[No title provided]
A club refers to organized group activities hosted by the academy, where people with shared interests gather. True to the academy's emphasis on freedom, joining isn't mandatory, but consistent participation offers perks like funding support and career boosts—making it pretty useful overall.
Of course, for someone like me who prioritizes hitting the bed even a second sooner over mingling, this was nowhere in my plans. But since I'd committed to being the heroines' love manager, joining a club was now essential.
Service. Devoting one's strength for the nation or others—commonly used for things like volunteering.
"Asking the princess to fudge documents... Is he sane or just ballsy?"
In her room, Celine sighed, replaying the chat with Mars and her two rivals.
Mars had asked her to approve the club application post-deadline using student council president powers. Even the princess had chuckled at his brazen request, though new clubs did pass through her hands first.
Guilt stung, but it aided her love quest, so the princess agreed—and said she'd handle Polo's join request too—ending the talk.
'Service... Not my hate, not my fave. But damn, solid plan.'
Thinking of Mars suddenly recalled her recent blunder, heating her face.
"Ugh, you idiot! Worried or not, who does that?!"
Caught between the saintess and princess's jabs, Celine had secretly fretted. Raised and envied for her looks and talent, this first taste of insecurity—losing her spot—rattled her.
Then she overheard her fangirl followers:
'Heard this? Tie a crush's hair with yours, carry it—binds fate's thread, seals love!'
'Pfft, superstition. Black magic vibes, scary...'
'Hey, nothing to lose~ Try it, manifestation mindset.'
Normally scoffing at such nonsense, anxiety clouded her judgment; entranced, she hunted Polo's hair.
With his schedule memorized, she timed lunch after class. Faking a sickbay trip, she ditched friends, muffled presence with magic, snuck into the boys' locker room.
Found Polo's locker, rummaged eagerly—caught red-handed by Mars. That was the fiasco.
"But how'd he spot me? Mana detection was on."
Mana dwells in all life, even faintly in objects—magic's core, vital to us. Mages sense it keenly; spells channel it.
She'd scattered detection waves to catch intruders—yet Mars slipped through to her nose.
Only possible with zero mana or perfectly pure mana evading scans—like an Aura Master or imperial mage.
'No way. Just my nerves slipped.'
No scrub pulls that off. She'd seen Mars duel post-Polo's—utterly average.
She wouldn't dwell.
"Anyway... firmer than expected. All guys like that?"
His chest, embracing her into the locker—solid, surprising.
Slap!
"Gah! Why think of that guy?! No, deny it."
She slapped her cheek, self-scolding, doused lights, prepped for sleep.
'Lady's confident vibe is super attractive.'
Wishing dreams of Polo, her last thought was Mars's sincere comfort—unrealized.
"Service club? Sounds fun! Count me in!"
Polo's reaction was golden. The helper loved the keyword, welcoming my club warmly.
"Didn't peg you for service, Mars. Why sudden?"
"Uh? Just... thought it'd be nice for a change... haha."
Can't say 'to corral your fangirls,' so I bullshitted curiosity.
Polo seemed glad at my 'growth,' unbothered.
"Forms done? I'll submit."
"Nah, together."
"Deadline's tight—I'll zip there."
Fibbed past him, grabbed my founding app and his join form, raced to the spot.
A sharp-eyed bob-cut beauty waited. Spotting me, she stood rigidly.
"I've been waiting, Mars Noctus."
"Ah, the princess mentioned—"
"Princess's chief maid, Leto. Time's short—hand over papers."
"Y-yeah, here..."
Snatch! Leto swiped them lightning-fast, spun, glared once, vanished in swift strides.
"...What."
Now hated by yet another stranger. That night, princess confirmed approval—but why the maid loathed me? Mystery.