"Senpaku, I am Sakamoto. What brings you here?"

He observed the people in the classroom, his eyes devoid of curiosity, only displaying a cold, detached sense of recording.

"Humph,"

Long Yuan chuckled, looking out the window at the empty space. The eraser snapped back into his palm.

"Which unit sent these spies? Why are they in such a hurry to gather intelligence?"

He withdrew his gaze, his eyes darkening slightly.

"They're putting on quite a show."

He ignored the observer who disappeared at the end of the corridor, but quietly memorized the face in his heart.

The noise in Class D was like a spilled palette of colors.

Some people were arguing loudly about choosing a club, while others were engrossed in reading books, with pieces of chalk bouncing between the desks and chairs.

Horikita Suzune frowned, away from the noise, and sat alone by the window, flipping through "Essentials," her back ramrod straight as a ruler—until a shadow fell on the pages.

She raised her eyes.

Outside the glass window, Sakamoto stood silently.

He wasn't carrying anything; his hands hung naturally at his sides, his posture relaxed yet upright.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze like a gentle searchlight, slowly sweeping over every face in the classroom.

His gaze swept over the laughing crowd with a hint of tolerance; when it swept over the lone traveler in the corner, it seemed to show even more understanding; finally, his gaze lingered on her face for an extremely brief moment.

Horikita felt a subtle sense of being scrutinized, not cold, but with a penetrating focus that made her unconsciously straighten her back.

"Ayanokouji-san,"

She turned her head to look at the person next to her, lowering her voice.

"That person outside the window..."

"The one on the bus."

Kiyotaka Ayanokoji calmly replied, his gaze also fixed on the view outside the window.

He remembered that figure—the boy who set up a makeshift seat for the old lady with an umbrella stand this morning.

At this moment, he was intently observing Class D, his eyes sharp yet calm, but that sharpness was not hostile; rather, it was more like meticulously painting a portrait.

His gaze lingered a little longer on a few students with arrogant expressions or shifty eyes, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before he looked away, as if assessing something.

Horikita pursed her lips, her fingertips unconsciously tightening their grip on the book's pages: "What is he doing? Memorizing faces?"

"It's more like establishing a preliminary file."

Ayanokouji's gaze followed Sakamoto's moving eyes, her voice completely flat.

The figures outside the window completed their "pilgrimage" to Class D.

When she looked away, she seemed to nod very slightly in the direction of the classroom, as if bidding a silent farewell.

As she turned to leave, the arc of her hem fluttering was as clean as the mark left by a paper cutter, yet it carried an indescribable sense of serene beauty.

The atmosphere in Class A didn't completely relax after Sakamoto left.

Sakamoto's words about "points" and "worth it" are like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, the ripples of which are still spreading.

Katsuragi Kohei remained seated, his brow furrowed, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.

Is 10 points just for living expenses? Sakamoto said at the end, "Use it where it's truly worthwhile"... Does this amount of points have a deeper meaning beyond just buying things?

Inextricably linked to "collective honor and disgrace"... He repeatedly pondered Majima and Sakamoto's words, trying to piece together the hidden rules.

Although Sakamoto's behavior is strange, it always seems to point to some key point.

Masayoshi Hashimoto, on the other hand, seemed very interested.

He leaned closer to the window, gazing in the direction of the senior classroom building, his eyes shining.

“Hey, Sakayanagi,”

He turned around, a eager smile on his face, and looked at the silver-haired girl.

"Do you think that Sakamoto-kun deliberately threw that paper airplane downstairs to the upperclassmen's building? Was it hinting at something? Like, maybe the answer was there?"

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

"Should we try to have a 'friendly chat' with the upperclassmen? Maybe we can find out some inside information about the points system?"

Sakayanagi Arisu sat upright in her seat. Upon hearing Hashimoto's words, she turned her head slightly, a faint, amused smile playing on her lips.

"Hashimoto-kun's idea is quite interesting."

Her voice was soft yet clear.

"Sakamoto-kun has been staring out the window for so long, perhaps... he's observing the upperclassmen."

First-Year Enrollment: Chapter 006: Sakamoto's Purchasing

Sunlight streamed through the store's huge windows, illuminating the dazzling array of goods on the shelves.

The school store at Advanced Nurturing High School is comparable in size to a small department store, with the air filled with the unique scent of new products and a faint fragrance.

Kiyotaka Ayanokoji pushed the shopping cart, his gaze calmly sweeping across the shelves.

He selected a few basic daily necessities—towels, toothbrushes, and laundry detergent—all from mid-range, practical brands. These expenses were negligible compared to his monthly "living expenses" of 10 points, but he was used to being frugal.

"Another annoying coincidence."

A cold, distant voice sounded beside me.

Ayanokouji turned his head.

Horikita Suzune was standing in front of the shelf next to him, her back straight as a ruler. She glanced at him with her cool eyes and then looked away, as if looking at him for even a second would be superfluous.

She held a bottle of the most basic, unscented, colorless shower gel in her hand, and in the shopping basket next to her were the cheapest toothbrush and the simplest white towel.

"Don't be so defensive towards me."

Ayanokouji's voice was flat and emotionless.

"We'll be deskmates from now on, please take good care of me."

He paused, his gaze falling on the few extremely cheap items in Horikita's shopping basket, and added,

"Although we talked in class, I still don't know your name."

He looked at Horikita.

"Would it be alright if you told me your name?"

