Chapter 16: The Art of the Deal and the Nuclear Option
(Miki POV)
My room smells like lavender and expensive candles right now, and yet, if I close my eyes, I can still taste it. That… incident in the afternoon wasn't just a smell. It was a spiritual violation. It was a biochemical war crime.
When that door opened and the fumes hit the hallway, I swear I saw my grandmother beckoning me from the pearly gates. She was wearing her favorite apron and shaking her head, saying, "Miki-chan, don't come toward the light. It's too soon. You still have so many designer bags to buy." I woke up in the nurse's office forty minutes later with a damp cloth on my forehead and a burning desire for vengeance—or at least, a massive payday.
Now, I'm sitting at my desk, the glow of my laptop reflecting in my eyes. I've watched the file ten times. It's a masterpiece. I have the high-definition recording of Sunny fanboying Nagumo into a state of blissful ignorance, followed by the "Laxative Crackers" doing their work, and ending with Nagumo sprinting for the toilet like his life depended on it.
If I post this to the public forums anonymously, I'll be a legend for a day. But if I sell it? I'll be rich for the rest of my life.
I didn't have to think for more than two seconds. I'm greedy. I'm okay with that. The question was: who hates Miyabi Nagumo enough to pay five figures for his downfall?
The answer was obvious. The E-sports Club.
Nagumo has been trying to slash their budget for months, calling gaming a "distraction from academic merit." The feud between the Student Council and the E-sports floor is legendary.
I hit the video call button for the E-sports Club President, Daichi Kurosawa.
The screen flickered to life. Daichi didn't even look at the camera. He was leaning forward, his face illuminated by a massive curved monitor, his fingers dancing across a mechanical keyboard with the speed of a hummingbird's wings. In the background, I could hear the rhythmic pop-pop-pop of headshots in CS2.
"Talk to me, Miki," Daichi grunted, his eyes tracking something on the screen. "You've got two minutes before this match hits the final round. If this is about the Student Council's noise complaint, tell Nagumo to shove his complaints where the sun doesn't shine."
"Actually," I said, leaning back and crossing my arms, "it's about Nagumo. Do I have your interest now, Daichi-kun?"
The clicking stopped. Daichi froze. He didn't even wait for the round to end; he just took his hands off the controls, letting his character stand still in the middle of a bombsite. He turned his head slowly toward the camera, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
"You have my absolute, undivided attention," he said. "Tell me, Miki. Do you finally have some real dirt on the Golden Boy? Or are you just teasing me again?"
I decided to play the "Big Sister" role for a second. "Oh my, you actually stopped playing? Aren't you worried about losing points? I heard the E-sports club has been having a bit of a... financial leak lately. After all, that first-year girl from Class D basically walked away with all your lunch money, didn't she?"
I didn't actually know how much Suzune Horikita had taken, but I knew it was enough to make the school gossip mills churn.
Daichi just let out a sharp, bark-like laugh. He leaned back in his racing chair, looking completely unbothered. "You mean the Horikita girl? Please. She walked away with 3.6 million points. To any other club, that's a death sentence. To us? That's barely a weekend's worth of tournament winnings. We let her have it because it was entertaining. Now, stop the small talk. What do you have?"
My jaw almost hit the desk. 3.6 million points?! And he called it nothing?
In my head, I was already calculating the exchange rate of 3.6 million points into Gucci and Prada. That girl Suzune has potential—if she ever gets tired of being a "Sugar Mommy" to that silver-haired freak, I should definitely recruit her into my shopping circle.
I cleared my throat, getting back into character. "Did you hear the rumor? The Student Council hallway was declared a hazardous bio-zone for two hours today."
Daichi leaned in. "I heard. The word is the Vice President had a... medical emergency."
"It wasn't a medical emergency," I smiled, my finger hovering over the 'Send' button for a single still-frame. "It was a tactical strike."
I sent the photo. It was a shot of Nagumo mid-sprint, his face twisted in a mask of pure, concentrated intestinal agony.
Daichi stared at the image for five seconds. Then he started to chuckle. Then he started to roar with laughter. "Oh, this is gold. This is pure, unrefined platinum. You have a full video?"
"I have the whole thing," I said. "The setup, the 'tribute,' the transition, and the... evacuation."
I didn't even have to name a price. My phone buzzed. A notification popped up from the school's point-transfer system.
[TRANSFER RECEIVED: 600,000 Private Points]
I let out a tiny, high-pitched squeak of joy. My "Big Sister" mask almost shattered. "A pleasure doing business with you, Daichi-kun. Your favorite big sister is very happy. I think I'll be spending my weekend at the high-end sushi bar on your tab."
I hit 'Send' on the full file and ended the call before he could see me dancing in my chair.
(Daichi Kurosawa POV – E-sports Club President)
I watched the video. Then I watched it again. By the third time, I was laughing so hard I almost fell out of my five-thousand-point ergonomic chair.
"TEAM! GET OVER HERE!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the E-sports lab.
Within seconds, the 3rd-year veterans and the 2nd-year "sweats" were crowded around my monitor. I hit play.
The room exploded.
"Is that... is that Nagumo eating a cracker like it's a religious experience?" one of the juniors gasped, clutching his stomach.
