The air in Class 1-D was heavier than usual. Desperation clung to every face, even those who had laughed off the announcement just days before. The news of the midterm had struck like lightning, leaving behind nothing but charred nerves and racing hearts.
For the first time since the start of the school year, the students of Class 1-D understood the reality: failure meant expulsion.
I leaned against my chair, watching the scene unfold. Hirata was moving from desk to desk, his smile stretched thin but determined, trying to reassure panicking classmates. Horikita stood stiff and aloof near the back, arms crossed, radiating contempt for the weak. Ayanokoji sat quietly as always, blending into the background like a shadow.
And then there was the rest of the class—most of them in hysterics.
"We're screwed!" someone shouted."I don't even understand half of what we've been learning!""They can't just kick us out—it's insane!"
Their voices blended into a chaotic chorus.
Yukimura sat beside his neatly stacked textbooks, already highlighting sections of his notes. Akito had his arms folded, gaze sharp, as if he were ready to challenge the test itself to a duel. An and Haruka chatted quietly but without worry, while Mei Yu Wang scribbled equations on a piece of scrap paper, her brow furrowed but calm. Airi was the most nervous, fingers twitching against her notebook, but even she had steadied herself in recent weeks.
We were ready. Because unlike the rest of the class, I wasn't relying on hope. I had a plan.
The days that followed were filled with exactly what I expected.
Horikita reluctantly organized a study group. With Hirata's social influence and Ayanokoji's silent nudging, she managed to gather a decent number of students to review material together. The sessions were rough at first, with Sudou constantly complaining and barely able to focus, but step by step, progress was made.
I watched from a distance, sometimes sitting in on their sessions but never drawing too much attention. My group had their own schedule anyway—Yukimura led our study meetings twice a week, and we had already been reinforcing one another's weak points since I set it up. Compared to the rest, we were weeks ahead.
But knowledge alone wouldn't save us.
This school was built on manipulation, on hidden systems and loopholes. And I had discovered one of the biggest.
It happened on a Tuesday afternoon, three weeks before the exam. I was sitting in the cafeteria, sipping quietly on a carton of milk, when I noticed him.
A third-year. His uniform was worn at the edges, his tie slightly frayed, his shoes dull and scuffed. He walked slowly, dragging his tray as though the weight of the world hung from his shoulders. He sat alone at the far corner, barely touching the cheap cafeteria bread he had picked.
I recognized that look—desperation.
I stood and approached him. His eyes flicked up, wary.
"…What do you want, first-year?" His voice was tired.
I sat across from him, uninvited, and leaned forward. "I'll get straight to the point. You're in Class D, aren't you?"
His brow furrowed, but he didn't deny it. "So what if I am?"
"I hear third-years have access to past exam papers. Copies that are… close enough to the real thing."
His hand froze over his bread. His eyes sharpened instantly, suspicion flaring. "…You're asking a dangerous question, kid."
I smiled faintly. "Dangerous, but profitable. I'll buy them. 20,000 points."
His lips parted, disbelief flickering across his face. Then he laughed bitterly. "Twenty thousand? That's nothing."
"It's everything to someone who has nothing," I said evenly, letting my gaze linger on his worn shoes, the frayed cuffs of his sleeves. "You're broke, aren't you? Living off scraps. No one in your year trusts Class D with anything, so you've got no way to climb higher. You need points. I need papers. We can help each other."
He glared at me for a long time. Then his shoulders slumped. "…You're a sharp bastard."
I shrugged. "Survival requires it."
For a moment, silence stretched between us. Finally, he muttered, "…Fine. Meet me here tomorrow. Same time. Bring the points."
The next day, the trade went smoothly.
I transferred 20,000 points from my account into his. His phone buzzed as the transaction completed, his hands trembling slightly as he confirmed it.
Then he slid a manila envelope across the table. I opened it casually, glancing through the photocopied sheets. Questions in math, literature, English, history, science—everything. Not exact, perhaps, but close enough to build a complete picture of what would appear on the midterms.
Perfect.
"Pleasure doing business," I said, tucking the envelope into my bag.
He gave me a hollow smile. "…Good luck, first-year. You'll need it."
"No," I corrected, standing. "I'll profit from it."
I didn't rush. Timing was everything. If I flaunted this too soon, suspicion would rise. Instead, I quietly prepared copies, neatly organized, typed into digital files that could be transferred safely.
Three days later, I made my move.
Word had already spread of Horikita's study sessions. Some students were desperate, others unmotivated. But all of them feared expulsion. That fear was the lever I needed.
I began discreetly offering the test questions to those I judged capable of paying—or desperate enough to scrape the points together. Not everyone, of course. I wasn't foolish enough to hand this to the entire class. That would draw eyes.
Instead, I sold selectively—pairs of students who whispered about failing, individuals who looked ready to cry over their textbooks. I priced it steep: 50,000 points for a full set.
And they paid.
By the end of the week, I had sold enough sets to rake in 400,000 points.
My phone buzzed repeatedly with transaction confirmations, each one sweeter than the last.
I kept 100,000 for myself. The remaining 300,000? I distributed quietly—100,000 each to Akito, Yukimura, and An. I didn't tell them how I'd gotten it, only that it was a reward for their trust and loyalty. Their eyes lit up, gratitude unspoken but heavy.
The bonds of my group tightened.
Meanwhile, the canon unfolded. Horikita pushed Sudou relentlessly, drilling him late into the night. Hirata supported as best he could, while Ayanokoji subtly guided from the background. Class D, despite their chaos, began to stabilize.
From the outside, I looked like just another participant. I joined some sessions, gave a hand here and there, but I never revealed the trump card in my hand.
My group and I studied the real questions in secret, disguising them as practice problems Yukimura had "found." Our grades would be secure.
And the rest of Class D? They would survive too, thanks to Horikita's stubbornness. The beauty was that no one suspected me of interfering.
The exam week arrived.
Rows of students sat in silence, the scratch of pens against paper filling the room. Anxiety radiated from every direction. Some sweated profusely, others bit their lips raw.
Each question that appeared was one we had already seen, already solved. Yukimura moved through the problems with surgical precision. Akito finished his math section with ease. Even Airi, normally trembling during tests, wrote with steady hands.
For me, the test was less about passing and more about confirming control. Every answer I wrote was a step further from the chaos that consumed Class D.
When the final exam ended, the room erupted in groans, sighs of relief, and cries of despair. But I simply leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
The results were already decided.
As canon dictated, Sudou scraped by thanks to Horikita's efforts. No one from Class D was expelled. Relief swept the room, laughter and tears spilling freely. Hirata celebrated, Horikita feigned indifference, and Ayanokoji remained a shadow.
The class felt victorious.
But in truth, victory had already been mine.
I checked my phone under the desk. 1200000 points still sat in my account, waiting. My group, bound tighter than ever by trust and loyalty, looked to me with quiet respect. We weren't just surviving anymore—we were thriving.
And no one knew. Not Horikita. Not Ayanokoji. Not even Chabashira-sensei.
The midterms were over. Class D had weathered the storm.