The Mutant Club
“……Sorry.”
Meilin bowed her head deep, both hands resting on her knees, as Simon sat beside her groaning in pain.
Simon forced a smile.
“It's fine. I know you didn't mean to…… ugh!”
“Ah! Are you seriously okay? I told you, just go to the infirmary!”
Simon kept up his strained smile. But if he went and a doctor slapped him with a no-classes order, that would be a genuine injustice. Better to just endure it.
“Ah.”
His eyes met Camibarez's from the seat across from him.
Wearing an expression that was half worry, half relief, she beamed and waved.
“Hi there, Simon~”
“Hey. Nothing happened to you either, right, Kami?”
“Nope!”
Just then, Dick peeled off his uniform jacket with a flourish.
“Anyway, getting back to what I was saying……”
He began yanking club flyers out of every pocket on the jacket, one after another.
“Club season is the one time all year the second-years are actually nice to us.”
So they'd been talking about clubs on their end too. Curious, Simon asked.
“They seemed a little more than nice. Why are they so desperate for first-years to join?”
Dick chuckled and rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money.
“It all comes down to this, doesn't it? Club subsidies vary wildly depending on how many members you pull in.”
“……Ah, I see.”
Simon understood immediately. Money was serious business in Kizen life.
“As the semester rolls on, some first-years do quit clubs or get expelled from Kizen, but the subsidy hit from members leaving is pretty small. So the thinking is: grab as many kids as you can up front! Something like that. Ugh, seriously, how did a flyer even get in my back pocket?”
Dick grumbled as he fished a flyer out of his seat pocket. Every single pocket on him really was stuffed with flyers.
“And also,”
Meilin picked up where he left off, thumping her own shoulder.
“They say a lot of clubs treat you like cold leftovers the second recruitment season ends. So don't even glance at anything sketchy. Joining a reasonably major club is the safe bet.”
“Which ones did you all join?”
At Simon's question, Camibarez's hand shot up.
“I joined the Blood Flow Research Society, 'Sadam'!”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
Simon smiled wryly.
“I joined the Pure Magic Research Society,” Meilin said.
Pure magic was the old-school style of spellcraft — drawing magic circles with mana alone, no jet-black involved.
“Pure Magic Research Society? Why there?”
At Simon's question, Dick looked up too.
“I've been wondering the same thing. Why learn pure magic out of nowhere?”
“Well, I'm from the Ivory Tower, so I've got an interest in it. And besides, pure magic is the ancestor of the entire Jet-Black Elemental system, right? I heard studying it gives you all kinds of inspiration.”
Both of them had picked clubs that suited their majors or specialties.
Simon turned his head.
“And you, Dick?”
Dick puffed out his chest.
“Heh heh! I founded a brand-new club!”
“Really? What kind?”
“The Rochest Startup Support Society!”
“……Ugh.”
Meilin made a face of pure disgust.
“People actually join that? Don't you need at least three members to get a club approved?”
“They practically lined up. I just went around to kids who didn't care about clubs and told them if they'd sign their names, I'd get them free subsidy money. They came flooding in!”
“……Typical. Life really is a con game.”
“It's called a shortcut, thank you very much.”
Camibarez leaned in.
“What about you, Simon? Have you decided where you're going?”
“Still thinking it over.”
Simon popped a potato chip into his mouth. It was one of Dick's spicy ones, coated in a thick layer of chili powder.
“By the way, Simon, didn't 'Noble' send you a recruitment offer?”
Simon's face twitched at Dick's question.
“W-well, yeah, they did.”
“Ha! Called it! I heard even Special Admission No. 1 is on their recruitment list!”
“Isn't Noble the one with the prince in it?”
“Yep. A gathering of power players.”
Dick crossed his arms.
“They're insufferably arrogant, sure, but there's no downside to joining. All kinds of perks, obviously, and you'd form a powerful faction with the second-years. Word is, if anyone messes with their underclassmen, the second-years come out and wreck them.”
“Ugh, pathetic. Just pathetic.”
Meilin shook her head in disbelief, and Dick shot her a serious look.
“You wouldn't get it, having the massive backing of the Ivory Tower behind you, but in Kizen life, having connections makes a huge difference. With Noble at your back, people's whole attitude toward you changes.”
“Backing, connections — in the end, doesn't it all come from the weak desire to lean on something? The only person you can trust is yourself.”
“That's rich coming from someone with the Ivory Tow——”
While the three of them bickered, Simon was earnestly weighing which club to join.
His gaze drifted to the flyer he'd just been handed by that second-year — the one for the Special Undead Research Society.
Maybe I'll go hear them out.
And so Simon found himself heading for the clubroom of the Special Undead Research Society — 'Mutant'.
The building housing the clubroom stood a little apart from the main first-year campus, close to the central district packed with restaurants and cafés.
“Hey, you there! One sec!”
Simon turned. A girl was hurrying toward him, long cream-colored hair swaying down to her waist.
A second-year.
She had her uniform jacket tied around her waist, but he could tell without even seeing the red insignia — the background alone gave it away.
Unlike the first-year girls with their relatively understated makeup, she wore heavy cosmetics, elaborate eye makeup, and a short skirt.
Second-years were bold enough to alter their Kizen uniforms to suit their own style.
The boys had their trousers tailored tighter; the girls, their skirts shorter. Not that it mattered — the barrier enchantment woven into the uniforms offered full-body protection regardless.
