Morning homeroom two days after the midterms. Since today was the day the midterm results would be announced—results that carried the risk of expulsion—an uneasy atmosphere filled the classroom.

Of course, neither I nor the five people I taught were thinking about such things.

Soon, Chabashira-sensei entered the classroom and looked around the students as if surprised by the mood. Almost simultaneously, Hirata spoke up.

“Sensei, I heard the grading results are being announced today. When will that be?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Hirata. With a test at that level, you must have taken it comfortably.”

Hirata was also one of the people who knew the secret of the answer sheets and must have studied the exam papers we obtained the day before with intense focus. His grades were good to begin with—there was no chance he would fail.

“…So when?”

“You can be happy. We’ll start right now. If we waited until after school, the procedures might get tight.”

After-school procedures? From the way she said that, did someone in Class D actually get expelled? Expulsion procedures? No—ridiculous.

We had openly distributed the answer sheets. Failing after that would honestly mean being irredeemable trash. I’d heard Sudō went to sleep without finishing the English exam the night before, but during grading he was relieved he had avoided failing. If even Sudō—the dumbest in the class—managed to pass, then everyone else would obviously pass too.

“What exactly do you mean?”

“Don’t panic. I’ll announce it now.”

Chabashira-sensei said that and pinned a large sheet listing students’ names and scores onto the blackboard. I didn’t bother checking anyone else’s results—I only looked at the six of us, myself included.

…As expected, I won this bet.

Not only me, but all five of my students—Hondo, Okitani, Sato, Wang and Miyake—scored a perfect 100 in all five subjects: Japanese, math, English, social studies and science. In other words, an average of 100. Unless Class A also achieved an average of 100 and forced a draw, this was an unbeatable score.

Seeing the scores of me and my five students, the teacher looked at me with an impressed expression.

“Ayanokoji Aoi. This exam was truly impressive. Not only your own scores, but all five students tied to the contract with Class A achieved perfect scores in every subject. I expected high scores, but honestly, this was beyond expectation. Thanks to you, I even got to see Mashima—normally calm and upright—lose his composure for the first time.”

If Class A’s homeroom teacher reacted like that, then there was no chance of Class A averaging 100 and forcing a draw.

“Then, Sensei. What was the average score of the five designated students from Class A?”

When Horikita asked, Chabashira-sensei took out another sheet and posted it beside the first. A comparison between Class D’s five students and Class A’s five students. The result was obvious—Class D overwhelmingly dominated.

“Katsuragi from Class A also worked extremely hard to win his bet against Ayanokoji. An excellent average of 94.3 for five students. However, he could not surpass Ayanokoji’s perfect 100. Therefore, the confrontation between Class A and Class D ends in an overwhelming victory for Class D.”

At those words, the classroom erupted in cheers. Naturally so—the fact that Class D, long treated as trash, had defeated Class A sent waves of exhilaration through everyone.

In truth, I had done almost everything myself. Well, no need to ruin the mood. Let them enjoy it.

“Since Ayanokoji won, according to the contract, until graduation or expulsion, half of the private points of Class A’s Katsuragi Kohei and Totsuka Yahiko will be transferred to Ayanokoji.”

“And additionally, as requested beforehand, since I won the bet and all five students I taught scored perfect marks in every subject, please deduct ten thousand points each month from the points transferred to me and send them to those five students.”

“Of course. Until graduation, ten thousand points from the monthly amount transferred to Ayanokoji will be deposited to Hondo, Okitani, Sato, Wang and Miyake.”

At that, all five wore expressions of joy and relief, while the others showed regret at not having been chosen for my study group. Since Sakayanagi had selected the participants at random, it was simply bad luck.

But luck, too, is undeniably a form of ability.

“I was impressed with the rest of you as well. Honestly, I didn’t expect scores this high.”

The other students’ study efforts had also paid off significantly. Only me and my students achieved perfect scores across all subjects, but many others scored 100 in their strong subjects and even the worst performers landed in the 50–60 range—far from failing.

