Chapter 40 Summary
The hallway of the Advanced Nurturing High School was unusually quiet for a Monday morning. The usual clatter of lockers slamming and sneakers squeaking against polished tiles had been replaced by a low, electric hum of anticipation. Posters announcing the upcoming final exam fluttered from the ceiling, their bold letters spelling out a single, ominous phrase: “Test of Loyalty – Class D.” The words seemed to vibrate in the air, as if the very building sensed the weight they carried.
Kiyotaka Ayanokouji stood at the far end of the corridor, his posture relaxed, his eyes half‑closed as if he were merely observing a scene from a distance. He was the kind of presence that made people feel both uneasy and oddly reassured. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was more a reflex than an expression of joy. He had spent the past week gathering fragments of information, piecing together the hidden agenda that the school’s administration had woven into the fabric of the upcoming exam. The final exam was not just a test of academic knowledge; it was a strategic manipulation designed to pit classmates against each other, to force a class ranking battle that would reveal who could truly be trusted.
A few steps away, Suzune Horikita adjusted the strap of her bag with a precise, almost mechanical motion. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, scanned the hallway with a calculating gaze. She had always been the one to take charge, to lead the charge in the intellectual arena. The rumors that swirled around the school about the “Classroom of the Elite chapter 40 summary” had reached her ears, and she had already begun formulating a plan. The final exam would be a crucible, and she intended to emerge from it not just unscathed, but victorious.
“Horikita‑sen,” a voice called softly from behind. It was Kei Karuizawa, her usual bright smile softened by a hint of nervousness. She had grown into a more confident version of herself over the past months, but the looming test still made her heart race. “Do you think we’ll actually have to betray each other?”
Horikita turned, her expression unreadable. “The test is designed to expose our loyalties. If we want to survive, we need to understand the rules before we play the game.” She glanced at Kiyotaka, who had been listening silently. “Ayanokouji‑kun, you seem to have an angle on this. Care to share?”
Kiyotaka opened his eyes, the darkness of his irises reflecting the muted light. “The exam isn’t just about answering questions,” he said, his voice calm and even. “It’s about how we choose to allocate resources, how we decide who gets what, and who we’re willing to sacrifice for the greater good of the class. The administration wants us to reveal our true priorities.”
A murmur rippled through the small group. Ryuuji Kanzaki, who had been leaning against a locker, pushed himself off and stepped forward. His lanky frame seemed to fill the space, and his grin was as mischievous as ever. “So, you’re saying this is a test of loyalty, huh? Sounds like a perfect stage for some strategic manipulation. I’m all in for a little chaos.”
Kanzaki’s eyes glittered with a mixture of excitement and calculation. He had always enjoyed the thrill of a good challenge, and the final exam promised just that. “If we’re going to play this game, we need to know the stakes. What does the school stand to gain from this?”
Kiyotaka’s gaze drifted to the ceiling, where the fluorescent lights hummed softly. “The school wants to identify the most reliable students, those who can be trusted with future responsibilities. They also want to weed out those who might become a liability. By forcing us into a situation where we must choose between personal gain and collective success, they can see who truly belongs in the elite.”
Horikita’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then we need to ensure that the class as a whole doesn’t crumble. If we all betray each other, we’ll all fail. The key is to create a coalition that appears loyal on the surface but can adapt when the hidden agenda reveals itself.”
Karuizawa’s eyes widened. “A coalition? But wouldn’t that be too obvious? The administration could see through it.”
“Not if we make it look like a natural alignment of interests,” Kiyotaka replied. “We’ll need to manage the perception of loyalty while keeping a contingency plan. It’s a delicate balance.”
The conversation was interrupted by the sudden arrival of the homeroom teacher, Ms. Sakuraba, whose presence always seemed to command attention. She carried a stack of papers, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp. “Class D, please gather in the auditorium. The final exam will commence shortly. Remember, this is a test of loyalty. Your actions will be observed, and the results will affect your class ranking.”
The students filed out of the hallway, their footsteps echoing in unison. The auditorium was a vast, dimly lit space with rows of seats that faced a massive screen at the front. The screen flickered to life, displaying a sleek interface that resembled a digital board game. A voice, smooth and authoritative, filled the room.
“Welcome, students of Class D, to the final exam. You will be presented with a series of scenarios that require you to allocate limited resources among your peers. Each decision will affect your individual score and the collective score of your class. You will also be given opportunities to form alliances, negotiate trades, and, if necessary, betray your partners. The ultimate goal is to achieve the highest possible class ranking while maintaining personal integrity. Good luck.”
The screen faded to black, and the room fell into a tense silence. The students exchanged glances, each trying to read the thoughts behind the others’ eyes. The test had begun.
