“The most special report card in all of Sobu High School?”

Those words sent shockwaves through the entire class.

To most of the students, the idea of an “honor student” felt distant and unfamiliar.

If such a statement had been made in one of the top three classes, the students of Class F wouldn’t have been too surprised—they would have simply sighed and thought, “Those honor students are monsters, their scores are ridiculous.”

But for such words to be spoken in their own Class 1-F? A class where the existence of a top student was a rarity, and even if one did appear, they’d quickly be transferred to one of the higher-ranked classes?

Although there were some students in Class F who performed well academically, compared to the monsters in Class 1-A, the gap was vast. At best, a student from Class F might get placed in the A-class exam room during tests, but seldom would they actually be able to attend classes with the A-class students.

It was almost common knowledge at Sobu High School that to remain in Class 1-A long-term, it took more than just hard work—it required natural talent.

To put it bluntly, it was all about genius.

A level of talent that no amount of studying could overcome.

For a student to remain in Class A from their first year through to graduation meant that, after taking the college entrance exams, they would likely receive offers from prestigious universities.

Were students envious of this?

Of course—who wouldn’t be?

In Japan, a good academic background is a valuable stepping stone, and graduating from a prestigious university is like having that stepping stone gilded in gold and encrusted with diamonds. It naturally allows one to access better career opportunities than their peers.

Leaving aside abstract ideas like “career potential,” which can seem hard to grasp, the most immediate and tangible benefit is salary.

Who wouldn’t want a higher paycheck?

Back to the matter at hand, most students in Class F started glancing around, trying to guess who this mysterious report card belonged to.

But after checking with their classmates, they realized that most of the students had already received their report cards.

Those who had done well breathed a sigh of relief.

Those who had not fared so well either turned pale with dread or began mentally preparing themselves for the evasive maneuvers they’d need to pull tonight—dodging their mother’s feather duster or their father’s Seven Wolves-brand belt.

Then, suddenly, someone blurted out, “Hey… it looks like Izumi-san hasn’t gotten her report card yet.”

All eyes turned toward Kotomi Izumi. Sure enough, while everyone else’s desks had report cards on them—good or bad—Kotomi’s desk was conspicuously empty.

All she had in front of her was… her phone, quietly auto-playing a game of Azur Lane.

Feeling the weight of everyone’s stares, Kotomi shrank back in her seat. What was going on? Everyone was supposed to be listening to Shizuka-sensei, right? She’d just been passing time with Azur Lane while waiting for her report card—why was everyone suddenly staring at her?

Could it be that she had forgotten to turn off the sound?

Oh no!

Playing Azur Lane with the sound on in class? That would be social suicide!

After triple-checking that her phone was indeed on silent, Kotomi let out a sigh of relief. Still, all those eyes on her made her uncomfortable. Trying to act nonchalant, she slid her phone off the desk and into the compartment underneath, as if nothing had happened.

Shizuka Hiratsuka, watching Kotomi put her phone away, couldn’t help but smile. Normally, if this cheeky girl dared to play on her phone so openly in class, her head would already be flashing red with a danger signal, and the next second her neck might be subject to Shizuka ‘s grip strength.

However, thinking about Kotomi’s impressive performance in the recent exams, Shizuka took a deep breath. Whether Kotomi chose to remain in Class F or transfer to Class A, she would need to be treated with some level of care. After all, Kotomi was the first student to leave such a deep impression on her.

That being said, when the opportunity to transfer to Class A arose, most students would jump at the chance. Even if they ended up being demoted in a later exam, the opportunity to earn the 100,000-yen monthly bonus given to A-class students would make it all worthwhile.

For most high school students, 10,000 or 20,000 yen in pocket money was already considered pretty good, let alone 100,000 yen!

Once again raising her hand to quiet the class, Shizuka finally made the announcement:

“This year’s top scorer in the midterm exams, with 1,047 points, is Izumi Kotomi.”

Shizuka’s voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it reverberated in the ears of every student in the room.

Buzz—

At that moment, the entire class felt goosebumps rise, and their scalps tingled.

It was fortunate that this wasn’t being broadcast over the school’s PA system. If it had been, other classes might not have been as shocked, but the honor students in Class 1-A would surely be left dumbfounded.

Of course, once they inevitably found out later, the realization that the top score hadn’t come from their class was sure to leave many of them stunned.

If they went to investigate, the blow might end up being even harder than if they’d heard it over the school speakers. After all, many of the students in Class A took pride in their academic prowess. Kotomi’s achievement would be a direct slap in the face.

A merciless slap.

While most students were still scoring in the three-digit range, Kotomi had blown past that into four digits.

And not just barely either—she’d scored an impressive 1,047 points!

Just doing the math was enough to understand how extraordinary this was.

