The Club Season Begins
The new club policy had been officially ratified. With Vice Principal Jane's approval safely secured, the Student Council moved without hindrance.
Just as important as the policy itself, however, was publicizing it. The Student Council's direct minions delivered the flyers Simon had requested to every dormitory and posted notices all across campus. With that many hands, everything got done in a flash.
And so night fell. That evening came the procedure for selecting the booths that clubs would use throughout Club Season.
Dick, staring at the firmly shut doors of the Student Council Hall, gave the signal.
"Open up!"
Bang!
The moment the doors swung wide, the club presidents poured inside like a horde of zombies.
"Everyone! Please maintain order and form a line!"
"Please stay calm and stand in single file!"
The direct minions reined the students in. The club presidents waited in a line before the Student Council Room, and then their eyes fell on the notice posted on the wall.
"Huh? What's this?"
"So this is what's changing for the new Club Season?"
Just as they had discussed beforehand, the Student Council had transparently disclosed its budget allocation criteria to the entire student body.
The most important criteria were the number of members, and member retention and management.
On top of that, clubs would now have to submit monthly performance reports in order to receive their budget at all.
"......They want us to write reports?"
"Aren't those kids going overboard now that they run the Student Council? Things were fine the way they were."
Some club presidents grumbled and complained. But—
"Can't see the downside, honestly."
"I figured the Student Council would skim a few coins off the top, but this way it all goes to us, huh?"
Writing reports was a hassle, sure — but plenty of presidents decided it beat suffering arbitrary cuts to their budget without ever knowing why.
This was especially true for Noble, the archetypal privileged club. Its membership was small and elite, but through sheer influence it had always squeezed the Student Council for an enormous budget and lived in luxury.
With the policy changed this year, however, change was unavoidable.
"Look at this! It's a disaster, President! What are we going to do?"
One of the Noble girls who'd come along seized her president's shoulder and shook it for all she was worth.
Last year's Noble president had been Prince Andre, Princess Molly's older brother, now expelled from Kizen. This year's president was Elisa Celen — Rank 7 of the second years, 'Elisa of the Ghost Ship'.
Elisa spoke, letting her eyes dart away.
"I-if that's what the Student Council President decided, then we should follow—"
The girl beside her narrowed her eyes, and Elisa hastily raised her voice.
"B-but still! We're Noble, after all — of course we're going to get a huge budget! I'll make sure of it!"
"That's right! That's our Elisa!"
*Sigh.*
In truth, Elisa couldn't have cared less about club politics at the moment.
The reason she was trying to stay in Simon's good graces was a massive business venture the Celen family had in the works.
It was slated to proceed as a joint operation with Kizen, and if someone of Student Council President caliber decided to throw obstacles in her way, things would get very annoying indeed. So she'd simply been buttering him up in advance.
If we don't get the budget, the third-years will ride me to death. But if I push back against Simon, the family business is in jeopardy.
She agonized inwardly, scratching furiously at her head.
If I'd known this was coming, I never would have taken the club president position in the first place!
At Kizen, it was customary for second-years — not the busy third-years with all their outside engagements — to serve as club presidents. Club management, too, was a second-year affair.
While Elisa was running complicated calculations in her head, the line shrank before she knew it, and her turn arrived.
"Your turn, everyone. Please come in."
A minion bowed his head and spoke. Elisa gave a haughty sniff and strode into the Student Council Room, doing her best to look dignified.
Scratch, scratch—
There before her sat Mayrin, the Vice President, behind a single desk, holding the booth layout map for Club Season and a list of club names.
Behind her, at the large main desk, Dick and Camibarez were talking with the club presidents ahead of her in line.
And a little ways off, watching the whole scene while scratching away with a quill —
The Student Council President, Simon Polentia.
"Well. Hello."
Mayrin greeted her with an expression that could not have been less welcoming. A vein popped up on Elisa's forehead.
......This disrespectful little brat.
