Nanase Hikari wondered how things had come to this.

She sat there, dazed, listening as the homeroom teacher read the morning announcements.

“Those are the four class-selection requests we accepted today. Including the two who moved earlier, Class A’s headcount is now twenty-four.”

It had been only three days since the school year started.

In just three days, Class A was collapsing.

“…Where are they going?”

The homeroom fell silent; all eyes were on her. Normally she would have hidden her shock, but Hikari couldn’t stop her voice from trembling.

“Class K.”

The elderly teacher—his gray hair neatly combed—looked at her with pity. Hikari felt dizzy and slowly let her weight fall back against the chair.

—I knew something was off.

Nanase Hikari was the fourth daughter of the Nanase family, one of the Shikoku Eighteen Houses. Her family rank was high, but she was, after all, the fourth daughter; by rights, the class president should have been Houjou Noa, eldest daughter of the Houjou family.

Yet Hikari had ended up in that role.

—How did it turn out like this?

The oddness had started on the very first day. Isshiki Shizuku, daughter of one of the Eighteen Houses, hadn’t shown up for school. Word had it she’d used her class-selection right before orientation. Hikari had taken the situation lightly at the time—convinced it was simply a rash move born of being dazzled by a handsome boy in Class K.

—Even the guardians of order can’t resist the hormones of youth, she’d thought.

She’d reminded herself that the usual opening move at Shirayuki Academy was to wait and watch, so she hadn’t investigated further.

Then yesterday, Houjou Noa’s right hand, Shinonome Yukari, exercised her class-selection right as well.

“She said she got into a fight,” Noa had said casually during homeroom.

A prickle ran through Hikari. Something didn’t add up. Yukari’s destination was the same as Shizuku’s — Class K. It was as if someone were hinting at a plot.

But committee selections began, and Hikari let her curiosity drop. Then something stranger happened: Noa, the strongest candidate for class president, didn’t raise her hand. She didn’t volunteer for vice president, for head of discipline, nothing.

“Now that Yukari’s gone, I don’t feel up to it,” Noa had announced to the crowd.

What an actress, Hikari thought. She had no choice but to dig into Toudou Mizuki’s records again. Every time she checked, his social-service score remained fifty — clear evidence of severe lack of sociability.

—Mother always said: when picking a man, check the social-service score first. Don’t pick by looks.

Her mother’s advice had been driven home so many times it had become a rule of life. A man’s character, his consideration for women, his willingness to serve society—all of it was condensed into that number. A low score meant he disliked women, shirked civic duties, and was lazy.

But then Hikari heard that two of Houjou Noa’s retainers from Class B had moved to Class K as well.

—A fake diagnosis, then.

Hikari’s first hypothesis was that some households were faking diagnoses through their private doctors to artificially lower a boy’s score so they could keep him close. It was a tactic almost unheard of today, given strict oversight, but she couldn’t think of another explanation.

—Still, it’s strange that both Isshiki and Houjou are moving. One must have set this in motion and the other jumped on it afterward.

She needed more investigation. But the Class A boys, led by Kichijoji Susumu, immediately put her to work as class president. The academy’s opening convention was to observe first; Hikari had to defer her probe. That decision led to this.

“Class K has reached capacity. From now on, class-selection rights cannot be applied.”

Something abnormal was occurring. Hikari felt as if the whole world had left her behind—a peculiar, sickening sensation. The honor of being class president of the top-ranked class suddenly felt like a fetter.

“That’s all for announcements. That ends homeroom.”

The old teacher gave Hikari a sympathetic look and left. When the door closed, a heavy silence took hold of the room. Hikari could only stare blankly at the blackboard.

“Nanase, restructure the plan.”

A low voice cut through the quiet. She turned to see Kichijoji Susumu—calm, expressionless—still studying some documents.

“Reconstruct it.”

He rose slowly and tossed the papers in his hand onto Hikari’s desk.

They fluttered down: the provisional athletics-festival plan Hikari had spent the previous night reorganizing at Susumu’s request.

She stared at the scattered sheets, then at Susumu. He was tall—one hundred eighty-four centimeters—well-built, a physical presence that intimidated in a class where the average girl stood around one fifty-five.

His eyes showed nothing as he looked down at her.

“…I was planning a lineup centered on Houjou Noa. This will take some time.”

Her throat felt dry; her thoughts were frayed.

“Make it a draft. Rework the entire year’s plan first, then assess its validity.”

“Entire year?” she croaked.

“If you have other priorities, propose them.”

She couldn’t say she wanted to investigate the boys of Class K — expressing interest in boys from other classes was taboo.

“…No,” she said.

“Report progress at the start of the week. List concerns and issues.”

Having said that, Susumu returned to his seat. The only things left behind were the ruined athletics plan and an uncomfortable hush.

She lifted her head and stole a look at him. He had already lost interest in the class’s oddities and was checking the social-service assignments on his laptop. The way he embodied ordered rationality—so composed and efficient—filled Hikari with an undefinable fear.

◇◆◇

“What on earth is this?”

Hikari had gathered her classmates in the girls’ restroom farthest from the classroom and demanded answers.

“We—we don’t really know…” one girl stammered.

“I can’t act openly. Investigate Class K,” another said.

“Even if we investigate…what exactly are we supposed to look for?” someone else panicked.

Their flustered responses made Hikari’s temper flare.

“First: list everyone who exercised their class-selection right to move into Class K. Second: look into the possibility of fake diagnoses. If there are false diagnoses, I want names handed over immediately and the culprits exposed.”

“We’ll check the hospital records that issued diagnosis slips,” one offered.

“But the people who used selection rights aren’t publicly listed,” another protested.

“You can find that out if you get moving! Hurry up!”

At Hikari’s sharp orders, the girls scattered from the restroom in a flurry. She sighed at their ineptitude—hard to believe they were Class A.

—Isshiki or Houjou; which one did this?

It had been only three days. The near-simultaneous movement by Isshiki Shizuku and Houjou Noa nagged at her. Someone must have orchestrated it; the other had jumped on the bandwagon. She burned with the twin stings of humiliation and loneliness. They’d reduced Class A to rubble—she would not let them get away with it.

And if Mizuki’s social-service score were truly all that stood in the way, Hikari thought, she might have used her selection right too. If not for fake diagnoses, Toudou Mizuki might well have been placed in Class A from the start. This was an unjust result born of deliberate action.

Her anger swelled until it had no bounds.

—I will not forgive this.

The unfair monopolization of men had always ended the same way in the past. Nanase Hikari whispered with sincere hatred, spitting the words out like a curse.

“I will make sure they’re sent to the execution platform.”