340 It Doesn’t Matter—Victory Will Be Mine

If only Momotarou were wearing that custom-made cat costume from Naoka right now, Kyousuke would've made sure Yukinoshita knew the hard truth—that dried bonito flakes aren't even good enough for cats to chew on, let alone be a treat.

He really wanted to put on a good show—point at a dog and call it a cat—just to let her see how twisted the world could be.

But modern housecats have grown spoiled, pampered by artificial snacks and gourmet kibble.

Bonito flakes simply didn't cut it anymore.

'Yukinoshita-san really, really likes cats, huh…'

Katou Megumi stared at her, amazed.

Just moments ago, Yukinoshita had been as calm and obedient as a borrowed cat.

Now, she looked like one that had just had her precious bonito flakes stolen.

It was fascinating.

Normally so cool and composed no matter who she was facing, Yukinoshita flipped a switch the second cats were mentioned.

"All right then, can we start the Japanese language practice test now?"

Kyousuke asked smoothly.

As a proper subordinate, he knew exactly when to help his boss save face—especially after an embarrassing moment.

To him, Yukinoshita Yukino wasn't just a leader.

She was the only boss he had.

He cherished and respected her deeply.

After that, he turned to Katou Megumi.

"This time, don't use one of those cram school tests. Just pick something from your regular practice set, Katou-san."

Then, after a short pause, he looked back at Yukinoshita and added:

"Unless, of course, you have something else in mind, President."

Yukinoshita's expression shifted as she heard him.

Her sharp brows lifted slightly, her pale blue eyes narrowing with faint suspicion.

He didn't want Katou to use a cram school test—maybe because he feared Yukinoshita wouldn't be able to handle it.

Then he asked if she had one—just to rule out the possibility that he'd seen the test beforehand and prepared in advance.

It sounded generous and considerate, but beneath the surface, it was pure, unshakable confidence.

And Hiratsuka-sensei had the nerve to call her arrogant? Clearly, she hadn't met Hojou.

His confidence was nothing like hers.

Hers was rooted in deep self-awareness and ability.

His was built from the bones of the countless people he had crushed, leaving behind a graveyard of broken egos.

A demon.

She'd heard that word used to describe her more times than she could count—usually from girls trying to play clever or boys showing off like idiots.

The moment she peeled back their flimsy façades and laid bare their foolishness, they'd cry and call her "a demon."

'A demon? They should try dealing with Hojou.'

They needed to experience what it was like to be utterly outclassed, and then have someone generously toss out the line:

"Pick whatever you're best at, the competition you're most confident in."

And the unspoken line that always followed:

"It doesn't matter. Victory will be mine, either way."

Arrogance.

What lay beneath that lazy smile was arrogance forged from countless victories.

Most people would be furious—feel insulted even.

But not Yukinoshita Yukino.

She was the kind of person who reacted to provocation the same way a cat reacted to bonito flakes. Her entire being ran on the fuel named "Victory."

A challenge? Fear? Retreat?

Impossible.

"Perfect. Just what I wanted."

The girl raised her snow-white neck, chin held high with pride.

Behind her, it felt like black hellfire roared to life.

Her long, jet-black hair floated as if possessed, wild like withered claws in the darkness.

When she spoke, her crimson lips seemed to breathe out icy-blue dragonfire.

(That's all from Kato Megumi's perspective, by the way.)

She had already felt like things were getting weird earlier. Now? This was just plain bizarre.

'Yukinoshita-san, please! Snap out of it! Aren't you supposed to be tutoring me right now?'

The bob-haired girl blinked in confusion, wondering if this chaos was somehow caused by her own lack of presence.

What was supposed to be a one-on-one study session had turned into a full-blown competition between Yukinoshita and Hojou.

'Seriously… how did this even happen'

Kyousuke had been lounging with his left foot tucked under his leg, right knee raised casually.

But now, he found himself sitting properly.

