The atmosphere in Class 1-B was no longer that of a celebratory orientation day; it had shifted into something clinical, pressurized, and electric.
At the center of this transformation stood two figures who, within mere hours of meeting, had already formed a terrifyingly efficient binary star system of leadership, Arima Andras Jin, the analytical engine, and Honami Ichinose, the charismatic heart.
Hoshinomiya Chie, the class advisor, leaned against the podium. Her usual playful, slightly intoxicated demeanor had vanished, replaced by a sharp, predatory curiosity. She was witnessing an anomaly.
In the history of the Advanced Nurturing High School, Class D was usually the "defectives," Class C the "aggressive," Class B the "stable but average," and Class A the "elites."
Yet here, in Class B, a boy had just dismantled the school's facade of benevolence with nothing but logic.
"Well then, Arima-kun, why don't you explain your reasoning?" Ichinose Honami said, sweeping her gaze across the classroom. By now, all eyes were on him. "If you can convince everyone, gathering the points shouldn't be a problem."
"Alright, and thank you for your trust."
After a brief pause, Hikaru began his analysis.
"Let's start with what we all know."
Jin turned back to the class, his voice calm but resonant. "I want you all to look at the 'S-System' mentioned in the student handbook. It's vague for a reason. Why would a school give us 100,000 yen a month—an annual salary for a middle-class worker—without a single string attached? Because the strings are there; we just haven't felt them pull yet."
He paced the front of the room, his eyes scanning the faces of his peers. "Think about the Karaoke rooms, the cafes, the electronics stores. They are lures. If the school tracks our spending, our behavior, and our punctuality, then 100,000 points isn't a gift. It's a test of merit."
The school publicly advertises a 100% university acceptance rate and a 100% employment rate. That means every graduate must be exceptionally capable. If the school enforced strict academic rigor and intense military-style training, I could understand how such results would be possible."
"But as Hoshinomiya-sensei just mentioned, this school is filled with entertainment facilities, and students receive a generous 100,000 Private Points every month to spend freely."
"If I were the school's administrator, how could I ensure that students prioritize studying instead of wasting time on leisure after receiving such an amount?"
"100,000 is no trivial sum. It gives us the power to live comfortably and indulge in entertainment. And as long as the option exists, many students won't be able to resist. After all, it's basic human nature."
Ichinose Honami's eyes widened slightly at Jin's words. Teenagers—especially those just entering high school—were naturally prone to distraction. Only a handful would have the discipline to focus solely on studying.
"And more importantly, this school is completely sealed off from the outside world. We'll be spending three years together in this enclosed environment. Even if some students have strong self-control and dedicate themselves to studying, how long do you think they'll last when everyone around them is living carefree lives?"
As Jin spoke, he carefully observed his classmates' reactions. Many of them were beginning to process the implications of his words.
"Even you guys gone out to Karaoke to enjoy yourselves for the first day, haven't you?"
This was exactly what he wanted.
"So if students naturally gravitate toward enjoyment, how does the school guarantee a 100% success rate in university admissions and job placements?"
With that final statement, Jin's words resounded through the silent classroom.
"There must be hidden rules that shape this system, rules so absolute that they determine the only possible outcome."
A heavy silence settled over Class 1-B.
On the podium, Hoshinomiya Chie watched the scene unfold, utterly impressed.
She had always believed that students assigned to Class 1-B were merely backup choices—students with potential, but not the elite.
Yet now, before her eyes stood a student who had uncovered the school's deeper mechanics on his very first day.
In the entire history of the school, spanning over a decade, this had never happened before.
And to think that this student was from her own class.
A contender had emerged—someone who could stand at the top in the next three years of fierce competition.
"Well then, Arima-kun," Hoshinomiya Chie finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Are you going to pay the Private Points now?"
"I'll wait until everyone has made up their minds," Jin replied. "Since it requires half of their initial points, I can't make that decision for them."
Despite his words, he subtly signaled Ichinose Honami with his eyes—it was her turn to take the lead.
Though this was their first real conversation, Ichinose Honami instinctively trusted Jin. Without hesitation, she stepped forward.
"Everyone, after hearing Arima-kun's analysis, I think we can all agree that this school is more than it appears on the surface. After all, there's no such thing as free lunch."
She walked to the center of the classroom, ready to persuade her peers.
"Fifty thousand points might seem like a lot, but if this hidden rule impacts our future prospects, isn't it worth paying now?"
"Besides, wouldn't it be better to understand the system from the very first day?"
Some students still hesitated. Ichinose Honami didn't miss a beat.
