Classroom of the Elite: Surviving with the Intel System — Chapter 71

Chapter 71: Is Class A Going to Start an Internal Struggle?

The late afternoon sun cast long, angular shadows across the polished floor of the Student Council room. Shimizu Akira sat across the heavy mahogany desk from Student Council President Horikita Manabu, the silence between them broken only by the crisp rustle of paper.

Akira’s eyes tracked down the lines of the rental contract Manabu had just slid across the table. Advanced Nurturing High School might have masqueraded as an ordinary educational institution, but beneath the surface, it operated as a ruthless, miniature society governed entirely by capital and contracts.

He skimmed the clauses. Everything was airtight. Without a word, he uncapped his pen and signed his name at the bottom. Pulling out his phone, he accessed his student account and authorized the transfer. A digital chime confirmed the transaction: 1.2 million Private Points, gone in an instant.

In exchange, he now held absolute surveillance authority over the eight cameras installed across the four first-year classrooms.

“A hypothetical, President,” Akira said, leaning back in his chair. “What happens if a particularly volatile student decides to smash one of these cameras in a fit of rage? Who handles the fallout?”

Manabu adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, his dark eyes entirely unreadable. “There is no need for concern. The School Administration will immediately dispatch maintenance to replace the destroyed hardware. Consequently, the class of the offending student will suffer a severe deduction in their Class Points.”

“Efficient,” Akira murmured, a faint smirk touching his lips. “Good to know.”

“,” Manabu continued, his tone strictly business, “if any class wishes to officially rent these cameras for their own use, they must send a representative here to the Student Council. Once a formal agreement is signed, the management authority for their respective classroom’s feed will be transferred to them.”

Reaching into a drawer beneath his desk, Manabu produced a sleek, matte-black laptop and set it between them. “This terminal has already been configured. The dedicated surveillance backend is pre-installed. It is yours to take.”

Akira accepted the heavy device, running a hand over its smooth casing. He hadn’t expected the Student Council to provide the hardware as well. “You’ve been incredibly thorough, President. I owe you a favor for this.”

The walk back to the first-year dormitories was uneventful, but Akira’s pace was brisk. The moment he stepped into his room, he engaged the deadbolt, tossed his bag onto the bed, and booted up the laptop.

Following the encrypted operating guide Manabu had provided, he bypassed the initial security prompts and logged directly into the school’s surveillance backend. As the dark UI loaded onto the screen, Akira raised an eyebrow. The administrative privileges granted to this account were far more extensive than he had anticipated.

[Real-time Monitoring]

[Historical Playback]

[Video Download]

He immediately clicked into the historical archives, filtering for the previous week’s footage. The folders were completely empty.

‘Just as I thought,’Akira mused, leaning closer to the screen.’The School Administration already scrubbed and transferred the initial data.’A sharp vibration against his thigh broke his concentration. Akira pulled out his phone. A new message from Ryuuen Kakeru flashed across the screen. The Class C tyrant was boldly claiming he had already deduced the hidden rules of the S-System.’Not an idiot, then,’ Akira thought, entirely unfazed. It had been nearly a month since the entrance ceremony; any competent leader would have noticed the discrepancies by now. Akira had never actually planned on relying solely on selling information to amass Private Points. The surveillance monopoly was his true endgame.

He typed out a brief, noncommittal reply. Simultaneously, he clicked on the live feed for Class C.

The video buffered for a fraction of a second before snapping into crystal-clear resolution. Ryuuen stood at the front of his classroom, his signature arrogant sneer replaced by a dark, volatile scowl.

“Still trying to hustle information the old-fashioned way?” Akira muttered to himself, watching the silent drama unfold on screen.

Deciding to test the waters, Akira sent a follow-up text to Ryuuen, quoting a steep price of three million Private Points for his exclusive intel.

On the monitor, Ryuuen checked his phone. His expression darkened further. He barked an order. Suddenly, a massive, muscular student in the background hoisted a heavy wooden chair over his head and hurled it directly at one of the ceiling cameras.

CRACK.

Half of the Class C feed instantly dissolved into static, then pitch black.