Because Yukinoshita had already straightened up into the classic formal posture—kneeling seiza-style.

Her tiny white feet tucked beneath her, hands neatly placed on her thighs, her expression as solemn as a samurai preparing to commit seppuku.

Except this time, she wasn't the one committing seppuku.

She was the executioner.

And the one kneeling before her was Hojou.

Sure, his words were arrogant, but his intent was to create a fair competition between the two of them.

And she was all about justice—

Wait.

Her face suddenly fell.

'I'm a maiden of absolute justice… and all acts of justice must be supported.'

"This Japanese practice test is also from Kawaijuku. I haven't seen or done it before. The difficulty level is designed for the national science exam. What do you think?"

Yukinoshita had chosen her path back in junior high—she'd always intended to enter the liberal arts track in high school, and her university goals were aligned the same way.

But now she held up a science-track Japanese exam.

This was her kind of confidence.

Compared to liberal arts Japanese exams, this one was easier.

That gave her the advantage.

But since neither of them had studied the material directly, it still counted as fair.

Just like she could read Hojou, she believed he could read her too.

Then, like a prosecutor presenting critical evidence, she handed her phone to Chief Justice Katou Megumi.

Megumi took one glance at the screen and felt her vision blur.

Not because the vertical Japanese text was hard to follow.

No—the very first reading passage alone was four pages long.

After skimming it, she still had no clue what the essay was even about.

Clutching the phone like it was a live grenade, Megumi quickly handed it back.

"Th-this is perfect! Definitely suited for a showdown between you and Hojou!"

As Hojou shifted into a more upright position, Megumi couldn't help but feel that Yukinoshita really was a perfect match for Sakura.

The way she spread her energy like a contagious disease was almost identical.

"This isn't a battle!" Yukinoshita huffed. "We're simply showing you that we're capable of tutoring you properly!"

"Y-yeah, yeah! I got it!" Megumi nodded rapidly, her voice rising a pitch in panic.

Then, she picked up her phone and opened the contact she hadn't dared to message before.

A special category: "Not Friends."

Only one name sat there alone—Hojou Kyousuke.

Well… to be fair, her "Friends" category only had Sakura and Shouko.

It was almost like this entire app existed solely for talking to these three people.

With a notification chime, Hojou Kyousuke received the exam.

Out of a total 200 points, the test had an 80-minute time limit.

Four major questions, six sub-questions.

The first two were on modern Japanese, the last was classical Japanese.

All multiple-choice.

Which meant both raw talent and pure luck could theoretically get someone a perfect score.

Though, in real university entrance exams, there would usually be essay sections too…

These were just the exam instructions at the top of the screen—Kyousuke hadn't even scrolled down yet.

After all, the honorable judge hadn't given the signal to start.

Caught between the fierce, burning stares on either side of her, our supposed main character, Katou Megumi, wished more than anything she could shrink herself into nothing.

With an adorable little "Heave-ho~," she swung her tiny hand downward like a referee:

"Begin~!"

Yukinoshita didn't hesitate.

She immediately lowered her head and focused on her phone.

Sure, the small screen wasn't ideal for taking notes, but for someone like her—who could memorize the names and basic profiles of every student in school without breaking a sweat—it didn't really matter.

First section: Modern Japanese.

Just by reading the first paragraph, her mind instantly recalled the source of the excerpt—"God's Lost Souls."

She couldn't quite remember which chapter it was from or the author's name, but a quick glance at the footnotes at the end confirmed her suspicion.

She had read this book because, in one year, the University of Tokyo had used it in their entrance exam.

It was Tokyo University—home to the most elite educational resources in all of Japan—and the very first test they gave prospective students was an essay on education and equality.

If everyone receives education, will poverty and inequality disappear?

Schools provide the same knowledge to every student. And yet, based on ability, students are still divided into ranks.

