“Hoh hoh hoh, it seems that man called Koenji really did manage to strike Ayanokoji-san’s reverse scale properly.”

“I can’t forgive it. Talking about inferiority right in front of me. Someday, I’ll take my revenge.”

Quite some time had passed since the swimming class and April was already approaching its final week. For someone like me, driven by meritocracy, highly competitive and openly contemptuous of the incompetent, there was still not a single classmate I could call a friend. The only exception was Shiina from Class C, who remained my sole friend.

Having lunch together with Shiina, then reading books or chatting in the library, had become a natural part of my daily life. Because Shiina was my only friend in this school, that routine was more precious to me than anything else.

“By the way, I had no idea you were that good at swimming, Ayanokoji-san. You look quite slender at first glance.”

“My core muscles are just strong.”

More than Koenji, the real problem was my disgraceful behavior during PE class. When I separately went to apologize to the PE teacher, he generously let it slide, assuming I had simply gotten carried away by my competitiveness. Still, there was no denying that it might affect point fluctuations.

“I shouldn’t have caused that scene. If my points get deducted because of it…”

“Huh? Points getting deducted?”

Ah, now that I think about it, I had never told Shiina about my theories regarding possible point fluctuations. Even though we’re in different classes, she’s my friend, so it should be fine to tell her.

“Hmm, it’s only a hypothesis, not something I’m completely certain of, so I didn’t bring it up before. Just listen without overthinking it.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“It’s about the points we receive at the start of every month…”

I explained to Shiina in detail the reasons, hypotheses and evidence behind the point increases and decreases I’d been considering since enrollment. Shiina listened intently, as if she didn’t want to miss a single word.

“I see. I also thought 100,000 points every month was strangely high. Just in case, I’ve been saving by picking up free items or eating set meals at the cafeteria. Hearing your explanation makes it all make sense now.”

It seemed Shiina had also felt something was off about the monthly point distribution. Compared to the incompetent classmates in my class who recklessly chased immediate pleasure, her insight was clearly deeper.

“By the way, how many points do you have left, Ayanokoji-san?”

“84,500 points. Ever since I became confident in this hypothesis, I’ve been saving as much as possible. I also got an extra 5,000 from swimming class recently. What about you, Shiina?”

“I have 76,400 points.”

Excluding the swimming class bonus, our amounts were nearly identical. With the end of the month approaching, even if we spent some, we should still be able to keep around 60,000 points.

“Considering the precedent set by swimming class, there should be other ways to earn bonus points at this school.”

“Since the teachers didn’t explain anything, that means students have to find them on their own, right? That’s pretty harsh.”

“I actually asked the PE teacher separately and it seems that producing results through club activities can earn individual points. Have you joined a club, Shiina?”

“I joined the tea ceremony club. It’s basically just a hobby club, so compared to sports or arts clubs, it’ll probably be hard to earn bonus points.”

So far, the only confirmed source of bonus points was clubs. But even if a first-year joined a club, it wasn’t realistic to produce tangible results immediately. It would be better to secure a reliable bonus-point route before next month to support our future school life.

“As long as nothing about point fluctuations is certain, we need to look for other bonus-point routes before next month. There might be unexpected variables in places we haven’t noticed.”

“Alright. Tomorrow’s Friday, so let’s both look into it and if we find something promising, we’ll share it.”

“Good and for now, let’s keep the point fluctuation issue a secret between the two of us.”

“I understand. You’re considering the possibility that point changes are ranked within the class, right?”

As expected, Shiina understood my thinking well. Whether Class A or B had noticed this was unknown, but at least among Classes C and D, Shiina and I were the only ones who had dug this deeply into point fluctuations. If point changes were evaluated by class ranking, informing other Class C or D students could lower our own positions.

According to Shiina, in Class C there was a dominant figure ruling like a king and under his direction, most students had grown suspicious of the points and were trying to save as much as possible. Sharing information could cause some trouble for her.

