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"Sorry, Vice President Nagumo." The Class B third-year representative shook his head, his tone resolute. "I can't agree to your request. Class points are public, and you should know how big the gap is between us and Class A. You want me to hand over our test papers and help you with the special exam? In exchange for the entire second-year class helping us deal with Class A? I won't do it. In the past year, cross-grade special exams have rarely been held. So, I must refuse."
Nagumo could only watch as he refused, his fists unconsciously clenching.
'Rejected again!'
'This is already the third one, isn't it!'
He took a deep breath, recalling yesterday. The responses he'd received when he met with the representatives of Class D and Class C were almost identical. It was nothing more than "we know we can't compare to Class A," even the phrasing carried a similar sense of helplessness.
What was worse, just now, his homeroom teacher had sent a message, explicitly stating that the school wouldn't interfere with the "test papers" matter.
'Student Council President... is this what you look like when you get serious?'
At this point, he finally felt it was tricky.
It seemed impossible to buy test papers from the third-year classes as a whole.
He couldn't help but regret it. Why had he been so insistent on preventing other classes from buying the test papers? If he'd loosened his grip then, perhaps the situation wouldn't be at such a stalemate now.
But then he thought again and convinced himself: such a decision was inevitable for him.
After all, his personality had already determined his choice.
'...Student Council President, Student Council President, was all of this within your calculations?'
Nagumo's mood was somewhat complex, carrying a hint of unwilling suppression, yet also harboring a subtle excitement. The genius he considered his rival had finally made his move.
And he'd acted so decisively, without any hesitation.
A strange sense of elation even welled up in his heart.
'Does this mean that the president has also been paying attention to me all this time?'
After all, if he hadn't been paying attention to him, how could he have come up with such a precisely targeted method?
But he'd still underestimated himself. He still held one last trump card.
"What if I said I intend to buy the third-year test papers from you for eight million private points?" Nagumo suddenly spoke, his tone sharp with a do-or-die determination. "As the representative of Class B, you must've accumulated a considerable amount of private points over these three years, plus class fund subsidies, right? I'll give you eight million, enough for you to transfer directly to Class A. In that case, you should be willing to sell me the test papers, right?"
The Class B representative's expression finally softened.
Eight million private points. This was enough to ensure any ordinary student lived comfortably until graduation, and could even directly cover the point difference required to transfer to Class A. It was a number he hadn't dared to dream of in the past three years.
Nagumo keenly caught the surprise in his eyes, a barely perceptible curve forming on his lips. "Senpai, you should know this is a sure-win deal. Just a few used test papers for a chance to directly enter Class A. It's worth it."
The representative's throat bobbed, his gaze drifting toward the end of the corridor, as if weighing something.
"Vice President Nagumo," he suddenly spoke, his voice a few shades deeper than before, "I regret to say, I still can't agree."
"What?!"
"I don't even have that many private points. Twelve million... you really think too highly of me."
"Even so," Nagumo pressed on, "eight million points, for any student, should be considered a considerable sum, shouldn't it?"
"It's not worth it." The representative shook his head, his tone carrying the clarity of someone nearing graduation. "We third-years are about to graduate, and points have long lost their meaning to us. Moreover, the student council president has already promised everyone in the third-year—as long as we agree to keep the test papers confidential, he'll arrange corresponding resources for us after graduation. You also know that those in Class A are guaranteed to go to prestigious universities after graduation. I'm not going to offend the entire Class A for this small benefit. If I do, I won't be able to get by in society later."
Nagumo's face completely darkened. He truly hadn't expected that this Class B representative, who usually had little presence among the third-years, could weigh the pros and cons so thoroughly.
"Resources?" He countered with a raised eyebrow. "Do you really believe the student council president's empty promises? By the time you graduate, he might've long forgotten today's commitment."
The representative looked as if he'd heard the biggest joke, his eyebrow shooting up sharply. "Are you questioning the student council president's character? Nagumo, weigh your words. How ridiculous they sound!"
Nagumo instantly froze.
He knew better than anyone how impeccable his own student council president's character and integrity were. Serving as student council president for three consecutive years, never accepting a single extra point—that was the strongest evidence.
The words the student council president spoke had always been impactful and never failed.
"Nagumo, you're still young. Perhaps you don't yet understand the weight of character and promises." The representative's tone softened, and he sighed quietly. "Some promises are far more valuable than points. Especially for those of us who are about to graduate, this is even more so."
His tone became more serious. "Moreover, this matter was unanimously agreed upon by all of us in the class. As the representative, I absolutely can't easily betray everyone. This also concerns character. Whether it's Class A or Class B, we won't be strangers after graduation. Connections and character are the most fundamental things for stepping into society. We can't stay in school forever. Sooner or later, we have to go out and make our way. Having people you know makes everything much easier."
He glanced at his watch, said no more, and turned to walk toward the stairwell. "Excuse me."
Nagumo stood frozen, a thought suddenly flashing through his mind. Should he try probing other classes? But as soon as the idea emerged, he completely suppressed it.
'If even the Class B representative can't produce twelve million private points, then there's even less to say for those in other classes.'
'Unless I'm foolish enough to directly offer twenty million points to buy test papers from one person. But doing that, it'd be better to agree to the student council president's request. After all, that only requires ten million points.'
'Moreover, the student council president really did make them a promise.'
Another terrible thought occurred to him: should he send some people to a place without surveillance—like the special teaching building, where there are no cameras—to randomly grab a third-year and threaten them with force to hand over the test papers?
But as soon as this thought formed in his mind, he crushed it.
If he actually did that, he couldn't imagine how the student council president would look at him.
Just imagining the student council president, his rival, looking at him with that contemptuous and disdainful gaze made him feel so agitated that his body tensed, his fingertips almost digging into his palms.
This feeling was many times worse than when Asahina refused to go on a date with him.
"It seems I've lost this confrontation with the student council president completely." He muttered to himself, but then suddenly realized that his tone didn't carry the expected disappointment.
Instead, a strange excitement surged within him.
Was it because the student council president was finally willing to give his all and seriously compete with him?
Or was it because this was how a true genius should act, and he felt truly convinced deep down?
But deep in his heart, another, more important question lingered.
He himself knew the student council president far better than that woman named Tachibana. This move was clearly not the student council president's style.
Was it a tactic he'd come up with because he was cornered, or was there someone else behind the student council president?
Could there be other "geniuses" in this school?