You Will Regret This Ichinose! [3]

Standing in the gymnasium and watching students from each class arrive one after another, Uesugi Gen couldn't help but think this.

The enormous gym was divided into four distinct sections.

Though subtle, Uesugi noticed clear differences in the overall behavior and demeanor of students from Classes A to D.

Class A stood in neat rows without needing any guidance from their teacher, waiting quietly for the entrance ceremony to begin.

Class B had also lined up on their own, but they whispered to newly-made friends as they waited.

Class C, on the other hand, had no semblance of order. The students stood around in small groups, chatting loudly with their new acquaintances. Uesugi even noticed a few students sporting bruises—likely from fights.

Then there was Class D, the most chaotic of all. They loudly discussed how to use their 100,000 points, boasted about themselves, lied blatantly, and told inappropriate jokes without any sense of decorum. Their laughter echoed through the gym as though they were proud of their behavior.

Although a few students tried to stop them, their efforts were clearly futile.

Such a stark contrast between the classes couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

The students of Classes A through D had undoubtedly been divided based on some form of evaluation.

While the exact criteria were unclear, student behavior and overall demeanor clearly played a significant role.

In that case, being assigned to Class B was pretty lucky.

Class A was too uptight and rigid—not Uesugi's style at all.

Class C? Way too chaotic. Getting caught up in fights on the first day was asking for trouble.

As for Class D… Uesugi wasn't even sure some of them could be called students. Many of them lacked even the basic qualities expected of one.

Class B, on the other hand, was just right. Sure, they'd been cursed by the "spell" cast by that wicked Ichinose, but overall, they were decent people—helpful, friendly, and not lacking in basic decorum.

The entrance ceremony itself was no different from a typical school's.

After listening to the principal's long-winded speech, which nearly put Uesugi to sleep, the ceremony finally concluded without incident.

The morning ended with an overview of the school's facilities and rules, after which the students were dismissed and given free time.

"Hey, Uesugi, want to come to karaoke with us? Ichinose suggested we have a class gathering to celebrate becoming classmates and get to know each other better," Shibata asked enthusiastically.

"No thanks. I plan to head back to the dorms and check them out. Besides, there's something on my mind," Uesugi replied, waving him off with a look of mild irritation.

Seriously? You were standing right behind me. Where did you even hear that?

"Alright then, I'll go with Kanzaki instead. Oh, but let's exchange LINE IDs! I'll send you the address, so if you change your mind, you can still join us later," Shibata said, a bit disappointed but cheerful nonetheless.

Uesugi gave him a casual thumbs-up before turning to Kanzaki Ryuji, who also seemed ready to head out with Shibata.

"You're going too, Kanzaki? You don't strike me as the type to enjoy socializing," Uesugi asked, slightly surprised. Kanzaki's perpetually cold and stoic demeanor made him seem like the last person who'd willingly attend a class gathering.

"While I don't particularly enjoy socializing, I don't mind building good relationships with my classmates," Kanzaki replied calmly.

He then pulled out his phone to exchange contact information with Uesugi and curiously added, "Is that 'something on your mind' related to the 100,000 points we were given?"

"If you're stuck on it, you should relax. Gatherings like this are great for bonding. Think about it, Uesugi," Kanzaki advised.

Uesugi raised an eyebrow at Kanzaki's unexpectedly thoughtful response.

Huh. Maybe this guy isn't just a cold-faced pretty boy. Is he actually a warmhearted guy underneath?

"Fine. If I finish exploring the dorms early, I might join you," Uesugi replied with a noncommittal shrug.

He figured that if he outright refused, the two of them might keep badgering him, and in the end, they wouldn't even make it to the gathering themselves.

After saying goodbye to Shibata and Kanzaki, Uesugi strolled lazily toward the dorms.

Along the way, he stopped by a vending machine, bought a can of cola, and found a quiet spot to sit down. He sipped his drink leisurely, letting time pass.

