Hikigaya held up his phone, angling it slightly, and snapped a photo.
Not because he liked taking photos. In fact, he found the whole concept of selfies and aesthetic compositions tiresome. But he had someone to report to.
He was going to send it to Komachi.
Proof that he'd arrived. That he was settling in. That the school had provided him with more than decent accommodations.
He tapped the send button.
[Message not sent]
His brow twitched.
Hikigaya stepped onto the balcony, held his phone up into the open air, refreshed the signal, and tried again.
[Message not sent]
One more time. He walked out his dorm door, stared at the ceiling light above the hallway, and checked the signal again.
[Message not sent]
"…Figures."
Now it made sense.
Full boarding. Three years. Mandatory.
But what they hadn't mentioned was the complete communication lockdown.
This school wasn't just physically isolating its students. It was severing them from the outside world.
He returned inside and opened the school-issued app, installed automatically on every student's phone—a digital ecosystem exclusive to Advanced Nurturing High School.
One of the apps caught his attention: the School Forum.
Run and moderated by the Student Council, it required students to log in with their ID numbers. No anonymity. Everything was real name-based.
He browsed the interface. It was chaotic, cluttered, alive.
[New students just arrived. The shop I work part-time at is swamped. Can't handle it.]
[This week is always brutal. I want to quit, but I'm stuck on a 4-year contract.]
Clearly, the clerks in the shopping district weren't just employees. They were bound to the school's internal ecosystem. Controlled. Assigned. Maybe even students in disguise.
[Please maintain civil behavior. The Internet connects us all. Remember to keep it clean and respectful.] A pinned message, probably from the Student Council.
[The Art Club is recruiting. Students who pass the screening and submit excellent work will be awarded private points.]
Useful. A potential point source.
But as he scrolled, one post grabbed him by the collar and yanked his attention forward.
[Chess Match – Entry Fee: 100,000 points. Best of three. Win even one round and earn 1 million points.]
A bold challenge.
Hikigaya clicked the thread.
The poster used their real name: Sakayanagi Arisu.
The name rolled easily off the tongue. Sakayanagi… a refined sound. Arisu. Alice. Cute. Regal. But he wasn't the type to be swayed by names or voices. Even petite girls weren't enough to faze him.
Still, that post was ambitious. Cocky, even.
Replies flooded in, calling her arrogant. Flashy. Just a first-year, and already flexing like royalty.
He tapped into her profile.
[ID: 14520
Verified Real Name
Grade 1, Class A – Sakayanagi Arisu]
Class A?
So she was also a freshman.
That raised a question.
Do Class A students start with more points?
Hikigaya typed in a reply: [Did you also receive 100,000 points as your initial balance?]
No answer.
Two minutes passed.
In that time, another user asked for the duel location. The reply was brief:
[Chess and Card Club. Available anytime.]
The post added that she had already taken control of the club. Threw out the previous members. Claimed the space.
So she wasn't just confident. She had weight.
He kept scrolling.
A different thread caught his eye.
[Free wild vegetable set meal at Cafeteria Window 5 isn't bad.]
One user replied: "You sure? Window 9's wild vegetable set was inedible."
"Please help me get one too!"
"Line up for me. I'll owe you."
He clicked the profiles. Class D, Year 2. Class C, Year 3. Class D again, Year 3.
Upperclassmen.
Scrambling for free food.
That wasn't normal. That was desperation.
So the second and third-year students of Class D had fallen this far?
It left a sour taste.
Ten minutes flew by as Hikigaya analyzed posts across the first two pages. The forum wasn't limited to students. It appeared the Student Council, shopping district workers, and possibly staff all had access. A closed digital society.
Information was plentiful, but disorganized.
Still, it was a goldmine—if one knew how to read it.
Back in the class group chat, some students had already confirmed it. Yes, the points on their student IDs could be used like cash. Purchases at the shopping district worked flawlessly. Someone had even dropped 50,000 on a new console.
Half their points. Gone on day one.
Reckless.
Didn't they understand what was happening? The seniors were scraping by on cafeteria scraps, and yet their juniors were blowing money like they'd won the lottery.
The class group chat showed 25 members online.
25 out of 40.
Impressive for half a day's worth of interaction.
Social butterflies moved fast.
After reviewing the dorm once more, Hikigaya grabbed his phone and stepped out. He needed to buy a few essentials. Save what he could. Survival, not luxury.
And maybe—just maybe—begin Chabashira's assignment.
She promised 200,000 points per file.
That could buy a lot more than toothpaste.
He walked to the elevator.
As the doors slid open, a girl was already standing inside.
Golden hair. Burgundy eyes like wine in candlelight. Her skin was flawless, her lips faintly glossy. She wasn't just pretty—she was glowing.
Hikigaya recognized her immediately.
Kushida Kikyo.
She had been the second to introduce herself during Hirata's round of introductions. Friendly. Sweet. A natural socialite. She wanted to be friends with everyone. That kind of declaration could mean two things—ambition or sincerity.
"You're…" she tilted her head, blinking.
He could tell she was trying to place him. His introduction had been interrupted, after all.
"You're Hikigaya Hachiman, right?" she smiled. "You said you're from Chiba, but then Chabashira-sensei came in and cut you off."
She stepped aside slightly to let him in.
"One of my friends is from Chiba too. The scenery there is beautiful, and Makuhari Beach is always featured in TV dramas."
She wasn't just pretty. She was chatty. Easygoing. Talked like they'd known each other for weeks.
And more importantly—
She remembered.
She'd remembered his name. His hometown. An incomplete introduction, no less.
That level of attention was… unexpected.
"Hey, Hikigaya-san, will you tell me more about Chiba sometime?"
She looked up at him, eyes wide and hopeful.
Moist. Shiny.
Dangerously cute.
Too cute.
And maybe—just maybe—dangerous.