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"The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war." ~Norman Schwarzkopf
It was the afternoon. The sports festival had concluded, and I had left the scene alone after briefly visiting the bathroom where Hirata had set up Ishizaki.
There wasn't much left for me to do in regard to my class. The major pieces were already in motion.
But that didn't mean I was finished.
There was still business to handle.
That business brought me to the front of the school's only electronics store—the same one where Ibuki had dropped off her tablet for service.
I stood outside for a moment, scanning the familiar storefront, before walking in without hesitation.
The layout hadn't changed. Behind the main desk stood the same employee from before—Souta Miyako.
"Good afternoon. Yagami, right?" she asked as soon as she noticed me.
"Yes. It's nice to see you again," I replied politely. "I'm here to pick up the device for Ibuki, as we discussed last time. And also to talk about laptops, if you have a moment."
"Ah, right—the tablet," Miyako said, her voice bright as she disappeared into the back room.
She was gone for only a few seconds before returning, Ibuki's tablet in hand. She moved smoothly to her terminal and began typing.
"Just a second while I process the pickup and print the receipt," she said as her fingers danced across the keyboard. "By the way, I looked into those laptops you mentioned—since you said you'd be doing student council work and needed something light but powerful."
She glanced up briefly. "I think one of the newer business-class models would suit you. Aisle 3 has a few solid choices. Personally, I'd recommend the touchscreen model in the second section."
"Ah, I thought you might've forgotten about that little favor," I said, keeping my tone warm.
"I could never," she smiled. "Not with how slow things are around here. Besides, it was a simple request—and something to keep me entertained."
"I'm glad I wasn't a bother, then."
As the conversation tapered off, the receipt began to print. A second sheet of paper followed. Miyako picked them up and handed them to me along with the tablet.
The first was a standard receipt showing that the tablet had been serviced—nothing noteworthy.
The second was more interesting.
It was a complete copy of the intake form Ibuki had filled out when she dropped off the device. The top half was clearly handwritten. Her name. The description of the issue.. Even the student ID school email address linked to the device, likely for verification or diagnostics.
On this campus, the tech systems mirrored those of typical academic institutions. Student email accounts were the foundation, used for everything from logging into school portals to syncing with personal devices.
Phones, tablets, and other electronics, though personal, were still partially regulated. They could be locked with passcodes, adding an extra layer of privacy, especially for things like messages, photos, and files. But like in most schools, access typically relied on the student's email account, as it was directly tied to their identity within the system.
"Can I ask you a question?" I said, casually scanning the bottom of the page, filled with standard technical notes about Ibuki's tablet repair.
"Hmm?" Miyako hummed, glancing up. "Yes, what is it?"
"I noticed something odd," I began. "This form includes Ibuki's name, class, student ID, and school email—but not her email password or passcode. That seemed strange to me." I kept my tone light. "Considering most devices are tied to a student's email, and especially here, where even the school computers and campus devices require a student's email and password to log in and access their desktop, I figured it would be necessary. Most repair shops usually ask for passwords if the device is locked or linked to an account. But here, you didn't ask for that at all."
Miyako nodded, smiling.
"Ah, yes. That's actually by design," she said. "We never ask students for their email passwords or any other passwords. It's far too sensitive. The school has very strict policies on that—no written passwords, no verbal sharing, nothing. It's a potential security risk, so we avoid it altogether."
"Then how do you access the devices for testing or repairs?" I asked.
"Once a student submits the form, we forward it to the school's tech office. They verify the information and send us temporary passwords—something that works only for that specific device," she explained. "It allows us to power it on, check functionality, run tests and software, and complete repairs without ever needing the student's actual login. Once we're done, the password is disabled."
"I see," I replied, nodding.
It made sense. On this campus, everything ran through a student's school email. Computers, tablets, even shared devices in the library—none of them could be accessed without logging in using a verified school email and matching password.
That one omission—the absence of the email password and general passwords—wasn't just policy. It was intentional protection. Built to eliminate any vulnerability.
Even if someone wanted to steal credentials, it would be meaningless. The temporary login was only effective for the individual device during a specific timeframe. And the real email password? That never entered the system at all.
Accessing someone's email without their cooperation? Practically impossible.
The repair area was off-limits. Even if the service room likely has no direct surveillance in the repair area, the rest of the store was locked down tight with cameras covering every inch. No way in without being caught.
In short, unless someone willingly handed over their login or was foolish enough to input it in front of the wrong person, it couldn't be accessed.
And if they were that careless?
Then I wouldn't need their password in the first place.
There was no point continuing the previous topic. I'd already gotten what I needed from it.
"So, how do you enjoy working at this school, anyway?" I asked Miyako, smoothly shifting the conversation.
"Well… It's not exactly a glamorous job," she admitted. "I just handle basic repairs and work the register. But it's not bad either. Not everyone gets to work somewhere this unique. I didn't have many options, to be honest. When you're willing to sign a non-disclosure agreement just to take a position as a regular store clerk, that tells you a lot."
She gave a small, tired smile. "Still, I'm young. So I try to stay optimistic."
"I see. That makes sense. I'm glad to hear you're staying positive," I replied. "I'm curious, though—what's it actually like working here?"
