Chapter Text
"Kanzaki-san is the CEO of Kanzaki Engineering."
Arisu whispered this explanation to Kitagawa Ryo behind her before turning back with a polite smile to exchange pleasantries with Kanzaki.
"This is my son, Ryuji."
Letting go of his hand, Kanzaki gave a slight nod, signaling for his son to step forward.
"Hello, I’m Kanzaki Ryuji."
Although he seemed reluctant, under his father’s urging, Ryuji managed a brief introduction.
While clearly dissatisfied with his son's lack of enthusiasm, Kanzaki knew this was just how his child was. He wasn’t lacking in talent, just not very adept at social interaction—especially when compared to someone as polished as Sakayanagi Arisu.
With a barely noticeable sigh, Kanzaki shifted his attention to the boy standing behind Arisu. The affectionate behavior he had witnessed earlier made him wonder about the boy’s identity. Yet, to his knowledge, Sakayanagi Narimori only had one daughter.
"And who might this be?"
Noticing Kanzaki's curiosity, Arisu casually replied:
"A distant cousin."
"I see."
Kanzaki nodded without probing further. The Sakayanagi family was vast, and many side branches existed.
"Well then, I won’t keep you. I hope you enjoy the festival, Arisu-san."
"Likewise, I hope you and Ryuji-kun have a great time too."
Glancing at the time, Kanzaki courteously took his leave, and Arisu responded with equal grace.
Ryo listened to the entire exchange with interest. So Kanzaki Ryuji was another child from a powerful family. Compared to someone like Kouenji Rokusuke, Kanzaki was remarkably low-key.
Another useful bit of intel. Ryo's mood lifted.
"...I can already feel the future dinner parties coming."
Unlike the content Ryo, Arisu looked weary. Leaning her right elbow on the table, she sighed softly.
Thanks to the Sakayanagi family's social status, they often received invitations to dinners and parties. Even when she was sickly, Arisu had been forced to attend a few. Now that she was healthy again, those events were bound to increase.
But it was only a brief distraction. Arisu soon perked up and began browsing the menu with Ryo.
"These prices are ridiculous."
Ryo casually flipped through it. The items were mostly standard sweets and coffee, but the point cost was anything but cheap.
"It’s a maid café after all. If you want a photo or a selfie, you have to pay extra."
Arisu pointed to a boxed section at the end of the menu. A photo with a single maid cost 800 points. A two-person group photo required an additional 400 points, totaling 1,200.
Considering underage guests were only given 5,000 points each, this was no small sum.
"Still, business is booming."
Ryo looked toward the corner of the café where the photo station was set up. A student with a camera was instructing guests and maids on poses, and several people were lined up. It was clearly popular.
"That’s because it doesn’t feel like real money. More like free coupons handed out by the school."
Arisu waved her phone. Since they had only bought cotton candy so far, she still had over 4,000 points left.
"And since the points can't be converted to cash afterward, people feel no need to be frugal."
As they chatted, they ordered some light snacks and sweets. For drinks, they chose Darjeeling tea.
"I’m very sorry, but we only have one serving of Darjeeling tea left."
Chabashira Sae came over with an apologetic tone. This was Ryo’s first time seeing her during her student days, and he couldn’t help but observe her more closely.
Compared to the stern, debt-collector-like Chabashira of the future, this version seemed much more approachable—though that might just be the maid outfit talking.
Noticing the situation, Tomoda, the class leader overseeing operations, also came over. Upon learning what happened, he bowed politely.
"Could I ask you to choose another drink? As an apology, we’ll charge only half the price for that one."
Ryo nodded. He wasn’t particularly bothered.
Once Ryo agreed, Tomoda swiftly started issuing orders:
"Post an ‘Sold Out’ sticker on all menus next to the item. Also update the outside signage manually."
"Let’s add 'Sold Out Due to High Demand' to the message."
Under Tomoda’s clear guidance, Class 3-B quickly adjusted their operations and rotated shifts. Their seamless coordination impressed Ryo.
He also noticed Chabashira Sae’s gaze was almost fixed on Tomoda the entire time.
"That girl likes that boy," Arisu said, sipping the last cup of Darjeeling.
"You saw it too?"
Ryo nodded slightly. He was starting to piece things together. Chabashira's later change likely had a lot to do with this boy.
Hoshinomiya had once claimed Chabashira didn’t have the qualifications to lead a class to A-rank. From that, it wasn’t hard to imagine what happened back then—Chabashira likely made a critical mistake that caused her class to fall short at the final hurdle.
Judging from the strong leadership and unity Class 3-B showed now, their chances of reaching Class A would have been significant.
"Girls are very obvious when they like someone."
Arisu chuckled and cut off a piece of cake with her fork, holding it out to Ryo.
"Ahh—"
"Are you trying to feed me?"
"Isn’t it obvious?"
"It just feels strange after what you said earlier."
"Which is why I said it’s obvious."
The fork touched Ryo’s lips, and he took a bite. The sweetness of the cake spread across his tongue.