Akira let out a dry chuckle. “Speak of the devil. There really are hotheads willing to break school property.” He leaned back, watching the remaining camera angle as the class devolved into chaos. “I almost pity you, Ryuuen. Managing a zoo can’t be easy.”

The loss of the camera didn’t bother him in the slightest. Manabu had guaranteed free replacements. What amused him was the sheer recklessness of the act.

“Are they really not afraid of hemorrhaging Class Points?” Akira murmured, tapping his fingers against the desk. “If Class C ends up ranking lower than Class D by the end of the month, that would be a spectacular embarrassment. Well, whatever.”

He minimized the ruined Class C feed and routed his connection to Class A.

The 4K high-definition feed bloomed across his screen. The clarity was staggering; testing the software’s limits, Akira engaged the 16x digital zoom, easily making out the subtle tremor of a student’s eyelashes in the second row.

He zoomed back out, taking in the macro view. ‘Almost full attendance?’

Despite the late hour, the elite students of Class A remained in their seats. Only two desks sat empty. The atmosphere was rigid, suffocatingly disciplined.

At the front of the room, Sakayanagi Arisu sat elegantly in a chair placed squarely in the center of the podium, her cane resting against her knee. Standing rigidly beside her was a tall, heavily built boy with a shaved head and thick, imposing eyebrows. They were addressing the silent room.

Akira toggled the audio feed. A split second later, Sakayanagi’s soft, melodic, yet undeniably authoritative voice drifted through his laptop speakers.

“…Recently, no one has been careless enough to leak our confidential information, correct?” Her sharp, violet eyes swept across the rows of students, pinning them in place.

“No, Sakayanagi-san.”

“Of course not. We wouldn’t hand out intelligence to the other classes.”

A chorus of obedient affirmations rippled through the room.

“Excellent.” A small, meaningful smile curved her lips. “After all, we cannot afford to hand our competitors a free advantage.”

Akira clicked his tongue, watching the display of power. Sakayanagi continued her lecture, her tone carrying that signature lazy drawl, yet laced with an obvious, aggressive edge. She hammered home the absolute prohibition of information leaks.

It was a fascinating dichotomy. In public, the disabled girl projected an aura of refined, untouchable elegance. But behind closed doors, ruling over her peers, she wielded her authority like a velvet-wrapped iron cane. It reminded Akira of their very first encounter at the convenience store—the raw, undisguised superiority and the sheer desire to dominate that she had radiated.

Interestingly, during their subsequent meetings, she had dialed back that haughty arrogance. When she spoke to him now, she almost acted like a normal, albeit highly intelligent, high school girl.

“So, the bald guy playing bodyguard must be Katsuragi Kohei,” Akira murmured.

He recalled a previous conversation with Kamuro Masumi. She had mentioned that Class A was currently operating under a fractured, dual-leadership structure: the Sakayanagi faction and the Katsuragi faction. Factoring in the intel he had gathered a few days prior regarding Katsuragi’s alopecia, the identity of the stern-faced boy standing beside the queen of Class A was obvious.

“To maintain this level of discipline is impressive,” Akira analyzed, resting his chin on his hand. “I assumed a dual-leadership system would instantly devolve into a chaotic power struggle. But looking at them now, they seem to have struck a delicate equilibrium.”

His mind drifted briefly to the mess in Class D. Kushida Kikyo harbored a deeply concealed but vicious competitive streak toward Hirata Yosuke, while Hirata constantly backed down to maintain the peace. Two heads on one snake usually meant the snake would bite itself.

But a second later, Akira realized his assessment was entirely wrong.

Without warning, Katsuragi stepped forward. He didn’t ask for permission. He simply cut into the silence, his deep, booming voice cleanly severing Sakayanagi’s momentum as he took over the briefing. It was a subtle but obvious usurpation of authority.

Akira’s hand moved the mouse, centering the cursor on Sakayanagi’s face. He cranked the digital zoom to 32x.

Her polite smile remained frozen in place, but the micro-expressions betrayed her. Her delicate brows were pinched together so tightly they could have crushed a fly. The sheer, venomous irritation swimming in her violet eyes was unmistakable.

Akira let out a low, amused breath, watching the silent war brewing on his monitor.

“Well then,” he whispered into the quiet of his dorm room. “Looks like Class A is about to tear itself apart from the inside.”