Sakayanagi's fingers stilled. For a split second, she wondered if she'd misspoken—had she accidentally said "2 million" instead of 200,000? Why else would they react like this?
"200,000 points... Shouldn't Class D be able to manage that?" Her tone carried the faintest hint of bewilderment as she scanned the room.
She recalled her own Class A—when she'd proposed this deal yesterday, they'd approved the 200K expenditure without hesitation.
If anything, she'd thought the price too low.
"...We can't afford it!"
"That's 5,000 points per person!"
The protests swelled, some students even scowling.
It dawned on her then—the disparity between classes was far worse than she'd imagined.
What was pocket change to Class A was a "king's ransom" to Class D.
How... pathetic.
Her gaze flicked to Kushida Kikyō, who offered an awkward smile in return.
Then she zeroed in on the loudest protester—a boy with a sharply defined jawline.
This idiot had been cheering for her seconds ago.
(How dull.)
Her grip tightened on her cane, her eyes cooling beneath her beret.
Spineless hypocrites like this bored her to tears.
"Sakayanagi-san, can't you just tell us for free?"
"We're broke after last month's surveillance deal!"
"You're Class A! Squeezing us for points is pointless!"
Their "requests" piled up, each more shameless than the last.
Sakayanagi's temple throbbed. Her heart actually ached.
She wanted to hurl her cane at their faces.
(These people... expect a free handout?)
(What logic is this?)
A cold laugh echoed in her mind.
Did they think her efforts were public property?
As Class A's de facto leader, the hours she'd spent dissecting exam patterns were not charity.
Yet here they were, demanding her work for nothing.
The sheer audacity made her nauseous.
For a fleeting moment, she understood what it meant to be Class D—constantly exploited, with zero reciprocity.
She lowered her lashes, veiling her disgust.
But she couldn't leave.
Not when the mystery seller might be watching.
If she walked away now, they'd swoop in and profit.
Yet staying was agony.
Every "Can't you lower the price?" was a needle under her skin.
She was trapped—a lose-lose scenario.
Leave, and gift the seller an opportunity.
Stay, and endure these leeches.
(Like being flayed by a blunt knife.)
She exhaled sharply.
If this was their game, she'd play—but on her terms.
"Heh."Kamuro Masumi's scoff cut through the noise, dripping with disdain.
Half the mockery was for Sakayanagi—reduced to bargaining with Class D.
The other half was for Class D—too stupid to grasp basic trade.
Kamuro's eyes skimmed the whining crowd, suddenly understanding why Shimizu refused to lift a finger for them.
Better to ignore parasites than feed them.
Thank god I'm in Class A.
She leaned toward Sakayanagi, muttering: "Let's go. These trash aren't worth your time."
"I'd rather burn these points than let him profit." Sakayanagi's smile was brittle, her whisper laced with venom. "You wouldn't understand—I need to ruin his plans."
Even at a loss, she'd make sure the mystery seller remembered this humiliation.
"I understand Class D's plight." Sakayanagi's voice sweetened artificially. "So I'll share this intel—for free. May you ace your midterms. And do remember Class A's generosity."
Shimizu Akira watched, baffled, as Sakayanagi detailed the exam's mechanics.
She'd even printed copies of a mock test, distributing them to the class.
(What's her game?)
Genuinely giving it away?
Studying her strained expression, it clicked—she'd rather lose than let him win.
This was a mutually assured destruction play.
Sacrifice her profits to block his.
(...Ruthless.)
He slumped in his seat, observing Class D's stunned faces.
He had considered selling intel himself—for a modest 400-500K.
But Sakayanagi? She'd torched the market just to spite him.
(Guess that's the Mad Hatter for you.)
The thought almost made him smirk.
"Arisu" sounded like "Alice," and with that beret, she truly embodied the eccentric, obsessive Hatter—burning herself to burn others.