The Third-Year Table
"Students who have finished selecting their department, please proceed to join your seniors at the Summoning Department table."
Simon nodded at the TA's words, tightened his tie with a nervous expression, and started walking toward the table where the third-years were waiting.
His classmates among the second-years cheered and applauded his joining the Summoning Department.
The third-years, however, did not. Every single one of them wore a face as frigid as ice, and a few were making their displeasure unmistakably plain.
It must be because of the Student Council President position.
Simon had expected the third-years to push back. The deal between Phantasos and Eisel had been, in the end, a deal between the two of them alone. Every other third-year had been cut out of the negotiations entirely.
The only reason they couldn't say anything right now was that the names Phantasos and Eisel weighed on them—not because they supported Simon. It wouldn't do to get drunk on the title of Student Council President; what mattered was reading the situation clearly.
Besides, Simon had seen this cold reception coming from a mile away, so he walked forward without missing a beat, his expression carefully managed.
The Seven Halls of Lowhil. Four tables of blood-feud.
Seven tables in all. The one Simon made for was the third from the left, easy enough to spot with a flag bearing a zombie emblem planted in it.
The third-years of the Summoning Department did not welcome him as he drew near. Without a word, Simon crossed the silence, gave a slight bow to the student seated at the head of the table, and moved to pass by.
"Hold on."
At that moment, the student at the head of the table rose from his seat.
"A junior has joined the department. The least you could do is greet him."
Wavy blonde hair swept across his forehead, sharp eyes, a striking nose bridge and cheekbones. With a charming smile and a pleasant voice, he was, in a word, the very picture of a prince.
"My name is Leonard Feyron. Ranked fourth overall, and the representative of the Summoning Department."
As he extended his hand, Simon respectfully clasped it.
"Simon Polentia. First in the second year, and Student Council President."
At that introduction, dropped without a moment's hesitation, Leonard's expression stiffened almost imperceptibly—but the trace vanished from his face within seconds.
The two shook hands, and Leonard looked around the table.
"Come on, everyone. What is this? You're embarrassing me."
Only then did the Summoning Department students scramble to their feet, clapping and offering their welcomes.
Leonard was clearly a man with deep reserves of popular support.
And then—
...this man is also frighteningly strong.
Simon couldn't help but feel a sense of awe toward the man whose hand he was shaking.
The third-years really were on another level entirely.
And a man like this was only fourth? He found himself wondering what on earth Eisel was—the one who'd supposedly held first place for two straight years.
"Thank you."
Simon finished shaking Leonard's hand and moved to walk on, when a man with pomaded hair and a fish-shaped mouth thrust out his hand.
"Will Douglas. Ranked twelfth."
"A pleasure to meet you."
This was the man who'd been glaring daggers at Simon when he first walked toward the Summoning Department table.
Simon clasped his hand with a flicker of tension. He knew exactly what a hothead like this would try next.
He's going to crush my hand during the shake... huh?
He didn't. It was an ordinary, light handshake, and Simon was just letting go when—
"Ah."
Will didn't release his grip.
"You know, everything in this world has an order to it."
Will said this out of nowhere, then took a step closer and leaned his head in.
"Think about it. You line up early in the morning outside the dining hall, waiting your turn—and then this huge, intimidating guy shows up, shoves everyone aside, and takes the front of the line."
His low, gravelly voice sank quietly.
"Sure. That much, I can understand. Most people would rather step in dog shit than make an enemy of the 'strong guy,' so they hold their tongues. But here's the thing."
Will's face contorted.
"That strong guy drags some random jackass—claims they're 'close'—and plants him right behind him in line."
"......"
"Then the strong guy suddenly remembers he's got business and strolls off from the front of the line. And the jackass, too dense to read the room, is still standing at the very front? So then I've got one question for you."
His mouth opened.
"What exactly do the people in the back of the line thin—"
"What do you think you're doing, holding onto a junior? Will."
Will flinched and turned his head.
A girl with cream-colored hair flying about her, eye makeup her most striking feature, was glaring at him with a furrowed brow.
Simon's face lit up.
"Senior Benya!"
Benya Vanilla. A third-year with a somewhat four-dimensional mindset—her stated goal being world conquest. She was the president of Simon's club, Mutant, and simultaneously the heiress of the Vanilla family.
"Hello there, comrade!"
