The Discipline Officer's Hat

The next afternoon.

The Mutant Club clubroom.

"It's finally the first-years' interviews! Eeee, I'm so nervous!"

Toto scrubbed his own shoulders up and down frantically. Simon chuckled and gave him a reassuring pat.

"You're not the one being interviewed. Relax."

"B-But still!"

Toto seized his head with both hands, ruffling his hair.

"What if the first-years forget to show up! What if they get angry and say they hate the exam format! What if they take one look at this shabby clubroom and walk out because they can't stand being in it for even a minute!"

...Honestly, you worry way too much.

Simon shrugged.

"These are kids who want to join because they like our club. There's no way they'd do that."

"Y-Yeah, I guess you're right?"

Click.

"Time's up."

Fitzgerald came up from the clubroom's basement level just then. Simon turned to him.

"Why'd you go down there?"

"I had something quick to make. Is the exam ready?"

"All done."

With seventeen people set to pour in, the room would have been packed shoulder to shoulder, so they'd shoved the bulky furniture—sofas, cabinets, the like—off to the side to clear some space.

All that remained was a single desk and one chair.

Fitzgerald, the club president, took his seat, with Simon and Toto standing at his sides. Then, with an expression of tremendous gravity, he set something down.

A paper nameplate that looked freshly made.

"Hm!"

He adjusted his glasses, crossed his legs, and leaned back at a rakish angle. Simon smiled quietly.

He's secretly so proud of stuff like this.

"Judging by the racket outside, the first-years have arrived. Then, before we begin the entrance exam..."

He lifted his head.

"Let's assign our roles."

Simon blinked.

"Roles?"

"Mm. To be precise, we need a discipline officer to keep the first-years in line."

Simon gave him a sidelong look.

"Do we really need a role like that?"

"Of course, this is absolutely not about pulling the kind of garbage certain third-years pull. It means we need someone the first-years can be reasonably afraid of, since they're hard to control. The ideal candidate is—"

He stared fixedly at Toto.

"MEEEEEEE?!"

Toto practically leaped out of his skin.

"W-Wait a second! There's no way I can do a job like that!"

"Thinking about it rationally, you're the right man for it, Toto. That's an order from your club president."

"Order or not, I'm telling you I don't know how! That's something you two are way better suited for...!"

Fitzgerald lowered his head.

"Let's reason it through. First, Simon is the Student Council President. He's not in a position to play that kind of role, and his personality doesn't fit either. The Simon the first-years love is the type who gently guides and encourages his juniors. And then there's me."

Fitzgerald pointed at his own chest and said flatly:

"I'm the president, so no."

"W-Wait a moment! Fitz!"

Whoosh.

Fitzgerald sprang up from his seat and thrust a book against Toto's chest.

"I gift this book to you, who does nothing but repeat that you can't before you've even tried."

「The Position Makes the Person.」

"Where did that even come from?!"

"Remember the last day of Club Season, Toto."

Fitzgerald said with the most serious face in the world:

"When you were handing out flyers in that dress, how did people react?"

"Huh? Well..."

"Forgive me for being a bit harsh, but if you'd handed out flyers looking like your usual self—all nerves and bitten-down fingernails—the first-years wouldn't have spared you a single glance."

He apologized for it earlier, but that was way too harsh!

Simon broke into a cold sweat, sneaking a look at Toto's face.

"But when you cross-dressed, your popularity was truly spectacular. The flyers we'd prepared vanished in an instant. The first-year boys who took a liking to you—"

"GYAAAH! AAAAH! Please please PLEASE don't finish that sentence! Fitz!"

"In any case—how did it feel, back then?"

Fitzgerald tapped the cover of the book pressed against Toto's chest.

"Explosive popularity and attention you'd never received in your life. That is the power of a position. It doesn't matter that you're Toto Amori. It doesn't matter what kind of person you are. The moment you fully carry out the duties of a given position, the public comes to recognize and accept you not as an individual, but as the position itself."

Toto's pupils wavered.

"Wh-What kind of person I am... doesn't matter?"

"That's right."

Simon, who had been listening in silence, turned his head.

"...Fitzgerald. Haven't you been spending way too much time under Dick's influence lately?"