Five minutes…

Ten minutes…

Twenty minutes…

Twenty whole minutes, and not a single soul had passed by.

Yet, there were two hidden surveillance cameras in this seemingly insignificant location.

What's the point of this?

As Uesugi casually sipped his drink, he contemplated the situation.

First, he ruled out the possibility that the cameras were installed for safety reasons. Protecting a couple of benches and a patch of trees couldn't possibly justify the cost of installing two concealed cameras.

Second, a single visible camera would've been enough to monitor this area if safety were the concern. There was no need for two hidden ones.

This left only one plausible explanation for the cameras: observation and surveillance.

By hiding the cameras, the school clearly wanted to observe students' behavior without their knowledge—just like how lab rats might act differently when they know they're being watched.

The purpose of these cameras, then, was to observe students' actions as naturally as possible.

But why observe us so closely?

Combining this thought with Hoshinomiya-sensei's earlier remarks, the answer became obvious—value.

Finishing his drink, Uesugi stood up, tossed the can into a nearby trash bin, and started walking back toward the dorms.

How does the school define a student's value? Academics, physical fitness, decision-making, moral character?

All of these were possible, but aside from academics, the rest were too abstract to quantify.

That meant there had to be some system in place to measure these qualities.

And in the end, that system was likely—

Points.

The 100,000 points distributed earlier represented the students' value.

Upon reaching the male dormitory, Uesugi picked up his room key card from the dorm manager and headed to his assigned room.

From the Class D students' earlier chatter, he knew their class had also received 100,000 points.

This meant that, in the school's eyes, every student initially had the same value—10,000 points.

However, the school had still divided the students into Classes A through D based on their abilities and background.

And that was the crux of the problem.

If the school considered everyone's value to be the same at the start, why divide them into ranked classes?

There was only one explanation: a student's value wasn't static.

Instead, it was dynamic—determined by their actions and behavior.

At the start, every student's value was 100,000 points. Over time, though, the school would evaluate their worth through hidden surveillance and adjust the rankings accordingly.

This system of competition between classes—the game that had already begun—would determine the final rankings of Classes A through D.

And the outcome of this "game" would decide how many points each student received at the beginning of each month.

Through this method, the school fostered competition to cultivate exceptional students. The goal was clear: pit the classes against one another and let the strongest emerge victorious.

This, Uesugi concluded, was the school's hidden truth.

As the elevator door opened and carried him upward, Uesugi mused further.

But if the school's goal is truly to develop top-tier students, there's a glaring flaw in their system—there's no incentive for competition.

Competition required rewards. If you wanted a cow to plow a field, you needed to feed it. Points alone wouldn't be enough.

After all, students could theoretically live a minimalist lifestyle and survive without caring about points at all. The school couldn't do anything about it.

Pulling out the school handbook, Uesugi's gaze landed on the phrase "100% graduation and employment rate."

This must be the real carrot they're dangling.

A guarantee of admission to top universities or jobs at prestigious companies was a far more valuable reward than points.

For a moment, Uesugi chuckled darkly.

Just imagining some of those Class D idiots waving a school recommendation letter at a company makes me want to kick them out the door.

With a scratch of his head, he muttered to himself, "This school is starting to feel kind of… boring."

Shrugging off his thoughts, Uesugi focused on the task at hand.

Standing before his room—Room 404, an ominous number—he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The room wasn't large, roughly 14 square meters, but it had all the essentials.

Looking around, Uesugi couldn't help but feel a small thrill of excitement.

For the next three years, this space was his. No one would tell him what to do.

He could game until he was sick of it, sleep whenever he wanted, and eat whatever he pleased.

Yep, this is the dream. Forget this school's dull plans for "student cultivation." A life of adventure in another world would suit me better.

With a sly grin, Uesugi reveled in his freedom.

Who cares about tests, values, or points? My bright and happy life starts now.