She winked and waved. Will, on the other hand, scowled darkly.
"Don't interrupt. Benya Vanilla."
"I believe your greeting was already finished."
Benya pointed at Will's hand.
"Can't I say hello to my club junior now?"
"Hey."
Will roughly dropped Simon's hand and glared at her.
Interrupting him in front of a junior—and with so many people watching—was an open provocation.
"You looking down on me?"
"Hah."
"You think you can act high and mighty just because you've got the Vanilla family behind you—!"
"Will!"
The voice that rang out to stop them both, surprisingly, belonged to Leonard.
"Benya is ranked seventh. No matter how happy you are to see a junior, Benya gets her handshake first, and then you get yours. This one's on you, Will."
"Leonard...!"
"Like you said yourself—let's keep to the order."
Will twisted his mouth, then turned on his heel and stalked off. Simon looked back at Leonard.
He thinks fast, this one.
Leonard had scolded Will, but what he'd actually just done was save him. Later, Will would surely come by and quietly thank him for it.
"Anyway—welcome, truly, comrade! I always knew you'd come to conquer the Summoning Department!"
Benya held out her hand, and Simon clasped it.
"Thank you, Senior."
"A shame about you becoming Student Council President, though~ I was planning to hand the club presidency over to you."
By tradition, the club presidency usually went to a second-year. Third-years were often out on external business, and many of them ended up occupying other positions.
"Toto or Fitzgerald will do a fine job."
"Mm! I suppose they will."
Simon thought himself lucky that at least someone here had welcomed him warmly.
Benya excused herself to visit the restroom and stepped outside, and Simon passed by the third-years to sit alone at the back table where the second-years were seated.
Feels empty over here.
Simon stretched his legs out and leaned his tired body back against the chair—and a massive cheer erupted from the podium.
"Ranked second, Chatel Maer, has chosen the Dark Mechanics Department! A round of applause, everyone!"
The half-giant Chatel Maer could be seen walking up to shake Jane's hand.
Simon thought it the obvious choice. Chatel's physical abilities were tremendous, to be sure, but he was a necromancer specialized in the Jet-Black Earth line.
Behind him came Hong Peng, licking her lips in evident anticipation. No doubt she wanted to try developing the giant's blessed physique through martial combat.
WAAAAAAAH!
The moment Chatel selected his department, an enormous cheer exploded from the table right next to Simon's.
The Dark Mechanics table.
The third-year students leapt from their seats, cheering; some even climbed onto the table, whirling their uniform jackets overhead.
"The half-giant is joining OUR department!"
"Welcome, Chatel!!"
A far cry from the reception Simon had received at the Summoning table.
Before long, Chatel came down from the podium and arrived at the Dark Mechanics table, where his seniors greeted him with cheerful laughter.
FOOM! Bang!
Colorful celebration fireworks conjured from elemental dark magic burst into dazzling display.
Casting dark magic indoors was normally forbidden, but the professors appeared to be turning a blind eye just for today.
The reticent Chatel simply nodded and took his seat. It didn't last—the seniors soon swarmed around him, bombarding him with questions and refusing to leave him in peace.
"Next up, ranked third—Hector Moore! Come on down!"
Before anyone knew it, it was Hector's turn.
Simon was quite invested as well, and craned his neck upward. Soon, Hector could be seen drawing a card from within the Altar of Fire.
"A swift decision—love it! Hector Moore's choice is the Summoning Department!"
YEEEEAAAH!
This time, the cheer rose from none other than the table where Simon sat.
"Welcome, House of Moore!"
"To the Summoning Department!"
Will, who'd been so hostile earlier, was clapping along, and even Leonard, the department representative, was smiling and applauding.
The Summoning students had given instruments to their skeletons, which were performing a grand orchestral piece.
So he's coming to the Summoning Department.
Hector was an all-rounder with no weak subjects, but it seemed he'd chosen the path that would further strengthen the Moore family's Dragon Form. After all, the corpse dragon was squarely within the domain of summoning.
Before long, Hector finished shaking Professor Aaron's hand and arrived at the Summoning table, where everyone greeted him with loud, hearty laughter.
"Welcome to the Summoning Department. I'm Leonard, the department representative, ranked fourth overall."
"Yes, I've heard a great deal about you. I'm Hector Moore."
