"I'm the homeroom teacher for Class D, Sae Chabashira. Here's my phone number—you should remember it."
It was a woman—no, Miss Chabashira—introducing herself.
She was the one in charge of the class.
"The homeroom teacher won't change," she said flatly.
"For the next three years, I'll be your homeroom teacher."
As she spoke, she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote a string of digits on the blackboard.
But then—
"This school has a special policy. All students are required to live on campus until graduation."
She continued without missing a beat.
"Eh…?"
That announcement hit the classroom like a bomb.
"W-Why three years?!"
"A dorm system? I didn't bring anything! Not even a change of clothes!"
"What about food? Are we supposed to just starve?!"
The students broke out into a flurry of anxious murmurs.
But wasn't it clearly stated in the entrance materials? Tuition and living expenses would be completely covered.
Hachiman found it odd. Why were his classmates so surprised? Had none of them bothered to read the enrollment pamphlet?
Besides—
Hachiman didn't see anything particularly strange about it.
The school's offerings were too generous. It would've been more suspicious if there weren't any strings attached.
Still…
Was a full three-year boarding requirement really all that was needed to balance out the perks?
He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't adding up. That the students were getting far more than they were giving.
Hachiman pondered this.
Meanwhile, the aloof homeroom teacher ignored the students' outcries and continued her explanation, exuding an air of detached disinterest.
"Now, open your phones. You'll find a digital student ID. It contains your basic personal information."
Reluctantly, the students took out their phones and navigated to the app.
Displayed on screen were their personal details.
Hachiman looked at his own profile:
Name: Hachiman Hikigaya
Class: Year 1, Class D
Student ID: 108510000
Personal Points: 100,000
Indeed, just the basics. Not much more than name and ID.
Miss Chabashira raised her phone and said,
"Take note of the 'Personal Points' section. These points are an extension of the school's advanced technology—you can think of them as currency. Spendable just like money."
"One point equals one yen."
"Surprised by the large amount? This school evaluates students based on merit. The fact that you've been accepted means you have value."
In other words, on top of free tuition, they were also receiving a living stipend.
But whether that 100,000 yen was for three years or just the first month? That remained unclear.
If it was a monthly allowance, then things got serious.
The school was offering far too much. But this was a public institution—funded by the government.
Surely, the government wouldn't approve of just handing out free money like this.
So… had they entered someplace far from ordinary?
Hachiman kept thinking.
But beyond the implications, his eyes drifted toward the phone in Miss Chabashira's hand.
Just like the students', hers had a sleek white case—looked like a fruit-branded model.
What caught his attention, though, was her account balance.
6.022 million points.
Can a teacher really earn that much?
This school was weird—top to bottom.
"That's about all the essential info," Miss Chabashira said. "You can use your student ID points to make purchases on campus."
"The school is quite considerate. Your phone includes GPS tracking and a full map of the grounds."
"To ensure your dorm life doesn't get boring over three years, we've included lifestyle facilities—from small cafés and diners to a full cinema and bowling alley. Everything you could need is available."
"If you want something, you can buy it with points."
"Because…" She paused. "This is a school where strength is everything."
Hachiman thought he detected a deliberate emphasis on the words "strength is everything."
With her introduction over, she surveyed the class with a slow glance.
Hachiman noticed her gaze flicker over to him—but only for a second before moving on.
Then she continued.
"Next, I'll need a few students to go collect textbooks from the admin office. Classes officially begin tomorrow at 8 AM."
"I'll send your timetables via email later."
"As for your dorms, you can find the first-year apartment building on the map. Room keys can be collected from the dorm manager on the first floor."
"Each student gets a private room."
Standard announcements for a homeroom teacher.
Once she was done, she began walking toward the front door of the classroom.
Not one for dragging things out, apparently.
But just as she reached the door, she turned and glanced back at the class—who were now visibly excited at the prospect of 100,000 yen in points and private accommodations.
There was a hollow look in her eyes.
Because for her, it was probably going to be the same as every year.
A letdown.
Because—
Strength is everything.
She'd emphasized that on purpose.
But—
No one in this class had noticed.
Behind her, the students were buzzing with excitement at the school's generosity.
And yet—
Surely anyone could guess: free tuition, free living expenses—what kind of utopia was this?
Because—
Nothing is more expensive than "free."
Yet none of the students were thinking that far ahead.
Or maybe that's just what you'd expect from Class D?
The class written off by everyone else as… trash.
So again this year, her hopes would go unfulfilled.
With that thought, she strode off on her high heels.
"Wait, Miss Chabashira!"
A voice rang out from the back. Someone was calling her, footsteps quickening.
"Hm?"
Chabashira stopped and turned to see a student catching up.
She thought she'd covered everything important. Though in her usual apathetic state, it was always possible she'd missed something.
"I just wanted to ask…" the student said. "Will we receive another 100,000 points next month in our accounts?"
"And also, Miss Chabashira, the 6 million points in your account—is that your monthly salary? Or did you save it up? Since we can use personal points as cash on campus, does that mean we can exchange them for real money?"
The student's questions were many—and pointed.
But then—
Oh?
Like still water suddenly disturbed by a tossed pebble, something changed in Chabashira's expression as she looked at him.
She studied the student carefully.
Someone who, from the very beginning—
didn't really belong in Class D.