Kikyo Kushida thought it over carefully and found no flaws in the plan.
She would be running around for their sake so they wouldn’t get expelled, even “incurring” a debt of tens of thousands of Private Points in the process.
Even if she didn’t succeed, she’d at least have put in the effort—when the time came for judgment, no one else in the class would have any ground to blame her.
If those expelled students tried to pin the responsibility for their failure on her, that would be even more ridiculous.
Failing an exam was a matter of one’s own academic ability and attitude—the other students in the class would be able to see that clearly.
Moreover, ever since learning the truth about their Class Points being drained to zero, those guys still showed no remorse.
Especially Ken Sudo—he continued to sleep openly in class.
Many classmates had already complained to Kushida in private about their dissatisfaction with those three.
If a conflict really broke out, the class would definitely defend her.
In the end, once those people were kicked out of school, their opinions and resentment would be meaningless.
The only thing she needed to do was put on a good show in class—acting sad, reluctant, and guilt-ridden—and maintain her persona.
That was more than enough.
“I understand what you mean.” Kushida happily accepted the points, her mood improving significantly.
For Class D, which hadn’t received any Private Points in May, these 50,000 Private Points were like a godsend.
To maintain her social connections, Kushida’s expenses in the first month hadn’t been small.
Although she’d saved up some money, by the first week of the second month, quite a few classmates had come to borrow from her.
She’d lent it out despite the pain, knowing full well that most of it would probably never come back—but she had to maintain her relationships.
If she could negotiate the exam question price down to 30,000–40,000 points, she’d be able to save over 10,000 points.
Of course, she wouldn’t spend that 10,000 openly—she’d still have to eat the free vegetable set meals with her classmates.
But occasionally buying better toiletries, or treating herself to a couple of good meals to improve her diet—that could easily last her over a month.
She’d originally thought Shiraishi would order her to do something humiliating—like openly opposing her class, or satisfying his personal desires.
She never expected the task he assigned would suit her so perfectly.
Even if she hadn’t been caught with that leverage, knowing such an opportunity existed, she would have joined in without hesitation.
“Then I wish you success in your operation.
The money’s been paid.” Shiraishi drained his coffee and stood to leave.
Watching Shiraishi walk out of the café, Kushida picked up her fork and quietly savored the delicious pastries.
The midterm exams were scheduled for the fourth week of May, and another week had passed—which meant there was only one week left until the next exam.
Knock knock knock.
On Saturday morning, Shiraishi was in his room doing homework when he heard someone knock on his door.
He opened it to find Kikyo Kushida standing there, wearing that harmless, gentle, perfectly measured smile.
“Kushida-san?
How did you know where I live?” Shiraishi was somewhat surprised—he’d never told her his address.
“I asked the dorm manager.” Kushida smiled.
“Shiraishi-kun, surely you don’t want to talk out here?
Aren’t you going to invite me in?” “Come in, then.” Shiraishi really hadn’t expected the dorm manager to provide that kind of information, but he quickly guessed that Kushida was here to report on Class D’s situation—and discussing it at the doorstep was indeed not ideal.
Kushida stepped into Shiraishi’s room and immediately began looking around.
“This is my first time in a boy’s dorm room.
I didn’t expect Shiraishi-kun’s room to be so ordinary—it’s almost the same as when we first moved in, isn’t it?” This school received government funding, and almost all conditions were top-tier.
Even the dorm rooms that previous year’s students had lived in were renovated after they left, so every new student received a room of the same standard.
Shiraishi’s room had only the most basic daily necessities—let alone any decorations.
“I don’t have any drinks in my room, so I’ll have to offer you plain water.” Shiraishi took out a cup, washed it, filled it with water, and handed it to Kushida.
“I don’t mind at all.” Kushida took the cup and began talking about her side of things.
“On the day after you approached me, Horikita treated me to lunch and asked me to call out Ike, Sudo, and Yamauchi.
I did exactly as she asked.
Then Horikita made a study plan for them—if they could stick to it, getting through this exam should have been simple, right?” “So I hurried to contact some upperclassmen I knew.
At first they were a bit hesitant, but when I pretended I was going to look for someone else, they immediately agreed.” “Maybe because our class didn’t get any Private Points in the first month, and the other first-year classes don’t really need these exam questions, I managed to negotiate the price down to 15,000 points.
As you said, the 35,000 points I saved are all mine~” Kushida didn’t hide the actual cost of the operation.
“That’s what you deserve.” Shiraishi just smiled.
“Since they’ve been studying together during the day this past week, I was planning to contact the three of them privately over the weekend.
But then something happened yesterday.” At this point, Kushida’s expression turned subtle.
“During dinner after school yesterday, Horikita wanted to do a spot check on their review progress, but then some student from Class C provoked her.
His exact words were something like—’No wonder you’re defective products.
You don’t even know the scope of the social studies exam.'” “But Horikita had asked questions that were exactly within the scope the teacher had marked.
So I came to ask you.” “Oh, now that you mention it, last Friday our homeroom teacher informed us about the changed exam scope.
It doesn’t make much difference for students who are already doing well academically, but for those hovering around the passing line, it’s pretty lethal.
Looks like Chabashira-sensei didn’t tell you.” Shiraishi confirmed the truth of the matter.
“Seriously, what is that busybody even doing?” Kushida complained.
Last Friday was eight days ago—could someone really be that forgetful?
Class D’s biggest problem was their homeroom teacher—that was Shiraishi’s genuine assessment.
But he didn’t show it, instead thinking about Class D’s current situation.
“Then use the weekend to inform the three of them.
It’s best if you also complete the exam question purchase at the same time.
On Monday, go with Horikita to ask your homeroom teacher about the exam scope—that’ll completely shatter their hopes.
Also, keep them in the dark for these two days.
Once the exam scope change is confirmed on Monday, you can let Horikita know about the exam question purchase—it won’t matter by then.” “I know, I know.” Kushida made an OK gesture.
She understood Suzune Horikita fairly well—and Horikita had been upfront when she asked Kushida to invite Sudo and the others: her sole goal was to reach Class A.
What she needed was for the three of them to pass the exam.
So regardless of the method—whether they studied on their own or raised their scores through past exam papers—it didn’t matter.
“But the only issue is, after the exam scope changes, the ones who need past exam papers might not be just those three students.
Keep a handle on how far you take it.” At the end, Shiraishi offered some guidance.
If too many Class D students failed because of the past exam papers, even Kushida’s popularity wouldn’t be enough to get her out of trouble.
“Let me think…
I’ll say it’s a rule of the transaction—5,000 points per person, no sharing allowed.” Kushida considered for a moment and offered a contingency plan.
The excuse wasn’t bad.
The only drawback was that she’d need to coordinate her story with the upperclassmen, which increased the risk of exposure.
But compared to being blamed by the entire class, Kushida was willing to take that risk.