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ArabicClassroom of the Elite: Surviving with the Intel System — Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Today’s Intel: Kushida Kikyo is a Two-Faced Person
“Excuse me, but this is a priority seat…”
“I have absolutely no interest in contributing to society.”
The stifling atmosphere of the crowded morning bus was suddenly broken by the sharp contrast of two voices—one sweet and imploring, the other dripping with arrogant dismissal. Hearing the dispute over the priority seats escalating, Shimizu Akira, who was sitting near the exit doors, stood up and stepped aside, clearing a path.
“Grandma, please sit here,” he offered calmly.
“Thank you, young man. You’re very kind.”
Akira nodded gently. He lightly supported the elderly woman’s elbow with one hand to help her settle into the seat, then retreated toward the metal handrail by the doors.
Just as he steadied himself, a faint, elegant scent of gardenia drifted into his personal space.
When Akira lowered his gaze, he was met with a pair of bright, smiling eyes. A girl with light brown hair tilted her head slightly, adjusting to the swaying rhythm of the moving bus, the soft strands brushing against her collarbone. Seeing that she had his attention, the girl offered a very slight nod. A charming dimple flashed near the corner of her lips before disappearing.
“Thank you for your help just now,” she said, her voice carrying a melodic warmth.
Akira shook his head. “It was just a small favor. Don’t worry about it.”
“Still, thank you for contributing to society. You really helped me out of a tight spot.” The girl’s eyes curved into lovely crescents. “My name is Kushida Kikyo. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“I’m Shimizu Akira.” He gave a polite, measured nod. “Hello, Kushida-san.”
After the brief exchange of pleasantries, the immediate vicinity returned to the low hum of the bus engine.
Akira’s gaze lingered briefly on the girl’s hair.
‘It really is light brown…’
This was his second day in this world, and the sheer variety of hair colors around him still caught him slightly off guard. Even though everyone possessed standard East Asian facial features, the pedestrians’ hair colors were as brilliant as an overturned paint palette. Finding two people with the exact same shade was surprisingly difficult.
It fit the aesthetic of an anime perfectly.
But aside from that minor visual anomaly, everything else about this world was terrifyingly real. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the distinct warmth of the morning sunlight hitting his skin through the glass, and the subtle draft brushing past his ears—it all carried the obvious weight of reality.
One day, he had been working overtime until his vision blurred. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in his sixteen-year-old body, thrust into this unfamiliar world.
At that exact moment, a cold, mechanical voice had echoed in his mind.
`[Sole Main Mission: Successfully graduate from Advanced Nurturing High School.]`
‘I just have to… graduate normally from this place?’
Following that initial prompt came the awakening of an ability called the “Daily Intel System.” Every morning at exactly 8:00 AM, the system would refresh, providing him with three new pieces of verified intelligence.
In his previous life, Akira had been a seasoned light novel enthusiast. He quickly deduced that this was his survival cheat code.
‘But why an intel system… and not a study-enhancement system? Or a genius-prodigy system?’ He had muttered to himself in the quiet of his new apartment. ‘Could it be that the true difficulty of graduating from this high school doesn’t lie in written exams, but in something else? What exactly makes graduating here so hard?’
Regardless, having a tool was better than flying blind.
Following the system’s mental instructions, he tapped his little finger against his thumb three times. This was the trigger to review the three pieces of intel the system had generated for him after his transmigration yesterday.
Instantly, three lines of text glowing with a pale blue light materialized across his retinas:
`[Intel 1: On the opening day of Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School, aboard a bus, Kushida Kikyo and Kouenji Rokusuke will break out into a conflict over the issue of giving up seats to the elderly.]`
`[Intel 2: Kushida Kikyo is a two-faced person.]`
`[Intel 3: The school secretly classifies students by ability level, hiding the true nature of its rating system.]`
Akira’s dark eyes focused on the first line of text.
It was precisely because of this intel that he had left his dorm half an hour early today. He had boarded the bus from the very first station, secured a window seat, and quietly waited to verify the absolute authenticity of his system.