The answer sheets I distributed must have helped considerably. You should thank Hirata. If he hadn’t come to see me that day, I would have kept those answer sheets hidden until the very end.

“Yeeees!!”

Sudō jumped up in excitement, thrilled that he hadn’t failed. Checking his scores, he had around 60 in four subjects excluding English and 42 in English. Come to think of it, his previous failing score had been around 31 or 32…

…Huh?

A sense of unease struck me. I quickly calculated Class D’s current English average based on the posted scores, then checked the failing cutoff.

Ha… hahaha… You’ve got to be kidding me.

It seems this school is even more cruel and vicious than I thought.

“See that, Sensei?! We can do it if we try!”

“Ah, I’ll acknowledge that you worked hard. But…”

Chabashira-sensei gripped a red pen and mercilessly drew a red line across Sudō’s English score.

“Well, the reason is obvious… You failed, Sudō.”

Because Sudō had received a failing score.

The classroom atmosphere instantly froze. Just moments ago, Sudō had been celebrating—now he looked completely unable to understand what was happening.

“What?! That’s a lie, right?! Don’t scare me! Why did I fail?!”

Having been certain there would be no failures, Sudō shouted in panic. The reaction was only natural—he’d been told he was safe, only to be failed immediately afterward.

“Sudō, you failed English. That’s the end.”

“No, the failing score is 31 points and I got 42!”

Unfortunately for Sudō, he was definitely failing. No—without a doubt.

That 31-point cutoff was based on Class D’s pop-quiz average. In other words…

If the failing cutoff changes based on each class’s average, then the situation becomes very different.

“No matter what you say, it’s useless. This is an undeniable fact. The failing cutoff for this midterm is below 43 points. That means Sudō was short by one point. What a shame.”

“43 points?! I never heard anything like that! I can’t accept this!”

“Then I’ll teach you how this school determines failing scores.”

Chabashira-sensei removed the sheet from the board and began writing a formula in its place.

86.4 ÷ 2 = 43.2

“The failing standard for the previous test and this one differs by class. The method is average score divided by two. Rounded, Class D’s cutoff is 43.”

Cruel indeed. It would have been nice if they’d told us the failing criteria in advance, but a teacher who barely communicates with students was never going to explain something that important.

I’d also heard they deliberately withheld information about the exam range changes from our class.

“T-that’s impossible… I’m… expelled?”

“It seems the class average rising so much backfired on you. With six confirmed perfect scores across five subjects, this was unavoidable. You worked hard, even if only briefly. Please submit your expulsion paperwork after school—your guardian must accompany you. I’ll contact your parents after this period.”

With a calm expression, as if reporting something trivial, Chabashira-sensei declared Sudō’s expulsion. I felt a little sorry for him, but it couldn’t be helped. At the same time, I was relieved Sudō hadn’t been present when the bet with Class A was decided.

If Sudō had been chosen, he would have remained uncooperative to the end—even if I’d used violence. That he hadn’t become my student was a godsend. Between an incompetent ally and a capable enemy, the latter is preferable. Ike and Yamauchi were hardly any different.

In the end, thanks to Horikita taking responsibility for those irredeemable pieces of trash, I achieved a perfect victory.

“The remaining students did well. You’ve all passed—no need for arguments. Make sure you don’t fail the finals either. That concludes—”

“S-sensei! Is Sudō really being expelled? Is there no way to save him?”

The first to worry about Sudō was Hirata. Understandable—this sudden declaration must have shocked him too. Since he couldn’t rely on my help here, he tried to intervene immediately.

“It’s true. A failing score ends everything. Sudō is expelled.”

“…May we see Sudō’s answer sheet?”

“I’ll say this in advance—there was no grading error. But do as you like.”

Of course there was no error. They’d taken a full day to grade specifically to avoid mistakes. Still, Hirata had to cling to even that slim chance.

“There’s… no grading mistake.”

“If you’re satisfied, that concludes homeroom. Sudō, come to the staff room after school. That’s all.”

Chabashira-sensei left the classroom. In the silence that followed, I calmly took a book from my bag and began reading. A new mystery novel had just come out—Hiyori had recommended it.