“You called, senpai?”
Simon bowed politely. She strode up with confident, purposeful steps and crossed her arms with a grin.
“Coming all the way here — you must have already picked your club, huh?”
“N-no, not yet. I was hoping to hear a bit about it first.”
Then her eyes landed on the flyer in his hand.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! That! That's it!”
She lunged forward, closing the distance in an instant. Simon leaned his head back slightly.
“Are you thinking of joining 'Mutant'?!”
“I just wanted to hear the explanat——”
“Hahaha! Great! Excellent!”
She laughed heartily and slapped Simon on the back — whack! whack!
It was nothing compared to Meilin's hits; Simon nearly let out a scream.
“Huh? What's with you? Why are your eyes all teary?”
“……It's nothing.”
“So moving that you'd join my club? Kyahaha! That's the spirit! The spirit!”
“First, if I could just hear the——”
She seized Simon's wrist with crushing force and hauled him along, shouting.
“Let's go!”
Not the type to listen to anything anyone said.
On top of that, she was a monumental mood-swinger with a high-pitched voice, and her expression radiated sky-piercing confidence.
She strode ahead on long, straight legs, her shortened uniform skirt fluttering carelessly.
Dragged along by the wrist, Simon arrived at a shabby clubroom.
Pasted on the door was a paper reading 'Mutant' in crooked, lopsided letters — the ink smeared in places, and someone had clearly slapped the tape on in a hurry.
“Come on in!”
“Thank you.”
The clubroom was a bit older and more worn-down than he'd expected. He'd heard Kizen's clubrooms were big, grand, and flashy — this looked nothing like the rumors.
But it wasn't bad. It felt like a hideout, cozy in a way that put him at ease.
Simon's taste had always run to well-worn modesty over polished grandeur, after all.
“……Oh, you're here?”
A second-year boy sprawled on the couch sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
Simon recognized him at once — the boy with the heavy dark circles, the one who'd handed him the flyer.
“What do you think you're doing, Dio?! Today's the last day!”
“……I'm sleepy. And besides, handing out flyers doesn't exactly bring people in.”
“Doesn't bring people in?! Look who's right here!”
She shouted, jabbing a finger at Simon. Only then did the boy called Dio notice him too.
“Uh…… you're……”
“Good to see you again, senpai.”
Simon held up the flyer he'd received from him and gave a small bow.
“You two wait here! I'm making one more run to the first-year area!”
“……Fine. Just stay put.”
“Be right back!”
She slammed the clubroom door behind her and dashed off. Dio gave a small sigh and looked at Simon.
“……Make yourself comfortable.”
“Sorry?”
The boy flopped back onto the couch.
“……We'll be doing interviews soon, so until then…… mmh, mmnh……”
And he fell asleep. What a strange bunch, Simon thought, and turned his head.
Might as well look around.
Simon surveyed every corner of the clubroom.
The deeper in he went, the more professional it smelled. It felt less like a place to relax and more like a workshop.
Did they develop undead here themselves? Shelves displayed a variety of undead components rivaling any necromancer's shop. The desks were strewn with design drafts, knives, scissors, even shavings of carved bone.
So this is why the clubroom looked so cramped.
At the back of the room stood actual machinery.
An automated banding device powered by mana stones, and even a machine for cryo-treatment.
Simon looked around, face full of curiosity. If he could use equipment like this, joining this club seemed more than worth it.
Knock knock.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Dio, still asleep, showed no reaction, so Simon answered for him.
“Yes, come in.”p>
Click.
The door opened, and a cold-looking young man wearing glasses stepped in.
Under his uniform jacket he wore a hooded top, hood pulled low over his head — the effect emphasized his bangs while giving off a closed-off, hard-edged impression.
A first-year, huh.
The moment he entered, he peered around the room as if fascinated, and Simon spoke up.
“The senpais said they'll be starting in a little while. They told us to sit down and relax until then.”
The boy gave a light nod and settled onto the couch as if it were his own living room. Then he pulled a book out of his subspace and began silently flipping through the pages.
Simon stole a glance at the cover.
Why Chimpanzees Cannot Become Philosophers
……What on earth is that book?
Just as he was deciding this was a genuinely odd individual, a second knock came.
“Yes, come in.”
The door cracked open, and a short boy peeked his face inside. Then he spotted Simon, and his eyes went wide.
“Ah, Simon!”
“Toto!”
Toto Amori, the Summoning major from his own Class A. The boy's tense face broke into a bright, relieved smile.
“Simon! You're joining this club too?”
“Huh? Ah. Haven't decided yet.”
Running into a familiar face in an unfamiliar place loosened the atmosphere considerably.
The two of them chattered away. The bespectacled boy, seemingly uninterested, remained lost in his book.
“I came all this way after seeing just one senpai,” Toto said, voice buzzing with excitement.
“Which senpai?”
“I heard a rumor.”
Toto lowered his voice.
“This club's president is the famous……”
“A second-year, Special Admission No. 5, currently on the Student Council — Venya Vanilla.”
Both their heads snapped up. At some point the bespectacled boy had lifted his eyes from his book and was looking at Simon and Toto.
At the familiar word, Simon's eyes went wide.
“Hold on! Vanilla — as in, that……”
“Yep.”
The bespectacled boy's eyes gleamed.
“The granddaughter of the Vanilla Group's chairman is the president of this club.”