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ArabicClassroom of the Elite: Surviving with the Intel System — Chapter 26
Chapter 26: Protect Me As A Prerequisite, And Date Me
Horikita Suzune’s life had always existed beneath the long, imposing shadow of a single presence.
It was the broad back of her older brother.
People had occasionally thrown around the term ‘brother complex’ to mock her, but she knew the truth. It was never some twisted, dependent attachment. It was pure, unadulterated admiration.
And now, fate had decided to play a remarkably cruel joke on her.
Upon finally enrolling in the Advanced Nurturing High School—the very domain where her brother ruled as the Student Council President—she had been unceremoniously stamped with the label of Class D.
Between her current standing and her brother’s lofty position in Class A lay a chasm spanning three mocking letters.
Her fingernails dug deep into the soft flesh of her palms, leaving pale crescent moons in their wake. She thought back to her flawless attendance record across three grueling years of middle school, her consistently perfect report cards, and the punishing, disciplined nights she had spent studying until dawn.
Every single piece of evidence proving her excellence had just been shattered by that single, degrading letter.
“The class assignment system is completely unreasonable…”
Suzune’s voice hissed through tightly clenched teeth. A quiet, simmering anger boiled in her chest. It was not the hesitation of self-doubt, but rather a violent, absolute rejection of the school’s entire metric.
She suddenly stood up, her chair scraping sharply against the floor. “Shimizu-kun. Give me your contact information.”
“Oh? Getting active all of a sudden?” Akira raised an eyebrow. They had barely exchanged numbers and hadn’t even found the time for idle chatter when his phone vibrated with a sudden transfer notification.
“Eighty thousand points. It is yours. We are completely even now,” she stated. Her movements were ruthlessly efficient. The moment her phone vanished back into her pocket, her delicate features froze over into their usual icy mask. Her posture silently screamed a clear warning: ‘Dare to speak to me again, and I will kill you.’
Watching the girl turn on her heel and march away, Akira let out a wry smile and shook his head. “She isn’t actually going to confront Chabashira-sensei, is she?”
His dark eyes tracked her stubborn, rigid figure until she completely disappeared through the bustling cafeteria entrance.
Suzune possessed a brand of self-confidence that bordered on sheer arrogance. Whenever reality dared to deviate from her strict expectations, she never wasted a single second on self-doubt. This obsessive certainty shielded her from unnecessary mental exhaustion, keeping her blade sharp.
However, that very same confidence was currently on a direct collision course with a very cold, unforgiving reality.
Rokusuke was the perfect example of that immovable wall. Akira’s own report on Monday regarding the interviewer intentionally tanking his score had ultimately done nothing to change his class assignment.
‘Eighty thousand points right off the bat… Horikita is unexpectedly generous.’Akira gently rubbed his thumb across his phone screen, the harsh artificial light of the transfer receipt reflecting against his calm, calculating eyes. He had originally only intended to charge her a symbolic fee, considering the information he had provided was just something he had tossed out casually.’Could the Student Council President have secretly funneled her some pocket money?’The thought barely materialized before he ruthlessly killed it. Knowing Manabu’s draconian personality, the man would never indulge his younger sister with a financial safety net.’Wait… if this is the vast majority of her savings…’He paused, a dry amusement flickering in his chest.’Then she is going to be eating dirt by next month.’
His attention quickly shifted back to his own account balance. The glowing numbers had already comfortably breached the three hundred thousand mark. Adding the eighty thousand Suzune had just dumped on him, it was a sum that would make any ordinary high school student dizzy with wealth.
But Akira merely ran a cold, unconscious conversion in his head. According to the academy’s strict exchange rate, his current balance was roughly equivalent to a standard Tokyo office worker’s monthly salary.
Three hundred thousand yen in the real world would barely cover the rent for a decent apartment in the city, let alone provide true financial security.
‘This is still far from enough. It needs to break the one million mark, at the very least.’
Locking his screen, he slid the device into his pocket, his fingertips brushing against a small, neatly folded piece of paper hidden in the fabric.
