Market Entry
【Today’s Love Value Index (LVI)】
Open: 2,847.3 ▼23.1 (-0.8%)
Day-on-day: -23.1 points
Year-to-date high: 3,241.7 (Feb 14, 2025)
Year-to-date low: 2,205.8 (Jan 8, 2025)
【Average Love Token (LVT) Balance by Rank】
Rank A average: 8,492 ▲127 (+1.5%)
Rank B average: 3,218 ▼45 (-1.4%)
Rank C average: 1,056 ▼12 (-1.1%)
Rank D average: 287 ▲3 (+1.0%)
Rank E average: 52 ▼8 (-13.3%)
【Today’s Stocks to Watch】
Surging: Saionji Reika (+2.3%), Fujiwara Akira (+1.8%)
Plunging: Tanaka Misaki (-8.9%), Sasaki Kenta (-5.2%)
8:30 a.m. Classroom E-7, on the basement floor of Tōto Commerce Academy.
“All right—let’s begin today, as ever, by facing ‘reality’ squarely.”
Mr. Tajima, the homeroom teacher, spoke with the mingled sympathy and resignation of a physician pronouncing a terminal patient’s remaining days. He too was one of those who harbored doubts about the academy’s system; but as a member of staff, he had no choice except to obey it.
“This month, the average LVT balance for Rank E is 52. Down eight from last month—a decline of about 13.3 percent.”
A heavy sigh ran through the room. Resignation already lay thick on the faces of the thirty Rank E students.
“And today, we welcome a new member to our class.” Mr. Tajima glanced toward the door. “Kurose Tenga—please come in.”
The door opened quietly, and a boy stepped inside.
One hundred and eighty centimeters tall. Lean, yet his build suggested not mere slightness but steel with every ounce of excess pared away. His black hair fell carelessly across his brow, and through the gaps glinted eyes of an uncanny color. Gold. Sharp, gleaming golden eyes, like a bird of prey’s.
What he wore was the standard Rank E uniform—gray blazer, gray slacks, the large “E” across the back. But the way he wore it differed decisively from the other students. A calculated nonchalance, as though he were deliberately wearing a luxury suit loose. His necktie was knotted perfectly, and from his shirt cuff peeked an old wristwatch.
“Th-that’s the new transfer?” “Something’s… different about him, isn’t there?” “But he’s Rank E in the end, right? Poor thing…” “I wonder what he did to fail.”
The whispers—impossible to tell whether sympathy or curiosity—did not trouble Kurose Tenga (for that was his real name) in the slightest. His golden eyes swept the room once, then, without hesitation, fixed on one particular spot.
The “This Month’s In-Class LVT Ranking,” posted on the wall to the right at the front of the room.
【Class E-7 Internal LVT Ranking (April)】 1st: Mizuno Haruka 285 LVT 2nd: Yamada Tarō 127 LVT 3rd: Suzuki Hanako 98 LVT 4th: Tanaka Jirō 87 LVT 5th: Satō Saburō 73 LVT … 28th: Takahashi Ichirō 12 LVT 29th: Itō Jirō 8 LVT 30th: 【Vacant】
Tenga’s gaze memorized the ranking in seconds, cross-referencing each student against their seat. Then he turned his eyes to the first-ranked Mizuno Haruka.
She sat near the front-center, by the window. Brown, shoulder-length hair; a gentle face. A standard build of about a hundred and sixty centimeters; plain but clean clothes. She alone noticed Tenga’s gaze, flushed, and hurriedly looked down.
Interesting, Tenga murmured inwardly. Even among Rank E, she shows a clearly different response pattern from the rest.
“Er, then—Kurose, your self-introduction, please,” Mr. Tajima prompted.
“I’m Kurose Tenga.”
Short. The introduction was so short that the room stirred.
“Um… your hometown, your hobbies…?” Mr. Tajima said, looking troubled.
“There’s nothing in particular to say.” Tenga’s voice was utterly flat, betraying not a ripple of emotion. “If I must—my hobby is ‘maximizing value.’”
The students exchanged glances. Maximizing value? What was that?
“Also,” Mr. Tajima hastened to add, “Kurose is starting, for various reasons, in a state of emotional bankruptcy—” but Tenga cut him off.
“My current LVT balance is minus 127.”
The room fell silent. A stillness as though time itself had stopped.
“Wha—” “Minus?” “Is that even possible?” “You’re kidding.”
