“You all lived very freely over the past month. The school has no intention of saying that’s wrong. Whether you’re late or chat, you’ll simply pay the price yourselves. The same applies to point usage. How you spend your points is your own freedom—we didn’t restrict that either.”

Hearing that, I almost wonder why I bothered enduring things. I’d forced myself to eat tasteless mountain-vegetable set meals just to save points. From now on, I’ll spend a bit more and eat something good. Maybe I’ll try the special set today.

As everyone panicked and argued with the teacher only to be verbally shut down, Hirata asked a question with a strange expression—no, perhaps he’d already realized it.

“Why… is there such a difference in points between classes?”

Realizing the school’s mystery at this stage is admirable—but now comes the reality you’d least want to face.

“Is it starting to make sense now? Why you were assigned to Class D.”

“There was a reason?”

“Aren’t classes usually random?”

To satisfy the students’ confusion, Chabashira-sensei spoke the uncomfortable truth.

“This school divides classes in order of student excellence. The best students go to Class A, the worst to Class D. In other words, Class D is the last refuge where the leftovers gather. You are the worst defective products. And you’ve produced results worthy of that label.”

Horikita’s expression visibly stiffened. The criteria must’ve been a massive shock. Meanwhile, Chabashira-sensei clapped in an obviously exaggerated manner.

“However, you’re the first Class D in history to lose all your points in a single month. I was honestly impressed.”

This might also be part of the school’s goal, but still—being this merciless to her own class. What a nasty personality.

“So as long as our points are 0, we’ll never receive points again?”

“That’s right. This result will remain until graduation. But don’t worry—dorms are free and there’s free food. You won’t die, will you?”

Having lived like that for about half a month myself, I know it’s survivable if you endure. Though there’s no chance the formerly pampered Class D kids can handle it.

“…So we’re going to be treated like idiots by everyone now, damn it!”

Sudō slammed his desk in rage. I didn’t think that pathetic incompetent even cared about pride. If you’re that upset, you should’ve behaved better. Tsk.

“What, Sudō? You actually had pride? Then work hard and move up to a higher class.”

“What did you say?”

“Class points aren’t just tied to monthly payments. That point value directly reflects class ranking.”

In other words, if we exceed 530 class points, we can move up to Class C. Similar to corporate restructuring—it genuinely surprised me when I first confirmed it.

“Then there’s one more unfortunate piece of news.”

Another one? Even I didn’t see this coming. Chabashira-sensei posted another sheet on the board. The moment I saw the names and numbers, I knew what it was.

“Even you idiots should be able to tell what these numbers mean, right?”

Of course. These are the results of the last quiz. And wow… it’s so bad I’m speechless.

“These are the results of the quiz you took last time. What an incredible collection of talent—you’ve made this teacher very happy. What exactly did you learn in middle school?”

Excluding the top few, most scored in the 60s. Sudō scored an astounding 14 points and Ike followed with 24. The average was around 65.

Honestly, even assuming a standard first-year high school level, wasn’t that quiz absurdly easy? Just how incompetent are these guys?

“Isn’t it lucky? If that had been a real exam, seven of you would’ve been expelled the moment you enrolled.”

“E-expelled? What do you mean?”

“What, did I not explain that? In this school, failing even a single subject in midterms or finals results in expulsion. In this quiz’s case, anything below 32 would’ve been expulsion-worthy. You really are stupid.”

“W-what?!”

Even I didn’t know this. Failing one subject means expulsion—this school is truly brutal. Still, Shiina and I were always good students and Sakayanagi is a genius who scored 100 on the quiz. If taught properly, her associates won’t be expelled either.

“Don’t joke around, Chabashira-sensei! Expulsion? That’s too far!”

“Arguing with me is pointless. It’s school policy. Brace yourselves.”

With results that awful on such an easy quiz, most of these fools will likely be expelled. Maybe I should say goodbye in advance to a few.

“Hahaha! Just as the teacher says—this class is full of idiots.”

Koenji smirked while grooming his nails. Well, he’d obviously be in the top ranks. He paid attention in class and seems genuinely capable.

“Koenji, what did you just say?! You’ll fail too!”

