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In fact, obtaining midterm and monthly exam papers wasn't necessarily limited to second-year students.
It was also possible to purchase test papers from third-year upperclassmen.
As long as they were old test papers from higher grades, they should all be useful.
After all, they were all past exam questions.
This year's second-years should have originally obtained their test papers from the third-years.
This thought enlightened him, and he also remembered that the second-years were currently under Nagumo's control.
This discovery led him to a new question.
"Club President Sato," Akira asked, taking the opportunity. "Are all four third-year classes under the unified arrangement of the Student Council President?"
Club President Sato was silent for a moment, appreciating this junior's keen observation.
As an upperclassman from Class A in the third year, he felt it necessary to properly educate this new junior about the school's power distribution.
"More or less, Shimizu." Sato organized his thoughts. "Since you've been enrolled for a month, as an upperclassman, I'll tell you about the situation in the second and third years."
Through Sato's explanation, the situation Akira learned largely matched his previous conjectures: the second year was indeed completely under Nagumo's control.
Each class had to pay him "protection fees" every month. Since Nagumo entered his second year, his sphere of influence had already begun to penetrate the third year.
Faced with this situation, the third-year students had no choice but to unite, spontaneously forming a group centered around Student Council President Horikita Manabu, following the Student Council's unified command in all daily affairs.
Sato patted Akira on the shoulder and said in a relaxed tone. "Don't worry too much! You're just a freshman, and Nagumo won't target you for now. As long as the Student Council President is here, he will protect the interests of the first-years and other vulnerable groups."
As he spoke, his expression became a little complex. "However... it's precisely because the President is too gentle, and doesn't like conflict or power struggles, that Nagumo's influence has grown day by day."
"Since the start of the semester, not a single person in our Class A has been forced to withdraw—all thanks to the President's protection. Therefore, everyone in the class respects him."
"I see." Akira nodded silently.
It seemed that the other members of Class A respected Horikita Manabu not just because of his position as Student Council President, but also for his character and strength.
Akira found it quietly amusing.
Although these third-year upperclassmen didn't explicitly tell the juniors what they knew, they always treated the first-year juniors like children, believing they were objects to be protected.
Upon closer thought, it made sense. First-year students had only been enrolled for a little over a month, had very few points, and hadn't experienced much adversity.
However, he keenly sensed that this midterm exam might be another great opportunity to earn points—and this time, the target might not be limited to just the first-years.
Akira thought about it. Even if he sold the exam papers, he could only sell them to one class, and the price probably wouldn't be very high.
'Given the academic ability of Class A and B, they probably don't need these papers much. Class D goes without saying—those guys are out of points. It seems only Class C is left.'
'But, on the second and third-year side... there might be an opportunity.'
'The key lies with Nagumo and Horikita Manabu.'
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The phone screen lit up, and a new message notification sounded particularly clear in the quiet library.
{How's the investigation progressing? It's been half a month; you're not slacking off, are you?}
Shiina's slender fingers gently slid across the screen, replying: {Please give me a little more time. All clues have been organized; only the final questioning phase remains.}
As soon as the message was sent, the other party replied immediately.
{So you're short on manpower? Want me to send Ishizaki to help you?}
Seeing the name "Ishizaki," Shiina frowned slightly.
The scene from last month flashed before her eyes: Ishizaki unhesitatingly swinging a chair to smash the surveillance camera.
Thinking of this, she couldn't help but raise a hand to gently rub her temples.
'Ishizaki-kun is indeed reliable... but as an investigation assistant... he really doesn't meet my requirements.'
Shiina hesitated for a moment, then lightly tapped the screen with her fingertip.
{No, thank you for your offer.}
After sending this message, she set her phone to silent mode.
She loved detective novels, but rather than being obsessed with the moment of truth's revelation, she was more captivated by the process of unraveling the mystery.
Just like in the Sherlock Holmes stories, what always made her heart race was never the moment the culprit was finally caught, but every detail of the detective and his doctor friend investigating side by side—Dr. Watson recording clues, Sherlock Holmes deducing theories, the two exchanging ideas by the fireplace at 221B Baker Street.
'This unspoken understanding... this bond...'
Whenever she read such passages, she would unconsciously hold her breath, as if she could hear her own accelerating heartbeat.
Sometimes she would even put down her book and gently raise a non-existent teacup to the air:
"To their friendship."
In fact, every time she opened a new detective novel, she would unconsciously put herself in the detective's shoes.
Searching for clues between the lines, engaging in a battle of wits with the fictional killer in the labyrinth set by the author.
Occasionally, walking on campus, seeing suspicious scraps of paper or unusual footprints, she would instinctively stop, weaving a small detective drama in her mind.
'If it were Sherlock Holmes... if it were Poirot...'
It was precisely for this reason that the gray, energy-saving protagonist in "Hyouka" attracted her so much.
But reality was not a novel after all—she hadn't met a young lady who would say "I'm curious," nor had a rosy campus life suddenly descended upon her.
Until—Ryuuen's request.
"Find the person who rented the surveillance camera."
This was the first time she'd touched a real case.
However, half a month later, the mountain of clues only made her clearly realize: a solo detective eventually reaches her limits.
"I need a partner... just as Sherlock Holmes needs Dr. Watson."
Shiina didn't consider herself dull—hundreds of detective novels read allowed her to easily see through most of the tricks set by authors, sometimes even pinpointing the killer by the third chapter.
But between the world of paper and real life, there was an insurmountable chasm.
Books would neatly present clues to the reader.
Reality, however, required the detective to take the initiative, to pose questions to strangers, and to capture fragments of truth from flickering eyes and trembling voices.
And for her, who would get sweaty palms even during everyday conversations, this was like asking a nightingale to sing in a storm.