"How is it?"
While Ryo thought the cake was nothing compared to his own desserts, Arisu's shimmering eyes made it hard to say anything but:
"It’s not bad."
Satisfied, Arisu nodded.
"Then I’ll try it too."
She took the fork Ryo had just used and, without a second thought, began eating.
"It’s not exactly great, but I guess it’s passable."
After a few bites, she speared another piece and offered it to Ryo again.
Naturally, Ryo couldn’t refuse such a clear gesture and continued accepting her offers.
Fortunately, since the café was cutting costs, each cake slice was small. Sharing made it disappear quickly.
"Next time, I’ll take you to eat better cake."
Wiping the cream from her lips with a napkin, Arisu smiled.
"Can you bake one yourself?"
The question came unexpectedly, sparked by memories from the last simulation.
Arisu paused briefly, then replied with full confidence:
"If you want a cake made by me, I’ll learn how to make one."
"Cooking isn’t hard for me."
"Then I’ll be looking forward to it."
As they casually chatted, a sudden commotion caught their attention.
Across from the maid café, another store had drawn a large crowd. More and more people were arriving, curious about what was happening. The atmosphere grew increasingly festive.
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As the leader of Class 3-A, having experienced the previous two cultural festivals, Izumitani Atsushi had keenly grasped a key business opportunity within Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School's event.
The truth was, as students, it was difficult to truly capture the interest of adult guests. Whether it was food, entertainment, or performances, most of it appeared to be just child’s play in the eyes of adults. Even though these adults were given 10,000 points to spend, many simply chose a random stall and spent it with little thought.
So, what could truly appeal to the families of school staff?
Many classes had also considered this and targeted children instead—since guests typically consisted of parents with their kids. By captivating the children's attention, the adults' points would naturally follow.
That’s why most classes chose child-friendly concepts like sweets shops or haunted houses.
But Izumitani had a different idea—one that only students of Advanced Nurturing High School could pull off.
In general, high school cultural festivals also served as promotional events to attract new students from nearby middle schools. At most such festivals, you could spot graduating middle schoolers.
As a prestigious institution well-known in both Tokyo and across the country, Advanced Nurturing High School had thousands of hopefuls aspiring to be accepted each year.
Yet only 160 students were admitted annually after rigorous written exams and interviews. Combined with the school's near 100% college acceptance and employment rate, it had the aura of an elite academy.
So while Izumitani still targeted children, he went for a completely different angle.
Aside from health, parents prioritized education more than anything. Some even went as far as to neglect health in pursuit of academic excellence.
Recognizing this, Izumitani persuaded his class to attempt a bold new idea.
"Want to know if your child has a shot at getting into Tokyo Advanced Nurturing High School?"
"Special Building, First Floor — brought to you by Class 3-A, endorsed by multiple homeroom teachers, the ultimate prep gift for future candidates!"
"Practice real past exam questions, win great prizes, and discover the secrets behind the interview process! Unique content, fresh formats, bonus challenges—prepare for all high-frequency question types. You too can make it to Advanced Nurturing!"
Leaving just a few students at the booth, Izumitani led a large team from Class 3-A out into the campus with stacks of flyers in hand, launching a massive promotional campaign. Their bold move left other students, especially those flipping yakisoba, completely dumbfounded.
Cultural festivals... could be used this way?
To the shock of others, many idle parents were genuinely intrigued. They took the flyers and read them with interest, soon dragging their equally confused children toward the special building.
At the Class 3-A venue entrance, Izumitani had gone all out—renting several laptops and tasking the class's tech-savvy students with installing custom programs filled with handpicked exam questions from his past three years. A huge banner was hoisted:
[The Higher Your Score, The Bigger Your Discount!]
And that wasn’t all. They set up a projector to display a live leaderboard on the wall, showing the top 10 scores in real-time.
[You Could Be the Next Advanced Nurturing Prodigy!]
[A Mystery Grand Prize for First Place!]
These flashing messages appealed directly to the vanity of both children and their parents. Everyone entering could immediately see them.
Those who didn’t make the leaderboard weren’t left out—Class 3-A offered curated test packets for purchase: 2,000 points for the standard version and 5,000 for the deluxe edition.
This strategic campaign quickly made Class 3-A the hottest attraction. Many parents, who knew each other, couldn't help but start comparing their children's performances. Even those who hadn't planned to apply to the school were tempted to see how their kids would score.
Naturally, each trial cost 1,000 points. Want another try? Pay another 1,000.
Izumitani's strategy was a wild success. The scoreboard buzzed with shifting names, and the crowd of parents continued to grow.
"As planned, each top-scorer gets a quick interview afterward. Don’t forget—we’ve planted some classmates in the audience to hype them up."
Izumitani had even thought through the customer experience after the quiz.
Soon, the front desk of Class 3-A saw two children who looked no older than six or seven step up.
Izumitani's eyes twitched. He sucked in a breath.
Had it come to this already...?