The first scenario appeared on the screen: “Resource Allocation – 100 points. Distribute among three groups: Group A (Academic), Group B (Physical), Group C (Social). Each group must receive at least 20 points. Any points left unallocated will be deducted from your personal score.”
Horikita’s mind raced. She knew that the academic group would directly influence the class’s overall performance, while the physical group could affect the school’s sports reputation, and the social group would impact morale. She glanced at Kiyotaka, who seemed already calculating the optimal distribution.
“Let’s allocate 40 to Academic, 30 to Physical, and 30 to Social,” Horikita said, her voice steady. “That way we meet the minimum requirements and give each group a solid foundation.”
Karuizawa hesitated. “What about the leftover points? If we don’t use them, we lose them, right?”
Kiyotaka nodded. “Exactly. We need to use all 100 points. If we leave any unassigned, they’ll be deducted from our personal scores, which could affect our individual rankings.”
Kanzaki smirked. “Then why not give a little extra to the group that benefits us most? I say we boost the Academic group to 50, keep Physical at 30, and Social at 20. That way we secure the highest academic output, which translates to better test scores.”
Horikita considered this. “But if we neglect the Social group, morale will drop, and that could affect cooperation later. We need a balanced approach.”
The screen displayed a timer counting down from thirty seconds. The students hurriedly entered their allocations on their tablets. When the timer hit zero, the results flashed across the screen.
“Class D’s allocation: Academic 45, Physical 30, Social 25. Individual scores: Horikita 12, Ayanokouji 15, Karuizawa 10, Kanzaki 8.”
A soft chime sounded, indicating the end of the first round. The class’s collective score rose modestly, but the individual scores revealed subtle differences. Kiyotaka’s higher personal score hinted at his strategic foresight, while Kanzaki’s lower score suggested his riskier approach.
The next scenario appeared: “Secret Trade – You may offer a portion of your personal points to another student in exchange for a promise of future assistance. The trade is confidential and will not be revealed to the class.”
A murmur rippled through the auditorium. The notion of secret deals added a new layer of intrigue. Horikita’s eyes narrowed. She knew that trust was a fragile commodity in this environment.
Kiyotaka raised his hand, his voice calm. “I propose a trade with Karuizawa. I will give you 5 points in exchange for your commitment to support my allocation in the next round. This will be a silent agreement, and we will both benefit.”
Karuizawa looked surprised but quickly recovered. “Deal. I’ll back you up. And I’ll keep it to myself.”
Kanzaki, ever the opportunist, whispered to Horikita. “What about me? I can give you 4 points if you promise to protect my interests in the social group later.”
Horikita considered the offer. She was aware that aligning with Kanzaki could be useful, but she also sensed his tendency to act impulsively. She smiled faintly. “I accept your offer, Kanzaki. We’ll discuss the details after the next round.”
The screen displayed the outcomes: “Secret trades executed. Ayanokouji gains 5 points from Karuizawa. Horikita gains 4 points from Kanzaki. Updated individual scores: Horikita 16, Ayanokouji 20, Karuizawa 5, Kanzaki 12.”
The class’s collective score rose slightly, but the individual scores shifted dramatically. The secret trades had already begun to reshape the power dynamics within Class D.
The third scenario was the most unsettling: “Test of Loyalty – You will be presented with a dilemma. Choose to either sacrifice 10 of your personal points to increase the class’s collective score by 30, or keep your points and let the class lose 15 points. Your decision will be recorded and displayed to the entire class.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. The weight of the choice was palpable. The students could see the numbers on the screen, the stark contrast between personal gain and collective loss. The test was designed to expose who would prioritize the group over themselves.
Kiyotaka’s eyes flickered across the screen. He could feel the subtle pressure of the hidden agenda, the way the school wanted to see if any of them would willingly sacrifice for the greater good. He glanced at Horikita, who stared straight ahead, her jaw set. Karuizawa’s hands trembled slightly, and Kanzaki’s grin faded into a more serious expression.
The timer began its countdown. The students had only ten seconds to decide.
Horikita was the first to press her choice. “I will sacrifice my points.” She tapped the button, her finger steady. The screen flashed, confirming her decision.
Kiyotaka followed, his movement almost imperceptible. “I will also sacrifice.” He pressed his button, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.
Karuizawa hesitated, her breath shallow. “I… I think I’ll keep my points.” She pressed the button reluctantly.
Kanzaki, after a brief pause, made his choice. “I’ll keep mine as well.” He pressed his button, his expression unreadable.
The screen displayed the results: “Class D collective score increased by 30 points. Individual sacrifices: Horikita 10, Ayanokouji 10. Karuizawa retained 5 points, Kanzaki retained 12 points. Updated individual scores: Horikita 6, Ayanokouji 10, Karuizawa 5, Kanzaki 12.”