And now, reality had played out exactly as the glowing blue text described.
The girl named Kushida Kikyo had indeed initiated a public argument with the blonde student beside her, Kouenji Rokusuke, over the priority seating.
There was no longer any need to doubt the system’s accuracy.
But the second piece of information left him calculating the variables.
‘Kushida Kikyo is two-faced? Does that mean everything about her current persona is entirely fabricated?’
His gaze drifted back to her. Her long, light brown hair draped smoothly over her shoulders. Her delicate facial features were flawlessly arranged, and her body proportions were practically perfect—especially the proud, mature curve of her bust straining slightly against her uniform.
Coupled with her active, righteous behavior of asking a delinquent to give up his seat for an elder, a beautiful girl like her seemed like a genuine angelic existence.
Yet, the system stated otherwise.
Could it be that this gentle, kind, and socially flawless performance was nothing more than a carefully constructed mask?
Akira analyzed the interaction that had just occurred, his cynical mind breaking down the mechanics of the scene. The more he thought about it, the stranger the dynamic became.
Kouenji Rokusuke had been blatantly occupying two priority seats with zero shame. Kushida, meanwhile, had persistently and strongly demanded that he yield. While she spoke, her tone had been sweet, but her words were skillfully designed to incite the emotions of the surrounding passengers, weaponizing public pressure against the blonde boy.
‘Would a truly kind, gentle person force a confrontation with a male student in such a semi-coercive, public manner?’
Akira’s eyes narrowed slightly. If all of this was within her calculations—if she was intentionally playing the role of the righteous martyr to build a specific reputation—then the anomalies made perfect sense.
But what exactly was her endgame?
He suddenly recalled the subtle gazes cast her way by the other male students on the bus, and the fleeting, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of Kushida’s mouth when the crowd had murmured in her favor.
The bus slowly decelerated, pulling into the final stop. The automated electronic announcement chimed right on time:
“We have arrived at Advanced Nurturing High School station. We have arrived at Advanced Nurturing High School station.”
“Ah, we’re here already!” Kushida beamed. Just as she was about to say something else to Akira, her gaze flicked to a figure standing up behind her.
For a fraction of a second, her perfectly sculpted brows furrowed in pure irritation. The mask slipped—but it was so fast, so fleeting, that anyone else would have dismissed it as a trick of the light.
“Um…” She instantly recovered her signature, radiant smile. “See you later, Shimizu-kun. I hope we end up in the same class.”
Before Akira could reply, the girl nimbly hopped off the bus, her skirt fluttering as she smoothly blended into the bustling crowd of students on the platform.
Akira looked toward the back of the bus, his eyes tracking the person who had caused Kushida’s mask to crack.
A literary beauty whose cold, untouchable temperament strongly resembled Yukinoshita Yukino from his past life’s novels was calmly closing a hardcover book. She stood up with practiced elegance. As she walked past Akira, she didn’t spare him a single glance. Her long, straight black hair drew a sharp arc in the air, leaving behind the faint, dry scent of old paper as she stepped off the bus.
Immediately following her was a boy with unruly brown hair. He moved silently, his presence almost entirely muted. For a brief second, his gaze met Akira’s. The boy’s eyes were completely dead and expressionless, betraying zero emotion before he, too, disappeared through the bus doors.
Akira joined the flow of students disembarking, his mind chewing on the deep implications of his system’s third piece of intel.
‘That blonde guy stretching his legs over there… that must be Kouenji Rokusuke.’
He watched the tall, muscular student strut away. Kouenji’s indifferent, narcissistic attitude was practically begging to provoke resentment from his peers. But Akira was far more concerned with the hidden mechanics of the school itself.
The pieces of the puzzle began to lock together in his mind.
‘A school that boasts a 100% employment and college entry rate. A student body full of extreme, clashing personalities. And an intel system warning me about hidden ratings.’
Akira adjusted his bag on his shoulder, a faint, dry smile touching his lips.
‘Could this school be secretly classifying us by our actual utility and ability levels right from the start?’