The Midterm Exam was quietly approaching, and all the First Year classes were immersed in preparation.
However, the "past exam papers" that Nagumo Miyabi had spread under Sakamoto's name
did not cause a stir among the First Year as expected,
and even failed to create enough chaos.
Class A, needless to say, already possessed the capital and discipline to stand out from the crowd,
and with Sakamoto as their beacon,
they were the embodiment of rules themselves, needing no external "shortcuts."
Ryuuen Kakeru of Class B, relying on his calm analysis,
had already seen through the nature of the frame-up, and the exam papers were temporarily sealed,
turning his focus to more effective internal improvement.
Kanzaki Ryuji of Class C was equally cautious,
with Hashimoto Masayoshi's intervention,
the exam papers were more seen as a mystery to be investigated rather than a reliable shortcut.
Even the most difficult Class D, under Horikita Suzune's persistence, ultimately chose to refuse this "charity."
Although the reason was more out of a sense of humiliation from "Sakamoto's alms" than fully seeing through the conspiracy,
in terms of outcome,
these exam papers did not become the lifeline they expected.
Nagumo Miyabi's calculations,
under the different choices and vigilance of the First Year students,
quietly failed.
He underestimated the influence brought by Sakamoto's own existence,
and also underestimated the bit of judgment cultivated in these new classes under the rules.
At this moment, Nagumo was still unaware of this.
He was caught in an unprecedented and extremely awkward predicament.
All of this
stemmed from his "impromptu" proposal yesterday afternoon.
The "one-week interview period" aimed at making things difficult for or restraining Sakamoto.
He never expected that Sakamoto would "perfectly" fulfill his promise of "complete obedience to command" in a way that surpassed his imagination.
This morning,
Nagumo walked down the dormitory building as usual,
preparing to start a new day.
However, as soon as he stepped out the door,
his footsteps suddenly stopped.
Sakamoto stood like a statue in front of his dormitory building, his posture tall and straight,
the morning light platinging him with a golden edge, giving him a sense of holiness.
He elegantly held a silver tray with both hands, on which was an array of breakfast items:
perfectly toasted bread, tempting fried eggs and bacon, fresh fruit slices,
and a cup of steaming milk.
Seeing Nagumo appear, Sakamoto immediately stepped forward,
elegantly bending his right knee, kneeling on one knee,
holding the tray steadily before Nagumo.
His posture was humble, yet his movements were fluid,
like a medieval court butler serving morning meal to a monarch.
Nagumo froze on the spot,
his brain crashing for several seconds.
What is going on?
How did he find my dorm so precisely?
And where did this tray and food come from?
What exactly does he want?
A series of question marks exploded in Nagumo's mind.
He had been at this school for over a year, unifying the entire second year,
and had seen all sorts of methods and people,
but he had never encountered such a… bizarre, unconventional fellow!
Nagumo forcefully suppressed the shock in his heart, maintaining the dignity of the Vice President, and asked coldly,
"Sakamoto, what are you doing?"
Sakamoto looked up,
his expression natural, his tone calm:
"Vice President Nanumo explicitly stated yesterday that during the interview period, I must fully obey your commands. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, concerning the Vice President's energy and state, which in turn affects the efficiency of Student Council work and the fairness of the interview assessment. Therefore, preparing a nutritionally balanced breakfast for you is my duty."
He even began to introduce the meal:
"The toast uses whole wheat flour, slow-baked at a low temperature to preserve its aroma; the egg is cooked medium-soft, ensuring both taste and nutrition; the milk's temperature is controlled at sixty degrees, ideal for consumption…"
Nagumo looked at the breakfast before him, which was like a work of art,
listening to Sakamoto's impeccable logic,
and for a moment, he couldn't find a reason to refute him.
What the hell!
This wasn't about whether it was normal or not!
The key was that quite a few passing students were already casting surprised and inquisitive glances.
Some second year students who knew Nagumo began to whisper.
"Look, isn't that Vice President Nanumo?"
"Who's that kneeling? A First Year?"
"What are they doing? Delivering breakfast? Since when did Nanumo need someone to serve him like this?"
"This display… tsk tsk."
Nagumo felt a tingling sensation in his scalp.
What he needed was control and deterrence,
not this kind of embarrassing spectacle that made him the center of attention.
"Well… well done."
Nagumo gritted his teeth and squeezed out these words,
"But, there's no need for this next time! It's too ostentatious!"
"I understand."
Sakamoto complied readily, but then added,
"However, since it has already been prepared, please enjoy it, Vice President. Wasting food is not a virtue, and it would also diminish your prestige."
Nagumo looked at the indeed tempting breakfast, then glanced at the curious looks around him, finding himself in a difficult position.
Ultimately,
he could only bite the bullet, on his way to the teaching building,
and quickly, yet gracefully, finished the breakfast Sakamoto presented.
I must say… the taste was surprisingly good.
Far exceeding the standard of the school cafeteria and even those high-end restaurants,
every bite seemed precisely calculated, perfectly matching his palate.
But this only intensified the sense of incongruity in his heart.
After finishing the meal, Sakamoto promptly handed him a warm, damp towel and napkins,
and meticulously tidied up the tableware and disposed of the trash.
The entire process was smooth and natural,
the service so thoughtful it was infuriating.
As the direct beneficiary, Nagumo
felt completely uncomfortable, uneasy all over.
This Sakamoto, what exactly does he want?
Pulling this stunt on the way to school, was he afraid of not being noticeable enough?
This guy, he's definitely doing it on purpose!
Using this extreme, exaggerated "obedience" to turn the tables on him!
Sakamoto, meanwhile, was like the most loyal attendant,
quietly following half a step behind him.
Nagumo could no longer tolerate it,
stopped, and said sternly to Sakamoto:
"Listen, Sakamoto. The assessment for the interview period will be judged by me based on the actual situation. I don't need you to follow me every moment, every step of the way, understand?"
"As you command."
Upon hearing this, Sakamoto immediately bowed and responded.
The next moment, Nagumo felt a blur before his eyes,
as if only a gentle breeze had passed.
When he looked again,
Sakamoto was no longer by his side.
He disappeared?
So obedient?
Nagumo had just let out a sigh of relief when he suddenly noticed something unusual.
A feeling… of being watched.
It didn't come from the curious classmates around him, but from a more hidden gaze.
As if there were invisible eyes,
in some corner he couldn't perceive,
quietly, continuously observing his every move.
He suddenly turned his head, looking around,
among the crowd, the teaching building, behind trees… Sakamoto's figure was nowhere to be seen.
But that feeling of being monitored,
was like a shadow, incredibly clear.
Nagumo felt a chill crawl up his spine.
This guy… didn't leave at all!
He had merely hidden himself in some incredible way,
still fulfilling his promise of "fully obeying commands,"
in an even more unsettling manner.
Nagumo could only pretend to be calm and quicken his pace towards the second year teaching building.
Throughout this journey, that omnipresent feeling of being watched constantly enveloped him,
making him feel like he had daggers in his back.
It wasn't until he stepped into the second year teaching building
that the eerie feeling of being monitored suddenly vanished,
as if it had never existed.
Nagumo let out a long breath,
feeling as if he had fought a tough battle.
However, he knew in his heart—
This, might just be the beginning.