“Teacher, may I ask a question?
I still don’t quite understand.” Hirata Yōsuke raised his hand.
He wasn’t asking for himself—he was speaking on behalf of the uneasy students around him.
“Please tell us why the points weren’t distributed.
Otherwise, we can’t accept this.” “Tardiness and absences: a total of 98 instances.
In-class conversations and phone usage: 391 instances.
This is the foolishness you’ve managed to accumulate in just one month.” “In this school, class performance is reflected in points.
The result is that you’ve given back all 100,000 points you were supposed to receive.
It’s that simple.” Chabashira explained with mechanical ruthlessness.
“On the first day, I clearly stated that this school evaluates students based on ability.
Given your performance this month, receiving a ‘zero’ rating is hardly surprising.” In the audience, Ayanokōji Kiyotaka glanced toward Horikita Suzune.
She was gripping her pen, recording every word Chabashira said in her notebook.
“Chabashira-sensei, I don’t recall ever receiving an explanation about this…” Hirata started, but was cut off mercilessly.
“If no one explains it to you, you can’t understand at all?” “Well…
we were never told that the deposited points could decrease.
If we had known from the start, everyone wouldn’t have been late or chatting in class like this.” Hirata was still arguing, though even he could feel his position weakening—but behind him stood his 39 classmates.
“Hirata, what you’re saying is truly baffling.
I didn’t explain these things, true.
But—don’t be late for class.
Don’t chat during lessons.
Didn’t you learn that in elementary and middle school?” “Did you really think, upon entering high school, that you could freely use 100,000 points every month with no restrictions?
And at a school established by the government to nurture exceptional talent?
Do you have no common sense at all?” “Th-That’s…” Faced with such irrefutable logic, Hirata could find no counterargument.
Still unwilling to give up, he met Chabashira’s eyes.
“Then please, at the very least, tell us the specific details of point increases and decreases—so we can use them as reference going forward.” “That’s not possible.
Just like in a company performance review, whether to disclose the evaluation criteria is the company’s decision.
And according to school rules, these specific details cannot be revealed.” A faint smile appeared on Chabashira’s face.
“I’m not doing this because I hate you.
Seeing how pathetic you are, I’ll give you one piece of good news.” “Even if you improve your attendance, or completely stop being late and daydreaming, your points won’t increase or decrease.
In other words, the amount deposited next month will still be zero.
Conversely, you could continue being late and absent—it wouldn’t matter.” Hirata’s expression grew even darker.
This explanation had completely backfired.
Those who might have been willing to improve their behavior would now have their resolve severely weakened.
“The chatting time is over.” Hearing the end-of-morning-assembly bell, Chabashira pulled out her poster tube and displayed each class’s results.
“This is…
each class’s scores.” Staring at the string of numbers on the blackboard, Horikita Suzune hesitated.
“They’re too neat.” Ayanokōji spoke softly.
From the other three classes’ point totals, the two quickly deduced that the initial Class Points had been 1,000.
After displaying the data, Chabashira continued: “You spent your first month however you pleased.
The school doesn’t intend to deny that.
But in the end, it all comes back to you as point deductions.
Look at the other classes—they all earned enough points to live on for the month.” “How could this be…” Ike Kanji, Yamauchi Haruki, and others wailed.
“Without points, how are we supposed to survive?” “Why is the gap in Class Points this large?” Hirata asked in bewilderment.
Ignoring Class A’s 980 and Class B’s 950, even the nearest Class C still had 490 Class Points.
“Do you understand now why you were placed in Class D?” “What?
Wasn’t our placement into Class D random?” A student voiced their confusion from the audience.
“This school divides classes based on student merit.
The best students go to Class A.
The useless ones go to Class D.
This kind of practice exists in ordinary schools too—the so-called advanced class versus regular class distinction.” Chabashira paused briefly, then continued: “Simply put, Class D is where the bottom-of-the-barrel students are gathered.
In short, you’re all the worst defective products.” At these words, students like Horikita Suzune and Yukimura Teruhiko—those with excellent academic records—froze.
This reasoning must have dealt a heavy blow to their pride.
“Having said that, draining all your Class Points in the very first month is unprecedented even among past Class D students.
I actually admire you for managing to pull that off.” Chabashira deliberately clapped her hands, the sound echoing through the deathly silent classroom.
“Does that mean, as long as our Class Points remain at zero, we’ll never get any points?” “Yes.
However, the dorms are free, and both the cafeteria and convenience store offer free items—you won’t have to worry about dying at school.” For Class D’s students, this was hardly comforting.
After living in extreme luxury for a month, enduring three more years of deprivation would be an immense challenge.
“Which means our Class D is going to be looked down on by the others from now on?” Sudo Ken kicked his desk leg with a loud bang.
He finally understood why the upperclassmen had given him that look when they heard he was from Class D on the very first day.
“Oh, so Sudo—you actually care about appearances.” “You…” Sudo’s veins bulged, looking ready to charge at the teacher.
“Class Points aren’t just related to the monthly Private Points you receive.
They directly determine class rankings.” Chabashira pointed at Class A’s 980.
“For example, the class currently showing 980 points is actually the original Class B.
They lost fewer points than the original Class A in the first month, achieving the feat of overtaking a higher-ranked class and making school history.” “What’s worth noting here is that a student in the original Class B figured out all the school’s rules on the second day—that’s how they were able to overtake Class A.” Chabashira added briefly, then put up another poster.
“Next, I have some unfortunate news for everyone.” “This is a class full of idiots—but since you’re all high school students, you should be able to understand what these numbers mean.”