The word "equality" has always been a lie. Men and women, disabled and able-bodied, genius and ordinary—

To achieve a truly just society, people must first accept that inequality doesn't stem from the system… but from their own shortcomings.

Only when people believe that these gaps are legitimate, can they avoid facing their own inferiority.

Only then does a perfectly just society become possible.

This perspective strongly resonated with Yukinoshita Yukino.

She'd even attended a public lecture by the author and managed to secure a chance to ask a question.

In her ideal of absolute justice, disparities are acknowledged as valid.

Those with more wealth share with those who have less, creating balance in society.

And to her, inequality wasn't limited to test scores or income—it was about comprehensive value.

Even someone with top grades, if they lacked character, could be seen as someone in need of help. In fact, they might struggle more in real society than others.

In that sense, they were the "poor" who needed support.

At the same time, they could also create value—value they could share with other "poor."

It was a virtuous cycle.

Yukinoshita had studied the book in depth.

She had spoken with the author face to face.

She might not remember every single detail, but she had a solid grasp of its core philosophy.

'This question—this one's mine. I've got it.'

She flipped to the end of the passage and glanced at the first multiple-choice question.

After skimming it, Yukinoshita lifted her head and looked at Hojou across from her.

That guy… he's probably still—

Huh?

"Did the file send incorrectly?"

She frowned in confusion.

Hojou had already set his phone down on the desk and was staring straight at her, completely unbothered.

It was as if he was trying to count the number of her eyelashes out of sheer boredom.

'So unreliable. These newfangled apps are just too risky.'

'Japan should go back to using good old-fashioned email!'

Yukinoshita thought silently—but then remembered all the adorable cat stickers she had saved in LINE and immediately took that thought back.

Sure, the app might have its flaws… but those stickers made up for a lot.

After all, a truly just society must also accept the legitimacy of flaws and shortcomings.

"Nope. Didn't have any issue. Didn't your teachers tell you during your very first exam to always check if the paper's correct before starting?"

Hojou replied nonchalantly, like someone who checked the expiration date before buying a drink—more cautious than those who go straight for the discounted bento.

"Then what are you doing right now?"

From that lazy tone, Yukinoshita could hear it again—that same overwhelming arrogance.

She had taken this seriously. She was ready to go all-out. She had nearly finished the first question. And this guy...

"Huh? Oh, I'm done. I'm just waiting for the time to submit," Hojou said casually.

"You're DONE??"

Yukinoshita's eyes flew wide open.

Her mouth dropped.

She'd only just finished reading the article—and it was one she already knew intimately.

And yet… Hojou had finished?

"You finished the first question?"

With Japanese exams, even without directly studying the material, it was possible to do well with a solid foundation in literature.

But on the flip side, without proper training, even smart students could struggle with harder-level tests.

'Maybe that's it,' she thought.

'He just rushed through the first question, saw the rest, realized he was outmatched, and gave up.'

Yeah, that had to be it.

At least he didn't fall asleep—that's progress.

Despite her racing thoughts, a part of her already knew the truth.

But she clung to this fragile explanation like a lifeline.

Because seriously—how could any human finish an 80-minute test in the time it takes to read one article?!

"The first question?" Hojou blinked, confused. "Of course not. I finished everything. All six questions."

He lifted his head and met her gaze with his dark eyes, locking onto her pale blue ones.

"All of it. All six. I'm done."

He repeated it, like it was nothing.

"Impossible!"

Yukinoshita's phone slipped from her hand and landed on her thigh—then slid right off her leg and hit the floor with a soft thud.

Even as she cried out in disbelief, she didn't forget her manners.

She reached out slowly toward Hojou's phone, then hesitated—glancing at him to ask for silent permission.

Only after he nodded did she pick it up.

She retrieved her own phone and quickly began checking the answers.

First question:

"Compared to the United States, the inequality in our country…" — what does this phrase imply?

The correct answer: option one.

Hojou chose option one. Correct.

Second question—also correct.

Third… Fourth…

All correct.

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