"But Arima-kun," a student from the back called out, clutching his phone nervously. "If we give up 50,000 points now, and you're wrong... that's a lot of ramen and games we're losing."
Jin didn't flinch. "If I'm wrong, you lose a month of luxury. If I'm right, and we don't buy this information, we might lose our entire future."
He continued, "This school guarantees a 100% success rate. That is statistically impossible unless the school has the power to prune those who don't fit the mold. We need to know what that mold is."
Ichinose Honami stepped forward, her presence softening the cold edge of Jin's logic. She didn't just understand the math; she understood the people. She saw the fear in their eyes—the fear of being scammed, the fear of losing out.
"I understand the hesitation," Ichinose Honami said, her voice warm and steady. "It's our first day. We're supposed to be celebrating. But Arima-kun is looking out for us. He's not asking for the points for himself; he's asking for us to invest in Class B."
She turned to Jin, a spark of shared understanding passing between them. Then, she looked back at the crowd. "I will be the first. I'm transferring my 50,000 points to the class pool immediately. And as I said—if anyone feels they've been cheated by the end of the month, I will take the responsibility to pay you back from my own future points. Every single one of you."
"Ichinose-san..." The room stirred. Her selflessness acted as a catalyst.
One by one, students began to tap their phones against the terminal. The "beep" of successful transfers echoed like a rhythmic drumbeat of rising momentum.
"Well done, Ichinose-san."
Jin whispered, genuinely impressed. He hadn't expected her to propose a loan, and his respect for her strategic thinking grew.
"Class 1-B is a team, and I'm willing to contribute to it," she replied with a gentle smile.
"Thank you."
Turning his gaze toward the podium, Jin watched Hoshinomiya Chie with intrest and finally asked, "Sensei, how much is it to confirm the school special rules?"
"What do you mean, Arima-kun?"
"Suppose, 20,000,000 points needed for saving someone from expulsion, how much private points do you need to confirm this hidden rule was true, surely not the same as informing a clueless person for the first time, right?" Jin finally stated the fact everyone previously missed.
Hoshinomiya Chie's lips moved upward slightly, forming an arc, "Arima-kun is really sharp. It was needed, 1/10th of actual price to confirm information."
Class 1-B already have information thanks to Jin but to confirm, they were about to pay 2,000,000 private points and buy the information from Hoshinomiya Chie.
They totally forgot that the information can be confirmed. And it could be with a much lower price.
"Then I already have a set of information, please tell us if they were correct or not, and here is the payment." Saying that Jin gestured towards Ichinose Honami.
As Hoshinomiya Chie confirmed the transaction of 200,000 private points—and then, she finally revealed the truth.
"The information gathered by Student Arima Andras Jin was indeed correct. Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School truly operated on a meritocratic system."
"The 100% university admission rate and employment rate were real. However—only Class 3-A students could receive these benefits upon graduation. Students in Classes B, C, and D would graduate with a standard high school diploma instead with no attached benifits whatsoever."
"The S-System was far more intricate than they had been led to believe. Each class was assigned a Class Point score, which determined monthly Private Point distribution."
• 1 Class Point = 100 Private Points per student.
• Every month, students' earnings were directly tied to their class performance.
*Means doing something that could hurt school's disciplines, will deduct class points.
• Littering trash around, will deduct class points.
• Coming late to the class, will deduct class points.
• Not attending class without any solid reason, will deduct class points.
• Not following the teacher's teaching during class will deduct class points.
• Not formally wearing uniform will deduct class points.
• Whisper with each other during running class would deduct class points.
• Browsing Personal terminal during running class will deduct Class points.
• Failing to perform P. E classes will deduct class points.
• Fighting with another student and proven guilty will resulted suspension or worst cast expulsion from school.
• Once the allocated 1,000 class points become 0, there is no private points for next month.
Moreover, class placements weren't random—they were meticulously calculated based on student rankings.
Class 1-A housed the best students.
Class 1-B housed the slightly inferior students compared to Class A.
Class 1-C housed rebellious students with brash personalities
Class 1-D contained the defective goods. Students with worst academics or worst personalities.
The school did not predefine their fates—students had three years to compete, with Special Exams determining their progress.
Success in Special Exams meant climbing the ranks. Failure meant falling further behind.
And then came the final bombshell—Private Points could buy anything.
From buying marks to to passing failed subjects,
Everything has a price.
Changing classes.
The price?
20,000,000 Private Points.
One can avoid expulsion,
The price?
20,000,000 private points.
Silence fell upon the class.