“…This is all your fault.”

As I turned the page, Horikita suddenly stood and accused me. Everyone’s gaze snapped toward us.

“…What are you suddenly talking about?”

When I feigned ignorance, Horikita shouted in fury.

“Don’t play dumb! You raised the class average excessively to guarantee victory against Class A, which raised the failing cutoff! In the end, Sudō was expelled because of you! You have to take responsibility!”

She was clearly trying to pin Sudō’s expulsion on me to save him somehow—but the method was disastrously wrong.

“You’re really showing your incompetence now.”

“Don’t dodge it! Someone was expelled because of you! Aren’t you ashamed as a human being?!”

“Was Sudō’s expulsion really my fault?”

I closed my book and stood.

“It’s true I ensured my five students scored 100 in every subject to win the bet. Naturally, I contributed greatly to raising the class average. But even with that higher average, Ike and Yamauchi—whom you taught—successfully avoided failing. How do you explain that? If the higher average were truly the cause, shouldn’t they have been at risk too?”

Unlike Sudō, Ike and Yamauchi scored safely in the 50–60 range. They must have stayed up all night studying with the answer sheets I distributed at the last moment.

“T-that’s…”

“Heh. Truly ugly, Horikita girl.”

The first to defend me was Koenji.

“The brown-haired girl’s words contain not a single error. The reason the red-haired boy scored poorly is his own lack of effort. If he hadn’t slept the night before the exam, he might have avoided expulsion. Blaming the brown-haired girl, who has no relation to this, is utterly unbeautiful.”

“For once, that guy’s right. In short, Sudō’s failure is a boomerang of his own mistakes. There’s nothing I need to take responsibility for.”

No one could refute the combined logic of Koenji and me. In fact, more people were siding with us.

“…But you’re still the reason the average rose! You used past exams—”

Oh? So you’re throwing away your public image now?

Throwing away your dignity for a single incompetent trash—how laughable.

I prepared to crush Horikita with logic.

“Hey, Horikita. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

At that moment, Sato—who had been listening silently—stepped in to criticize Horikita. Looks like I’m finally reaping some benefits from the favor I gave.

“I get that you’re emotional since you taught Sudō, but isn’t it wrong to shift the blame onto Ayanokoji? Also, what part of Ayanokoji’s or Koenji’s arguments is wrong?”

“Ayanokoji’s method is wrong! You too—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about at all. More importantly, Horikita, you’ve been picking fights with Ayanokoji nonstop, haven’t you?”

“…What are you talking about all of a sudden? Stick to the issue.”

“It is the issue! You glare at her, complain, provoke her—over and over. Come to think of it, it started after the pop-quiz results, didn’t it? You just can’t stand that Ayanokoji is better at studying than you, can you?”

The classroom buzzed as people began recalling Horikita’s behavior. It seemed today was the day she’d pay for her past actions.

“Now that you mention it, I saw Horikita glaring at Ayanokoji with a compass during class.”

“Eww, that’s creepy…”

“She really thinks she’s amazing, huh.”

“She rejected my café invite saying it was a waste of time—so embarrassing.”

“She’s obviously jealous since Ayanokoji is way better.”

“Honestly, Ayanokoji’s arrogant, but she helped the class a lot.”

“She even shut up those smug Class A guys.”

“She was kind when people thanked her after the exam.”

“And honestly, isn’t Ayanokoji way prettier? Better style and aura too.”

The atmosphere shifted entirely toward condemning Horikita and defending me. Sato’s words weren’t logical and were full of baseless assumptions—but she had a talent for shaping the atmosphere. Useless in debate, formidable in a witch hunt.

Comparing Horikita’s past actions with mine sealed it. We were both rude and uncooperative—but our contributions were worlds apart. I revealed how midterm averages affected class points, disciplined the Katsuragi faction that treated Class D like trash and practically saved most of the failing students. Horikita saved only two.

“…You’re all just ignorant! Ayanokoji is absolutely not a good person! Even in this exam—”