"Look at his face!" another yelled. "The moment the magnesium citrate hits the bloodstream! He looks like he just saw the face of God and God told him he was out of points!"
"Who is this silver-haired kid?" asked Sota, one of our lead analysts. "Sunny, right? The one who's been hanging around the Horikita girl. He's insane. He's not even playing the same game as everyone else. He's playing a prank simulator while we're all playing a survival horror."
"He's a bad influence," someone joked. "Didn't Suzune say he was the one who taught her how to 'negotiate' with us?"
"If this is what he calls a negotiation, I want to be his best friend," I laughed, wiping a tear from my eye.
I looked over at Ikuto Kiriyama. He was sitting in the corner, illuminated by three different monitors, his skin the color of old parchment. He looked like he was living on a diet of pure caffeine and spite.
"Ikuto," I said, my voice turning serious. "Come here."
The 2nd-year editor and manager stood up, his movements stiff. He looked exhausted, mostly because our usual 2nd-year manager was out sick and he was pulling double shifts. But when he saw the video on my screen, a tiny, flickering light of hope appeared in his eyes.
"Kiriyama," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm giving you the lead on this. I know you've been wanting revenge on Nagumo since your first year. He cut your club's hardware budget for 'aesthetic reasons' and made your life miserable for a semester because you 'looked too tired' in the hallways. Well... here's your weapon."
Ikuto took a deep breath, his hands hovering over his keyboard. "I'm on it, President. I'm going to cut out the boring parts. I'll add a high-tempo theme song—maybe something from a 90s slapstick comedy. I'll enhance the color grading on Nagumo's face to make that 'emergency red' really pop. I'll make him look as miserable as humanly possible."
"Good man," I grinned. I turned to our 3rd-year manager, Rin, who was already pulling up the school's internal advertisement portal. "Rin! Contact Akane Tachibana in the Student Council. Tell her we want to purchase a 'Public Interest Announcement' slot on the school's main server for the entire day tomorrow."
Rin looked at me, her eyes wide. "President? Those slots are incredibly expensive. To bypass the usual content filters for a public blast..."
"I don't care," I said, slamming my fist onto the desk. "Transfer 5 million personal points to the Student Council's administrative account. If Akane hesitates, tell her it's a 'charity donation' for school spirit. I want it so that the moment any student, in any class, opens their browser or checks the school forum tomorrow morning, this video starts playing on loop."
The room went silent. 5 million points. That was a nuclear option. It was a declaration of total war.
"Let's destroy that arrogant fool's reputation," I said, a dark smile on my face. "He wants to talk about merit? Let's see how much merit he has when the whole school sees him losing a fight to a cracker."
I reached for my desk and grabbed a bottle of the new, limited-edition Thigh-Flavour G-Fuel (don't ask, the marketing team is weird). I raised it high.
"To Sunny!" I cheered. "The most magnificent bastard in the first year!"
"TO SUNNY!" the club roared in unison, the sound of 5 million points shifting through the digital ether echoing like a cannon blast.
(Fūka Kiryūin POV)
The night air on the rooftop of the dorms is crisp, one of the few things in this school that hasn't been tainted by the constant smell of desperation and calculated lies.
I was leaning against the railing, the wind whipping my hair around my face, when my phone buzzed with a priority notification. It was a leak from the E-sports club—those boys can never keep a secret when they think they've won.
I hit play on the video.
I watched the silver-haired boy—Sunny—work his magic. I watched the way he moved, the way he spoke with that absurd, fanboy energy. Most people would see a clown. Most people would see a lucky idiot who happened to have a laxative on hand.
But I've spent two years in this "nurturing" hellhole, and I know a predator when I see one.
The way he manipulated Nagumo's ego wasn't luck. It was surgical. He found the exact frequency of Nagumo's narcissism and broadcasted directly onto it. And the way he carried the Horikita girl and the President out of the room? That wasn't just strength; it was a statement.
I let out a low, melodic laugh that was lost in the wind.
"Sunny," I whispered to the empty rooftop, my eyes reflecting the distant lights of the mall. "You're not like the others, are you? You're not trying to climb the ladder. You're trying to kick the ladder over while everyone is still on it."
I replayed the moment he gave Nagumo the "victory" headpat in the cafeteria from the earlier leak. There was a spark in his eyes—a chaotic, unfiltered glee that I haven't felt in years.
"You have my interest, little ghost," I said, closing the video. "Most toys in this school break so easily. They cry, they bargain, or they lose their spirit the moment the points run dry. But you? You look like you'd enjoy being broken. Or better yet... you look like you'd enjoy trying to break me."
I looked down at the courtyard, imagining the chaos that was going to erupt tomorrow morning when that video hit the main servers. Nagumo's "Perfect" reign was about to hit a very messy speed bump.
"I think it's time I introduced myself," I purred, a sharp, dangerous smile crossing my lips. "Let's see if your 'Toon Force' can handle a real Goddess."
I turned away from the railing and headed for the stairs, the sound of my boots clicking against the concrete like a countdown.
The school was about to become a very interesting place. And I wanted a front-row seat to the fire.