Sakayanagi Arisu sat at her desk in Class A, her fingertips lightly tapping her phone screen, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Her way of thinking was simple: She would rather suffer a minor loss herself than let her opponent have their way.
In her eyes, as long as she could ruin the other party's plans, even if it cost her something, it still counted as a "massive win."
Just like yesterday—even though she could have held onto the exam intel for profit, she had deliberately chosen to distribute it freely to all four classes.
At its core, it was all just to sabotage the other person's business.
The thought of her opponent potentially failing to close any deals because of this made her hum softly in satisfaction.
Yes, she had won this round.
Without even realizing it, she had already begun treating the shadowy figure on the other end as a rival.
Though deep down, she still wasn't entirely sure—was the person trading blows with her reallyShimizu Akira?
But one thing was certain: They were definitely using an alt account.
If they operated under their main, it'd be far too easy to expose themselves.
(I really am curious about their true identity…)
(Has no one else in the other classes looked into this?)
Given that this person had traded with all four classes, Sakayanagi Arisu refused to believe no one had tried to investigate.
Especially Ryuuen Kakeru—that vindictive guy had lost 3 million private points. How could he possibly not care about who was behind the "surveillance intel rental"?
But she was different from Ryuuen.
She was interested in the other party's identity, and she did hate being schemed against from the shadows. But more than that, what she truly valued was the game itself—the back-and-forth between them.
It was like playing chess. Rather than rushing to see her opponent's face, she savored the act of placing each piece, the silent battle of wits.
Most seasoned gamers shared this mentality.
So, for now, she decided to wait and observe.
If no one else made a move… well, then she would have to take matters into her own hands.
(I'll give it a few more days. No need to rush.)
Right now, the most important thing was to relish her victory as the "winner"—like taunting her opponent a little.
Otherwise, wouldn't all her efforts this week have been for nothing? After expending so many brain cells on her scheme, she deserved some fun.
Her fingers danced lightly across the screen as she sent her next message:
Sakayanagi Arisu:How unfortunate~ It seems you won't earn a single point this month.
Sakayanagi Arisu:There's no way you can sell the exam intel now—after all, at this point, no one would want it even if you gave it away for free~
Her lips curled as she gazed out the window.
Now that every first-year class had the exam information, the intel had become practically worthless.
Such was the nature of information—sometimes priceless enough to drive people mad, other times depreciating into utter irrelevance in an instant. And she had been the one to flip that switch.
This sense of control—of orchestrating the entire game—pleased her far more than immediately uncovering her opponent's identity.
The satisfaction seeped into her bones, even more soothing than sipping coffee in a quiet café, watching sugar dissolve lazily in the cup.
Her smile deepened. This was the natural outcome after a week of meticulous planning, after all.
Tsuki Ao (月青):Oh? By the way, you mentioned earlier that you asked a teacher and they refused to share the exam intel? Was that true?
Sakayanagi Arisu blinked at the message—they weren't engaging with her taunt?
(Have they conceded?)
But since they'd shifted the topic themselves, she was in a good enough mood to humor them. Her fingers tapped leisurely:
Sakayanagi Arisu:Teachers are school staff. Of course they wouldn't leak exam intel, much less allow students to purchase it.
Sakayanagi Arisu:Such transactions can only happen between students—otherwise, what would be the point of this special exam?
She doubted her opponent hadn't already considered this.
At its core, exam papers were never something that could be openly traded.
Just like how the school never explicitly stated the midterms would reuse old questions—students had to deduce that through analysis, investigation, and upperclassmen connections. It was an unspoken rule, understood but never voiced.
Teachers especially wouldn't sell exam-related intel. That'd be blatantly breaking the rules—even this school wouldn't dare go that far.
What the school was truly testing wasn't "Can you get answers from a teacher?"
It was problem-solving—the ability to uncover clues, negotiate with upperclassmen, or collaborate as a team to publicize intel.
Asking a teacher directly? How naïve.
She recalled her father's words—Some things can be done in the shadows, but bringing them into the light changes everything.
She knew her old man's methods well.
After sending the message, she absently tapped her knee.
Why bring this up now? Had they truly given up, or were they plotting something else?
Tsuki Ao:I see. That's perfect, then. Thanks for the intel.
Sakayanagi Arisu frowned.
Why was her opponent asking such irrelevant questions now?
She'd already blocked all paths for selling the exam papers. By all logic, they should've been completely out of options.
Just as she pondered this, a new message popped up:
Tsuki Ao:Oh, and you're wrong again. Who said I wouldn't earn a single point?
Sakayanagi Arisu:? What else could you possibly sell? Aside from the special exam, there's nothing else to trade this month. Do tell~
Tsuki Ao:The same thing you mentioned—the exam papers.
(Still on about the exams?!)
She genuinely didn't understand.
Every first-year class already had the intel for free—the exam papers were worthless now. What could they possibly mean by "selling the exams"?
Yet the other party's confidence didn't seem feigned.
Tsuki Ao:As thanks for your earlier intel, I'll give you a hint.
Tsuki Ao:I plan to sell the "exam papers" forat least five million points.*
"Five million points for the exams?!"
Sakayanagi Arisu stared at the number, wondering if she'd misread.
Those worthless papers—when she'd bought them from a second-year, they'd only cost 20,000 points.
And now this person was inflating the price by 250 times?!
What kind of nonsense was this?! The first-years already—
(…Wait.)
A realization struck her, cutting through her confusion.
The "worthless exam intel" was only worthless to the first-years.
But this school didn't just have first-years.
(Is their target this time… the second-years? Or even the third-years?)
Yet new doubts immediately surfaced—Upperclassmen already had their own exam intel. Why would they need to buy more?
And the price was absurd! Five million points for five papers? That'd be one million per sheet!
This wasn't just "overpriced"—it was outright highway robbery.
Who in their right mind would agree to such a scam?!