"I'm the homeroom teacher of Class 1-D. My name is Chabashira Sae. This is my phone number. Memorize it."
There was no warmth in her tone. No theatrical flair. Just a cold, matter-of-fact introduction.
And yet, she had the attention of every student in the room.
"I'll be your homeroom teacher for the next three years," she added, picking up a piece of chalk and writing the digits on the blackboard.
Her tone carried no sense of pride or motivation. In fact, it bordered on disinterest.
"But keep this in mind—our school operates under a unique system. Every student is required to live on campus until graduation."
The words struck like a thunderclap.
"Wait, what?"
"For three whole years?"
"I didn't bring anything! I don't even have a change of clothes!"
"What about food? How are we supposed to eat?"
The room broke out into murmurs and low-level panic. Whispers of confusion swirled through the air like wind in a storm.
Hachiman, sitting near the window, raised an eyebrow.
He found it strange. This was all in the school's admissions brochure. Free tuition, covered living expenses, full boarding. Why were they acting like this was breaking news?
He didn't see any problem with it. In fact, it made sense. Any system that offers such generous terms would obviously come with certain strings attached. No one gives away this kind of privilege for free.
Still, the boarding condition alone didn't quite account for the surreal feeling this school gave off. Something about it didn't align with the overly favorable treatment they were receiving. It was too neat. Too perfect.
But Chabashira didn't pause. She pressed forward with the same mechanical cadence.
"When you open your phone, you'll see your digital student ID. It contains your personal data."
Reluctantly, students took out their phones and began tapping through the interface.
Hachiman followed suit.
[Name: Hikigaya Hachiman
Class: 1-D
Student ID: 108510000
Private Points: 100,000]
Minimal information, as expected.
Chabashira raised her own phone for the class to see.
"Now, pay attention to the section labeled 'Private Points.' These are an essential feature of this school. You can think of them as digital currency. In fact, one private point equals one yen."
Murmurs grew louder.
"Private points can be used just like cash. You'll receive monthly allotments based on performance and behavior. The better your results, the better your rewards."
She paused briefly, her eyes scanning the room.
"Surprised? This school evaluates every student based on their overall capabilities. You were accepted here because you were deemed valuable. This is our investment in you."
So that was it.
In other words, not only were tuition and basic living needs covered, but students were also given money to spend freely. But whether this 100,000 yen was a monthly allowance or a one-time bonus remained unclear.
If it was monthly, that would be incredibly generous.
But if it was meant to last for three years… that was a different story.
Hachiman's gaze shifted to Chabashira's phone. Same model as theirs—sleek, white-cased, brand-name.
But what caught his attention wasn't the phone itself. It was the number next to her private points.
6,022,000.
His eyes narrowed.
Can a teacher really earn that much?
No matter how he looked at it, this school was beyond ordinary. Behind the polite smiles and free benefits, there was something deeper. Something hidden.
Chabashira continued, unaffected by the rising unease in the room.
"You can use your points to make purchases at any facility on campus. Your phones are GPS-enabled, so you can pull up the school map at any time."
The students were listening now—intensely.
"To make your three-year boarding experience more comfortable, the school is equipped with a wide array of amenities—restaurants, cafés, movie theaters, even bowling alleys. You'll find most of what you need on campus."
"As long as you have the points, you can buy anything."
She let that sink in.
"Because this school operates on one fundamental principle."
She stopped speaking, the classroom hanging on her words.
"Strength comes first."
The tone in her voice changed subtly—just enough for Hachiman to notice. A slight emphasis. Deliberate.
Her eyes swept across the students. For a fraction of a second, her gaze settled on him.
Then it moved on.
"Textbooks will be distributed shortly. I'll assign a few students to the Academic Affairs Office to pick them up."
"I'll send the course schedule to your student emails."
"Your dorm assignments can be found on the school map. All first-year students are housed in the same complex. Visit the dorm manager on the first floor to collect your key cards."
"Everyone gets a single room."
She turned toward the door, her heels clicking rhythmically on the tile floor.
Efficient. No-nonsense. This was not a teacher who enjoyed dragging out announcements.
But just before she stepped out, she paused.
She glanced back toward the room—the chatter, the excitement, the wide eyes at the mention of private rooms and money.
Her own eyes dimmed slightly, a flicker of disappointment barely visible.
Because she already knew.
This year would be no different.
"Strength comes first."
She'd said it once. But no one had really heard it.
The students were too busy marveling at the luxuries. Too naïve to question why such luxuries were handed to them so easily.
Free is the most expensive.
None of them understood that.
They were Class D for a reason.
She turned back toward the hallway.
Click. Click. Click.
"Wait, Chabashira-sensei!"
The sharp voice cut through the background noise. Someone was running up behind her.
She stopped, turning just as a student caught up to her.
Hachiman.
"What is it?" she asked, tone still flat.
She assumed she'd forgotten to mention something. A minor detail. But her energy was drained. Her delivery was dry. Mistakes could happen.
"I want to ask," Hachiman said. "Will we get another 100,000 points next month?"
"And those six million points on your phone—are they given to you by the school every month? Or did you save them up yourself? And since private points can be used like cash, can we convert them to actual money?"
The questions tumbled out, one after the next.
Chabashira raised an eyebrow.
That's a lot to ask.
But there was something about the way he asked it.
Something bold.
Something clever.
Just like that, a stone was dropped into still water. The ripples reached her eyes, and for the first time that day, Chabashira really looked at him.
This student didn't belong in Class D.
At least, not naturally.
***
Shi— I forgot that I was planning to schedule one ch per hour until it hits like 5 or so 💀