tch, like hell I'm letting you—!"
He stepped forward again, ready to lunge, but I blocked him with my arm.
"Of course..." the first second-year continued, tapping his chin mockingly, "we might be willing to forget this whole thing ever happened."
"Yeah," his friend sneered. "Maybe... for a small fee. Say... all your private points."
Private points… huh.
The red-haired guy's eyes went wide. "What?! Are you insane? That's robbery! I won’t be able to buy anything for the rest of the month!"
"That's a shame," the second-year shrugged with exaggerated sympathy. "But hey, you’ll get more next month, right? So what’s the problem?"
"Or better yet," his friend grinned slyly, turning to me, "how about 50,000 from both of you? Since you seem so eager to play the hero."
I raised a brow. "You're joking."
"No joke," the first one said, voice darkening. "Either pay up, or we go straight to Nagumo-kun with our version of the story. And trust me... the school won’t side with a couple of Class D nobodies."
Red-hair guy clenched his fists again, practically shaking with rage. I held him back with a quiet, "Don’t."
Then I looked back at them.
"So... you're trying to blackmail us?"
They laughed again, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Call it... creative negotiation," one of them shrugged. "What are you gonna do about it? Run crying to a teacher?"
I let a small pause hang in the air, then tilted my head.
"How exactly do you know the cameras don’t record audio?"
They exchanged a quick glance.
"Because Nagumo-kun told us," one of them answered confidently.
"Yeah," the other echoed. "Nagumo-kun knows everything about this school."
I gave a small hum of thought. "Maybe that’s true."
Then I slowly reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone — making sure they couldn’t see the screen.
"But I’m pretty sure my phone does record audio."
Their smiles froze. The color drained from their faces faster than I expected.
"H-huh? Y-you're bluffing," one of them stammered.
"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "Maybe not. But if you really think I’m bluffing... go ahead. Tell Nagumo your story. I’m sure he’d love to hear the whole unedited version."
For a moment, they just stood there, glancing nervously between each other.
"Tch... damn pain-in-the-ass first-years..." one of them muttered under his breath.
"Whatever," the other spat. "Forget it. We’re done here."
And with that, the two of them stalked off, grumbling curses under their breath.
"Huh? Wait... when did you even start recording?" he asked, still staring at my phone like it was some kind of magic trick.
I slipped it back into my pocket with a small shrug.
"I didn’t," I replied flatly. "It was a bluff."
His eyes widened, the realization slowly sinking in.
"...Seriously?" he muttered, sounding half-annoyed, half-impressed. "You mean to tell me you were gambling on that the whole time? What if they’d called your bluff?"
I glanced over at him, deadpan. "Then you’d probably be suspended right now."
"You're seriously weird, y'know that?"
He let out a small, almost awkward laugh — the kind that came more from leftover adrenaline than anything else — and scratched the back of his head.
"...But, uh, seriously. Thanks for that," he said, glancing over at me with a lopsided grin. "Don’t really know what would've happened if you hadn’t stepped in when you did. Probably would've socked those assholes right in the face and definitely gotten myself suspended."
He paused for a second, then jabbed a thumb at his chest.
"Name’s Sudou Ken, by the way. Class 1-D."
I gave him a small nod. "Ayanokouji Kiyotaka."
Sudou blinked for a second, then grinned wider. "Ayanokouji, huh? Alright. I owe you one now. Seriously — if you ever need anything, anything at all — you come find me, got it?"
He gave me a little thumbs up, like he was trying to sound cool but couldn’t quite help the rough edge in his voice.
"...Sure," I replied casually. "I’ll keep that in mind."
Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting to make any allies today.
But maybe — just maybe — Sudou Ken might turn out to be useful.
After saying goodbye to Sudou, I let him head off on his own, watching as he disappeared down the street with that loud, slightly reckless energy of his. I waited a little while longer before quietly making my own way toward the dormitory building I’d been assigned to.
All first-years, regardless of class, were housed together in a separate dorm. A completely different building from where the second and third-years stayed, and far away from the teachers’ dormitory as well. It made sense — easier to control and observe new students if they were isolated.
What caught me a little off guard, though, was the fact that the dorms were mixed gender. I would’ve assumed a prestigious school like this would separate male and female students, or at least have strict supervision. Then again… knowing this school, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d already anticipated every possible scenario. They probably had systems in place to prevent any “incidents.” Or maybe they simply didn’t care, confident their rules and point system would keep students in line.
As I walked, my thoughts drifted back to the conversation with those second-years.
Private points, huh?
The wording stuck with me. The fact they were specifically called private points implied the existence of something else — perhaps public points, or communal points. Something shared. Something measurable.
Maybe that’s how the S-System actually worked.
Could it be that each class has its own pool of points? And their ranking depends on how many of those communal points they have? Then it would follow that private points, the ones given to individual students, might be tied to the class's overall performance. Gain communal points, everyone benefits. Lose communal points, everyone suffers.
