Kuroba Akira was absolutely floored.
Could it be that her [Academic Ability: A] talent didn't just boost her grades, but also applied to everything else she studied?
That kind of talent was way too overpowered.
People with high intelligence really did pick up new skills faster — it was hard not to envy them.
As the saying goes, "A surplus of skills never weighs you down." Even if learning more didn't always guarantee more returns, it gave you more chances to show off and more backup plans for the future. No matter where life took you, you'd have a solid foundation.
But thinking back to what he'd just deduced about the class rep's home situation — the pressure she might be under — maybe it wasn't that she enjoyed all of these things. Maybe this was the product of a "prestige education" she hadn't chosen.
Akira knew all too well how much effort it took to raise a skill to Lv1 — the minimum threshold for it to even appear on his left palm.
He'd discovered his own ability not long ago, when he randomly noticed the words [Japanese Lv1] show up in the center of his palm — with a tiny, barely-moved progress bar beneath it. That was when he realized: he had this weird ability.
In other words, it had taken him almost half a year of near-constant study just to reach that point — and that was what it meant to reach Lv1. A badge of effort, like earning a certificate.
Lv1 meant entry-level.
And what did "entry-level" mean?
It meant you'd grasped the basics. That you'd understood it.
The difference between talent and proficiency was clear: talent was something you were born with — fixed, immutable. Proficiency, on the other hand, was something you earned through effort. Even without talent, you could build up experience, bit by bit.
The reason Akira hadn't noticed this "cheat" from the beginning… was simple.
His right hand had no words on it.
Did that make him useless? Trash?
Not exactly. It just meant he was a completely ordinary person.
People with innate talents were rare. From what he'd observed over the summer, maybe one in ten had some sort of talent — and most of those were low-tier, ranked E.
But someone like the class rep, with an A-rank talent? That was a full-fledged genius. One in ten thousand.
Still, that didn't mean her success was all talent. She'd probably poured a ton of effort into everything she'd learned as well.
Even so — for her to raise that many skills to Lv1 proficiency? That was something ordinary people couldn't even dream of accomplishing.
There was only so much one person could experience in a lifetime. Only the skills you truly learned counted toward your proficiency level. And without talent, your gains were going to be far slower than a genius's.
For example, if Akira had a language-related talent, he probably wouldn't have needed half a year of blood, sweat, and tears to master the local language. Maybe three months. Maybe one month. Maybe — if he were a real prodigy — he could've learned a whole language in a week.
That's what talent really was: an accelerator. A buff to proficiency growth. The difference between having talent and not was like leveling up with or without a double XP card — a night-and-day contrast.
And though he hadn't confirmed it yet, Akira had a theory: talent also determined your ceiling.
There were some arenas where effort alone would never get you a seat at the table with monsters.
There were fewer than a hundred people in the world who could run the hundred-meter dash in under ten seconds — fewer than the number of astronauts who'd gone to space.
And among those monsters, there was only one who'd ever clocked in under 9.6 seconds. Of course, Akira had no idea if the same was true in this world.
That's the wall called talent.
A ceiling you couldn't even envy properly.
With her [Academic Ability: A], high school coursework was probably a breeze for the class rep. She likely didn't need to work hard at all to get into a top university.
What was a steep, insurmountable mountain for most students… was probably just a small hill on her path.
"So, what did you see in my palm reading?" she asked.
"Hmm… That your grades are excellent."
"Wow, you can tell even that? I am first in the grade."
She played along with a little theatrical flair.
"I'm also first," Akira said. "Just from the bottom."
He'd poured all his time into learning the language, so naturally, the rest of his grades were a total disaster.
"So, does that mean you want me to tutor you?" she asked.
"If Class Rep has the time and is willing to teach me, I'd be beyond grateful. But that's unrelated to our current deal."
After scanning her entire left hand, Akira had noticed something that stood out.
Among all the Lv1 proficiencies, there was a single skill that had reached Lv2.
[Cooking Lv2]
To put that in perspective — the landlady obaasan who'd been cooking for over seventy years was only at Lv1.
Granted, she was a rare case of someone cooking for decades and still being that bad. Akira wouldn't be surprised if her husband had passed away just to escape her food.
From what Akira had seen, the average housewife hovered around Lv2.
Lv3? That was pro-level — someone who could run their own restaurant.
Proficiency leveled up more slowly the higher it went. Without talent, you'd hit a wall and get stuck.
For someone the class rep's age to already be at Lv2 — that meant she'd poured serious effort into cooking. Which also meant…
Her food was probably delicious.
All right… Decision made!
Time to mooch off her cooking!
Akira gently set down her hand and said,
"Class Rep, from your palm, I can tell — you're a great cook."
"…So Kuroba-kun really can read palms."
She had started learning because of something her mother once said: If you want to win a man's heart, you have to win his stomach first.
At home, the family had a private chef, but it was still good for a wife to occasionally show off her own cooking — something to make her husband proud.
Even if the reason was a bit shallow, Anri had come to genuinely enjoy cooking over time. It let her forget her worries, even just for a while.
"In that case, as my 'payment' for joining the Literature Club… I'll be expecting lunch from you, Class Rep."
"You mean… you want me to make you bento?"
"That's up to you. As long as I get to eat, I'm not picky. Store-bought rice balls and bread are fine too."
"..."
"But just so you know — I'm not talking about a one-time thing. For the rest of the year, I'm counting on you for lunch, Class Rep."
Akira shamelessly pitched the idea of turning her into a long-term meal ticket. Then, feeling a pang of guilt, he added:
"Of course, I won't just freeload. If you agree to this, I'll help you recruit new members for the Literature Club. And if anyone quits halfway, I'll help you fill the spots. Basically, I'll stick with you to make sure the club doesn't get shut down. Fair trade, right?"
"I accept."
Akira was surprised by how quickly she said yes.
He turned to look at her — and froze.
Sunlight danced across her face, lighting up her eyes with a bright, satisfied sparkle. Her lips curved into a radiant smile.
A smile like an angel's.
"Starting tomorrow, I'll make you a homemade bento every day. Look forward to it, Kuroba-kun."
"YES!"
Operation Mooch Activated!