章 7: White Room VS Black Room
The class had finally begun. Sae Chabashira, our homeroom teacher, stepped up to introduce herself, handing out the school handbook, laying down the rules, and explaining the points system that would dictate our lives here.
Each month, the school would transfer a seemingly generous amount of points to each student's account.
But anyone familiar with the canon plot knew the massive trap hidden beneath the school's so-called generosity.
To the average student, it all seemed straightforward—none of them could see the full picture yet.
Except for YamaGod.
Not even Ayanokouji, the White Room's prodigy, could comprehend the depths of the game as YamaGod did.
The White Room was child's play next to the Black Room, where YamaGod reigned supreme.
When Yamaincel was died and YamaGod took over, he became an unstoppable force.
No one could challenge him—not in this class, not in the entire school.
He was a phenomenon, a living legend, someone untouchable by any combination of wit or strength.
YamaGod was like the alter ego Peter Parker always dreamed of, a fully unleashed Bully Maguire, filled to the brim with swagger and absolute confidence.
Unbeatable, invincible, and so supremely competent.
Just like Bully Maguire, no one could bring him down in battle.
Did Bully Maguire ever suffer a loss?
Not once.
He could even make Little Goblin cry with a single, mocking stroke.
Anyone foolish enough to cross him got dirt in their eyes, left to grovel in defeat.
Bully Maguire had it all—power, bitches, and a badass attitude to match.
He tossed aside gold-diggers like Mary Jane and went after Gwen Stacy's pussy without a second thought.
He was at his peak, the ultimate alpha, when he embraced that dark, edgelord ruthless persona.
Such was the awe-inspiring presence of Bully Maguire: an unstoppable Chad, a meme lord, a god among men.
Anyone who dared to challenge him was doomed to humiliation.
Sadly, he eventually went back to being a damn goody two-shoes, Pussy Parker.
What a letdown, indeed.
"Are there any questions you'd like to ask, students?" Sae Chabashira's voice sliced through the classroom's chatter, a sharp edge that commanded attention as her gaze swept over the sea of faces with a pointed sense of anticipation.
Her eyes lingered on three individuals in particular: Ayanokouji, Horikita, and the ever-dazzling Koenji.
There was an unmistakable glint in her stare, a silent challenge that dared these students to rise above the complacency that suffused the room.
She hoped—perhaps foolishly—that one of them would step forward, exceed expectations, and shatter the pervasive sense of mediocrity that hung like a heavy fog over this assembly of so-called defective products.
Instead, her expectations were met with a deafening silence.
None of the students showed even a hint of curiosity or initiative, and Sae could feel an involuntary sigh of disappointment threatening to escape her lips.
Yet, she maintained her calm, unflappable façade, her features sculpted into an expression of disinterest.
Internally, however, she scrutinized each face, searching for even the faintest spark of intelligence among them.
Unfortunately, this class, deemed a collection of defective products by the elitist standards of the school, continued to wallow in its perceived luxury.
The students were positively drunk on the promise of receiving 100,000 points a month, blissfully unaware that the equivalent sum of 100,000 yen would come with strings attached.
No one questioned it.
No one doubted it.
The idea that their newfound privilege might be fleeting or conditional did not cross their minds.
Instead, they laughed and chattered, a display of juvenile hedonism that only deepened Sae's disappointment.
Their lack of discipline was awful.
Just as Sae began to resign herself to another wasted day, a hand shot up.
It belonged to none other than YamaGod.
YamaGod had an uncanny understanding of the burden faced by the stunning, suffering teacher before him, and his voice rang out with a boldness that could only belong to someone who truly grasped the audacity of the moment.
"Since you said the points can buy anything, can I use mine to purchase your time for a date, sensei?" YamaGod's question landed like a bombshell in the classroom.
A collective gasp rippled through the students, and even the usual chatter died a sudden death.
Ike Kanji and Ken Sudou practically fell out of their seats, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief, mouths hanging open.
Their gaze swiveled from YamaGod to the teacher, their expressions a blend of awe and unrestrained curiosity.
The very idea that anyone would dare to suggest spending their private points on a date with such a gorgeous MILF—especially one with Sae Chabashira's intimidating and stunning presence—was utterly mind-blowing.
A few students smirked in smug anticipation, eagerly awaiting the inevitable fallout.
They fully expected YamaGod to crash and burn spectacularly, thinking he would be swiftly reprimanded or humiliated for overstepping his bounds.
But YamaGod, the unstoppable meme lord, defied their low expectations and left them stunned yet again.
Sae Chabashira didn't explode with fury, nor did she even raise her voice in admonishment.
Instead, a small, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips.
"Yes, you can," she replied, her voice cool and amused. "Of course, you wouldn't be able to afford the price."
Her response left the room reeling.
As Sae spoke, a flicker of intrigue danced in her eyes.
This YamaGod had caught her attention.
Who was this brazen young man who had dared to challenge the status quo with such a bold question?
She couldn't recall any memorable impressions of him, and the realization bothered her.
She would have to review his profile back in her office to satisfy her curiosity.
While YamaGod's question had undoubtedly been flirtatious and laced with disrespect, there was no denying the underlying truth he had exposed.
Unlike the rest of his classmates, he had managed to see beyond the superficial allure of the points. He understood the essence of the system's function—a rare insight in this den of complacency.
Sae Chabashira made a mental note: this student was someone to watch closely.
"I'll save the points for later, then, teacher. See you on our little date." YamaGod smirked with a confident swagger, completely unbothered by any potential reaction from the teacher or the rest of the class.
His casual demeanor screamed self-assurance, and he nonchalantly leaned back, waiting for the lesson to begin, as if he owned the very air around him.
Sae's eyes swept across the classroom, scrutinizing each student with a sharp, assessing gaze.
Her voice rang out, crisp and authoritative. "Any questions, students?"
"No, teacher," came the monotone chorus, almost robotic in its uniformity.
"We're good," one of them muttered, followed by murmurs of agreement.
None of them even attempted to disguise their apathy.
They didn't have any desire to ask questions, and they couldn't be bothered to fake interest.
Why waste time when they could indulge in their own little distractions?
The opportunity to play around and do whatever they pleased was more tempting than pretending to be model students.
It wasn't like the teacher gave a damn, anyway.
They knew all too well that Sae wasn't about to reprimand them for whispering among themselves or cracking jokes under their breath.
Her tolerance, or maybe her weariness, only made them bolder.
YamaGod's carefree flirtation with her only fueled their audacity, as if his brazen confidence was contagious, making them feel invincible within the four walls of this so-called academic sanctuary.
This school felt like a lawless paradise where authority figures were toothless lions.
They never had to fear anyone catching them or laying down the law.
There was no terror of discipline, no looming dread of being put in their place.
Here, the classroom was their playground, and they reveled in the freedom to treat it as such.
And so, they continued.
The students ignored Sae as effortlessly as they breathed, their conversations flowing freely.
They laughed, they joked, they gossiped, all while paying no mind to the teacher standing before them.
Sae let out a silent sigh, heavy with disappointment and laced with a deep, unspoken frustration.
She had lost track of how many times she had silently sighed today.
It was a numbing ritual, one she had grown used to.
This class was a wasteland, a collection of unmotivated misfits who seemed hell-bent on testing her patience.
"Alright, then," Sae said, her voice steady but tinged with resignation. "Let's begin the class."
She nodded, signaling for order, though her heart wasn't in it.
As the lesson droned on, the classroom continued to simmer with barely-contained chaos, a theater of youthful disinterest and muted rebellion.
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