The Welcoming Ceremony was, however…
…Boring.
I had no interest in social gatherings, but attendance was mandatory for all students. Funny enough, the ceremony hadn't even started yet.
My attention drifted back to the same girl who had irritated me at the entrance. She was fully focused on the stage, where the student council president, Horikita Manabu, stood, delivering his speech.
Not even on the second day, and my nerves were already being tugged on. Rare for me.
And then there was him.
That same gaze from the bus was on me again.
I shifted my head slightly, turning toward the farthest side of the room, where our eyes finally met.
Golden. Unusual.
His expression didn't change much, but there was the slightest flicker of surprise. Not something most people would notice, but I did.
He looked away almost immediately.
I didn't.
Instead, I kept my eyes on him, watching.
I was told to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious in this school. Could it be him?
Or maybe that was just my laziness talking again.
Horikita Manabu finally rounded off his speech, and my focus shifted to him. Neatly pressed uniform, glasses, an air of discipline. Everything about him screamed hard work, determination, and experience.
I wonder… Horikita Manabu… I wonder…
How long it would take to break him.
His resilience was inspiring. I should put it to the test.
The ceremony ended, and I noticed the student council president being escorted by his secretary, Tachibana, along with a few other students. Meanwhile, our classmates had started an introductory session—probably since they hadn't had time in class.
I decided to postpone my introduction.
I had more important things to do.
---
Walking along the pavement, I stopped for a moment, taking in my surroundings.
"This school really is gigantic, huh? Getting from one place to another is such a hassle."
As I moved, I made a mental note of key locations. Some areas weren't supervised by cameras. Handy. Some of the classroom and building cameras were positioned at angles that could be exploited. Also handy.
For now, I needed supplies. Food, coffee, and…
Wait.
Did I really need to spend my points on anything else?
I could go two days without eating and be fine.
No. My priority wasn't living a high school life. My mission came first. Everything else was secondary.
---
The mall was filled with students, all making their own purchases.
On the shelf, my eyes quickly landed on a coffee maker. 2,000 points. I picked up the box, observing the brand, then placed it in my trolley. Next, I searched for coffee beans—instant coffee wasn't an option. Lavazza. 1,005 points. Good enough.
Then I noticed the "FREE SECTION."
I took a moment to observe it. The quality wasn't great, but… cheaper was better.
I picked up toothpaste, a toothbrush, a decent soap, and a low-quality but functional hair shampoo.
This section was clearly for students with low class points. Odd. If the school deposited 100,000 points into every student's account, why provide free items?
Stares.
I felt them again.
This time, I wasn't sure if they were being rude or if Japanese students simply enjoyed making people uncomfortable by staring.
Ignoring them, I grabbed three cup noodles. 193 points each. Cooking wasn't my strong suit.
Then, I noticed her.
The black-haired girl from before.
She was at one of the shelves, glancing my way before quickly looking away.
Interesting.
Taking the chance, I approached.
"About earlier. I apologize for what happened at the gate."
Her gaze sharpened, but she didn't seem hostile. "Why would you be sorry? If anything, I was the one who accused you of staring."
So, she realized her mistake.
"Fair enough."
She glanced at my trolley, taking note of my items. "Isn't that a bit much?"
I sighed. "Didn't know my shopping choices were your business."
She furrowed her brows. "I was just curious."
Of course. She was a bit nosy. I didn't like nosy people.
Tilting my head slightly, I let a small, barely noticeable smile break my usual expression. "Lloyd Shinomiya. What's your name?"
"I hope you're not expecting any sort of friendship just because you asked my name."
"Of course not. I prefer my personal space. Just making an acquaintance. Is that too much to ask?"
She hesitated.
Predictable.
She had a sickening amount of pride. Not quite arrogance—pride. And pride like that didn't exist without reason. Meaning, she was more than she seemed.
An asset, perhaps.
"...Horikita Suzune. Class D."
No need to ask her class now.
"So, what class—"
Movement.
That boy from the bus.
I had already anticipated she'd ask for my class, so I preemptively dropped my free shampoo on the floor.
"Ah, sorry about that." I crouched to pick it up.
She wasn't fooled so easily. "As I was say—"
I cut her off again, gesturing toward the approaching student. "Oh, isn't that the guy from the bus?"
A brief pause. Then she turned her gaze toward him. "I suppose you're right."
Good. Subject changed.
I had no intention of revealing my class just yet. For now, I'd gather information from other classes while keeping my own under wraps. It wouldn't last forever—two days at most—but even a temporary air of mystery could be useful.
In life, you make relationships with enemies. And you never put too much trust in friends.
"What an unpleasant surprise," Horikita muttered, not even looking at the boy.
"The feeling is mutual," he replied.
A man of few words.
Acquainted already, I see.
I observed him carefully.
Average. Or at least, that's what he wanted people to think. Looking closer, I could tell—his face, his posture, his complete lack of expression—it was all too controlled.
Miss Sato had once said my face was unreadable.
So this is what she meant.
This boy…
Not normal.
"Lloyd Shinomiya," I introduced myself, indifferent.
"Ayanokoji Kiyotaka."
I assumed he was from Class D as well.
I checked my watch.
"It's getting late. I'll be heading out."
Without another word, I walked through the automatic doors and left the two of them behind.
---
Walking alone, I mulled over everything.
Was it necessary to learn how to cook?
Probably.
Maybe later.
For now, I had all I needed.
---
Point Balance: 96,416