Kuroha Akira crossed his arms, adopting the posture of a seasoned appraiser as he looked Asato Hitomi up and down. Even if he were to name his price, he first needed to assess the criticality of the service he was providing.
"Let's start with the basics. Current club membership?"
The Class Monitor first held up three elegant fingers, then thoughtfully added her pinky. "Including myself, we are three. Should Kuroha-kun grace us with his presence, we would become four."
"Then my joining alone doesn't solve the core issue, does it? The minimum for club recognition is five members, I believe?"
"Correct. However, the Literary Club won't be on the Student Council's dissolution radar until our third-year seniors officially graduate."
"And when is that official withdrawal?"
"Kuroha-kun wants to know our remaining grace period?"
"A rough estimate will do."
"Well…" She tilted her head, calculating. "For most clubs with competitions, third-years retire around November. But our Literary Club has no such events, so their active status lasts a bit longer. At the absolute latest, they'll be inactive by the end of the second semester. Come the third semester, they will no longer be counted. As I mentioned, they've already begun their… strategic retreat to focus on entrance exams."
"Tomorrow is the start of the new semester… so we have until next year's winter break. Roughly four months."
Plenty of time.
The situation wasn't the desperate, last-minute 'club dissolution crisis' he'd imagined. His recruitment was more of a convenient stepping stone, a minor favor. Heck, even if they failed to find a fifth member by the deadline, someone with the Class Monitor's social capital could easily muster a few 'ghost members' to fill out a form. It was just paperwork.
"So, assuming I join, do you have a candidate in mind for the fifth slot, Class Monitor?"
"Not at this time."
"Hmm…"
Internally, Kuroha Akira had already decided to join. The question now was purely about maximizing his ROI from the 'transaction.'
Truthfully, even asking for nothing and simply building good rapport wouldn't be a bad move. Forging a connection with the Class Monitor now was a long-term investment. Top grades didn't guarantee future wealth, but 'Academic Ability: A' signaled a trajectory of continuous refinement.
Furthermore, Asato Hitomi possessed sharp social intelligence and wasn't some socially-awkward bookworm. Someone with her blend of intellect and interpersonal skill was destined for future significance.
But… Kuroha Akira was hungry. The metaphorical fat sheep had walked right up to his doorstep. Letting it wander off without shearing a little wool felt like a failure of capitalistic spirit.
"Class Monitor, may I see your hand?"
"Eh?"
"I wish to read your palm. That will help me decide what I desire."
"Kuroha-kun practices fortune-telling?" Her tone held a mix of curiosity and a faint, well-concealed disappointment. To base such a decision on something so… unscientific? Had she misjudged his caliber?
High school girls, as a demographic, were famously obsessed with divination. Asato Hitomi often participated in classroom chatter about lucky colors, blood type compatibilities, and various pseudo-psychological tests. But deep down, she held no belief in such impracticalities. She absorbed the knowledge purely as social lubricant, a way to maintain her place in the conversational flow.
The more she read about fortune-telling, the more convinced she became it was a cocktail of psychological suggestion and selective coincidence. Her mother had often stated, "Only the weak-minded pin their hopes on illusions. Gamblers bet on nonexistent luck—that's why they end as life's losers."
So, during these divination-themed talks, Asato Hitomi skillfully hovered on the periphery, always avoiding being the subject of the 'foolish tests' herself. A keen observer would note she never volunteered her own 'lucky items.'
Yet, the fact that he proposed such a method at this juncture… it was undeniably interesting. Perhaps this was part of his peculiar charm.
"Very well," she conceded, offering a slight smile. "I place myself in your hands, Kuroha-kun." She extended her right hand—the one that had been demurely holding her skirt.
"Not the right. Your left hand, please."
"Oh… alright."
Under his unexpectedly firm direction, she withdrew her left hand from its post guarding the back of her skirt and presented it.
Kuroha Akira took her hand, holding it before him with an intensity that felt almost clinical. Asato Hitomi, for all her social prowess, had never had a boyfriend, never held hands with a boy. This was her first time having her hand held—scrutinized so closely—by a male classmate.
The maidenly heart she kept locked in a mental strongbox gave a traitorous thump. Just moments ago, she'd been parrying his teasing with ease, even turning the tables. Now, with just her hand in his, she felt a strange vulnerability, as if a vital point had been exposed.
My palm is slightly damp… does it smell? A flicker of uncharacteristic anxiety surfaced.
"Um, Kuroha-kun, perhaps I should wipe my hand first—"
"Unnecessary. The view is clear."
He didn't even look up, his focus absolute.
He's so serious. He actually looks… professional?
Kuroha Akira was concentrating fiercely. He had to. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to see clearly. But he wasn't studying the lines of her palm—he knew nothing of chiromancy. The reason for this intimate inspection was simple: his 'cheat' activated through physical contact with hands.
As established, he'd seen [Academic Ability: A] glowing in her right palm—a symbol of high-level, versatile talent. If the right hand displayed 'talent,' then the left, he had discovered, revealed 'proficiency.'
This was the small, pitifully inconspicuous cheat the heavens had grudgingly tossed him. So underwhelming he hadn't even noticed it initially. Other transmigrators got flashy systems with UI panels, weekly power-ups, and sassy AI companions. Kuroha Akira got… this. No virtual boxes, no notifications. Calling it a 'system' was an insult to systems everywhere.
Yet, he was profoundly grateful. It was simple, unadorned, and brutally practical.
Now, holding her left hand, he focused. One by one, lines of shimmering text—invisible to all but him—flickered into existence across her skin, appearing and fading like ghostly subtitles:
[Japanese: Lv1]
[History: Lv1]
[Geography: Lv1]
[Civics: Lv1]
[Economics: Lv1]
[Mathematics: Lv1]
[Science: Lv1]
[English: Lv1]
[Piano: Lv1]
[Go (Igo): Lv1]
[Calligraphy: Lv1]
[Fine Art: Lv1]
[Flower Arrangement (Ikebana): Lv1]
[Tea Ceremony (Sado): Lv1]
[Ballet: Lv1]
[Acting: Lv1]
…
The list scrolled. Kuroha Akira's internal monologue screeched to a halt.
That's… too many!
Not only had she mastered every academic subject, she was also proficient in music, strategy, arts, and traditional disciplines. This wasn't just a top student; this was a Renaissance woman, a polymath in a school uniform.
A true genius. The kind that makes mere mortals question their life choices.
He finally released her hand, the ghostly text vanishing. He looked at Asato Hitomi, who was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and that faint, lingering disappointment.
"Well?" she prompted, her voice softer now. "What did the great diviner see?"
Kuroha Akira met her gaze, a new plan crystallizing in his mind. The 'value' he sought wasn't in money or underwear. It was in access. Access to this walking, talking database of skills and knowledge.
"Class Monitor," he began, his voice low and serious. "The palm reading is complete. I've seen what I need to see. And I've decided on my price."