Chapter 18 Summary
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hummed with a low, steady buzz, casting a sterile glow over the rows of desks that seemed to stretch into an endless horizon. It was the first day after the mid‑term exam results were posted, and the air was thick with a mixture of triumph, disappointment, and the unspoken tension that always followed a test of this magnitude. In the back of Class D, Kiyotaka Ayanokouji leaned against his chair, his expression as unreadable as ever, eyes half‑closed as if he were already calculating the next move in a game no one else could see.
Across the aisle, Suzune Horikita stood at the whiteboard, her posture rigid, the chalk in her hand moving with a precision that mirrored the sharpness of her mind. She had spent the night poring over the exam sheets, searching for patterns, for any hint that could explain why some of her classmates had slipped while others had surged ahead. The numbers on the board—average scores, percentile ranks, the distribution curve—were more than statistics; they were a map of the battlefield she was determined to dominate.
Kei Karuizawa, perched on the edge of her seat, tapped her foot impatiently. Her usual bright smile was replaced by a focused frown as she watched the murmurs ripple through the room. She had always been the social glue of Class D, the one who could coax a smile out of even the most stoic students, but today she felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. The secret alliance she had forged with Ayanokouji and Horikita the previous week was about to be tested, and the stakes were higher than any of them had imagined.
The teacher, Ms. Sakuraba, entered the room with a stack of papers clutched to her chest. She placed the envelope on her desk and cleared her throat, the sound cutting through the low chatter like a blade. “Class D, the results of the recent exam are now official,” she announced, her voice calm but firm. “Please take a moment to review your scores. We will discuss the implications in our next meeting.”
Ayanokouji’s fingers twitched ever so slightly as he reached for his envelope. He opened it with the same detached efficiency that defined his every action. Inside lay a single sheet of paper, the numbers printed in stark black ink. His score was, as expected, near the top of the class—an unremarkable fact to those who knew him, but a crucial piece in the puzzle he was assembling.
Horikita’s envelope was heavier, the paper thicker, as if the weight of her ambition had been pressed into the very fibers. Her score was marginally lower than Ayanokouji’s, but still within the top tier. She scanned the sheet quickly, eyes narrowing as she noted a single anomaly: a question she had answered correctly that, according to the key, was marked wrong. A flicker of suspicion crossed her face. “There must be an error,” she muttered under her breath, already formulating a plan to challenge the grading.
Karuizawa’s envelope was a different story altogether. Her score, while respectable, placed her just below the median. She stared at the numbers, a knot forming in her stomach. The exam had been a turning point for her; she had spent countless evenings studying, trying to prove herself beyond the “pretty face” label that had followed her since the first year. The disappointment was palpable, but she forced a smile, masking the turmoil with a practiced cheerfulness. “It’s okay,” she whispered to herself, “I’ll do better next time.”
The room fell into a hushed silence as the three of them exchanged glances. The secret alliance, forged in the shadows of the cafeteria, now had a tangible focus: the exam results. Ayanokouji’s mind raced, not with the content of the test, but with the implications of the data. He knew that the administration’s hidden metrics—social influence, leadership potential, adaptability—were as important as the raw scores. The exam was merely a catalyst, a way to separate the wheat from the chaff, and he intended to use it to his advantage.
Horikita’s eyes met Ayanokouji’s for a brief moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. “We need to understand why the grading was inconsistent,” she said, voice low enough that only he could hear. “If there’s a flaw in the system, we can exploit it. If it’s intentional, we need to expose it.”
Karuizawa leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “What about the other classes? I heard rumors that Class C’s average was significantly higher. Could there be a bias in the way the questions were weighted?”
Ayanokouji’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “The answer lies in the data,” he replied. “We’ll need to gather more information, compare the results across sections, and look for patterns that the administration doesn’t want us to see.”
The conversation was interrupted by the sudden ring of the school’s intercom. “Attention, all students,” announced the voice of the principal, crisp and authoritative. “Due to the recent exam, a special briefing will be held in the auditorium at 3 p.m. Attendance is mandatory for all classes.”
A collective sigh rippled through the room. The briefing was a known tradition: a debrief where the administration would outline the next steps, often using the exam as a pretext to introduce new policies or challenges. For Ayanokouji, Horikita, and Karuizawa, it was an opportunity—a stage where a plot twist could be orchestrated, where the secret alliance could reveal its true purpose.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, the trio slipped out of the classroom together, their footsteps echoing down the polished hallway. The corridors were bustling with students exchanging theories, some boasting about their scores, others lamenting their failures. The atmosphere was a microcosm of the larger competition that defined the second year of Classroom of the Elite, a relentless drive for supremacy that left little room for complacency.