If that was true… I’m in a great position.
Unlike the established second and third-year classes, which were already shaped by their group dynamics — for better or worse — the first-years were still a blank slate. And for me, being alone in my own Class… if I’m the only student, then my actions alone determine my class's success or failure. No dead weight. No reckless classmates dragging me down.
But it also means every mistake is mine to own.
Still... that’s an advantage that no one knows about yet.
And then there was Nagumo.
The second-years practically worshipped the guy — almost disturbingly so. The fact that he apparently knew the inner workings of the school’s security system, like the cameras recording video without audio, suggested influence far beyond that of an ordinary student.
Future Student Council President, they called him.
If someone like that already had so much sway, even among the upperclassmen, it begged the question…
How much power does the current Student Council President actually hold?
It took me about ten minutes to finally reach the dorms — probably longer than it should have. I guess I was in no real rush, just taking my time and wandering the scenic route through the campus.
Once I arrived, I made my way to the reception desk to collect my room key. The woman behind the counter greeted me with a polite but robotic customer-service smile.
"Here’s your key, along with the dormitory safety manual," she said, sliding both items across the counter to me.
Room 401, huh?
Simple enough.
I took the elevator nearby and pressed the button for the fourth floor. As the doors slowly began to close, I heard hurried footsteps and a voice call out.
"Ah—! Wait, please!"
I instinctively pressed the button to reopen the doors. A girl with striking pink hair and bright purple eyes quickly slipped inside, slightly out of breath but wearing an easygoing smile.
"Thank you!" she said brightly. She reached forward and pressed the button for the 9th floor. "Looks like I just made it."
She turned to me with a friendly tilt of her head. "I don’t think we’ve met yet, have we? I’m Ichinose Honami, from Class 1-B!"
...Energetic type.
"Ayanokouji Kiyotaka," I replied simply.
"Nice to meet you, Ayanokouji-kun! And thanks for holding the door for me." She gave me a little grin. "How are you finding things so far? Are you just heading up to your room for the first time?"
"Yeah, this is my first trip up."
"Ah, cool! You're in for a nice surprise then — the rooms are pretty decent, honestly," she said with a small laugh. "Better than I expected, considering there’s so many of us crammed into this place."
She leaned back against the elevator wall casually, clearly comfortable with conversation. Very different from Horikita’s cold, dismissive attitude earlier.
"But I guess that's just one of the perks of this school," she added. "Gotta keep us all happy while they bleed us dry with our points, right?"
She said it like a joke, but I couldn’t help but wonder how much truth was buried in that lighthearted comment.
"Bleed us dry?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Ichinose let out a slightly awkward laugh, scratching her cheek with a finger. "Ahaha… yeah, I guess that sounded a little dramatic, huh? It's just..." she hesitated, glancing away for a second, "something about all this feels... off, you know? I mentioned it to a few people in my class, but they just brushed me off — told me I was overthinking things. Maybe I am being paranoid."
She gave another small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"Off, as in... the whole 'here's 100,000 yen for nothing' thing?" I asked casually.
That caught her attention. She turned toward me sharply, almost like I’d just said something shocking.
"Right?! Exactly!" Her whole expression lit up, bright and relieved. "I thought I was the only one thinking that! Everyone else was acting like it was totally normal, but it’s weird, right? No way a school just hands out that much money every month without some kind of catch."
I gave a small nod. "Yeah. It stood out to me too."
Ichinose let out a breath like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Wow... thank you, Ayanokouji-kun. Seriously. It’s kinda nice knowing I’m not the only one thinking that way." She smiled, wide and genuine. "Feels a little less crazy now."
She laughed again, but this time it sounded real.
"Hey, why don't we swap contacts?" Ichinose suddenly suggested, her face beaming with a bright smile. "We should totally grab lunch together sometime — it'd be nice to get to know you better!"
"Uh... yeah, sure. I don't mind," I replied, a little caught off guard. "How do you do that, though?"
She blinked, looking surprised. "Wait, you don’t know? Have you not gotten anyone’s contact yet?"
I shook my head.
Her face lit up even more. "Oh wow, I'm your first! Lucky me!" she giggled. "Alright, just hand over your phone — I’ll put my number in for you."
I hesitated for half a second before passing her my phone. With practiced ease, she tapped away, inputting her name and number before sending a quick text to herself.
"There! Now I’ve got you in my contacts too!" She handed my phone back with a small, satisfied nod.
Just then, the elevator chimed softly — this was my floor.
"Oh, looks like this is your stop!" she said cheerfully. "I really hope we run into each other again soon, Ayanokouji-kun."
I gave her a small nod, stepping out of the elevator. As the doors began to slide closed behind me, I glanced back to see her giving me a little wave, still smiling.
My room was right around the first corner from the elevator — room 401. I turned the key in the lock, stepping inside, while still faintly hearing the soft hum of the elevator carrying Ichinose upwards.