Japanese, math, English, social studies, history, geography, biology, physics, chemistry—nine subjects in total.

The maximum possible score across all nine subjects was 1,050 points.

With a score of 1,047, Kotomi had only lost 3 points across all her exams.

Those 3 points were most likely deducted from the Japanese essay section…

As this realization hit, the minds of the students were sent into a whirlwind.

This was too inhuman!

Sister Kotomi, please have mercy and act more human!

Was it really possible that she scored full marks in every subject except for the Japanese essay?!

“Congratulations to Izumi-san for achieving the top score with 1,047 points,” Shizuka said, and before she could even lead the applause, the entire class erupted into thunderous clapping.

Along with the applause came cheers and shouts of excitement.

“Congrats, Izumi-san!”

“1,047 points! That’s insane!”

“Goddess of knowledge, do you need an accessory hanging from your leg?!”

“Hahaha, this is awesome! Not too long ago, I had some jerk from Class A bothering me. What, do they think being in Class A is so special? Snatching first place away from them is a total slap in the face! I love you, Kotomi!”

“Kotomi, do you need a girlfriend?! I can be that little sister!”

“Kotomi’s unbeatable! I bet those arrogant honor students in Class A are pulling sour faces right now!” Seiko Kirigiri chimed in, clearly enjoying the drama.

“Hehehe, you’re all too kind,” Kotomi said, feigning modesty. But as she took her report card from Shizuka-sensei, the smug look on her face was unmistakable. She clearly didn’t mind the praise—and if anything, she wished they’d shout even louder.

Hey, you, third person from the wall, your voice is too soft! Where’s the enthusiasm? Speak up for your sister!

Seeing the smug little grin on Kotomi’s face, Shizuka couldn’t help but laugh. This little witch, though undeniably beautiful, was a bit too mischievous. Shizuka’s fists clenched as she imagined giving Kotomi’s little behind a playful smack.

The excitement in Class 1-F grew so loud that even the second and third-year students in the upper floors could hear it. The noise shook the classrooms next door, and one teacher nearly toppled off the podium during their lesson.

On any other day, the head of discipline would’ve already stormed in, shouting, “You’re the noisiest class in the whole school!”

But today, even though the head heard the commotion, a glance at the report card in his hands revealed that the top scorer and the student with the most significant improvement were both from Class 1-F.

With a satisfied smile, he chose to turn a deaf ear and let it slide, heading downstairs instead to confiscate a few phones from students in Class 1-B.

At least he’d leave them with some memories of their high school days.

Perhaps what Seiko Kirigiri had said earlier had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. At this very moment, Class 1-A was enveloped in an oppressive, low-pressure atmosphere.

Most of the normally proud honor students looked as if they’d just swallowed a swarm of flies.

Initially, they had been quite pleased after receiving their report cards, until the homeroom teacher informed them that this year’s top scorer wasn’t from Class 1-A but from Class 1-F—a class many of them usually wouldn’t even bother to glance at.

Especially Yuuma Matsutou, who, despite not being physically hit, felt as though both sides of his face were throbbing in pain, as if struck by invisible hands.

Ouch—so painful.

In stark contrast to the miserable faces of most of the honor students, class president Arisu Sakayanagi wore a constant, serene smile. She appeared completely out of place.

In fact, upon hearing that the top scorer this time was Izumi Kotomi from Class 1-F, Sakayanagi, who herself had scored 1015 points and ranked second in the grade, didn’t show the slightest sign of disappointment or anger. On the contrary, her smile only deepened, and she looked genuinely pleased.

This confused many students. However, when they remembered that Sakayanagi was one of only two students in the entire grade to score over 1000 points, they stopped questioning it. After all, the thought process of a genius was not something they could hope to understand.

In all of Sobu High School’s first-year classes, only two students had achieved four-digit scores on the exam.

Even nationwide, it was rare for high school students to achieve such results.

If it had been a national college entrance exam, the media would have been in a frenzy over it.

“Our class’s top scorer, and second in the entire grade, is Sakayanagi-san. Her score of 1015 is truly outstanding! But don’t get complacent, everyone. The top spot this time did not come from our class but from 1-F—Izumi Kotomi,” announced Yachiyo Kuhama, the homeroom teacher of Class 1-A, from the podium.

Yachiyo Kuhama, with her jet-black hair cascading down her back, gave off an air of purity and gentleness, but her eyes revealed a sharp intellect.

Due to the recent drop in temperature, the always chilly Yachiyo had already switched to a long coat. Underneath, she wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans, paired with low-heeled shoes, exuding both calm and elegance—a mature charm.

Although she wasn’t very old, having just returned from studying abroad three years ago, she had quickly landed a teaching position at Sobu High School.

