During the break after Chabashira-sensei finished delivering the death sentence and left, the classroom atmosphere was no longer just chaotic—it had turned downright hostile.

“The points didn’t come in… what are we supposed to do now?”

“I spent all my remaining points yesterday……”

Well, for most of them, the issue of point distribution was probably the most immediate concern. They’d been splurging without a care, never imagining this outcome—nothing more than reaping what they sowed. Just yesterday, these were the same people happily debating how to have fun once the points arrived. The looks on their faces now couldn’t have been more different.

“Points aren’t even the biggest problem… don’t make me laugh. Why am I in Class D?”

Oh? Looks like there was someone whose anger was focused on a completely different issue.

Yukimura Teruhiko is an academic type with strong pride and confidence in his studies. His reason for enrolling in this school was likely to aim for universities above a certain level, banking on the school’s 100% advancement and employment rate. Now that goal had been completely wiped away—no wonder he was furious.

“I know everyone’s confused, but let’s calm down for now.”

Sensing the dangerous mood in the room, Hirata stood up to try to restore order. But this wasn’t a situation that could be settled just because Hirata spoke up.

“Calm down?! How can you be calm, Hirata? Aren’t you angry too? We were even called leftovers!”

“Even so, if we all work together, we can repay this humiliation.”

“Repay it? I couldn’t accept it from the moment they divided us into classes! Sure, Koenji or Ayanokoji not being in Class A is strange—I’ll admit that! But by that logic, even if my physical ability is lacking, my academic ability is high. I should be in Class B at the very least!”

Good grief. The level of self-love is astounding. I already saw all of Class D’s interview evaluations, but it’s clear why Yukimura ended up in Class D. Setting aside his low physical ability, the real problems were his lack of communication skills and his tendency to judge people solely by academics.

“I understand how you feel. But what changes by complaining here?”

“What did you say?!”

“Calm down, both of you. Maybe the teacher spoke harshly on purpose to push us to do better?”

Yukimura, thoroughly agitated, closed the distance as if he were about to grab Hirata by the collar, but Kushida stepped in between them, extending her hand toward Yukimura’s clenched fist. Perhaps because he still retained some sense of restraint, Yukimura calmed down and stepped back.

“And it’s only been a month since we enrolled. Like Hirata said, we just need to work hard together. Am I wrong?”

“N-no… that’s true, Kushida, but…”

“R-right. There’s no need to panic. Yukimura and Hirata don’t need to fight.”

Kushida may have the major flaw of being different on the inside than she appears on the outside, but her communication skills and sociability are undeniably strong. Over the past month, she worked tirelessly to get along with everyone in Class D and her public image had improved greatly.

On top of that, she gained sympathy for being attacked by me at the start of enrollment, increasing the number of people around her. Quite the contrast to me, who still has no friends besides Shiina.

“…Sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“No, I should’ve chosen my words more carefully too.”

Kushida’s abilities helped improve Class D’s unity and repaired the relationship between Hirata and Yukimura. If not for her rotten inner nature, she’d unquestionably qualify as a mid-to-upper-tier capable person. If she hadn’t pulled that strange stunt on the first day, my relationship with her might’ve been decent. Still, I can’t stand two-faced types like her.

Generally speaking, when it comes to friends, people like Shiina or Sakayanagi—consistent both inside and out—are best.

…Wait. Did I just think of Sakayanagi as a friend? Absolutely not. She’s nothing more than an alliance for surveillance purposes. We’re practically holding knives to each other’s throats under the guise of cooperation.

I was about to pull a book from my bag to read for the rest of the break, scolding myself for that slip, when Hirata climbed onto the podium and drew everyone’s attention.

“Everyone, before class starts, I’d like you to seriously listen to me for a moment. Especially you, Sudō.”

“Tch. What now?”

So he’s planning to discuss countermeasures for what comes next. In this situation, that’s only natural. And by singling out the most delinquent Sudō, he successfully drew everyone’s attention. It’s meaningless to me, but I suppose I’ll listen.

“This month, we received zero points. This is a very serious issue for our future school life. We can’t keep living on zero points until graduation, can we?”

“I don’t want that!”

Girls screamed in agreement. All of them incompetents who had squandered their points. I’d ignore them, but Hirata gave them an undeserved gentle smile and nodded.

“Of course not. That’s why next month we absolutely have to earn points. And to do that, the entire class has to cooperate. For now, let’s be careful not to be late or chat during class. And of course, no using phones.”

I always feel this way, but Hirata is far too soft. If the real goal were to earn points, he should’ve used force like Class C, or at least intimidation, to suppress the incompetents. Violence would be difficult due to CCTV, but even mild threats would make those incompetents tremble and comply.