Mayrin and Elisa had been sworn rivals since their first year. But today, Elisa was the one who needed something, so she forced a smile and returned the greeting.
"Name."
"Hehe, Madam Vice President. Don't you know my name?"
"I said, give me your name."
"E-Elisa Celen."
Mayrin nodded and wrote her name on the list.
"Club name?"
BANG!
Just then, the girl who'd come with Elisa slammed her hands down on Mayrin's desk.
"You clearly know who we are, so what's with the runaround? You don't know we're Noble?"
"......"
Mayrin shot Elisa an ice-cold glance.
What is wrong with this one?
"Ahaha! She's just a member who tagged along!"
Elisa, startled out of her wits, clamped a hand over her friend's mouth. Provoking Mayrin any further here was a terrible idea.
"I'm the president of Noble, so I'll handle this! Please continue, Vice President!"
Mayrin scrawled 'Noble' onto the paperwork with a sour look on her face.
"Club Season is being held on the First-Year Central Plaza again this year. Choose whatever booth you want."
"O-of course, we'll take—!"
Elisa reached out to claim the biggest, most spacious booth, just as Noble had last year — and her hand froze in front of the layout map.
Another name was already written there.
[Bloodflow Research Society, Sadam.]
"Wh-what is this?!"
Sadam took this spot?
While Elisa stood there gaping, her friend burst out from behind her and shouted.
"Hold on! That's our booth! Who picked this one?!"
"Are your eyes broken?"
Mayrin rested her chin on her hand and answered flatly.
"It says 'Sadam' right there, plain as day."
"That's been Noble's booth for over ten years! The Student Council should've had the sense to set it aside for us! Is this how you people do your jobs?"
"How is doing things for your benefit the same as doing our jobs properly?"
The girl's mouth fell open in sheer disbelief.
"This is how you're going to play it? Do you even know which third-year seniors are in Noble?"
"Why on earth—"
Mayrin rose from her seat.
"You show up late and now you're bitching at me?"
The sheer force she radiated in that instant made the girl flinch.
"Did you not know booths are first come, first served? Or did you know, and your brain's so cooked you figured showing up late would earn you special treatment? If your precious Noble seniors have complaints, I'll be happy to pass them along: your juniors were too lazy to show up on time and missed out on the good booths. And if you want to file an objection, take it up with Sadam. Why are you ranting at us when we're just doing our jobs neutrally?"
"Y-you......! Do you even know who I am?!"
"You're not a first-year anymore, so why are you flaunting your family name at Kizen? If you're so upset, why not go take it up with the Ivory Tower? Feeling confident?"
The girl's face went scarlet, and she just stammered — uh-uh-um- — completely at a loss.
Whether it was the first humiliation of her life or simply a total system crash, her brain seemed to have shut down entirely.
"Next. Noble, you're done here."
Mayrin sat back down and crossed out Noble's name with her quill.
"Next, please."
"W-wait just a minute!"
In the end, damage control fell to the president herself, Elisa.
She escorted her friend — now sobbing her eyes out — out of the Student Council Room, then hurried back to her seat.
"I-I'm sorry, Vice President! We'll take this spot!"
Elisa settled for the second-tier booth. When Mayrin heaved out a sigh, her bangs fluttered and swayed.
"If your seniors have anything to say, have them talk it over with Sadam. Booths can be swapped by mutual agreement."
"Ah. Yes. Got it!"
Though naturally, that would come at a price to Sadam.
Having written Noble onto a booth, Mayrin pointed behind them. The message was clear: you're registered, now get out.
*Haaah.*
Elisa soldiered on to the next step, fighting down a throbbing headache.
"Welcome!"
Camibarez, seated at her station, greeted her with a radiant smile.
"This is hilarious, I swear."
Dick beside her was clutching his stomach, snickering.
"What is wrong with her, picking a fight with Mayrin with zero survival instinct? She's got to know what Mayrin's capable of."