Outside the auditorium, a small group of students had already gathered, their faces lit by the glow of smartphones. One of them, a lanky boy with a shock of silver hair, was scrolling through a forum titled “read Classroom of the Elite 2nd Year chapter 18 online.” He tapped furiously, his eyes scanning the latest posts. “Did you see the analysis on the exam’s hidden sections?” he asked, voice low. “Apparently, there were questions that only a handful of students could answer correctly, and those answers were weighted heavily in the final score.”
Horikita’s ears perked up at the mention of a hidden section. “What do you mean by hidden sections?” she asked, her tone sharp.
The boy glanced at her, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. “There’s a rumor that the exam included a set of problems that weren’t part of the standard curriculum—something about logical deduction and strategic planning. Only those who had access to certain resources could solve them. It’s like a secret test within a test.”
Ayanokouji’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s true, then the exam was designed to separate those who can think beyond the obvious. It aligns with the school’s philosophy of cultivating elite individuals.”
Karuizawa, ever the social chameleon, smiled brightly. “Well, that explains why some of us felt the questions were… odd. Maybe we should look into who had access to those resources. It could be a clue to the secret alliance we’re forming.”
The conversation drifted toward the upcoming briefing. The principal’s voice, recorded earlier, promised a “new challenge that will test the limits of each class’s cohesion and ingenuity.” The trio exchanged a knowing look; the challenge was likely a continuation of the hidden test, a larger stage for the plot twist they anticipated.
Inside the auditorium, the principal stood at the podium, his silhouette framed by the towering windows that offered a view of the sprawling campus. He began with a measured cadence, outlining the results of the exam, praising the high achievers, and subtly reminding the students of the school’s ultimate goal: to produce leaders capable of navigating a complex world.
“Class D,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the rows, “has shown remarkable resilience. However, resilience alone is insufficient. In the coming weeks, you will be presented with a series of tasks designed to evaluate not just your academic prowess, but your ability to collaborate, to strategize, and to adapt under pressure.”
He paused, allowing the words to sink in. “These tasks will be conducted in secret, and only those who demonstrate the necessary qualities will be granted access to the next phase of the program. Consider this an invitation to prove yourselves.”
A murmur rippled through the audience. The principal’s speech was a classic maneuver: a vague promise of opportunity that concealed a test of loyalty and ingenuity. For Ayanokouji, Horikita, and Karuizawa, it was the signal they had been waiting for.
After the briefing, the three regrouped near the school’s garden, a quiet oasis where cherry blossoms fluttered in the spring breeze. The scent of the blossoms mingled with the faint aroma of ink and paper, a reminder of the countless exams that had shaped their lives.
“We need to act quickly,” Horikita said, her voice low but firm. “If the secret tasks are truly hidden, we must be the first to uncover them. The advantage will be ours.”
Ayanokouji nodded, his eyes scanning the garden’s perimeter as if searching for unseen clues. “The key lies in the data we already have. The exam results, the rumors about hidden sections, the principal’s emphasis on collaboration. We should start by mapping out the connections between the students who performed exceptionally well on those obscure questions.”
Karuizawa pulled out her phone, opening a note-taking app. “I’ve already compiled a list of students who mentioned the hidden sections on the forum. Let’s cross-reference that with the top scorers in the official results. If there’s overlap, we can identify who might have access to the resources needed for the secret tasks.”
The trio worked in tandem, their minds aligning like gears in a well‑oiled machine. Horikita’s analytical prowess dissected the numbers, Ayanokouji’s strategic intuition filled in the gaps, and Karuizawa’s social acumen gathered whispers from the corridors, turning idle gossip into actionable intelligence.
Hours passed, the garden’s shadows lengthening as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Finally, a pattern emerged. A small cluster of students—Yoshida, a quiet boy from Class C; Miho, a diligent girl from Class B; and Takumi, an enigmatic transfer student—had all scored exceptionally high on the hidden questions and were also members of a clandestine study group known only as “The Nexus.”
“The Nexus,” Ayanokouji murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. “A secret alliance within the school, perhaps the very one the administration hinted at. If we can infiltrate it, we’ll gain insight into the upcoming tasks.”
Horikita’s eyes sharpened. “Infiltration will require a delicate approach. We can’t simply walk in and announce ourselves. We need a reason to be invited.”
Karuizawa’s expression brightened. “I have an idea. The Nexus meets after school in the library’s restricted section. They’re known to be selective, but they also value talent. If we can demonstrate our abilities—perhaps by solving a puzzle they’ve posted online—we might earn an invitation.”
Ayanokouji considered the plan, his mind already calculating the variables. “We’ll need to create a solution that showcases both logical deduction and strategic foresight. Something that aligns with the school’s philosophy of elite development.”