“What? Why are you giving orders? And even if we stop, if the points don’t increase, it’s meaningless, isn’t it?”

Sudō—arguably the biggest contributor to Class D’s point loss—voiced his dissatisfaction openly. I’ve thought this for a while now, but he’s shameless and incompetent. He’s the top candidate for expulsion in the upcoming midterms, yet he acts like this. In a way, it’s impressive.

“But if we keep being late and chatting, our points can never increase. They won’t drop below zero, but it’s still a negative factor.”

Ah, there’s no need to worry about that. According to the student council data, class points can’t go below zero. For example, even if you gain 100 points and then incur –200 from misconduct, the result is still zero, not –100.

“I can’t accept that. Even if we attend class diligently, the points won’t increase?”

“Isn’t that because, like Ayanokoji said, not being late or chatting is just something that’s naturally expected?”

“Yeah, I think Ayanokoji’s right. It’s something we should obviously be doing.”

“That’s just that arrogant girl’s personal interpretation! And if we don’t know how to increase points, everything we do is pointless. Find a way to increase points first!”

There is a sure way to increase points—if the class average scores well on midterms or finals, class points can increase by up to 100. I’ve confirmed that. But there’s no reason to tell them. If I do, they’ll ask how I know and once it’s revealed that I already knew everything, the blame will shift to me. For now, it’s better to stay quiet.

“But Sudō—no, everyone—it’s a fact that without working together, we can’t increase points.”

“…Do whatever you want. Just don’t drag me into it. Got it?”

Leaving those words behind, Sudō stood up and left the classroom. Truly a fool beyond saving—volunteering to play the villain in the worst possible situation.

“Sudō really kills the mood. He’s the one who’s late the most.”

“Yeah… he’s the worst. Why do we have to be in the same class as someone like that…”

As expected, the incompetents of Class D turned their criticism toward Sudō. Honestly, I’d braced myself to be targeted too, since I sided with Chabashira-sensei earlier and asked about individual measures, but that seemed to have already been forgotten.

Still… it’s truly ugly. The fault lies with those who were constantly late and chatting, yet now that there’s a common target, they tear into him like rabid animals. Is this the nature of livestock?

At that moment, Hirata—having come down from the podium—rarely stopped in front of my desk.

“Ayanokoji, do you have a moment? After school, I’d like to discuss how we can increase points together. If the strongest student in Class D helps, I’m sure we can find a good answer.”

His polite request focused everyone’s attention on me. It’s true that with my proven ability, increasing points wouldn’t be impossible. No—100% possible. I already know how.

Still… I expected Hirata to ask for cooperation, but I didn’t think he’d ask so directly. Then again, it’s a good choice on his part. If I refuse here, I’ll be seen as uncooperative and get lumped together with Sudō as a target of blame.

“Let me ask you something, Hirata. Are you doing all this to move Class D up to Class A?”

At my sudden question, Hirata seemed to realize I was testing him and answered straightforwardly.

“Yes. Just like you said, I want everyone here to go to Class A together. I want us all to reach the jobs and universities we’re aiming for. For everyone’s sake. To do that, we need to raise Class D’s points from zero. You must have had a reason for enrolling in this school too, right? Please. I’m asking for your help.”

Hirata even bowed his head. At that moment, Class D’s attention clearly centered on him and me. If I took his hand here, I’d become the sub-leader and strategist—my position and trust within Class D would solidify.

But…

“I don’t understand. If you want a certain university or job, shouldn’t you work for it yourself? Trying to reach Class A as compensation for effort you never made—I can’t believe people with that mindset would survive in society even if they graduated from Class A. Sorry, but your appeal doesn’t work on me, Hirata.”

There’s no merit for me in gaining trust and status among incompetents like these.

“B-but Ayanokoji, you definitely have a reason for enrolling too—”

“If I had to give one, it’d simply be for school life itself. If you want a university, study to meet its standards. If you want a job, learn the relevant skills. The benefits of being in Class A are only necessary for incompetents. As you can see, I won’t be expelled for failing and I plan to spend three peaceful years here and graduate with results that match my ability.”

Everyone was shocked, yet no one dared to refute me—because every word was correct. Especially Yukimura, who lowered his head, his earlier behavior effectively denied by my statement.

“More importantly, why should I use my abilities for incompetents who are actually the cause of class point deductions? I never chatted, was late, or even slept during class this past month. I did embarrass myself during swimming class, but I formally apologized immediately afterward and the teacher generously let it go. In short, unlike incompetents like Sudō, I’m not the cause of point loss. For me, finding individual relief measures is far more beneficial than increasing class points.”