"......Beats me. She was in a different class section last year, I guess."
Elisa said this while looking at Camibarez. The meaning was clear: let's get started.
Camibarez picked up the paperwork.
"Will you be requiring a budget for this Club Season?"
"Obviously. We need to put up banners, print materials, and, well, all sorts of things."
"Ye~es, valued customer. I'm afraid we'll need a bit more detail than that."
Dick snapped straight into business mode and thrust a quill forward.
"You'll need to specify exactly what the funds are for, where, and how — or no budget gets approved."
Elisa took the quill Dick offered with a look of utter disbelief.
"Have you guys always been this hardcore?"
"'If we're going to do something, we do it properly' — that's our Student Council President's motto."
Dick pointed behind him. Simon could be seen seated at the president's desk, signing documents.
"But there's one thing I'll proudly guarantee."
Dick spread his arms wide and grinned.
"Do exactly as we ask, and your club budget will be bigger than last year's — never, ever smaller."
"......"
"We're a Student Council that doesn't skim off the middle."
The response to the new system was surprisingly positive.
In fact, Simon's Student Council hadn't been the first to introduce such a system. When Mayrin looked into it, she found that a few councils had implemented similar policies — rare, but not unprecedented — and by drawing on their records, the system was prepared in record time.
Institutions changed continuously depending on the Student Council President's temperament.
Last year's council under Phantassus had clung to the old policy in order to strangle, at the root, the three colossal clubs that had been trying to puppet the Student Council from the shadows.
Only one of those three giants now remained — Noble — and that was precisely why Simon was finally free to roll out a new policy.
And so the booths were finalized, and a massive construction operation erupted across the First-Year Central Plaza.
Students and minions alike — even outside contractors brought in for the job — set up club booths and hung banners.
Some clubs simply strung up a canopy, while others built entire elaborate stage sets or even equipped full cooking stations.
The plaza rang with the constant clatter of hammers and drills.
Being a necromancer's school, it was quite the spectacle: undead shuffling back and forth hauling lumber and steel rebar. Colorful triangular party flags fluttered above the booths, and balloons and banners festooned their walls.
First-years on their way to class blinked wide-eyed and stopped to gawk at the whole strange affair.
Time slipped by, and then — one day before the weekend.
Club Season began.
"WOOOOOAH!"
An enormous crowd surged in. First-year students milled about in every direction, swarming from booth to booth.
This was the one time all year when the upperclassmen completely lost their dignity in front of the freshmen. Second-years in mascot costumes handed out flyers, and here and there students trotted around in comically ridiculous makeup.
Simon and Dick came out to inspect the grounds.
"I-isn't this a bit much?"
Simon laughed sheepishly and scratched the side of his head.
All they had to do was set up a booth, yet one club had built a massive artificial cave like something out of an amusement park ride. Across its front, a sign read Dungeon Research Club.
Beside it stood an athletics club, stoking the competitive fire of the boys with a punch machine for measuring raw strength. Thud! Thud! — the air was full of noise.
"Somehow this year's even flashier than last."
"You lit the fire, Simon."
Dick let out a low chuckle.
"Member count matters more than ever now, since that's what gets you budget. They're all working themselves to the bone over it."
"Hmm."
He was still taking a casual look around when the war broke out right before his eyes.
"Got no interest in the Flight Club?"
"Join the Shapeshifting Club!"
"Real men join the Physical Culture Club!"
The competition to recruit fresh faces was brutally fierce. First-years stood frozen, utterly overwhelmed as seniors closed in around them from all sides.
But why does it feel like......
Simon crossed his arms and gave an awkward smile.
there are way more second-years here than first-years?
"Everyone!"
Just then, Mayrin and Camibarez came sprinting toward them, hugging a stack of files to their chests.
"We've got a problem!"
"?"
Dick raised his Student Council armband high, the look on his face saying here we go.
"Let's move."