Chapter 54: …Heheh, It’s Time to Put My Modern Knowledge Cheat to Use!
Having extra money and spending it recklessly on luxuries was the behavior of a fool who could only see what was directly in front of him.
Take the cafeteria’s famous 300-yen curry, for example.
Certainly, you could increase your immediate satisfaction by adding a 250-yen serving of fried chicken or a 100-yen soft-boiled egg as toppings.
The meal would feel richer.
More substantial.
More enjoyable.
But the important question was this:
How much would that extra satisfaction actually improve your performance afterward?
Of course, from a nutritional standpoint, curry alone wasn’t a perfectly balanced meal.
That much was true.
However, missing nutrients could easily be supplemented at other times during the day.
From a purely economic perspective, using expensive toppings as nutritional adjustments wasn’t particularly efficient.
The cafeteria salads were the perfect example.
Two hundred yen for that tiny amount?
Honestly, I considered it borderline criminal.
In other words, no matter how much money one happened to have, the most efficient way to consume the cafeteria’s 300-yen curry was exactly as it came.
Without toppings.
Naturally, I wasn’t trying to deny the idea of eating what you wanted.
Meals, when examined closely enough, were ultimately a realm of personal satisfaction.
Humanity’s pursuit of fine cuisine was practically synonymous with human history itself.
But adding toppings because “it somehow feels lonely without them”?
That was simply abandoning thought altogether.
If you felt that strongly, then you should have put more consideration into your meal selection from the beginning and spent more money on lunch itself.
That would at least have been a deliberate decision.
“Being capable of that sort of perfectly ordinary reasoning is what makes me who I’m,” I concluded while eating my curry. “Being unable to do so and instead becoming a prisoner of short-term gratification is what makes you who you’re, Kuwajima.”
“Ughhh…!” Kuwajima groaned. “Why am I getting lectured when all I did was ask for help studying before the exams?!”
She looked genuinely aggrieved.
The kind of expression one wore when convinced they were the victim of a grave injustice.
Notably, the curry sitting in front of her featured a single 100-yen soft-boiled egg.
Purchased, no doubt, because the curry had somehow looked lonely without it.
◇◇◇
It was our usual lunch hour.
Today, by pure coincidence, all four of us had managed to gather in the cafeteria.
While we all belonged to the same club, it was actually rather rare for the entire group to be present at the same table.
For starters, Taketsuru usually spent most of his time with me.
That said, he wasn’t the sort of person whose social life revolved entirely around a single friend.
He had other relationships.
Most importantly, he had Niwashita Sumire.
Ever since returning from another world, he seemed to feel a slight disconnect from many of his old friends, which naturally led to him spending more time around me.
However, on any day that Sumire brought him a homemade lunch, nothing on earth could stop him from going to her.
A storm could descend.
Spears could rain from the sky.
Civilization itself could collapse.
Taketsuru would still walk directly to Sumire.
As such, even my “best friend” occasionally failed to appear for lunch.
Meiko was the opposite.
Rather than prioritizing me, she tended to prioritize her wider social network.
Probably as part of her information-gathering efforts.
She had her own political landscape to navigate within the university.
I understood the concept well enough.
It reminded me of my high school days.
More importantly, she wasn’t just gathering information.
She was clearly distributing it as well.
There were occasions when only Meiko, Kuwajima, and I happened to be together.
On those days, I’d occasionally notice jealous stares coming from nearby students.
Blatantly jealous stares.
The kind that silently screamed:
“Why is he eating with those two?”
Yet those tensions never escalated.
That was likely thanks to Meiko’s behind-the-scenes efforts.
I’d once offered to help.
Her response had been immediate.
“This is my job, so please just sit there and look imposing. Seriously.”
Thus, I left it to her.
As a result, Meiko’s routine was generally to maintain her social connections first and join me for lunch whenever circumstances allowed.
That was the role of the “childhood friend.”
Finally, there was Kuwajima.
Unlike Taketsuru and Meiko, she had almost nobody else to eat lunch with.
Since the breaking of her curse, she’d apparently made a few friends through her hobbies.
Unfortunately, those friends rarely used the cafeteria.
According to Kuwajima, they operated under a simple philosophy:
“Skip lunch and spend the money on supporting your favorite creators.”
A terrifying creed.
As a result, Kuwajima was usually available.
The real obstacle was that her department differed from ours.
