Men and women are often compared to gears and machine oil.

It is women who keep society turning, but without the oil provided by men, the gears would grind to a halt.

This philosophy, common throughout the modern world, perfectly symbolizes the age they lived in.

And it was a philosophy deeply woven into the class structure of Shirayuki Academy.

A girl’s class rank was determined by her academic performance.

A boy’s class rank, by his record of social service.

Women were forced into fierce competition, while the highest performers earned the privilege of choosing a man.

Men, on the other hand, were exempt from labor but obliged to perform continuous social service for many women—constantly supplying “oil” to the machine of society.

“Social-service score… fifty points.”

Houjou Noa frowned as she reviewed Toudou Mizuki’s data in her room.

That number clearly showed how lacking he was in social engagement.

“Attendance… twenty days.”

Not only had he abandoned his social-service duties, he had barely attended middle school at all—never once attending after his second year.

The records mentioned a traffic accident in the winter of his third year, but such an excuse carried little weight now.

“Gynophobia, huh…”

Noa scrolled down, staring at the brief note listed under his special remarks.

Social-service score: 50.
Attendance: 20 days.
Aide changes: 0.
Pairings: 0.

By numbers alone, he was every inch the “problem child” befitting the lowest class.

But then there was that face.

Soft, almost fragile features—so delicate he seemed to belong in another world.

(Such a waste.)

Without realizing it, Noa bit her lip.

The Houjou family, one of the Shikoku Eighteen Houses, had always demanded perfection from her as its eldest daughter.

And that expectation extended to her choice of partner.

Bloodline, achievement, potential—every factor had to be weighed. Only the most exceptional man would do.

Yet none of the current candidates stirred her interest.

Good looks came with violent tempers.

Good grades came with prickly dispositions.

And the only boy who caught her attention was Toudou Mizuki… the lowest-ranked of them all.

(Why him?)

Word had already spread through the year: Isshiki Shizuku, of the same Shikoku Eighteen Houses, had exercised her class-selection right before orientation.

Shizuku was the eldest daughter of the Isshiki family—the one destined to inherit the household.
Her husband would, in name, become the next head.

No matter how she reasoned it, there was no explanation for why someone of her stature would move down to the lowest class for a boy.

And yet, deep down, another voice whispered to Noa.

(But what if he’s genuine?)

She wanted to find out.

Still, approaching a boy from another class was risky—tantamount to betraying her own class’s males.

Worse, other girls might start rumors, calling her boy-crazy.

(Then I’ll move my retainers instead.)

Pulling out her phone, Noa accessed the Houjou family’s private network.

A list of Houjou-affiliated students enrolled at Shirayuki Academy appeared on the screen.

After a moment’s thought, she decided to send a group message to all of them.

Since Isshiki Shizuku had made her move personally, Noa would counter with numbers.

She tapped Send.

Replies began flooding in almost immediately.

Noa exhaled, satisfied.

◇◆◇

Aihara Yura hailed from a once-prominent family in Hokkaido.

In the early years of the Meiji era, when Hokkaido was first being developed, her ancestors had supervised the construction of major ports—rising to prominence through close ties with the new government.

But that was more than a century ago.

Their influence had long faded, and Yura had given up on restoring the family name.

She had only one goal now: to find a good match in Tokyo.

“Good morning!”

She called out cheerfully the moment she entered the classroom.

Only a few faint replies came back.

Deflated, Yura slunk to her seat.

(Do people in Tokyo just… not greet each other?)

The room was quiet. No one was trying to make friends.

Most of the girls were busy checking their hair or makeup in pocket mirrors.

Yura waited for an opening to start a conversation, but none appeared.

“…”

The next few girls who entered simply bowed lightly without saying a word.

A tense atmosphere filled the room.

To escape the awkwardness, Yura turned toward the window.

Outside stood the academy’s imposing brick entrance, surrounded by meticulously trimmed hedges—an elegant, almost foreign sight.

She passed the time just watching the scenery.

“Good morning.”

A clear, dignified voice rang out.

Yura turned and saw Isshiki Shizuku standing in the doorway.

“O-oh! Morning!”

Yura jumped up and waved timidly.

Shizuku returned the smile with a graceful bow, then walked to the back of the room, where a new desk had been placed.

(Why would someone like her transfer to Class K?)

Maybe the Class A boys were scary? she guessed.

But before she could think further, all the girls around her suddenly stood up.

“Good morning!”

Their voices rang in unison—bright and lively, completely different from moments ago.

For a second, Yura couldn’t understand what was happening.

“Good morning.”

A boy’s voice answered.

Then she realized.

She scrambled up, forcing her best smile.

“Good morning!”

As she met the boy’s gentle smile—Toudou Mizuki—Yura’s heart fluttered. She glanced at the girls around her, amazed at how quickly they’d changed demeanor.

(City girls are terrifying.)

Growing up in Hokkaido, Yura had attended all-girls schools where male students were rare. If there was even one boy, he was practically a mascot. Most girls just bonded among themselves and accepted it.

But Shirayuki Academy was different. Here, every girl had fought her way through ruthless competition—and now their goals were much clearer.

(Can I really survive here…?)

Yura sat back down and stole a glance at Mizuki’s profile.

He looked so gentle—beautiful, almost too perfect. Even if he was ranked lowest, he didn’t seem like a bad person at all. If anything, he appeared genuinely kind and sociable.

(Sigh… Toudou-kun is the only one who feels like a breath of fresh air.)

A little later, their homeroom teacher entered, followed by three girls Yura had never seen before.

Their uniforms were immaculate, their posture and movements refined—each exuding the unmistakable aura of an upper-class student.

Staff members wheeled in new desks behind them.

Confused, Yura looked around. The other girls seemed equally baffled.

“Originally, we were going to assign committee roles for the first period,” the teacher announced, “but before that, we have three new classmates to introduce.”

Yura frowned.

(Again?)

Yesterday, Isshiki Shizuku had transferred into Class K using her selection right. That alone had been unheard of.

And now—three more, all in one morning?

Something was definitely off.

“Sakura Sanae, from Izu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Shinonome Yukari, from Saitama.”

“My name is Gobai Miya, from Chiba. Please take care of me.”

All from the Kanto region.

Their manners and accents made it obvious—they were girls from noble families.

(There’s no way that’s a coincidence.)

Yura instinctively turned her gaze toward Mizuki at the center of the room.

That boy—gentle, androgynous, almost fragile—sat quietly as the class filled with whispers.

And around him, the daughters of prestigious families were beginning to gather.

(This… isn’t normal.)

Her eyes swept the classroom.

At the back, Isshiki Shizuku’s face had gone blank.

The warm smile she’d worn when greeting Yura earlier was gone.

But she wasn’t the only one.

Every girl in the room was glaring at the new transfers with thinly veiled hostility.

At last, Yura understood.

No one here was truly a classmate to befriend.

They were all just rivals.