"Ahem. Quiet, please."

Whish.

Fitzgerald drew a black hat out of his subspace.

It had horn ornaments on both sides, and emblazoned across the middle was a logo of a blazing flame and a skull with its eyes bulging wide.

"From the moment you put on this hat, Toto Amori ceases to exist. You become the Mutant Club's very own Will Douglas."

"I-I'm Will sunbae..."

Toto's eyes spun round and round.

Like a hypnotist, Fitzgerald spoke in a slow, drowsy voice.

"With this hat, you will conceal your timid self entirely, and become the discipline officer who upholds the organization's order."

"...The discipline officer who upholds order."

"Yes."

Fitzgerald carefully pressed the black hat down onto Toto's head. The brim slanted low, shading his eyes slightly.

He stepped back and folded his arms.

"Hm. Suits you well. There's not a trace of the timid Toto Amori anywhere. Feeling a bit more confident now?"

"...Yeah."

Toto straightened the black hat and clenched both fists tight.

"I'll... I'll do it!"

"Good. For a discipline officer, seizing the initiative is everything."

Fitzgerald returned to his seat and extended a hand sharply.

"Bring the first-years in with all the force you can possibly muster."

"Got it!"

Toto pressed both hands to his head, murmuring to himself like he was hypnotizing his own mind.

I am the fearsome Will sunbae. I am the fearsome Will sunbae.

Before long, Toto opened his eyes, strode forward, and kicked the clubroom door open with a bang.

CRASH!

"You first-year punks!"

From beyond the door came startled shrieks—Kyaaa!

"Is the area outside this clubroom your front yard, huh? What, too good to get in here right now? Move!"

"W-We're sorry!"

The first-years scurried into the clubroom in a rush. Even Princess Molly of the royal family and Special Admission No. 1, Sasha, were no exception.

Toto blinked, as if he couldn't believe the words that had just come out of his own mouth.

Th-They actually listened to me. The first-years...!

He stood there in a daze, like a man struck by some enormous revelation. Simon nudged Fitzgerald's shoulder.

"Hey. Is it really okay to let him go this far?"

Fitzgerald pushed up his glasses.

"You still don't understand Toto. His timid nature always holds him back compared to his potential. Experiencing a position like that will do him a world of good, I believe."

"...I hope you're right."

Meanwhile, the first-years' quiet phase lasted all of ten seconds.

The moment they entered the clubroom, they started cooing over the place, gawping at their surroundings and chattering away noisily.

Off to the side, Sasha was waving her hand—Simon oppa~!—in greeting. Simon waved back with a smile.

"You first-year brats are pushing it!"

Behind them, Toto let out a bark of a shout.

"Can't even last a minute without yammering? Did you swallow your manners with your breakfast, honestly. Are we a joke to you, huh? Back in my day, when a sunbae spoke, we'd shove our heads straight into a bowl of bone-soup slop! Line up and stand STRAIGHT!"

At that, the first-years promptly shut their mouths and lined up in respectful formation.

A-Aren't you getting way too into character?

Simon smiled awkwardly.

...Turns out people who've been on the receiving end imitate it frighteningly well.

Fitzgerald, too, was sweating through his shirt—apparently even this exceeded his expectations.

And that day,

Toto awakened to scolding.

The last applicant, White, arrived a little late.

When he sauntered into the clubroom at his own languid pace, indignant glares shot at him from the first-years—What's his deal?

Oblivious or indifferent, White simply took a place at the very end of the neatly lined-up first-years. A spot right beside the window.

"Everyone's here, then."

Fitzgerald, club president, adjusted his glasses.

"The Mutant Club entrance exam begins now. Of you seventeen, the number who will join us is..."

He spread his fingers.

"Only seven."

At those words, tension climbed into the first-years' eyes.

Sasha and Molly shot sidelong glances at each other, wary rivals sizing one another up. The only ones who looked at ease amid it all were the Mercenary King Arthur, grinning ear to ear, and White, absorbed in the birds flitting past the window.

"The exam consists of three stages in total, with me, Toto, and Simon each administering one. First, I, as your club president, will conduct the opening test."