Typical Hector—properly deferential toward his seniors. Simon rested his chin on his hand and watched from his solitary seat.
Hector finished his greetings with the seniors, and just as he moved to come down toward Simon's lower table—
"Hey there, junior!"
Will threw an arm around Hector's neck and spoke cheerfully.
"Where do you think you're going? Your seat's over here!"
When Hector turned his head, Leonard was waiting beside an empty seat with a smiling face.
Hector had no choice but to relocate to the seat beside Leonard, who clapped him on the back with a friendly grin.
"The House of Moore coming to us—now that gives me real confidence."
"Yes, sir. I'll work hard to be of use to the department."
"Right. And on that note."
Leonard produced something and set it on the table, sliding it smoothly toward Hector.
"...This is."
It was an armband engraved with the Summoning Department emblem. Leonard smiled.
"Hector Moore. I want to make you the second-year Department Representative."
"......"
Hector rarely talked back to his seniors, but this time his reply came back ice-cold.
"I have no interest in positions like this."
"That's exactly why it has to be you."
Leonard began to persuade him.
"I originally intended to give it to Simon Polentia, ranked first—but he's gone and become Student Council President, so there's nothing to be done about it, is there."
At that one remark, Hector's indifferent eyebrow twitched.
"So now."
Strong displeasure laced his voice.
"You're telling me to be that man's stand-in?"
"No."
Hector's presence had turned distinctly ominous, but Leonard's expression never wavered as he shook his head.
"The Department Representative is a position responsible for every second-year in the department. While you're here, in the department, the Student Council President means nothing—you're the highest authority."
Leonard gave his friendly smile.
"I'm saying there's no one but you. Someone who can stand toe-to-toe with Simon Polentia—and keep him in check."
"......"
Hector's deliberation stretched long.
And when it ended—
"I accept."
He closed his hand around the department armband.
"Ranked fourth, Merida Hugh Ikel, is going to the Curse Department! Applause!"
This time, the third-years seated at the far left table—the Curse Department table—burst into cheers.
"President Phantasos's little sister! We look forward to working with you!"
"Welcome to the Curse Department!"
"The little sister has to carve out a legend of her own too!"
With Bahil absent from the event, Merida shook hands with Head TA Chehekl instead and came down, trudging toward the Curse Department table with sleepy eyes.
And after exchanging greetings with the seniors, she immediately flopped face-down onto the table and started napping.
Merida must be a Sleep curse specialist too.
Simon looked down at his own palm. The Sleep magic circle Phantasos had personally taught him unfolded in an instant.
Now I'm curious—which of us is stronger.
Watching Merida pass out the very second the spell landed, the third-years of the Curse Department laughed heartily without a trace of offense. Over there, rather than enforcing discipline, the department representative seemed to be the one loosening everyone up.
"Next, ranked fifth—Aseraz Mikel! Oh, yes. Smart of you to come up already. Those of you ranked six through eight, line up and wait at the foot of the podium!"
As Aseraz accepted the amplified crystal orb from the broadcast henchman, Byeolya asked her:
"Heya, and you're not even Special Admission, but you clawed your way up to fifth this time? Top score on the written exam across the whole year, too?"
"I was simply fortunate. I previewed and reviewed diligently, and focused mostly on the textbook, that's all..."
Aseraz replied with a serene smile.
And there was one girl watching this display with her face twisted in scorn.
...That is some Grade-A bullshit humblebrag.
It was Meilin, waiting at the foot of the podium.
That girl right there was the reason she'd lost first place on the written exam. Twice, no less.
Grrrgh, I can't stand it! This year, I swear—!
"U-um. Vice President."
Someone spoke up beside her out of nowhere.
Meilin looked over, puzzled, to find a girl with twin pigtails standing there with a fidgety, uneasy expression.
Ranked seventh—Elisa Celine, the Ghost Ship commander.
"What."
Not exactly a welcome face, so Meilin's reply was flat.
"We're not friends or anything. Why are you suddenly all up in my business?"
"...Th-that's, well."
Uncharacteristically, Elisa bit her lip and stared down at her own feet.
"Uh, whatever! If you're not gonna talk, I'm leaving?"
At Meilin's irritated outburst, Elisa squeezed her eyes shut and blurted it out.
"S-Simon! No. Um—our Student Council President! Does he... does he maybe still have some kind of grudge against... me?"