April, much like a scene on fast-forward, quietly slipped away on the stage of Advanced Nurturing High School.
During this time, the atmosphere in Class A underwent a subtle change.
It was no longer the loose collection of individuals it had been at the start of the school year; it had quietly split into two factions.
Between the two groups, there was no open conflict, but the indifference and alienation between them were clearer than any argument.
Kaedehara Tōru, however, drifted outside these two vortexes.
Although he was perceived by others in the class as leaning towards Sakayanagi Arisu, he did not provide any assistance to Sakayanagi Arisu.
His life was, in fact, quite regularly divided into several parts.
Outside of class, he would spend most of his time in the library.
The “photographic memory” ability he had acquired allowed him to memorize knowledge with terrifying efficiency.
History, economics, law…
the breadth of subjects he delved into had long exceeded the scope of a normal person.
Sometimes, he would run into Shiina Hiyori, who came to borrow books, and the two would find a quiet corner to discuss a novel’s perspective for a long time.
The look in the eyes of that Class C girl had shifted from the initial “fellow enthusiast” to something approaching reverence for a “mentor.”
If he had spare time and was invited by Sakayanagi Arisu, he would play a few games of chess with Sakayanagi Arisu.
Their chess matches had become a tacit form of communication between the two.
Relying on his master-level chess skills, Kaedehara Tōru won more than he lost, though he would occasionally intentionally leave an opening to let her narrowly win a game after a hard struggle, though Sakayanagi Arisu always noticed it.
And the nights belonged to the occasionally appearing Kamuro Masumi.
Since that night, she had become a frequent visitor to his room.
In the dead of night, she would use her toned body to fulfill what she considered her “repayment.”
Their relationship was known to no one but themselves.
In the classroom, Kamuro Masumi remained the solitary girl she always was.
It is worth mentioning that since the “Yamauchi Haruki false accusation incident,” Kamuro Masumi’s status among the girls in the class had undergone a strange reversal.
She had become a tragic figure who had been “framed by a despicable villain, yet stood strong and survived.”
The girls who had previously kept their distance from her started taking the initiative to talk to her and invite her to lunch.
Faced with this sudden kindness, Kamuro Masumi appeared at a loss, and most of the time, she would respond with silence.
But this was instead interpreted as self-protection, as in “not wanting to easily trust others after being hurt,” which further stirred the girls’ sympathy.
In the last week of April, a surprise quiz arrived without any warning.
The exam covered five main subjects, and the difficulty of the questions was two levels lower than the entrance exam, mostly extensions of middle school-level material. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
For the students of Class A, whose academic ability was already quite high, it felt more like an easy warm-up.
However, the last three questions were completely different in difficulty from the previous ones.
They were at a level that did not seem solvable for this age group.
Kaedehara Tōru finished the entire test in less than half the allotted time.
For him, these questions were still too simple, even the last three.
Time quietly arrived at May 1st.
A day that would determine the fate of all the freshmen, although the vast majority of them were still completely unaware of it at this moment.
During the morning homeroom, in the Class A classroom, most students were staring at their mobile terminals at the bright, glaring number on the screen.
“Ninety-two thousand?
What is going on?
Wasn’t it supposed to be one hundred thousand every month?”
“Mine is also ninety-two thousand…
Did the school’s system have a bug?”
“It’s eight thousand points short.
Although it’s not much, there should at least be an explanation.”
The voices, though low, clearly reached every corner of the classroom.
Katsuragi Kohei’s brows were furrowed; he sat upright in his seat, his fingers repeatedly swiping across his phone screen, seemingly searching for any clues in the system notifications.
On the other side of the classroom, Sakayanagi Arisu appeared much more composed, a curious smile hanging on the corners of her lips.
Kaedehara Tōru leaned against the back of his chair, arms crossed over his chest, looking out the window with a lazy posture.
He did not look at his phone; he seemed completely unconcerned about the change in the number, or rather, everything was within his expectations.
The class bell rang right on time, causing all the discussion to stop instantly.
Mashima Tomoya walked into the classroom right on time, stepping in with the bell.
He was still holding that black folder, his face still wearing that unchanging, serious expression.
“It seems that most classmates have already discovered the change in their Personal Point.”
Mashima Tomoya’s gaze swept across the room, his voice steady and powerful.
“Before explaining the reason, I will first announce the results of last week’s quiz.”
[Class A Average Score: 87.3]
This was a fairly high score; after all, it meant that there were quite a few people in the class who could solve at least one of the last three questions.
However, everyone’s gaze was quickly and firmly drawn to the unique name and number at the top of the report card.
[Kaedehara Tōru: 100]
The only perfect score.
Only one person got a 100.
“Wow—”
The classroom could finally no longer contain itself, and a wave of gasps and discussions broke out.
“A perfect score?!
Is this guy a monster?”
“I always see him spacing out; he doesn’t seem like someone good at studying…”
Facing the attention of the whole class, Kaedehara Tōru acted as if nothing had happened.
He did not even change his posture, only yawning, as if that 100 had nothing to do with him.
Mashima Tomoya waited for the discussion to subside slightly before continuing, his voice pulling everyone’s attention back to the podium.
“That’s all for the questions about the scores.
Now, let’s return to the initial question—the Personal Points you received this month.”
He picked up a piece of chalk and wrote a few words on the blackboard.
“In this school, the only standard for measuring a class’s value is Class points.
Upon enrollment, all classes start with a base of 1000 Class points.
On the first of every month, the school will multiply the Class points held by your class by 100 and distribute that as Personal Points to every student in the class.”
“In other words, the reason you only received ninety-two thousand points this month is because…” He turned around and wrote a number on the blackboard.
920.
This is Class A’s current points.
“Within one month, Class A has had a total of 80 Class points deducted due to various disciplinary infractions.”
Mashima Tomoya expressionlessly read out a series of numbers and reasons.
If you ask why it’s 20 points less than in the original work, you’d have to ask that one person who is often spacing out during class.