Horikita's gaze remained fixed on the shelf, her fingertips tracing the rows of shower gel bottles before finally settling on the cheapest, colorless one. She picked it up, her voice still cold and hard:

"It's okay if I refuse, right?"

"You sit next to someone but don't know their name."

Ayanokouji's tone remained calm, as if stating an objective fact.

"It's a little weird."

Horikita paused slightly. She seemed taken aback by the overly direct, even somewhat clumsy, remark, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, clearly thinking that her deskmate wasn't very good at speaking.

After a few seconds of silence, she spoke coldly, as if completing a task she had no choice but to do:

"Horikita Suzune."

After saying that, she ignored Ayanokouji and put the shower gel into the shopping basket.

"Horikita..."

Ayanokouji repeated it softly. This name seemed to share the same surname as the student council president, Horikita Manabu. This piece of information flashed through his mind, but his expression remained impassive.

His gaze swept over the few rather "shabby" items in Horikita's shopping basket once more.

"Anyway, we've already paid,"

Ayanokouji picked up a beautifully packaged bottle of shower gel with a delicate fragrance from the shelf and handed it to Horikita.

"Why not try buying a more expensive one? It's nice to experience a different feeling."

His tone was calm, as if he were giving an objective suggestion.

Horikita didn't even glance at the bottle in his hand, simply pushing the shopping cart around and turning away, her voice as cold as ice:

"That's not necessary."

She walked straight toward the cashier, her burgundy school uniform silhouette exuding a stubborn aloofness.

Ayanokouji watched her retreating figure, then glanced down at the fragrant bottle of shower gel in his hand, and expressionlessly placed it back on the shelf. He pushed his cart toward the checkout area.

A short line formed in front of the checkout counter. Ayanokouji stood a few steps behind Horikita, his gaze habitually sweeping around. Just then, his attention was drawn to a figure near the store entrance.

Sakamoto.

Ayanokouji's gaze sharpened slightly. After seeing him by the window, Ayanokouji inquired a little about his identity—Class 1-A.

At this moment, he was walking calmly into the store.

He didn't push a shopping cart or carry a shopping basket; his hands hung naturally at his sides, his posture as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll in a courtyard.

He was still wearing that well-fitting burgundy school uniform, his gaze calmly sweeping across the entire store behind his black-rimmed glasses, as if he were admiring a moving exhibition.

Ayanokouji's gaze unconsciously followed him.

Instead of heading to any of the shelves displaying a wide variety of goods, Sakamoto went straight to the far corner of the store, to an inconspicuous area where several simple shelves were set up. The items on the shelves were packaged in extremely plain, even somewhat rudimentary, and next to them stood a prominent sign: Free Area.

Ayanokouji remembered that the "Key Points Handbook" mentioned that the school provided some basic necessities for free, but only the most basic and minimum items, and the quality and selection were extremely limited.

Sakamoto stopped in front of the free section. Without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment, he gracefully began to select items. He extended his long, slender fingers, his movements fluid and precise:

He picked up a square, white bar of soap without any packaging, as if picking up a piece of warm, smooth jade. His fingertips gently brushed across the smooth surface, and then with a flick of his wrist, the soap landed steadily in his outstretched left palm.

Next, he picked up a basic plastic-handled toothbrush, without looking at the bristles, and instead pinched the middle of the handle with his thumb and forefinger, twirling it gracefully like holding a pen, his movements light and rhythmic.

Finally, he picked up a bottle of shampoo that was also unscented and simply labeled. Instead of gripping the bottle, he supported the bottom with his index, middle, and thumb fingers, his little finger slightly raised, as if holding a glass of sake.

Having done all this, Sakamoto didn't use any containers. He held the white soap in his left palm, pinched the toothbrush handle with his right thumb and forefinger, and steadily supported the shampoo bottle with his middle, ring, and little fingers. In his hands, these three free items were transformed into works of art.

He stood up straight, his posture as upright as a pine tree. His gaze behind his black-rimmed glasses was calm and unwavering, as if he were holding a priceless treasure, not the cheapest basic item.

That composure and elegance, in the afternoon sunlight, created a striking visual effect.

Ayanokouji clearly saw that Horikita Suzune, who was in front of him in line and about to pay, seemed to have also noticed the strangeness behind her.

She turned her head slightly, her cool eyes glancing towards the free area.

When Horikita saw Sakamoto and the three free items in his hand, a very complex emotion flickered in his eyes—

She also learned that this strangely behaving boy was actually in Class A. When her gaze fell on Sakamoto's almost artistic way of holding the object, she felt an indescribable shock.

Or perhaps it was the speechless feeling caused by the overwhelming sense of entitlement? Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the shopping basket, and her lips moved as if she wanted to ask something.

But she ultimately did not speak.

Sakamoto appears to have completed his "purchase".

He didn't go to the cashier, nor did he pay attention to anyone's gaze.

He turned slightly to the side, his gaze calmly sweeping over the cashier area, as if he were merely confirming the direction.

Then, he strode off toward the store exit. His steps remained steady and fluid, each one seemingly measured in distance, his arms swinging naturally, his shoulders and back straight.

Holding the soap in his left hand and the brush in his right, his posture was not at all awkward, but rather exuded a leisurely and composed air.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden outline on his tall figure. The three simple free items in his hands seemed to be imbued with a strange radiance.

Whispers rose softly near the cashier, interspersed with a few barely suppressed gasps of astonishment:

"He seems to be from Class A?...So handsome..."

"Such an elegant posture..."

"You're just leaving like that? No need to pay?"

"What he's holding... is something from the free zone!"