Sunlight streamed through the clean window glass, falling on the new desks of First Year Class A, the air filled with the scent of new book paper.
Sakayanagi Arisu's fingertips unconsciously tapped lightly on the smooth top of her dark wooden cane. Her gaze seemed calmly fixed on the podium, but in reality, she had already taken in the faces of everyone in the classroom:
In the front row, Katsuragi Kohei, bald and burly, sat motionless like a rock, his brows tightly furrowed; diagonally behind him, Kamuro Masumi, with her waterfall of purple hair, as if separated from the world by a wall of ice; and in the corner, Kito Hayato, with his thick, curly hair falling like seaweed, almost covering half his face—this boy, silent as a shadow, was the only one in the classroom, besides that empty seat, with whom she had had no interaction.
Mashima Tomoya picked up a piece of chalk, turned, and deftly wrote "Mashima Tomoya" in Chinese characters on the blackboard.
"Mashima Tomoya."
He put down the chalk, his voice cold and hard,
"I will be your homeroom teacher and English teacher."
His hawk-like gaze swept across the room.
"I hope that in the next three years, I can work with all of you to defend the glory of Class A as the pinnacle of advanced nurturing."
Concise, powerful.
Sakayanagi's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
Defend? An interesting choice of words.
Students in the front row stood up to distribute dark blue copies of "Advanced Nurturing High School Essentials" and cell phones with the school emblem printed on them.
Mashima held up an identical phone:
"This is your pass, your identification, and—most importantly—your survival tool at Advanced Nurturing."
He deliberately paused, letting the words "survival tool" sink in heavily.
"It has our school's unique system embedded in it—the 's system' (School System)."
Sakayanagi's gaze behind her lenses flickered. Survival tool?
This definition itself was full of implications.
She noticed Katsuragi's back stiffen further; Hashimoto Masayoshi, though still wearing a sunny smile, his knuckles rubbing the phone casing revealed his focus; Kamuro Masumi's detached gaze also seemed to focus for a moment.
"The s system integrates student ID, access control, all facility permissions, and the core function—financial payment."
Mashima's voice was steady.
"All consumption within the school is paid using 'points.' Points are the only 'currency' within the school."
Sakayanagi's fingertip paused. Survival tool linked to currency, what a direct setup.
Mashima's gaze swept across the class, passing over the window seat.
Sakayanagi knew who he was looking at—Sakamoto.
At this moment, Sakamoto-kun was still turned sideways to the podium, his calm profile bathed in light, the lines of his nose and the tear mole under his left eye clear. His elbow rested elegantly on the windowsill, his fingertips supporting his chin, his posture as leisurely as if he were enjoying the scenery in a private garden.
This disregard for authority, this composure, was particularly striking in the tense atmosphere of Class A.
Sakayanagi caught the surprised, puzzled looks and suppressed whispers around her.
Mashima's voice rose slightly:
"On the 1st of every month, the system automatically deposits a fixed amount of points into each student's account. At this moment," he slowed his speech, "you should have 100,000 points in your accounts."
He paused.
"One point is equivalent to one yen."
Buzz—!
An invisible shockwave swept through the entire classroom.
100,000 yen! Even for these elites, this was a huge sum capable of shaking their understanding. Katsuragi Kohei's body instantly leaned forward.
Sakayanagi clearly captured every subtle reaction, various emotions surging beneath the surface of the silent commotion.
Class A's discipline suppressed the uproar, but it couldn't suppress the suddenly tense air and accelerated heartbeats.
"Questions are inevitable."
Mashima's voice rose again.
"Now is question time. You can ask any questions you have."
Before his words finished—
An arm, in an extremely standard and striking posture, was raised high from the window seat at the back of the classroom.
The movement was so fluid and powerful, like a flagstaff suddenly erected by an honor guard, yet it carried an indescribable elegance—the lines of his shoulder and arm were straight, his fingertips pointed steadily at the ceiling, his elbow without the slightest tremor.
There was no hint of the impatience or subservience of "asking a question," but rather a calm declaration to the world, "I have a question," forcibly drawing all eyes—including Sakayanagi's investigative gaze—to him.
Sakamoto, the boy who just a second ago was immersed in the scenery outside the window, had now completely turned around.
His posture was upright and tall, his gaze behind his black-rimmed glasses calmly met Mashima's, that composed and self-assured demeanor forming a strong contrast with the abruptness of his raised hand.