As for my class… there were so many incompetents wasting points like water that they were practically padding the bottom for us anyway. Whether their points vanished or not was none of my concern.

I prioritize my situation and Shiina’s above all others. To do that, we need to secure additional bonus-point sources.

* * *

After returning to the dormitory, I washed up, sat at my desk and began searching for options.

What I needed now was information. The place to get the most information would naturally be upperclassmen. So after parting ways with Shiina, I tried approaching groups of second and third-years, but every single one refused and told me nothing. Curious why not just one or two but all of them reacted that way, I soon found the answer in the school rules.

[From the second year onward, if a student informs a first-year about exam content or rules, that student will be subject to ‘expulsion’.]

It seems this school’s system operates far more deeply in the shadows than I expected.

The next method I chose was the internal network bulletin-board app installed on every student’s phone. However, first-years have restricted access, so I had to draw conclusions from a small amount of information that might not even contain the answer.

What would my oppa have done?

If I were my oppa… if I were Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, how would I solve this problem? I kept thinking about it. But I am Ayanokoji Aoi. I can never be my oppa. His way of thinking was far beyond my range to begin with.

The bulletin boards were filled with idle chatter and shallow socializing posts from first-years in each class. Most of it was written by incompetents, making it difficult to find any genuine information.

“Damn it, with information like this, I can’t do anything! Just because we’re newly enrolled first-years, everything’s blocked off—it’s driving me insane.”

After searching for over an hour, I tossed my phone onto the bed and collapsed backward.

“…Come to think of it, it’s already time to eat.”

Even in the middle of all this, I was hungry. Normally I buy cheap ingredients and cook for myself, but today I was too tired, so I decided to go to the convenience store. I’d eaten enough cup noodles to be sick of them, so I wanted something different.

But having spent most of my life confined in the White Room, I had no idea what was actually worth eating.

“Tch, since I’m already on the site, maybe I’ll check recommendations.”

I absentmindedly picked up my phone and searched the board for convenience-store food recommendations. Smartphones are scary—once you get sucked in, it’s hard to stop. I drifted from food recommendations to all kinds of useless information.

Then, a post I clicked on without thinking made me jump upright.

“That’s it! There was a way to earn points and get the information we need at the same time! I really am lucky.”

When you look for something desperately, it never shows up, but when you’re casually browsing, it suddenly appears. That’s just how life is.

If my theory was correct, Shiina and I could extract a large amount of points from the author of this post and also obtain the information about point fluctuations we’d been searching for.

I immediately contacted the upperclassman who posted it and negotiated compensation. The result was successful. I then called Shiina.

“Shiina? I found a way to earn points. I’ll explain the details tomorrow. Oh, can you clear your schedule for the entire weekend?”

* * *

Early on the weekend morning, Shiina and I occupied a large table in the library, turned on the computers and spread various documents beside us.

“I’ve thought this for a while, but Ayanokoji-san, you’re not only physically capable—your mind is sharp too. I can’t believe you found a part-time job through the school bulletin board.”

The information I found was a part-time job notice posted by the student council for first-years. Due to certain circumstances, third-years couldn’t spare the time, so they were outsourcing student council tasks—typing and organizing documents, creating posters, translating into English and so on. With two people, it was work that could be finished in a day and a half.

“All staff at school facilities are adults, so there’s no concept of student part-time work there. But when students trade labor among themselves, it’s a different story. Even though this job was posted for first-years, the workload is too much for fewer than two people to finish on time. Most students had just received 100,000 points and were busy playing around, so no one applied. As the posting period extended, the reward skyrocketed…”

“500,000 bonus points per person, right?”

Once this work was completed, each of our student IDs would receive 500,000 bonus points—five times the amount we received in our first month. There was no reason not to do it, so we met with student council secretary Tachibana Akane and signed the employment contract.

“But once this job is done, we’ll need to find something else, won’t we? Opportunities like this probably won’t come often.”

“Ah, that might be solved by this job as well.”

“What? How?”

“The answer is in the employment contract we signed.”

The contract read as follows.