"It's alright," she said, shrugging slightly. "Like any other job, really. Though a little weirder, given the setting. And kind of boring, since most students either don't need repairs or can't afford expensive electronics in the first place. Plus, it's a long commute from where I live. That part definitely isn't fun. But the work itself? Stress-free."
"But?" I prompted, noting the hesitation in her tone. I wasn't satisfied with just surface-level answers.
She let out a small sigh. "Well… It's not anyone's dream job, obviously. And there are a lot of rules. I already explained how complex the repair process is, so you can imagine how frustrating things get with all the protocols and red tape."
"I see. Then you must at least be compensated well," I said, not as a question, but a statement, watching her reaction closely.
Miyako's awkward expression gave me the answer before she even spoke.
"Ehhh… well, I mean—it's just a retail job," she said with a sheepish laugh. "I do repairs, yeah, but it's nothing high-level…"
She trailed off, clearly dissatisfied, like most people in low-paying positions.
"If you don't mind me asking—how much do you make?" I asked, still keeping my voice polite and curious.
"Around 1,000 points an hour," she said. "It's not great, I know. But I haven't been able to find anything better. The school also gives us the option to use our points here, providing items at a cheaper rate than outside, or to convert them directly into yen. And I did get training to work here, which counts for something, I guess. I'm hoping it looks good on a résumé later."
(CoTE Volume 1 takes place in 2015, there's news of Japan's average minimum wage just recently hitting 1000, so I think a high average 10 years ago could have been around 1000. Also, I make a few assumptions here about ANHS staff, but think their accurate cashiers wouldn't have to live on campus, and I think it's likely they do get paid in points, given there is a large stock of items for 20+ year olds like alcohol. I'll shut up now.)
She paused before adding quietly, "Right now, though, it's my only way of paying the bills."
Her tone wasn't bitter, but the cheer from earlier was gone.
"Bills?" I echoed gently, careful not to push too hard. "You seem so young. I wouldn't have guessed it'd be that much of an issue."
"Well, yeah… You know how it is. Family stuff," she said vaguely, waving it off. "But let's not make it depressing. I bet your life here is way more interesting than mine, am I wrong?"
I gave a short laugh. "Hahaha… That's subjective, I guess."
Then I tilted my head slightly. "How much do you know about the school?"
She thought for a moment, "well… the basics, this is a elite high school with its own built in economy, basically a big social experiments meant to nurture the best of students, theres things like contracts and points obviously and thats about the most of it, as you know im new here given the predecessor of this electronic store was fired for being indecent."
"I see. So you basically know just enough to get by," I said with a slight nod. "But you're right to think there's more to this school than it seems."
There was no rule against discussing the school's inner workings with staff—only against disclosing them to outsiders and underclassmen. So this much was harmless.
"Each academic year here consists of 160 students—split evenly across four classes: A, B, C, and D," I explained. "These aren't just groups of elite students. They're placed in direct competition. After three years, only one class earns the full privileges the school advertises."
She listened carefully as I continued.
"The competition isn't based on grades alone. This school uses countless surveillance systems and unique exam formats—not typical written tests, but scenarios. Challenges that assess a class's ability to adapt, lead, and manipulate situations to their advantage."
"Huh? So… like a battle royale?" Miyako asked, her eyes lighting up with interest. "All classes fighting for one top spot? So if one wins, everyone else loses?"
I nodded. "That's a good comparison."
"And of course, to succeed," I continued, "each class needs a capable leader. Someone competent, someone who can elevate their peers or dominate them. Naturally, some students rise above the rest. That creates power imbalances. Not just within classes… but between them."
I paused slightly, then lowered my voice, letting the tone shift.
"And… well… classes in general."
"Why do you say it like that?" Miyako asked, still clearly intrigued.
"Because this school mirrors the real world," I said. "And just like in the world beyond these walls, there are bad leaders. Not just incompetent ones—corrupt ones. Evil ones."
Her expression shifted, and I continued.
"The school's first unspoken rule is simple: there are no rules. As long as you don't get caught, anything goes—bullying, blackmail, bribery, sabotage, cheating. All of it is on the table. And some people wield those tactics without hesitation, using cruelty and deception to seize power."
"That's awful," Miyako muttered, visibly disheartened. "What do you do about people like that? When it gets out of hand?"
I looked down, letting a heavier silence settle over the conversation.
"It's sad," I said quietly. "But once someone reaches that level, there's not much to be done—except to remove them. Not out of revenge or pride. But because if you let them keep going, they corrupt the entire system. Some people don't need correction. They need to be erased."
"And the truth is… the only way to do that, in many cases, is to play as dirty as they do—so you can fight them on equal ground."
Miyako frowned, still clearly processing everything. "That sounds incredibly difficult. Both in practice… and just making that decision in the first place. I don't envy you. I'd hate to be in your position when you have to make those calls."
The silence stretched out between us again, heavier now.
I let it linger, intentionally. And only once it had gone just a second too long, I broke it.
"Well—that's enough of that," I said, lightening my tone. "No point in ruining the mood. How about you show me that laptop?"
"Ah—yes! Of course," Miyako said quickly, already moving. "Just follow me over here."
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Give me your opinions I love reading everyone's comments, as you cant tell this is supposed to be a worldbuilding sort of chapter, CoTE has a lot of cool concept it has not gone into detail on so this is my attempt at doing that, let me know what you think, the next arc will be starting soon, I will include the changes in class points then.