Classroom of the Elite: Surviving with the Intel System — Chapter 105

Chapter 105: No Points Left

The kaleidoscopic sweep of neon lights in the karaoke room washed over Karuizawa Kei’s face, painting her features in shifting hues of electric blue and magenta. She had barely set her phone face-down on the table when Sato Maya leaned in, playfully bumping her shoulder.

“Yo~ Was that Shimizu-kun calling again?” Maya blinked, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Don’t tell me he’s keeping tabs on you? When did you two even make it official?”

A momentary fracture appeared in Kei’s carefully curated expression. She quickly masked the flash of unnatural stiffness with a dismissive wave. “Don’t be stupid,” she scoffed, her tone perfectly pitched to her usual gyaru cadence. “It’s just boring Boxing Club stuff.”

Sitting beside them, Matsushita Chiaki tilted her head, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to Maya’s buzzing energy. She smoothly stepped in to defuse the tension. “Shimizu-kun is on the roster, and Kei just started as their manager. It makes sense they’d need to coordinate club matters.”

“Exactly!” Kei jumped on the lifeline, her manicured thumbs flying across her screen as she rapidly unlocked her phone. “Ugh, actually, I need to text the Club President to let him know I’m taking the day off…”

Maya groaned dramatically, melting back into the plush leather of the sofa. “You drag yourself to that sweaty gym every single day. Do you know how hard it was to finally drag you out with us today? Seriously, did you only join to chase after Shimizu-kun? I don’t think he even looks your way half the time. You should just quit!”

Mori Nene’s off-key wailing suddenly hit a piercing high note through the microphone, mercifully drowning out the heavy, almost imperceptible sigh that slipped past Kei’s lips.

She lowered her gaze to the glaring screen, typing out a polite message.

Hello, Club President Sato. This is Karuizawa Kei. I am very sorry, but I won’t be able to attend today’s club activities…

Her fingertip hovered over the send button, her eyes drifting to the call history where Shimizu Akira sat at the very top.

‘After all… hasn’t he only shown up a handful of times himself?’she thought bitterly.’Even if the President gave him special privileges, it still feels completely unfair.’

Joining the Boxing Club hadn’t been some romantic whim. The workload of a manager was grueling, rivaling the physical toll placed on the actual fighters. She had to arrive half an hour early every afternoon just to inspect the heavy bags, carefully sanitize every pair of gloves and headgear after training, and constantly run back and forth to ensure the water coolers were fully stocked. And if a member skipped practice? It was her job to track them down and confirm their status.

Those trivial chores alone devoured nearly an hour and a half of her day. She had fully intended to endure the routine today, but Maya had been relentless, pestering her through an entire lecture until she finally caved and followed them to karaoke.

Beneath her exhaustion, a quiet, festering resentment toward Akira’s constant absence gnawed at her. When his name had flashed on her screen earlier, her heart had skipped a beat—she thought it was an emergency. But no, he had merely called to casually check on the club’s status.

‘I didn’t even join this stupid club voluntarily,’ she reminded herself, gently biting the inside of her lower lip.

It had been entirely Akira’s arrangement. He claimed she needed a proper identity within the school, a legitimate shield to protect herself from bullying. But did she really need to slave away every single day just to keep her name on a roster?

‘If it were some unpopular club, being a ghost member would be fine. But the Boxing Club is one of the most elite factions in the school. They run it like a strict company. Taking more than three days off can get you expelled from the club.’She paused, a faint, self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.’But with Shimizu’s connection to the President, skipping one day should be fine, right?’

She and Akira were bound by an unbreakable, parasitic contract. That twisted sense of security gave her the nerve to finally press send.

The moment the message vanished into the ether, Nene butchered another chorus, sending Maya collapsing against the sofa cushions in a fit of breathless laughter. Kei tossed her phone into her designer bag, convincing herself that this tiny act of rebellion was just one of the few perks her contract afforded her.

She reached for her drink, but her hand froze mid-air. Chiaki was watching her. It wasn’t a passing glance; it was a heavy, indescribable gaze layered with quiet concern and unspoken calculations.

“Chiaki? Why are you staring at me like that?” Kei immediately brought a hand to her cheek, forcing her signature, bubbly smile back into place.

This wasn’t the first time. Whenever exam results were posted, or whenever Kei pushed her exaggerated persona a little too hard, Chiaki would level that same piercing, thoughtful look at her. It felt as though Chiaki were effortlessly peeling back her carefully constructed armor, reading the ugly truths hidden underneath.

‘Did she figure something out…?’The paranoid thought spiked, but Kei ruthlessly shoved it down. Chiaki was perfectly average. Her grades were mediocre, and she spent most of her time blending into the background of the class.’I’m just being paranoid,’ Kei told herself, casually tucking a stray blonde curl behind her ear.

“It’s nothing,” Chiaki said, gently shaking her head as she pushed a glass of iced orange juice across the table. “I just think… you’ve been looking really exhausted lately.”

Condensation dripped from the chilled glass onto Kei’s skin, the sudden cold making her flinch. She picked up the drink, swirling the liquid so the ice cubes clinked sharply against the rim.

“Ah~ Well, playing manager for a bunch of sweaty boxers takes a lot out of a girl!” she chirped, aggressively stirring the ice with her straw. “That’s exactly why I’m kicking back and resting today!”

Chiaki reached out, her fingers lightly pressing over Kei’s hand to stop the frantic stirring. “Just relax and enjoy yourself today. Maya and I already talked about the Private Points you borrowed last month. You don’t need to stress about paying us back right away. We’re splitting today’s bill evenly.”

“Eh? I can’t let you guys do that…” Kei’s fingers curled tightly around the glass.

The karaoke track shifted abruptly into a booming instrumental bridge, plunging their corner of the room into a momentary pocket of isolation.

Under the dim, amber glow of the wall sconces, Chiaki’s expression softened with a trace of helplessness. “Kei… the three of us noticed you’ve been quietly asking around the class for loans. Look, our class already took a massive hit. We lost forty-five thousand Class Points this month, and nobody has the spare income to bail you out anymore. This karaoke trip is probably the last luxury we can afford for a while.”

Kei unconsciously bit down on her plastic straw, leaving sharp little dents in the plastic. Up at the front, Maya and Nene were wrestling over the second microphone, their carefree laughter grating against Kei’s fraying nerves.

“I don’t know why you’re burning through your Private Points so fast,” Chiaki continued, her voice dropping to a low, serious murmur. “But I really suggest you don’t skip club activities too often. The Boxing Club is one of the most respected factions in this school. Holding a position there makes handling this place much easier. If you ever run into real trouble… those upperclassmen will step in to protect their own. You’ve seen how twisted this academy’s rules are. Having a powerful club backing you is a safety net you can’t afford to lose.”

“…I know! Honestly, Chiaki, sometimes you sound exactly like a nagging older sister!” Kei forced a bright laugh, breaking the heavy atmosphere.

Needing a distraction, she fished her phone out of her bag and opened her messaging app. The text she had sent earlier was marked as read.

A single line from Club President Sato sat quietly in the chat box: Understood.

He had agreed. It was a perfectly standard, acceptable response. Yet, staring at those cold, clinical letters, an inexplicable knot of panic tightened in her chest.

That dread only magnified into a suffocating weight when her peripheral vision caught the digital balance displayed at the top corner of her screen.

Her Private Points rested at a pitiful 12,000.