The murmur swelled by degrees. To transfer in with a negative balance was unheard of in the entire history of Tōto Commerce Academy.
“D-don’t put on airs! It’s zero, isn’t it?” Someone called from the back of the room. Yamada Tarō—the class’s second-ranked boy, LVT balance 127.
“Why not check?”
Tenga tapped the old wristwatch on his left wrist twice—a 1970s Seiko Lord-matic, a keepsake of his father. The faint vibration registered with the biometric system, and Tenga’s personal data appeared on the fifty-five-inch screen at the front of the room.
【Student Information Display】
Name: Kurose Tenga
Year: 2nd (transfer)
Previous school: ◯◯ Prefectural High School, Osaka
Reason for transfer: 【Classified】
Current LVT balance: -127
Change from last month: N/A (new)
Projected rank change: extremely difficult
Risk assessment: MAXIMUM
The room went utterly still. A silence in which one could almost hear breathing.
Further detail scrolled across the screen.
【Emotional Analysis Data】
Current heart rate: 62 bpm (normal range)
Stress index: 0.2 (abnormally low)
Emotional variance: ±0.1 (almost no fluctuation detected)
Sociability index: 【Unmeasurable】
Romantic inclination: 【Insufficient data】
“In other words,” Tenga began, his voice as devoid of feeling as a newscaster reading data aloud, “I am calculated to be the single human being of least ‘romantic value’ in all of Tōto Commerce Academy.”
And then Tenga smiled. It was a smile of genuine, heartfelt enjoyment, as though he had just heard a wonderful joke.
“Fascinating. It’s exactly like a company in a state of insolvency—liabilities exceeding assets. In investment terms, that makes for an exceptionally ‘attractive’ stock.”
“Wh-what’s attractive about it?” came a voice from the corner. Suzuki Hanako, the third-ranked girl.
Tenga turned and walked to the blackboard. Taking up the chalk, he began, in fluid strokes, to write an equation.
The basic stock-valuation formula: P = D₁/(r−g)
Love-market adaptation: LVT = E[R]/(k−g)
Where:
P / LVT = present price
D₁ / E[R] = expected return
r / k = required rate of return
g = growth rate
“In the world of investment, there is a method called ‘contrarian investing,’” Tenga said, setting down the chalk and turning. “A stock that has fallen all the way has no further to fall. Statistically, the probability of a rebound from the bottom is extremely high.”
Tenga’s golden eyes swept the whole class.
“And most important of all”—his tone shifted, just slightly—“have any of you ever analyzed why your own value is falling?”
The room hushed. The thirty students stared at Tenga as though hypnotized.
“The greatest problem in the love market is emotional decision-making,” Tenga went on. “Fear, desire, jealousy, impatience, despair—the moment an investor is ruled by such ‘noise,’ they are certain to misjudge. And to take losses.”
He turned again to the board and began a new equation.
Calculating expected return: E[R] = βᵢ × E[Rₘ] + αᵢ
Where:
E[R] = the individual’s expected return
βᵢ = the individual’s beta (market sensitivity)
E[Rₘ] = the expected return of the whole market
αᵢ = strategic alpha (the individual’s added value)
“Expected return is determined by individual beta, market volatility, and the alpha of one’s strategy,” Tenga continued. “Your problem is that your strategic alpha is zero—or negative. In other words, you have no strategy. And so you lose.”
In the whole room, only Mizuno Haruka was listening earnestly. The others were lost in the string of jargon.
“What gives you the right to lecture…” Yamada Tarō stood. “You’re minus 127 yourself! Lower than me, and you preach?”
Tenga turned slowly. In that instant the air of the room transformed—a taut tension, as if the temperature had dropped several degrees.
“Your name?” Tenga’s voice was now clearly different from his explanatory tone moments before. Low, quiet, and yet radiating an overwhelming presence.
“Y-Yamada Tarō! Second in the class!”
“Yamada.” Tenga’s golden eyes pierced him. “That LVT balance of 127—by what strategy did you achieve it?”
“Strategy…? I just worked hard, normally.”
“‘Worked hard, normally,’” Tenga repeated. “Specifically?”
“U-uh… getting along with the girls in class, trading likes on social media, going for tea now and then…”
“I see.” Tenga nodded. “Textbook ‘trend-following.’ Chasing the flow of the market—the highest-risk method there is.”
Tenga walked to Yamada’s desk. Yamada drew back without thinking.
“Your 127 is certainly larger than my minus 127. But it isn’t the product of ‘ability.’ It’s mere ‘luck.’”
“Luck? What do you mean, luck!”
“Your personality merely happened to match this academy’s ‘average romance pattern.’ But let the market environment change, and a follower-type investor like you collapses in an instant.”
Tenga faced the board again. This time he began to draw a graph.
【Risk-Return Analysis】
Vertical axis: expected return. Horizontal axis: risk (standard deviation).
He plotted several points on the graph.
“This is where you all stand now.” Tenga pointed. “Low return, high risk—the worst zone. Because you have no ‘differentiating factor.’”
Then Tenga marked a new point in the upper left of the graph—the ideal zone of high return, low risk.
“Minus 127,” Tenga said, turning, “is my ‘opening price.’ In the world of investment, the most attractive stock is always ‘the excellent share no one is watching.’”
For the first time, something like emotion dwelt in Tenga’s voice—a quiet anger hidden within his composure. And a blazing fighting spirit.
“This academy’s system treats emotion as a ‘commodity.’ Then I will ‘manage’ that commodity more efficiently than anyone.”
At that moment, the classroom door flew open. A bang rang through the room.
“My, my—what a commotion.”
In stepped a girl so beautiful she might have walked out of a film.
Golden hair—natural platinum blonde that shone in the sunlight as if haloed. Blue eyes, deep and clear as a Nordic lake. A tall figure of a hundred and sixty-eight centimeters, perfectly balanced.
And what she wore was not the gray Rank E uniform. It was a special Rank A uniform embroidered in gold. The diamond brooch glittering at her breast bore “A-1”—the mark of the Rank A valedictorian.
The students turned as one and caught their breath. The shock was as though a goddess had descended.
Saionji Reika—undisputed top of Rank A, current LVT balance 8,956. The absolute queen of Tōto Commerce Academy’s love market, and the daughter of the great Japanese trading conglomerate, the Saionji Group.
For her to appear in a Rank E classroom was, in itself, unprecedented in the academy’s history.
“I-it’s…” “Saionji-san?” “Why—why is she here?” “Is this a dream? Is this a dream?”
The Rank E students raised voiceless cries of confusion and excitement. Tenga alone was utterly unmoved, observing Reika coolly with his golden eyes.
“My, my.” Reika smiled gracefully. The smile was too perfect, almost manufactured. “So this is the transfer student everyone’s talking about?”
Reika’s blue eyes caught Tenga. In that instant the air of the room crackled, charged with electricity.
“And you are?” Tenga asked, in a perfectly composed tone, as though addressing an ordinary classmate.
The room stirred. To speak to the Rank A valedictorian without even honorifics, just casually…
“I am Saionji Reika.” Her voice was refined and lovely, yet carried a certain coldness. “I have the honor of serving as Rank A’s first.”
And Reika bowed gracefully. But the gesture plainly contained something sardonic.
“I’m honored to speak with someone so… ‘special.’”
The Rank E students shuddered. Reika’s words clearly carried poison.
“Special?” Tenga tilted his head, as if genuinely unable to understand.
“Transferring in with a negative balance—the first time since our school’s founding.” Reika’s smile warped, just slightly. “I’m terribly curious what ‘strategy’ you intend to claw your way up with.”
There was an unmistakably challenging note in her words. As if to say: Not that you could, of course.
The thirty students watched the exchange with bated breath. The Rank A valedictorian against a negative balance—the greatest disparity duel in history.
For several seconds Tenga regarded Reika. His golden eyes seemed to see straight through to her interior.
And presently he smiled thinly.
“Well, then…” Tenga’s voice shifted slightly. There was something dangerous in it now, unlike the flat tone before.
“Let’s start by short-selling your LVT.”
The room froze.
Short-selling—a trade that anticipates a fall in price: borrowing shares one does not own to sell them, then buying them back cheaper later for a profit. In the love market, an extremely aggressive strategy premised on the decline of the other party’s valuation.
And against the Rank A valedictorian. From the very bottom.
”…I beg your pardon?” Reika’s perfect smile froze for an instant.
“Your current LVT balance of 8,956 is plainly a bubble,” Tenga went on. “A speculative high that ignores the fundamentals. Fair value is at most around 6,000.”
A dangerous light came into Reika’s blue eyes.
“What an amusing thing to say.” Her voice dropped a little. “And by precisely what method?”
“I’ll adapt the techniques of the hostile takeover bid,” Tenga answered at once. “Forced disclosure, negative campaigns, proxy wars… the options are countless.”
The air of the room grew tauter still. This was no longer a matter confined to the academy—it was a declaration of full-scale economic warfare.
Reika’s expression warped for just a moment. But she recovered her perfect smile at once.
“I shall look forward to it,” Reika said. Her voice was graceful on the surface, but an ice-cold chill lay hidden beneath it. “Kurose Tenga.”
When she spoke his name, there was plainly contempt in it.
After Reika left, heels clicking, no one could speak for a while.
Tenga looked at his watch again. 9:15 a.m. And then he murmured, in a voice so small that no one could hear:
“Phase 1—commence.”
The spring sunlight pouring through the classroom window glinted sharply in Tenga’s golden eyes.
9:16 a.m. Over Tōto Commerce Academy, the first signs of a new storm had begun to gather.
＊ ＊ ＊
Spring sunlight pierced the vast glass facade of Tōto Commerce Academy. The futuristic, twelve-story structure resembled nothing so much as a giant financial exchange. And indeed, what took place in this academy was, in a sense, trading itself. Only the commodity was neither stocks nor bonds. It was human emotion.
In the atrium just inside the main entrance stood an enormous electronic board, three meters tall and five wide. On it, today as ever, mercilessly precise numbers updated moment by moment.
Numbers. A world in which everything was expressed in numbers. Love, friendship, jealousy, longing, heartbreak, joy—all of it.
【Today’s Love Value Index (LVI)】
Open: 2,847.3 ▼23.1 (-0.8%)
Day-on-day: -23.1 points
Year-to-date high: 3,241.7 (Feb 14, 2025)
Year-to-date low: 2,205.8 (Jan 8, 2025)
【Average Love Token (LVT) Balance by Rank】
Rank A average: 8,492 ▲127 (+1.5%)
Rank B average: 3,218 ▼45 (-1.4%)
Rank C average: 1,056 ▼12 (-1.1%)
Rank D average: 287 ▲3 (+1.0%)
Rank E average: 52 ▼8 (-13.3%)
【Today’s Stocks to Watch】
Surging: Saionji Reika (+2.3%), Fujiwara Akira (+1.8%)
Plunging: Tanaka Misaki (-8.9%), Sasaki Kenta (-5.2%)
At Tōto Commerce Academy, the emotional activity of every single student is monitored completely, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. High-performance AI cameras installed throughout the campus analyze expressions; biometric sensors worn by the students record heart rate and perspiration; the content of their social-media posts and the number of their “likes,” the frequency of their messages, even recordings of their conversations—all of it is analyzed by the emotion AI, the “Emotion Analyzer.”
Confession success rates, date satisfaction, the duration of a glance at another person, physiological responses while together, the lingering-regret index at parting, even the number of times one is mentioned in another’s dreams—every conceivable datum concerning human romance is collected, quantified as “romantic value” by a proprietary algorithm, and finally converted into the pseudo-currency of Love Tokens (LVT).
And by that token balance, all 1,247 students of the school are rigorously sorted into five ranks.
Rank A (50 students)—the absolute rulers of the love market. Average LVT balance above 8,000. The scions of financial dynasties, the children of politicians, fledgling celebrities. For them, private lounges, private rooms, and personal chefs—reigning as the aristocracy of the modern age.
Rank B (150 students)—a stable middle class. Average LVT balance 3,000–7,999. Building their assets steadily through sound romantic strategy. The “socially fulfilled,” in the ordinary sense, belong here.
Rank C (400 students)—the ordinary masses. Average LVT balance 1,000–2,999. The largest faction, about a third of the student body. No special privileges, but a humane life is guaranteed.
Rank D (300 students)—the lower stratum striving to climb. Average LVT balance 100–999. Dreaming of promotion to Rank C, working at it day by day. Attendance at romance seminars and etiquette courses is compulsory.
And Rank E (347 students)—the “emotionally bankrupt,” who have lost their social value. Average LVT balance 0–99. Confined to the lowest floor of the building, their meals restricted, contact with higher-ranked students forbidden in principle. Their existence holds meaning, for the upper ranks, only as a “cautionary example.”
This was the reality of Tōto Commerce Academy, where emotional capitalism had completely permeated.