At this point, arguing against me was practically impossible. I stood up with an annoyed expression.

“If you understand, don’t expect my cooperation. Still, since we’re classmates, I’ll pray that you find a solution. Just pray—nothing more.”

Having clearly stated my stance, I walked off, imagining the pleasant school life I’d spend with Hiyori.

I should grab a canned coffee before the next class.

“…Didn’t Ayanokoji say something like this last weekend, in front of the outdoor kiosk? That it’s better to save points as much as possible.”

At those words, my hand stopped on the door handle and I looked back at Hirata.

“That day, I was worried that you didn’t interact with classmates at all, so I sent Karuizawa ahead and secretly followed you. In the library, you were working with a girl from another class, stacking documents like it was some kind of job. At the time, I was relieved you had a friend and left it at that… but thinking back now, there were too many strange things.”

I silently met Hirata’s gaze—and listened to his next words.

“Ayanokoji… you predicted this situation in advance, didn’t you?”

Gasps filled the room. Hirata, undeterred, continued.

“The documents you were looking at had the student council’s mark. I clearly remember seeing a notice around mid-April on the school bulletin board—student council recruiting first-years for part-time work. The pay was 200,000 points. I didn’t care back then, but now it all makes sense.”

Damn. Hirata might be closer to a true capable person than I thought.

“You didn’t know the fine details about class points or class transfers, but you realized the distributed points would fluctuate. That’s why you took the student council job to earn points in advance, right?”

…A respectable deduction. He missed some details, but he was right about noticing the fluctuation and preparing for it—so I’ll give him 50 points. I never expected my pointless sympathy to snowball like this.

I’ll admit it. This time, even if only halfway, it’s my loss.

“I can’t deny that you have some ability, Hirata. You’re right. I suspected point fluctuations because too many points were being distributed monthly to over 400 students. More than that, seeing the free item shelves emptied early in the term made me think there was even a possibility of points dropping to zero.”

Ignoring the silence around us, I slowly walked toward Hirata.

“Without knowing the detailed criteria, I saved points and lived diligently. When the PE teacher awarded special points individually, I realized there must be separate systems to earn points. That led me to the student council job notice. As others ignored it, the reward kept increasing—to over 2.5 times what you saw. In the end, it was 500,000 private points per person.”

As I finished, I showed everyone the points displayed on my terminal. Faces—including Hirata’s—froze in disbelief.

“After that, just as you predicted, I contacted the student council with Shiina, signed the contract, completed the work and received the promised payment.”

At that moment, Shinohara jumped up.

“If something that good existed, you should’ve done it with your classmates! Why with some girl from another class?!”

“Why ask the obvious? Shiina is my friend. Is solving problems together with a friend wrong?”

Hearing the word ‘friend’ come from someone who openly despises incompetents left everyone stunned.

“S-still, you should’ve done it with your classmates!”

“Who decided that? And I don’t have any friends in this class. If you’re just going to spout nonsense, sit down. Remove that pumpkin you’re using as a head from my sight.”

“What?!”

Shinohara tried to rush me, but when I glared and pointed at her wrist, memories of nearly having it broken resurfaced and she hesitated.

Then Hirata gestured for her to calm down.

“I understand Ayanokoji’s ability even better now. You really are the undeniable strongest student in Class D.”

“Flattery won’t make me cooperate.”

“If you truly had no intention of cooperating, why did you warn us to save points that day? Even if it was sympathy for incompetents, it proves you’re not as heartless as people think. Please, help us! You must know a way to increase points. If you don’t want to cooperate with Class D… then think of it as cooperating with me, at least.”

An emotional appeal—worthless. I coldly turned away and headed for the door. But just as my hand touched the handle…

Memories surfaced of that persistently earnest fool who spoke to me every day.

…Damn it.

“The student council contract included a clause allowing access to all student council documents related to the work during the job period.”

I’m not helping for the sake of incompetents. I’m helping because I expect growth from Hirata Yosuke—a half-capable person.

“It said that if class averages on midterms or finals are good, you can earn up to 100 class points. I ignored it back then, not understanding its meaning, but only now do I realize how important it was. Whether you believe me or not is up to you.”

With that, I left the classroom. Moments later, cheers erupted inside—voices shouting encouragement, praising Hirata. I ignored it and headed for the vending machines.

Thinking back, that day was the beginning…

The day Hirata Yosuke entered the small circle of people important to me.

And the day I would later leave behind the second greatest regret of my life…