It was as if a spotlight suddenly illuminated the lead actor, instantly making him the absolute focus. Inevitably, some extremely low whispers arose again in the classroom:
"He was just looking outside…"
"That posture… it's kind of cool…"
"He's putting on quite a show…"
"Sakamoto-kun."
Mashima's voice was unruffled, but Sakayanagi caught the fleeting sharpness in his eyes.
Sakamoto stood up, his movements as fluid as a bamboo shoot unfurling.
He spoke, his voice clear and steady, with a thoughtfulness that came from careful consideration:
"Teacher Mashima," he bowed slightly, his posture respectful yet composed, "Thank you for your explanation. Regarding this monthly distribution of 100,000 points, I have a curiosity."
His gaze calmly met Mashima's, his words clear.
"Is this generous monthly allowance of 100,000 points… an equal gift from Advanced Nurturing to all grades each month? Or, to put it another way," he paused at just the right moment, then continued, "is it solely a special privilege for us, First Year Class A?"
The moment the question was uttered, the air suddenly froze!
Sakayanagi's fingertip abruptly stopped on the top of her cane.
An equal gift? Or a unique privilege for Class A? He asked so casually, as if merely curious whether the treatment was fair.
He had been looking out the window just now; was he observing other classes?
Sakayanagi felt her investigative desire ignited, and her gaze at Sakamoto-kun brightened.
Mashima's pupils constricted ever so slightly!
He clearly hadn't expected this seemingly detached student to pose such a tricky question, going straight to the core, as his first inquiry.
He was silent for two seconds; this brief pause conveyed too much information. When he spoke, his voice was deeper and more cautious than before:
"The points are indeed deposited into individual accounts monthly."
He avoided the word "class," but immediately, a subtle shift occurred.
"However, at Advanced Nurturing, individual development and collective honor are inseparable…"
"I see! Thank you for your answer!"
Sakamoto's voice was gentle, precisely cutting off Mashima's attempt at a vague explanation!
Amidst the startled gazes of the entire class and Mashima's slightly stiff expression, he smoothly bowed towards the podium, and then, before anyone could react, he calmly took his seat!
His movements were fluid and graceful, with an air of natural elegance.
This abrupt end to the conversation was like a musical piece being forcibly cut off at its climax, leaving the room in a stunned silence. Katsuragi Kohei's leaning body froze midway, a hint of imperceptible shock on his face? Hashimoto Masayoshi opened his mouth, ultimately letting out a silent sigh, but his eyes held a renewed scrutiny of this "eccentric." Kamuro Masumi's gaze darted between Sakamoto-kun and Mashima, a crack named "confusion" appearing on her indifferent face for the first time. Kito Hayato remained hidden in the shadows, but Sakayanagi noticed that his usually downcast eyes were now slightly raised, peering through the gaps in his curly hair towards Sakamoto-kun, with a hint of curiosity?
Sakamoto ignored the storm of gazes focused on him.
He deftly took out a brand new hardcover notebook and a pen from his drawer.
Under Mashima's still-unsettled gaze and the silent astonishment of the entire class, he held the pen in his right hand, and with his left hand, he pressed down on the edge of the paper at an extremely clever and elegant angle, both steadying the paper and cleverly obscuring most of the writing. Then, his wrist began to move with a dazzling fluidity!
The pen tip rubbed against the paper, emitting a rapid and dense "shhh" sound, so fast that only a blurred afterimage could be seen! His left hand remained perfectly still, steady as a rock; his right hand transformed into a stable phantom, moving freely. He lowered his head slightly, a few strands of hair falling across his forehead, obscuring part of his glasses, but further highlighting the focus and serenity of his jawline.
He was completely immersed in a state of high-speed writing, almost like meditation. That focused and effortless posture, in the eyes of others, exuded an indescribable, highly professional and mysterious coolness.
It was as if he wasn't in a classroom, but performing a crucial, precise calculation.
The entire classroom fell into an odd silence. Mashima forgot to continue the questioning session, his gaze complexly fixed on Sakamoto's notebook, mostly obscured by his left hand, only revealing the pen tip flying rapidly.
Sakayanagi Arisu's fingertips began to tap rhythmically on the smooth top of her cane again, her gaze as deep as an abyss.
This silent chess game seemed to have produced an unpredictable, elegant, and mysterious variable earlier than she had expected. And this variable, in every gesture, carried a... unique charm that could not be ignored.