Without prior coordination, meeting before lunch was surprisingly difficult.
Then again, she occupied the unusual role of “female best friend,” so complications were to be expected.
As for me…
My social circle was essentially closed.
I had nobody else to eat with.
That said, solitary dining never bothered me.
Not even slightly.
One could argue whether eating alone was truly befitting an ordinary university student.
I had considered the issue carefully.
Eventually, I’d arrived at a simple conclusion:
Most nameless background characters in light novels weren’t shown regularly eating lunch while chatting with random classmates.
Therefore, eating alone was acceptable.
A perfectly ordinary university student could absolutely eat alone.
Well.
That wasn’t entirely true.
There was one exception.
The infamous practice known as bathroom lunches.
Even I had limits.
That crossed a line.
No culture should be respected unconditionally.
◇◇◇
For all these different reasons, having all four of us together at once was somewhat uncommon.
Of course, if someone suggested it beforehand, we’d gather without issue.
Assuming our schedules aligned.
Like today.
Because earlier, Kuwajima had sent a message saying:
“Let’s all have lunch together.”
And after successfully assembling all four members of the group…
The first thing she said was:
“Please help me study for my exams.”
◇◇◇
“Listen carefully, Kuwajima.”
I set down my spoon.
“It’s not that I dislike helping people study before exams. You understand that, right?”
“Ugh.”
“What I find questionable is why, at this point, you appear to understand absolutely none of the material from any of your classes. Taketsuru understands it. Meiko understands it. Why are you the only exception?”
“B-Because…!” she protested.
Then she puffed out her cheeks.
“I heard university students are supposed to skip studying and have fun!”
“Who told you something that stupid?”
I rubbed my forehead.
“The internet?”
Considering her history, it was unlikely she’d heard it from an upperclassman she trusted.
The internet was the obvious culprit.
The irony was that if someone genuinely wanted to enjoy university life—especially the long vacations—they should be studying consistently from the beginning.
That was precisely how one earned free time.
Kuwajima, meanwhile, had apparently chosen a different strategy.
According to the completely unreliable information supplied by my hallucinations, her current status looked like this:
──────
“Kuwajima Taeko”
Failed Credits: Four at current rate (including two required courses)
Average Daily Self-Study Time: 2 minutes (since entering university)
Average Daily Gaming Time: 3 hours
Average Daily Social Media Browsing: 3 hours
Friends: 5
──────
Four failed courses.
During the very first semester.
That was honestly impressive.
Not in a positive sense.
Heidan University wasn’t a particularly easy school, but it wasn’t impossibly difficult either.
Its academic level was respectable, and excellent students received various benefits.
The gap between the top and bottom performers was unusually wide.
Still, Kuwajima had passed the entrance exam.
She wasn’t incapable.
The reason she was panicking now was simple.
She hadn’t studied.
That’s all.
“Then why are all of you so relaxed!?” she suddenly cried. “We’ve been hanging out together this whole time!”
Apparently, there was a significant discrepancy between reality and the version of reality that existed inside Kuwajima’s head.
Most notably, her glare landed on Taketsuru.
“Taketsuru-kun, weren’t you stuck in another world for years? How are you keeping up academically?”
“Kuwajima,” Taketsuru said immediately, “you probably shouldn’t talk about other worlds in public. People might think you’re insane.”
“Considering you’re friends with Kirishiro-kun, that ship has already sailed…”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Before I could investigate her slander, Taketsuru quietly leaned forward.
Only moments ago, he’d been happily devouring a luxurious pork-cutlet curry.
Now his gaze drifted somewhere far away.
Somewhere distant.
Somewhere painful.
“You know…” he began softly, “I always believed I’d return to Japan someday.”
The cafeteria’s noise seemed to fade slightly.
“So I kept reading every textbook and document that came with me when I was transported there. Over and over again. I didn’t want to forget Japan.”
His smile was gentle.
But there was sadness beneath it.
“I read them so many times I practically memorized everything. Sometimes when I’m in class now, I catch myself thinking, We’re still covering this?”
“Ah…”
“Five years isn’t that long, but I even used what I learned to conduct economic experiments over there.”
He laughed weakly.
“A real modern-knowledge cheat skill.”
“……”
“The textbooks were one of the only things connecting me to Japan. Every time I felt my Japanese slipping away, I’d read them again. Along with Nekoyanagi-san’s notes. Economics textbooks. Math textbooks. Things like that.”
