The low atmosphere of the library study session continued until it ended.
Horikita Suzune packed her books, expressionlessly glancing at Yamauchi and Ike, who were still scratching their heads and complaining about the difficulty of the questions,
and Sudo, who was quieter but clearly distracted,
the feeling of powerlessness surged within her again.
She stood up and left first.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka silently followed behind her,
the two of them, one in front and one behind,
walked along the somewhat empty road in the evening.
"Horikita."
Ayanokoji's calm voice broke the silence.
Horikita did not stop walking,
only slightly tilted her head, indicating that she was listening.
"Regarding those exam papers,"
Ayanokoji's voice was unruffled:
"I've confirmed it. They are real."
Horikita's steps suddenly halted, and she turned abruptly,
her sharp gaze directed straight at Ayanokoji:
"How did you confirm it?"
"It's simple, by analogy."
"Since there are second year seniors who can sell exam papers, then there might naturally be third year seniors as well. I found a third year Class D senior and also bought a copy of their First Year Midterm Exam papers from back then using personal points."
He paused, looking at Horikita's slightly widened eyes, and continued:
"The question types, key points, and even some specific questions, have a very high degree of overlap with the ones we have. This is enough to prove two points: one, the papers we have are indeed valid past exam questions. Two, the rumors that the school reuses old questions or highly similar question types are very likely true."
The air solidified for a few seconds.
The lifeline... it was real.
"So,"
Ayanokoji asked,
"Are we going to spread it out? To Yamauchi and them, or even the whole class. This might be Class D's only chance to reverse the situation in the First Year Midterm Exam, or even gain extra class points."
Horikita was silent.
A fierce struggle was taking place within her.
Reason told her that this was the most effective and direct way to avoid expulsion and increase class points.
The value of those exam papers was so heavy at this moment that her palms felt hot.
But another emotion, more strongly, prevented her—humiliation.
The source of these exam papers, that 'Sakamoto's charity,' was like a thorn pricking her proud self-esteem.
Winning by relying on such a method, which seemed like 'pity' from an opponent, made her extremely uncomfortable.
After a long while, she took a deep breath, her eyes regaining their firmness,
"No. Let's not."
A hint of surprise flashed in Ayanokoji's eyes.
"Points obtained by relying on such obscure little tricks are ultimately not a reflection of our own strength."
Horikita's voice was clear and calm,
"Improving the class must rely on down-to-earth effort. Although study sessions are slow, this is the right path."
She seemed to be convincing Ayanokoji, but more so, she was convincing herself.
Ayanokoji did not try to persuade her further, just quietly watched her.
Horikita... seemed to be truly starting to change?
Was it because... someone's presence,
unseen, had set a standard she was unwilling to cross?
"There's one more thing,"
Horikita seemed to want to change the subject,
but also seemed to be seeking analysis, telling Ayanokoji about the conflict with Ryuuen during the day and his last few suggestive words, but she did not know that Ayanokoji had already witnessed the entire process,
"That boy from Class B, his words were very strange. He seemed to know about the exam papers. I suspect... other classes might have also gotten similar things."
Ayanokoji played the role of a qualified listener, showing a thoughtful expression at the appropriate time, as if hearing this news for the first time.
He did not comment on it, just nodded, indicating that he knew.
Horikita glanced at him, seemingly not expecting him to offer any constructive advice,
and turned to leave.
Ayanokoji stood still, watching Horikita's retreating back.
The two parted at the fork in the road.
Ayanokoji sighed.
Refusing to use the exam papers... Although inefficient, this might be the only way to truly bring about a fundamental change in Class D.
But, is there still enough time?
And at this moment,
the omnipresent yet seemingly detached focal figure of their conversation—
Sakamoto, stood alone in the corridor on the top floor of the school building,
overlooking the campus gradually tinged red by the setting sun.
With only one week left until the First Year Midterm Exam, the campus was filled with a tense atmosphere of preparation,
but he still walked with calm steps and a graceful posture,
as if the surrounding anxiety had nothing to do with him at all.
He was not unaware of the brewing conspiracy.
Quite the opposite, for several days now, seemingly scattered bits of information had quietly converged on him through various channels.
Asahina Natsume's emotionally charged warning, Yamamura Miki's anxious handover, Shiina Hiyori's calm and objective notification... These pieces of information, like a puzzle, gradually outlined a frame-up plan targeting him, originating from some corner of the second year.
A large number of copied and distributed "past midterm exam papers" were circulating in the First Year classes, excluding Class A, under his name.
If an ordinary person were to learn that they were inexplicably caught up in a conspiracy of such magnitude, becoming the target of public criticism, they would likely be panicking or filled with indignation.
But Sakamoto-kun's reaction was merely to push up his glasses.
"I see."
He murmured to himself, his tone devoid of any ripple, as if confirming a possibility he had long anticipated.
He was not entirely unfamiliar with the second year.
As early as the first day of school, while other new students were still engrossed in curiosity about their new environment, he had already begun his foundational intelligence work.
The paper he folded into a paper airplane on the first day of school, besides his deductions about school rules, also recorded many details that others would find difficult to notice—
This included roughly inferring the seating arrangements and number of students in each of the upper-year classes by observing the classrooms.
He had already noticed at the time that there were subtle differences in student numbers and organizational scale between some classes in the second year and third year, which seemed to hint at the fact that some people would drop out in the upper years.
For an elite high school that boasted an extremely high university admission rate, this was undoubtedly a suspicious point worth investigating further.
After perfectly achieving a full score for his class in the first month, he utilized the time freed up after quitting his part-time job at the cafe to conduct more in-depth, inconspicuous observations of the upper years.
The overall atmosphere of the third year was relatively stable; although there was competition, order was maintained, and signs of dropouts were not obvious.
The second year, however, was different.
There seemed to be a peculiar "sense of regularity" within it; the differences between classes were deliberately controlled within a certain subtle balance, lacking the dynamic fluctuations that natural competition should have.
Behind this unusually harmonious facade, there subtly emerged a hint of manipulation from a higher level.
Of course, he also noticed that not all second year students integrated into this "regularity"; there were always a few individuals who drifted outside the mainstream, but that was a story for later.
Now, combining the clues provided by Asahina, Yamamura, and Shiina, all the fragments finally fit together.
The identity of the mastermind, the scope of his manipulation, and the methods used to target him had all clearly emerged.
The intelligence gathering phase was over.
It was time to take formal countermeasures.
Sakamoto-kun's steps halted before a solemn doorway—the Student Council Room.
He slightly raised his head, his gaze calm and sharp behind his black-rimmed glasses.
The next moment, he extended his right hand and elegantly pushed up his glasses frame with his middle finger, a fluid motion imbued with a unique sense of ritual.
Then, he raised his hand and knocked on the Student Council Room door, not too light, not too heavy, but with a distinct rhythm.
"Tap, tap-tap."
The crisp knocking echoed in the quiet corridor, announcing the official opening of a counterattack.