Simon and Toto went around handing out mats and exam sheets to the first-years. The students each found a comfortable spot, spread out their mats, sat down, and picked up their exam sheets and quills.

So it starts with a written exam.

Princess Molly, too, seated herself primly on her mat and tied ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her hair back tight.

Then she stole a glance at Sasha. So confident walking in—and now there she was, clutching her quill with a nervous face.

Right, written exams are your weakness. Theory, on the other hand, is my specialty. I WILL enter the Student Council President's club with the top score!

Just then, Fitzgerald stepped forward and spoke.

"The exam is a single essay question. You have twenty minutes."

He started the timer on the clock.

"Begin."

Shhhffl—

All the students flipped over their exam sheets and read the question. Molly was no different.

I'm confident in my summoning knowledge! I'll answer anything they throw at...!

?????

Molly plunged into deep confusion.

What on earth was that supposed to mean?

Was that even Continental?

Unable to so much as parse the question, she racked every scrap of knowledge she'd learned from the finest tutors in the royal palace as a princess—and understood nothing.

Was Kizen always this demanding?

Haaa—

Uuugh.

Sighs and groans rose from all around. The one small comfort was that the other first-years were struggling exactly as much as she was.

Scriiiitch—

And yet, in the midst of it all, Sasha alone raised her quill and began to write.

She understood the question?

An unstoppable quill. A slight frown, as if thinking hard.

Beyond any doubt, she knew the answer and was putting it to paper.

Molly felt her mouth go dry, anxiety creeping up her spine.

She could not lose.

I-I have to write something too!

Twenty minutes later.

Simon collected the exam sheets, and Fitzgerald flipped through them at a brisk flutter.

All the first-years stood there with strained faces.

"Hm."

Fitzgerald set down the sheets and sighed.

"Everyone fails."

All the first-years' mouths fell open in collective devastation. Simon glared at Fitzgerald.

I TOLD you this would happen!

Fitzgerald drew close to Simon and muttered under his breath.

"I didn't anticipate the first-years' level being this low. If they're to be members of the Mutant Club, surely they should manage at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠least this much..."

"I couldn't solve it either, you know!"

The first-years buzzed in bewilderment. So what happens now? Is nobody getting in at all?

"D-Don't worry!"

Simon stepped forward, sweat streaming down his face.

"This was actually an exam to select one first-year club representative! Since no one qualified, we'll count it as passed for now—the remaining two tests will decide who gets in. Give it your all!"

Only then did relief flood the first-years' eyes.

"Yes, sunbae!"

The first-years clapped their hands together, laughing—Phew, that's a relief~—while Simon kept smiling outwardly and sighing deep inside.

"And one more thing."

Fitzgerald held up a single exam sheet.

"Which one of you is Sasha Andrasil? However difficult the exam, doodling is forbidden."

"Sorry about that~"

Sasha gave a sheepish bow.

Molly, watching from the sidelines, went pale with shock.

That was just doodling?

"And Molly Dresden."

This time Fitzgerald raised her exam sheet.

"You filled the page with words entirely unrelated to the question—but your effort in cramming it so densely is acknowledged. In honor of that effort, I'll read it aloud and interpret it for everyone, briefly."

NOOOOOOO!

For a brief moment, the princess of a nation hovered on the very brink of social death.

While Molly's face flushed red enough to drip, Simon sat with his eyes closed, wearing a troubled expression.

Please, let the next exam be a proper one...

"The next exam is MINE!"

All the first-years snapped to attention. The short, terrifying sunbae in the black hat was walking toward them.

"Judging by that last test, you're all a total mess! A mess! Where do you get off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turning in BLANK exam sheets? Is this exam a game to you? The real problem is I don't see ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a shred of will to work hard in any of you!"

By now, Toto was playing the discipline officer so well it was almost frightening.

"Anyway, this round is mine. The test I'll be giving is—!"

Click!

At that very moment, the clubroom door swung open.

Everyone turned—and a girl with cream-colored hair and a tall, slender figure was walking in.

"Oh my. Am I interrupting?"

Benya Vanilla of the third year was waving cheerfully.

"B-Benya sunbaenim!"

Nobody said she was coming!

And so Toto's brave new world met its crisis—barely one hour after its founding.