The next day, the trio set their plan into motion. Karuizawa posted a comment on the same forum where the hidden exam sections had been discussed, offering a solution to a complex logic puzzle that had stumped many. Her answer was concise, elegant, and displayed a depth of reasoning that caught the attention of the forum’s moderators—none other than members of The Nexus.
Within minutes, a private message appeared in her inbox, signed with a simple emblem: a stylized compass rose. “Impressive work,” the message read. “We would like to discuss further. Meet us in the restricted section of the library at 8 p.m. tonight. Come alone.”
Karuizawa shared the invitation with Ayanokouji and Horikita, their faces reflecting a mixture of anticipation and caution. The restricted section was a place few students ever entered; it housed rare texts, experimental research, and, most importantly, the school’s most guarded secrets.
That evening, the library’s grand doors loomed before them, their mahogany panels illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and polished wood. As the clock struck eight, a lone figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, silver‑haired boy with an air of quiet confidence. He introduced himself as Takumi, a member of The Nexus, and gestured for them to follow.
The restricted section was a hidden alcove behind a sliding bookshelf, its walls lined with shelves that seemed to stretch into infinity. In the center of the room stood a large wooden table, upon which lay a single envelope, sealed with a crimson wax stamp bearing the same compass rose emblem.
Takumi placed the envelope on the table and spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Inside is the first of the secret tasks. Only those who can solve it will be granted further access to The Nexus. Consider this a test of your resolve, your intellect, and your willingness to cooperate.”
Ayanokouji reached for the envelope, his fingers brushing the wax seal. He hesitated for a moment, then broke it, revealing a single sheet of paper. The task was simple in appearance yet complex in implication: a series of riddles, each requiring a different type of reasoning—mathematical, linguistic, spatial, and ethical. The final riddle promised a clue to the location of a hidden cache of resources that could influence the upcoming school-wide challenge.
Horikita read the first riddle aloud, her voice steady. “I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?”
Karuizawa smiled, her eyes lighting up. “An echo,” she answered instantly.
Ayanokouji nodded, his mind already moving to the next puzzle. The second riddle was a cryptic equation that required the participants to decode a sequence of numbers hidden within the school’s timetable. The third riddle involved arranging a set of abstract shapes on a board to form a specific pattern—a task that tested spatial awareness and foresight.
As they worked together, the trio’s dynamic shifted. Horikita’s analytical mind dissected each clue with surgical precision, Ayanokouji’s strategic intuition guided their approach, and Karuizawa’s social intuition read the subtle cues in Takumi’s demeanor, ensuring they remained on the right track. Their collaboration was seamless, a testament to the secret alliance they had cultivated.
When they finally solved the last riddle, a small compartment in the table slid open, revealing a sleek black USB drive. A note attached to it read: “Insert into the school’s main server. The data within will reveal the true nature of the upcoming challenge. Use wisely.”
The revelation sent a ripple of excitement through the trio. The secret tasks were not merely academic; they were a gateway to information that could tilt the balance of power within the school. The USB drive represented a key—a literal key to the hidden mechanisms that governed the elite hierarchy.
Takumi, who had observed their progress with a measured gaze, finally spoke. “You have proven yourselves worthy of The Nexus. From now on, you are part of our inner circle. The information you retrieve will be shared among us, and together we will shape the outcome of the next phase.”
Ayanokouji’s expression remained impassive, but his mind raced. The secret alliance he had formed with Horikita and Karuizawa now had a broader scope. The Nexus could become a powerful tool, a network that could influence the school’s direction. Yet, he also sensed the underlying tension—trust was a fragile commodity in a place where every student was a potential rival.
Horikita clenched her fists, her resolve hardening. “We must use this information to secure Class D’s position. If the school’s administration is testing us, we will be the ones who control the test.”
Karuizawa nodded, her smile returning, brighter than before. “And we’ll make sure everyone knows that Class D isn’t just surviving—we’re thriving.”
The night grew deeper as they left the restricted section, the USB drive safely tucked away. The campus was quiet, the moon casting a silver sheen over the rooftops. As they walked back toward the dormitory, the three of them fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the implications of what they had just uncovered.
The next morning, the school’s announcement board displayed a new notice: “Special Project – Phase Two. All classes will receive a briefing at 2 p.m. in the auditorium. Attendance is mandatory.” The tone of the notice was unmistakable; the administration was moving forward with the hidden challenge, and the stakes were now higher than ever.
In the days that followed, Ayanokouji, Horikita, and Karuizawa worked tirelessly to prepare. They accessed the USB drive, extracting a trove of data that revealed the upcoming project’s parameters