“Hmph. Where are you looking, boy? Take a good look.”

Koenji had scored 90, tying for second with Yukimura and Horikita—meaning he solved at least one of those absurd math problems.

“I-I thought he was just a dumb musclehead like Sudō…”

“Hey… Koenji’s not the problem. Look at Ayanokoji’s score!”

Above them all was my name—clearly marked with a perfect 100.

“W-what… 100 points?”

“100?! You solved all of those insane math problems?”

“No way… that’s impossible…”

The academically strong students stared at me in disbelief. They knew how difficult the last three questions were. For me, they were simple mental calculations.

“You… what are you?”

The most shocked was Horikita. A very satisfying expression. It’s about time she recognized the gap between us.

“Excellent work, Ayanokoji. Along with Class A’s Sakayanagi Arisu, you’re the only first-year to score 100 on this quiz. At the very least, you won’t be expelled for failing.”

I’d always preached meritocracy, excluded incompetents and prioritized the capable. Because no one fully knew my abilities, they’d reacted negatively to me. But now my ability was perfectly proven. I’d shown physical superiority in swimming class and intellectual superiority in this quiz. In other words, the peak of Class D’s capability is now decided—it’s me.

“And one more thing. This school, under government management, boasts high advancement and employment rates. You all probably have companies or schools you’re aiming for.”

Most likely. But I enrolled here simply to experience ‘school life’—something I never had in the White Room. To graduate safely, face my brother again and defeat him. As long as that’s fulfilled, I don’t care whether it’s Class A or D.

Though Sakayanagi still looks like she hasn’t given up on dragging me into A… how troublesome.

“But the world isn’t that easy. For low-level humans like you, advancing or finding a job won’t be simple.”

“So… to enter a desired company or school, we need to reach at least Class C… is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s wrong too, Hirata. If you want to realize your ambitions at this school, there’s only one path—reach Class A. This school guarantees nothing to students outside Class A.”

“T-that’s… we never heard anything like that! That’s all nonsense!”

The one who stood up in anger was Yukimura, who tied for second with Horikita and Koenji. Given how he’d been studying diligently from the start, clearly aiming for guaranteed placement, his despair was understandable.

“Pathetic. There’s nothing uglier than a man panicking.”

“You don’t have any complaints about being in Class D, Koenji?”

“Complaints? I don’t see any reason to feel that way.”

“We’ve just been branded as inferior dropouts by the school, told we won’t get any college or job guarantees. Of course there’d be complaints!”

“Hmph. Utter nonsense—this is the height of foolishness.”

Even I, who despise Koenji, agree with that a hundred times. He’s the heir to the Koenji Conglomerate. His future is set. Unless graduating from Class A were a condition, his class means nothing.

“The school simply failed to measure our potential. I evaluate myself higher than anyone else, respect myself and take pride in being a great human. A judgment from the school means nothing to me. If it were a proper evaluation, shouldn’t the most capable in this class—both intellectually and physically—Brown Hair Girl—obviously be in Class A?”

“Th-that’s…”

“It seems Brown Hair Girl was placed in D for ‘correction’ due to her strong meritocratic tendencies, but it makes no sense for either her or me to be in D. Still, I don’t care. If they want to expel me, go ahead. The ones coming back in tears later will be the school—100 percent.”

Is this arrogance, or confidence? ‘Above heaven and earth, I alone am supreme’ fits perfectly. I don’t like his attitude, but he defended my position and made it clear I’m not on the same level as those incompetents—so I don’t mind.

“That floating feeling must’ve disappeared by now. If you understand the harsh situation you’re in, then this long, tedious homeroom wasn’t meaningless. Midterms are three weeks away—think carefully and don’t get expelled. There is surely a way to overcome your current reality without failing. If possible, try to challenge it with actions worthy of a capable person—like Ayanokoji.”

With that, Chabashira-sensei shut the door slightly harder than necessary and left the classroom.

I could see the heads of the potential failures hanging low. Even Sudō, usually so cocky, clicked his tongue and lowered his head. If they study hard for three weeks, they can avoid failing—there’s still hope.

Well… it has nothing to do with me anyway.