F-Class (1): A Classroom in Name Only

After leaving the grand auditorium, Stelle waited until they reached a quiet, deserted spot before latching onto Hint.

“Hint! What was that just now?!”

She pressed so close that their chests touched and their noses nearly brushed. For the first time, Hint was genuinely flustered.

This main character… using a heroine-seducing move on me of all people. What am I supposed to do with that?

Hint grabbed both of Stelle’s shoulders and gently pushed her back.

“I understand how you feel, but that was rather too close, Stelle.”

“Ah! Sorry! I got way too excited!”

Stelle and Hint both took a moment to collect themselves. Once the thrill of the bizarre phenomenon—how the cabin had led them to the grand auditorium—had settled, Stelle asked again.

“So, Hint. What exactly was that cabin?”

“You may not believe me, but it is a legendary relic.”

“Whaaaaat?!?!?!?!”

Hint had casually dropped a nuclear bomb of information. Even a girl from a remote rural village in the empire like Stelle knew exactly what a legendary relic meant. There were barely thirty of them in the entire world. In the past, nations had waged wars over a single one—so immense was their prestige. To suddenly call that shabby little cabin a legendary relic… it was perfectly natural for Stelle to be stunned.

“I understand your surprise. Shall we discuss the details once we reach the classroom?”

Still reeling from the bombshell, Stelle followed as Hint led her toward the classroom.

When you hear the word “classroom,” what comes to mind first? Those unique desks you rarely see after entering society? Dozing off during lecture beneath the warm sunlight streaming through the window, a natural sedative? Or perhaps the sweet, bittersweet pink-tinted youth of forging deeper bonds with like-minded friends?

But the moment you laid eyes on the thing bearing only a “classroom” sign, that imagined sweet-and-bitter pink youth would shatter instantly.

“This… is our classroom…?”

Exactly. Just like Stelle right now.

Unable to accept reality, she sank straight to the floor. The location was a neglected backyard completely detached from the academic buildings. The path wasn’t even properly maintained—grass had swallowed the trail so thoroughly it was hard to tell where to step. After trudging along that barely visible route, you arrived here: a derelict warehouse that simply had the word “classroom” slapped onto it.

The only proof this was supposedly a classroom was a signboard with “1-F” elegantly written in cursive. Even though Hint had already seen the classroom’s true state through a monitor, the reality was still shocking.

He put every ounce of strength into opening the iron door, which was so thoroughly rusted it barely budged. With a heavy thud, the door swung open, and the small abandoned warehouse belched out all the dust it had hoarded inside from that slight disturbance.

“Cough, cough. This is indeed surprising.”

He tugged the light cord just in case, but nothing happened. Crackle. Pop. Tiny mana sparks informed them that the fixture had run completely dry. The windows, long since shattered and yellowed with age, could neither block outsiders nor offer a view outside—they fulfilled no function a window should.

There wasn’t a single surface free of caked-on dust, and mold bloomed in several corners. The student desks and chairs that should have been standard were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a faded sofa and cabinet greeted them. There wasn’t even a proper blackboard—only one lonely mobile whiteboard stood in the room.

Hint scratched the back of his neck at the gloomy sight. Of course he had known the F-class classroom would be this bad, but the difference between a monitor and actual 4D experience was night and day. Still, that was precisely why he had chosen those items from the catalog.

“Stelle. It’s too early to lose heart.”

“How can you stay so calm after seeing this, Hint…?”

“Because this isn’t our classroom yet.”

“Huh?”

Hint pulled out a small pouch. It was a one-time-use subspace inventory—the pinnacle of academy technology that let you transport countless items with ease. Of course, it would have been better if it could be reused, but a permanent subspace inventory was a luxury item comparable to first prize, so he couldn’t exactly complain.

The text on the pouch read:

When he opened it, a blinding flash and gust of wind burst out. When he opened his eyes again, the space before them was no longer the abandoned warehouse they had seen moments ago. A water purifier, top-grade sofas, a sleek blackboard, and even a mini cafeteria tucked into one corner welcomed them.

The dejected Stelle from before had vanished. In her place stood a girl whose eyes sparkled as she looked around the transformed classroom.

“Hint! Water comes out of this machine!”

“It’s called a water purifier.”

“Hint! This sofa is so fluffy!”

“It is a fine sofa.”

“Hint! There’s even a toaster! Whoa—a refrigerator?! Bread?! And it’s full of snacks!”

“It appears to be a simplified version of the in-class cafeteria provided ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only to A-class students and above. The room size probably didn’t allow for anything larger.”

“Hint! What’s this bell for?!”

“It’s a maid call service. Only available in S-class, so we won’t have to worry about cleaning.”

In the game there had been no hunger stat, but in reality the value existed plainly. Hint had passed up numerous second-prize artifacts and weapons to choose this classroom set first precisely to solve problems like hunger. The academy did provide meals to F-class students, but in the game those meals inflicted nothing but nasty debuffs the moment you ate them. In reality they might simply taste bad, but there was no reason to risk unknown debuffs ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when he didn’t have to.

There were many ways to grow stronger, but only the second prize offered a way to secure the most basic foundation of daily life right now.

“Huh? This whiteboard is still here.”

Since a huge blackboard would never have fit inside the cramped warehouse, they had left the mobile whiteboard as a substitute. Strangely, it remained even after everything else had been replaced with new items.

“The academy must have prepared it for us.”

“Really? I’ll bring it over.”

Stelle peeled the paper off the whiteboard and returned with it.

“There’s a paper attached. Let’s see…”

With a sharp cracking sound, Stelle froze solid. Even Hint, who already knew everything, found the contents shocking. No homeroom teacher, no class guidelines from the academy, only two students declared at risk of expulsion, and to top it all off, no dormitory provided. They had to worry about where they would sleep tonight.

Hint gently patted the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back of Stelle, who had begun to sniffle.

“Don’t worry too much.”

“But we’re at risk of expulsion and we don’t even have a place to sleep… Aren’t you worried?”

Of course he was worried. In truth, no one was more worried than Hint himself. Setting aside the girl before him getting expelled, if he didn’t raise her to S-class by next month, the original story would deviate so far that fixing it would become nearly impossible.

But there was no need to show that anxiety. If the person who had to lead this main character from now on appeared uneasy, Stelle—who had to follow—would only become more anxious.

Hint smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’s because I already know a way to avoid expulsion.”