The sun dipped below the horizon of the Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School, casting long, amber shadows across the impeccably manicured campus.
For most freshmen, this was a time of wonder and nervous excitement. For Jin, it was the first day of an elaborate chess game where the pieces were human and the currency was survival.
By the time the cafeteria lights began to hum with evening energy, Jin's student terminal displayed a staggering balance: 1,550,002 private points.
To the average student, this was an unimaginable fortune, a king's ransom acquired before the first week of lectures had even concluded. Yet, as Jin stared at the digital digits, his expression remained a mask of cool calculation.
He thought of Kakeru Ryuuen, the tyrant of Class 1-C, who in the original timeline would eventually extort 800,000 points monthly from Class A after the grueling Deserted Island Special Exam.
Compared to that consistent, massive influx of wealth, Jin's one-time windfall was a mere drop in the bucket. In this school, stagnation was the first step toward expulsion.
"I still can't be complacent yet," he whispered to himself, the words lost in the clatter of trays. To reach his goals he has to become The Architect of Class B.
Across the table sat Ichinose Honami, the heart and soul of Class B. She was a girl whose kindness was as genuine as it was dangerous in an environment built on deception.
Jin had just finished detailing every scrap of intel he had milked from the second-year upperclassmen—the hidden rules of the S-System, the importance of classroom conduct, and the looming threat of point deductions.
Ichinose listened with an intensity that bordered on reverence, her pen flying across the pages of her notebook. She wasn't just recording information; she was building a shield for her classmates.
"With such a diligent leader," Jin thought, watching her, "Class B's Class Points this month should comfortably exceed 900."
In the history of this school, such a starting performance was virtually unprecedented. Most classes spent their first month in a hedonistic haze, burning through their initial 100,000 points only to wake up to a zero-balance nightmare on May 1st.
But under Jin's guidance and Ichinose's execution, Class B was poised to become a juggernaut.
"Since you've insisted on giving me 10,000 points for the meal and the 'consultation,' you can contact me by phone if there's anything you don't understand," Jin said, pushing his chair back.
Ichinose's eyes widened, a flicker of self-reproach crossing her face. "I'm sorry! Did I ask too many questions? I've dampened your mood for eating, haven't I?"
Jin offered a rare, thin smile. "Ichinose-san, don't overthink it. I just have an appointment to meet someone else."
It was the truth. His terminal had buzzed moments ago with a message from a "valuable resource" he had spent the afternoon cultivating.
"Then I wish you good luck, Arima-kun," Ichinose said, her optimism returning.
"I wish you luck as well. One more thing," Jin paused, his voice dropping an octave. "Be careful. Remind everyone in the class not to disclose this info to the other classes. In fact, I'd prefer if everyone signed a confidentiality agreement under Hoshimiya-sensei."
Jin was a businessman. If he sold this information to the elites of Class A or the schemers of Class C, the entire grade would hover at 900 points.
The competition would become a meat grinder where one minor slip-up could send a student plummeting from grace to the bottom of the barrel.
He wanted a lead, not a stalemate.
"Understood," Ichinose nodded firmly. "I'll ensure the agreement is handled immediately."
Leaving the warmth of the cafeteria, Jin stepped into the cool night air. He navigated the backstreets near the campus dorms, away from the prying eyes of the high-achievers, until he reached a specific utility pole. Leaning against it, looking decidedly out of place, was Yamauchi Haruki of Class D.
As Jin approached, Yamauchi performed a clumsy, rehearsed action. He pulled a handful of tissues from his pocket, blew his nose with theatrical loudness, and dropped the wads of paper directly onto the pavement before scurrying away.
Jin watched the scene with clinical detachment. Overhead, a surveillance camera pivoted slightly, capturing the littering.
For Class D, this was yet another nail in their coffin. In the original work, their points would hit zero regardless, so Jin felt no guilt in accelerating the process.
He walked over, picked up the tissues, and deposited them into a nearby recycling bin.
Class B's Class Points: +1.
Through his research and observations, Jin had confirmed a hidden mechanic of the school: the "Good Samaritan" bonus.
While the school punished delinquency heavily—5 to 10 points for littering or disruption—it definitely rewarded "unseen" good deeds with a pittance.
One point here, one point there. It was a grind, but for someone like Jin, it was a farmable resource.
"Hey! I did it as you said!" Yamauchi emerged from the shadows, his face flushed with a mixture of anxiety and greed. "Now, give it to me. Give me Kushida-chan's number!"
Jin sighed inwardly. Yamauchi was a "treasure" of Class D—a bottomless pit of insecurity and desire that could be easily manipulated.
"As promised," Jin said, holding out his terminal. He didn't feel bad about selling Kushida Kikyo's contact info.
The "Broken Angel" of Class D was already planning to distribute her number to everyone to build her web of influence anyway; Jin was just monetizing the inevitable.
Yamauchi scrambled to input the digits, his hands shaking.
"Listen, Yamauchi-kun," Jin said, his voice taking on the quality of a 'devil's whisper.' "If you continue to 'dispose of trash' like this twice a day for a month, I'll pay you 20,000 private points as a bonus."
Yamauchi scoffed, emboldened by his perceived genius. "I'm getting 100,000 next month from the school! Why would I care about your 20k?"
"Because 120,000 is better than 100,000," Jin countered smoothly. "Think about it. While your classmates are struggling to save, you'll have the extra capital to invite Kushida-chan to the premium theater.
You could be the first person in your class to land a girlfriend. Don't you want to stand above the others?"
The logic, flawed as it was, hit Yamauchi like a freight train. His eyes lit up with visions of grandeur.
"You're right... an extra 20k... I could buy the latest games and still have enough to treat her to dinner!"
"Exactly," Jin patted the boy's shoulder. "Just remember: if anyone finds out we're talking, the deal is off and the points disappear."
"My lips are sealed! Not even Kushida-chan could get it out of me!" Yamauchi declared, puffing out his chest.
As Yamauchi strutted away, Jin watched him go with a look of profound pity. "Even a piece of trash like Yamauchi has its uses," he muttered.
To Jin, the students of the school were divided into two categories: threats and tools. Yamauchi was the perfect tool—predictable, easily motivated by base desires, and completely oblivious to the fact that he was sabotaging his own class to line Jin's pockets.
By having Yamauchi litter and Jin "cleanup," Class B could potentially gain an extra 60 to 90 class points over the month. In the long run, that translated to millions of personal points for Jin's class and a significant buffer for any future "accidents."
The encounter left Jin feeling drained, not from the effort, but from the sheer banality of it all.
He headed toward a 24-hour convenience store. Despite his 1.5 million points, he didn't head for the steakhouse or the sushi bar.
Instead, he picked up two packets of the cheapest instant noodles—the same ones Sudo Ken had been eyeing earlier. Total cost: 200 points.
He sat at the small counter in the back of the store, waiting for the noodles to soften in the hot water. The steam fogged his vision, momentarily blurring the world of spreadsheets and social engineering.
He was rich in points, but he lived like a pauper. In this school, wealth was a weapon to be hoarded, not a luxury to be enjoyed.
As he took his first bite of the salty, mediocre meal, his mind was already drifting to the next day.
There were still three other classes to destabilize, and more "treasures" like Yamauchi to find.
"Barely satisfactory," Jin whispered to the empty aisle, the idiom tasting as bitter as the broth.