Fame's Golden Ticket
Ya, nerd? For a moment, I doubted my own ears. I'd barely finished my self-introduction, and she was already saying I was accepted. A bizarre feeling washed over me, like I'd become the protagonist of The Truman Show.
"Yeah, you're in."
The demonkin girl replied to my dumbfounded response without a hint of hesitation. The two beastkin sitting beside her let out heavy sighs and clutched their heads.
"I haven't even finished my introduction yet."
"That's enough. The important thing is that I think highly of you, and you're now a member of our club, right?"
But why do you think highly of me? As I tilted my head in confusion at the inexplicable situation, one of the beastkin guys—who'd been sighing repeatedly—spoke up instead.
"President Fram is a huge fan of your holographic musicals. When she saw your name on the applicant list, she screamed her head off."
"Ahem, Chiyo. That's enough unnecessary chatter."
"It's the truth, though."
Ah, so she's a fan of mine. That explains the special treatment. Who wouldn't pick their favorite celebrity to join their club?
"Haha, what an honor. Want an autograph?"
"Can't do that. It'd be an abuse of the 'Journey' club president's authority."
And yet this same person accepted me without hearing my full intro? It was ridiculous, but since it didn't hurt me any, I just laughed it off.
"Alright, now I'll ask some questions, so answer honestly."
"Sure."
What was the point of questions when I was already accepted?
"Favorite color?"
"Uh, green."
"Favorite food?"
"I like curry."
"Favorite drink..."
.......
.....
...
.
Amid the barrage of personal questions, I instinctively realized something. This girl's completely off the rails.
"President Fram, time's almost up."
"Ahem, time flies when you're having fun."
Thanks to the senior called Chiyo, I escaped the interrogation.
"Well then, Jeonghyeon junior. See you at the club orientation announcement."
"Yes, President. I'll take my leave."
I gave Chiyo a quick wink of thanks, bowed, and left the interview room.
A certain saying came to mind: Get famous first. Then people will applaud even when you take a dump.
Being famous sure is convenient.
It was a day that reaffirmed the perks of fame.
"You look exhausted."
After my dawn training, I was sprawled over my desk in the classroom when Ume—who'd arrived early—asked quietly.
"Ah, yeah. A bit tired."
"Hmph, you weren't up to something naughty last night, were you?"
I gave a wry smile to Shaolin, who sneaked over and teased me.
Speaking of naughty things at night... After training, I was so wiped out I couldn't even think about that stuff.
"If I had the energy for that, I'd be thrilled."
"Uh..."
Shaolin, who usually would've fired back with more jokes, suddenly sounded unusually solemn.
"I-It'll be fine! Jeonghyeon's still young! Quick recovery, and you'll be raring to go again!"
What the hell is she on about?
"...Quit saying dumb stuff. That's not it. I mean, after training, I'm so beat I can't even twitch a finger."
"Huh? Then why are you tired in the morning?"
"Because I train at dawn."
"Eek... Dawn training? You're way more diligent than you look."
"What do you mean 'more than I look'..."
I wanted to tease her back, but I was too drained, so I just brushed it off.
Then.
Slide!
The classroom front door opened. Shaolin darted back to her seat like the cat beastkin she was, and I straightened up from my slouch with a groan.
At this hour, the only one who'd enter was Eirin. Or so I thought.
"Attention, everyone."
It wasn't Eirin, but a familiar voice made me squint and look forward.
There stood an angel and a devil.
Not figuratively—literally.
The boy with striking bat wings adjusted his glasses and spoke crisply.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Providence Student Council Vice President, Yorbenil. And this is—"
"President, Panuel."
The white-winged boy replied indifferently, his bored expression matching his drawling tone.
"President... Be serious in front of the first-years."
"Shut it. Most of 'em here are one-and-done anyway. Just get on with it."
The devil boy pleaded earnestly with the angel, but the angel ignored him and stuck to his attitude.
Seeing them in person is even wilder.
Angels and devils existed in this world. Long ago, intelligent beings bowed and worshiped them as agents of good and evil. Fitting their renown, they wielded godlike powers.
Ah, but not anymore. Rumor had it they were sealed away somewhere, slumbering.
So if real angels and devils were sealed, what were these two? To be precise, they were an Angel and a Devil—beings with faint traces of angelic or demonic blood.
Inferior to pure ones in many ways, but still vastly superior to beastkin, elves, dwarves, or demonkin.
That's why they held the student council president and vice president spots.
"...We're here to recruit promising students to shine alongside the Student Council."
Yorbenil's words, tinged with a sigh, made my eyes light up.
Student Council. Essential for clearing the Consciousness Restoration quest.
Hearing they were recruiting new members? No way I wouldn't perk up.
"Every semester, many students apply. There's good reason. Joining counts as a career boost for post-Providence purifier work, easing promotions. A big draw if you're aiming to be a purifier."
Murmurs of interest rippled through the class.
"But those perks aren't free. You'll handle events, preparations, and various duties hosted by Providence."
As Yorbenil explained diligently, Panuel lazily scanned the room with half-lidded eyes.
"Prime examples: Student Council-led Backworld expeditions and erosion site purification support. So, you need top-tier purifier skills to join."
To join, combat prowess wasn't optional—it was mandatory.
"Interviews will test your strength. Last year's ratio was 50:1. Even if everyone here applies, bad luck means none might make it."
As Yorbenil said, it was tough. Not easy with my current level, but for growth, I'd push through.
Luckily, I had insider info from the game—Karen, the protagonist, went through it, so I knew the format.
Time to leverage that info gap for an edge.
"But this class brims with talent guaranteed for greatness. You can do it. Apply without hesitation. Thanks for your time."
Yorbenil bowed after the pitch, earning applause.
He nodded slightly, gestured to Panuel, and turned to leave—a signal to wrap up.
But Panuel didn't budge.
His gaze fixed on one spot, frozen stiff.
He was staring at me.
No idea why. I'd never met him before.
"President? Time to go..."
"Stay right there."
Panuel cut off Yorbenil and strode toward me.
He stopped at my desk, met my eyes, and spoke.
"Listen up. I won't say it twice."
Then his line:
"You thinking of joining the Student Council?"
"Pardon?"
Wait. This script feels familiar.
No way.
You're a fan too?