His eyes drifted upward.
“Even Shakespeare in English started feeling like family. Just because he came from Earth.”
“…I suddenly feel terrible for asking.”
Kuwajima visibly shrank.
Well, naturally.
Taketsuru wasn’t someone who had enjoyed an exciting fantasy adventure.
He was someone who had spent years desperately fighting to return home.
Poke at another-world topics carelessly, and this was what happened.
Normally, Taketsuru was a cheerful, pleasant young man.
The problem was that nobody knew exactly where his trauma was buried.
◇◇◇
“I’m different from Taketsuru-kun, but I’ve been studying steadily too~”
Trying to rescue the atmosphere before it became irreparably depressing, Meiko finally entered the conversation.
Unlike her usual speech around us, she switched into her public-facing tone.
There were too many people nearby.
“I can’t afford to fall behind, since I need to keep up with Gouto-kun~”
“……”
“That’s why I’ve spent time building social connections. Friends of friends, study groups, information networks. It makes obtaining previous exam questions much easier.”
“M-Meiko-san…” Kuwajima whispered.
“You’re way too smooth at being a university student…”
“I’ll give you copies of the past exams for the classes we share.”
Meiko smiled warmly.
“So cheer up, Tae-chan.”
“A goddess…”
Indeed.
Meiko handled virtually everything with effortless competence.
She constantly positioned herself where she could operate effectively within larger social groups.
There was almost no chance she’d stumble because of exams.
Of course…
Whether Kuwajima could imitate that strategy was another matter entirely.
To put it bluntly, Meiko and Kuwajima possessed very different strengths.
Meiko had the sort of appearance and social skills that made integration easy.
Kuwajima…
Well.
Even Meiko occasionally glanced at certain parts of Kuwajima’s anatomy with suspicious sharpness.
Enough said.
◇◇◇
“So what about you, Kirishiro-kun?”
Having interrogated Taketsuru and Meiko, Kuwajima turned toward me.
Unfortunately for her, my circumstances weren’t nearly as interesting.
“This is one area where I suppose I’m slightly unusual for an ordinary university student…”
“…Slightly?”
She blinked repeatedly.
“Wait. Slightly?”
“The material taught at this university was already completed during my compulsory education.”
“That isn’t the compulsory education I remember.”
That couldn’t be helped.
Before university, I hadn’t been an ordinary student.
Now, however, I balanced things out by being perfectly ordinary in other respects.
Probably.
“So, Kuwajima,” I concluded, “we’ve reached our answer.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You’re the only one suffering because of exams.”
“Why does it feel like everyone’s collectively decided I’m the problem?”
“Because you are.”
“I still maintain I’ve done nothing wrong as a university student.”
The fact that she continued resisting reality was almost admirable.
“You’re stronger than I thought.”
Honestly, Kuwajima’s stubbornness was remarkable.
Even among our group, she might have been the most selfish.
In a way, that was a talent.
Then again, perhaps someone lacking that level of self-assertion could never have become the charismatic victim of a chuunibyou curse.
Eventually, our lunches came to an end.
Which meant it was time to decide.
“So,” I said, “when should we do it?”
“Huh?”
“When should we hold the study session?”
“Wait.”
Kuwajima froze.
“Study session?”
“Yes.”
“You mean you’re actually going to help me?”
For some reason, she sounded shocked.
I found that odd.
If anything, I should have been thanking her.
After all, Taketsuru and Meiko alone could never have created this opportunity.
“Don’t you know, Kuwajima?”
I leaned back confidently.
“A perfectly ordinary group of university students holds a study session before exams.”
“……”
“And the troublesome member of the group narrowly avoiding failure is an essential part of the experience.”
“……”
“Therefore, I shall save you, my female best friend. I refuse to let you fail any courses.”
For a moment, Kuwajima stared blankly.
Then she pressed both hands together.
“Today of all days, I’m grateful for textbook light novels.”
“That’s a strange thing to say.”
“I never imagined they’d save my life like this.”
“You make it sound like they’re usually tormenting you.”
“…………”
The look she gave me resembled someone chewing on a particularly bitter bug.
Beside her, Taketsuru immediately looked away.
Only Meiko maintained her smile.
A vague, mysterious smile.
Then she silently raised a thumbs-up.