The class’s overall ranking rose, but the personal costs were evident. Horikita’s and Ayanokouji’s willingness to sacrifice painted them as the most loyal, while Karuizawa and Kanzaki appeared self‑preserving. The hidden agenda had been partially fulfilled: the administration now had data on who would put the group before themselves.
The next round introduced a twist: “Hidden Agenda Reveal – The school will now disclose a secret objective that each student must achieve. Failure to meet the objective will result in a penalty to the class’s collective score.”
The screen flickered, and a new set of instructions appeared. “Objective: Each student must secure at least one ally who will willingly give up 5 personal points in the next round. The ally’s sacrifice will be recorded as a sign of trust.”
The room buzzed with nervous energy. The students realized that the test was not just about immediate decisions but about building a network of trust that could be leveraged later. The hidden agenda was now fully exposed: the school wanted to see how they could manipulate alliances and extract loyalty under pressure.
Horikita’s mind raced. She needed to secure an ally quickly. She turned to Ayanokouji, who was already scanning the room with his usual detached focus. “Ayanokouji‑kun, we need to ensure we both have an ally who can give up points. I propose we each ask Karuizawa to sacrifice 5 points for us. He’s already shown willingness to trade.”
Karuizawa looked up, his eyes wide. “I… I don’t know if I can give up more. I already lost points earlier.”
Kanzaki interjected, his tone more persuasive than before. “What if we make a pact? I’ll give you 5 points if you promise to protect my social standing later. It’s a win‑win.”
Ayanokouji considered Kanzaki’s offer. He could sense the underlying calculation, the way Kanzaki was trying to secure a safety net. He nodded slowly. “I accept your proposal, Kanzaki. I will ensure that your social group receives additional resources in the next round.”
Horikita turned to Karuizawa. “Karuizawa‑san, we need you to give up 5 points for each of us. It will help us meet the hidden objective, and in return, we’ll support you in the next allocation.”
Karuizawa’s shoulders slumped. He felt the pressure of the situation, the weight of the expectations placed upon him. He glanced at the screen, at the numbers that represented his dwindling personal score. He took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll give up 5 points for you both.”
The screen displayed the new allocations: “Karuizawa sacrificed 5 points for Horikita, 5 points for Ayanokouji. Updated individual scores: Horikita 11, Ayanokouji 15, Karuizawa 0, Kanzaki 12.”
Karuizawa’s personal score had plummeted to zero, a stark reminder of the cost of loyalty in this twisted game. The class’s collective score rose modestly, but the hidden agenda had been satisfied: the school now had evidence of how far each student would go for an ally.
The final scenario loomed on the screen: “Final Decision – You must now choose between two options. Option A: Allocate all remaining points to boost the class’s collective score, guaranteeing a top‑rank position for Class D but sacrificing all personal points. Option B: Keep a portion of your personal points for yourself, risking a lower class ranking but preserving your individual standing. Your choice will be recorded and will affect the final class ranking.”
The tension in the auditorium was palpable. The students could feel the weight of their previous decisions pressing down on them. The final exam had become a crucible of strategy, loyalty, and sacrifice. The hidden agenda had been fully revealed, and now the ultimate test of loyalty was at hand.
Horikita’s eyes flickered across the room, landing on Ayanokouji. She could see the faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth, a sign that he had already calculated the optimal outcome. She turned to Karuizawa, whose expression was now a mask of resignation. She also glanced at Kanzaki, who seemed to be weighing his options with a mixture of ambition and caution.
Ayanokouji spoke first, his voice low but clear. “I will choose Option A. The class’s success is more important than my personal score. If we secure a top rank, we all benefit in the long run.”
Horikita nodded, her resolve firm. “I agree. We have already sacrificed enough. It’s time to put the class first.”
Kanzaki hesitated, his eyes darting between the two options. “I… I think I’ll go with Option B. I need to keep some points for myself. If the class falls, I can still rely on my own abilities.”
Karuizawa’s shoulders drooped, his voice barely audible. “I… I’ll choose Option A as well. I’ve already given everything I have.”
The screen flashed, confirming their choices. “Final decision: Horikita – Option A, Ayanokouji – Option A, Karuizawa – Option A, Kanzaki – Option B. Class D collective score increased significantly. Final class ranking: 1st place. Individual scores: Horikita 11, Ayanokouji 15, Karuizawa 0, Kanzaki 12.”
A collective exhale filled the auditorium. The class had secured the top rank, a triumph that would be recorded in the school’s annals. Yet the personal costs were evident. Karuizawa’s score remained at zero, a stark reminder of the price he had paid. Kanzaki’s