Even though the school offered her a high salary and excellent benefits, in Japan’s education system, especially at a prestigious school like Sobu High School, homeroom teachers for top-tier classes were usually veteran teachers. It was highly unusual for someone with less than five years of teaching experience, like Yachiyo, to be assigned to Class 1-A.

Many teachers had been eyeing the homeroom teacher position for Class 1-A, as it was highly coveted. Although the students in Class A rotated out over time, the homeroom teacher remained fixed, typically teaching the same group for three years, from first-year to third-year.

It was only after the students graduated that a new homeroom teacher would be selected.

Just before this school year started, the previous batch of A-class students had all graduated with stellar results, gaining admission to top universities.

Sobu High School’s impressive graduation and college admission rates for Class A had garnered widespread praise in Japan’s education sector. The school’s chairman was so pleased that he decided to increase support for the class.

During the new semester’s staff meeting, the principal even announced that the standards and requirements for becoming an A-class homeroom teacher would be raised, but so too would the benefits.

In simple terms, if you became the homeroom teacher of Class A, your performance metrics as a teacher would be assured for three years, and the bonuses would flow generously.

Although Yachiyo had ambitions for the Class A homeroom teacher position, she didn’t think she had much of a chance of winning it.

However, as the saying goes, “When two dogs fight over a bone, the third runs away with it.”

Before the start of the semester, two veteran teachers with the best qualifications for the Class A homeroom position were locked in a fierce competition. The two had been at odds ever since they both started teaching at Sobu High, almost ten years ago. Their mutual dislike had turned them into longstanding rivals.

The problem was, both were exceptionally talented educators, and the reason for their rivalry was simple—they refused to acknowledge each other’s superiority in teaching.

This put the school chairman and principal in a difficult position, making it impossible for them to decide who would get the job.

Unexpectedly, during the heated competition, the two veteran teachers worked themselves up to the point where their blood pressure spiked, and they both blacked out, sending them to the hospital.

Although they regained consciousness and were not in any serious danger, the doctors advised that they remain hospitalized for observation and treatment as a precaution.

Rumor had it that the two were even placed in the same hospital room.

Every day, the nurses doing rounds could hear the two old teachers arguing—from educational theories to student career development—all while hooked up to IV drips.

Had they not been bedridden, they probably would have already used their IV stands to clobber each other in a live-action brawl.

It might sound exaggerated, but these two long-time rivals were just the type to do such a thing.

This wasn’t even the first time their feuding had landed them both in the hospital…

Back to the main point: with the two veteran teachers out of the picture, Yachiyo seized the opportunity and, before anyone else could act, applied for the position of Class 1-A homeroom teacher.

After a small meeting between the chairman, the principal, and the senior faculty members, her application was approved, and she became the homeroom teacher of Class 1-A.

No one doubted Yachiyo’s teaching abilities, not even the veteran teachers.

After all, she had an impressive academic background, having graduated from an Ivy League school abroad, and she had placed first in overall performance during her interview to become a teacher at Sobu High School three years ago.

This was her first time serving as the homeroom teacher of Class A.

And this was the first time her Class A had participated in a school-wide exam.

Therefore, upon seeing Class 1-A’s report cards from this midterm, Yachiyo couldn’t help but furrow her brows slightly.

The average score in Class A remained very strong, maintaining its usual dominant position.

In previous years, Class A had consistently swept the top three positions in every exam, as if the number one spot had already been reserved for one of their students before the exams even began.

But this time, a Class A student had been kicked off the top spot.

Mercilessly.

It had been a brutal fall because the person who kicked them down wasn’t even from Class A, but from Class 1-F.

The two most notable students from this midterm? Both were from Class 1-F!

“If we say that Yuihama Yui is a dark horse who soared up by more than 200 points, then Izumi Kotomi is a ruthless strategist who flipped the entire board and became the player. With her innocent and harmless appearance, she hides a sharp and calculating mind.

I have every reason to believe she deliberately scored low on her entrance exam to be placed in Class 1-F, only to stun everyone during the midterms by skyrocketing to the top.

Such a deep strategy… And her precise control over her score? That’s not something just anyone can pull off.”

Yachiyo muttered to herself as she stared at Kotomi’s name on the grade ranking, along with her score of 1,047. Her imagination began to run wild.

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Izumi Kotomi was no ordinary girl—she needed to figure out a way to “convince” her to join Class A… no, she needed to persuade her.

Just as Yachiyo was lost in thought, staring at Kotomi’s name on the list, Arisu Sakayanagi suddenly raised her hand decisively and said, “Yachiyo-sensei, may I say something?”

Yachiyo was momentarily taken aback but, recognizing that it was Sakayanagi who had spoken, nodded and said, “Go ahead.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep