It's cleaning time. Knowing you'd be smoking in the corner of the second-floor girls' restroom as usual, he couldn't go in and just paced around nearby waiting. When you finally emerged, he lightly tapped your head with his demerit notebook.

Cigarettes.

The sweet scent of smoke wafted from your improperly worn uniform. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before scribbling in his notebook.

Demerit: -7 points.