Class-E, The Experiments

Chapter XI: Spider Web

I frowned slightly. "Sudou and the others don't much like Hirata. I doubt they'll participate in his study group."

"That's their decision, and it has nothing to do with me," she replied dismissively. "If they're facing expulsion, they shouldn't grumble about trivial nonsense. If they don't get closer to Hirata-kun, then they'll be expelled. Of course, my goal is for Class D to reach Class A status. But that's for my sake and no one else's. I don't care about anyone else."

Her tone grew even colder. "Really, if we dump the failures after this next midterm, the better students will remain. That's what I need, right? In that case, attaining a higher rank will be simple. Everything will work out perfectly."

Her words were logical but ruthless. Horikita clearly viewed the weaker students as dead weight, expendable if it meant her personal advancement. It was as if she'd already made peace with the idea of letting people like Sudou go if it benefitted her in the long run.

"So, you're really willing to let people fail if it means getting closer to your goal?" I asked, curious if she'd acknowledge the cold reality she was proposing.

"I don't care about them," she said, her voice unwavering. "I'll do whatever it takes to reach Class A."

"Raven Girl, isn't that way of thinking flawed?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Flawed? What's flawed? Don't tell me you're about to give me some lecture on how there's no future for someone who abandons her classmates," she said, her tone sharpening.

"Relax. I understand you well enough to know you don't really understand me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then what is it? There's no strategic advantage to helping failures."

"Few advantages, sure," I admitted. "But it prevents potential setbacks."

"Setbacks?" she repeated, uncertain.

"Do you really think the school hasn't factored this in? They've deducted points for minor infractions—students arriving late, messing around during class. Imagine they're expelled because no one helped them. How many points do you think we'd lose then?"

She hesitated. "That's—"

"Look, there's no proof this is how it works. But it's possible. Maybe 100 points? 1,000 points? Or even 10,000 or 100,000. If that happens, reaching Class A becomes that much harder."

"We've already dropped to zero points due to our infractions. It can't go lower," she countered. "If we're already at zero, getting rid of the dead weight is the same as taking no damage."

"There's no guarantee that's the case. There could be penalties we don't see yet," I replied, shaking my head. "Are you okay with that risk? Someone as smart as you must have thought about this already. Otherwise, you'd have abandoned the failures from the start instead of suggesting a study group."

She fell silent, clearly mulling over my words. Her expression didn't show it, but I knew I'd planted the seed of doubt.

I wasn't doing this because I saw her as a friend. That would be a lie. In fact, I never considered her a friend at all. But Horikita had potential, buried deep beneath her pride and independence. And if I had to act like a friend, like I cared, to dig it out, so be it. I was curious how far she could go.

"Even if there are potential unknown negatives, it's better for the future of our class to abandon the failing students. Wouldn't you regret not abandoning them when we finally increase our points? Right now, it's a risk that we should take."

"Do you really think so?" I asked, my voice calm but challenging.

"Yes, I do. I'm at a complete loss as to why you're so desperate to save them," she shot back.