My head was pounding
The moment I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. The ceiling above me wasn't my own, and the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and cheap deodorant. I sat up, groggy and confused, only to find myself in a cramped dorm room. A mirror on the desk caught my eye—and what I saw nearly made me scream.
"Wait… what the hell?!"
That face. That dumb, grinning, slack-jawed face. The ridiculous hair. The hopeless vibe.
I was Yamauchi Hideo.
The class clown. The loser. The weakest, dumbest student in Class 1-D.
And then it hit me.
This room… this body… these memories flooding into my mind—
I was inside the world of Classroom of the Elite.
Reborn.
Inside the worst possible character in the entire story.
I clutched my temples. "No. No no no. This has to be a dream… right?"
But it wasn't.
And worst of all… I had woken up right at the start of the school year, where everything begins—where all the crucial first impressions, alliances, and schemes are born.
The exact moment where Yamauchi starts digging his own grave.
But I wasn't him. Not really.
I had a second chance.
And I wasn't going to waste it playing the fool.
This time… no one is going to laugh at me.
I will rise. I will outsmart, outlast, and even outshine Ayanokoji himself.
Later that week – Class 1-D, Homeroom
"Karuizawa, don't fall for this idiot's tricks," Rokusuke Kōenji said, voice theatrical as ever. He walked with that same flamboyant strut, flicking his golden hair like he was royalty.
He pointed right at me. "Yamauchi, you're still the same buffoon. You can't possibly solve this."
The class chuckled. A few eyes turned toward me, expecting a blank stare or a dumb joke.
But not today.
I stepped forward with calm confidence, took the chalk, and began solving the math problem Kōenji had declared "too advanced for a brain like yours."
The class watched in silence.
One step. Another. Then the final calculation.
Correct.
"Impossible…" Kōenji muttered.
I turned slowly, looking him straight in the eye.
"If I were you, I'd stop underestimating people based on their past."
The silence in the room was delicious. Even Horikita glanced at me, eyebrows raised slightly. And at the back, Ayanokoji leaned forward just a little.
He was watching now.
Good.
Let him.
Because this time… I'm not the comic relief.
I'm the one rewriting the story.