He withdrew it and slowly unfolded the crisp edges. An unfamiliar, distinctly feminine handwriting stared back at him.
【Come find me in room 1203 after dinner tonight.】
The strokes were elegant and deliberate. If his memory of the dormitory layout served him right, the upper levels were strictly designated as the exclusive floors for female students.
‘An invitation straight to the girls’ dormitory…?’
If this note had landed in the hands of Haruki or Kanji, the two idiots would likely be howling at the moon and jumping for joy right about now.
Leaving the noisy atmosphere of the cafeteria behind, Akira handled the paved walkways toward the dormitory building. Stepping into the quiet, air-conditioned lobby, he approached the front desk to casually inquire about the resident of room 1203.
“Student resident information is strictly confidential.” The young woman behind the counter, sporting round-rimmed glasses, flashed a highly mischievous smile that glinted off her lenses. “It is better not to ask too many questions, student. But do be careful up there.”
She lightly tapped her lower lip with a manicured fingertip, her expression dripping with ambiguous amusement.
That reaction alone was enough to confirm the obvious. It was indeed a room in the girls’ dormitory.
Akira stepped into the elevator, watching the floor numbers tick upward in silence. Stepping out into the pristine, quiet hallway, he paused briefly in front of the heavy wooden door of room 1203 and delivered a gentle, measured knock.
“Coming!” A clear, melodious voice chimed from the other side.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open almost immediately. Akira recognized the resident the second she appeared.
Kei stood in the doorway, dressed down in a loose, oversized short-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of dangerously short casual shorts. The harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway illuminated her long, exceptionally fair legs. She leaned her shoulder casually against the doorframe, her blonde hair still slightly damp and clinging to her neck, looking exactly like a girl who had just stepped out of a hot shower.
“Shimizu-kun is here,” she hummed, tilting her head to the side with a faint, inviting smile playing on her glossy lips.
Akira unconsciously let his gaze drop for a fraction of a second before smoothly averting his eyes.
“Come on in!” Kei suddenly pushed off the doorframe, rising onto her tiptoes as she wrapped her slender arms intimately around Akira’s forearm.
The soft, yielding warmth of the girl’s body pressed clearly through the thin fabric of his uniform, bringing with it the sweet, heavy scent of floral shower gel. She half-pulled, half-pushed him across the threshold, treating him like a giant stuffed animal she was dragging into her bedroom.
However, it was hardly a display of her physical strength. It was more a case of Akira half-heartedly cooperating with the momentum. Had he planted his feet and resisted even a fraction of an inch, this sudden, highly ambiguous kidnapping attempt would have failed instantly.
He could clearly feel the deliberate, soft pressure against his arm.
Instinctively, his biology forced him to admit that the sudden physical contact was stimulating. But his cold, calculating reason immediately dissected the moment. This sudden intimacy was entirely too deliberate. It was a calculated performance.
They were, after all, nothing more than mere classmates who had barely spoken.
Kei looked up at him through her damp bangs, her cheeks flushed with a perfect, rosy hue. Her voice trembled, walking a masterful tightrope between shy hesitation and sudden determination.
“Shimizu-kun… Actually, I noticed you from the very day of the entrance ceremony. Back when you stood up to Yamauchi-kun.” She paused, her fingers unconsciously reaching down to twist the hem of her oversized shirt. “Of course… part of it was also because of your looks…”
She took a deep, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling as if she were expending every last ounce of her courage just to force the next sentence out of her throat.
“Um, please… date me. With the prerequisite that you protect me.”
Akira stood in the center of the girls’ dorm room, completely deadpan as the words washed over him.
What kind of twisted romantic declaration was that? When normal high schoolers confessed, they usually threw around naive phrases like ‘with marriage in mind’or’please go out with me.’This girl, however, had skipped the romance entirely and cut straight to’with protection as a prerequisite.’ It sounded less like a confession of young love and entirely like the negotiation of a private bodyguard contract.