The Class Representative Election
The next day.
“Everyone’s here.”
I was currently in swordsmanship class. The instructor was Serge Geis, known as the Royal First Sword. Swordsmanship was, of course, a required major course, so every student from the Special Class had gathered. The lesson took place in the same gymnasium where the entrance ceremony had been held. All the students stood facing Serge Geis, their expressions filled with anticipation. My own face, however, was far from pleased—and there was a very good reason for that.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard by now. We’ll be electing a class representative soon.”
That was the problem. The Academy had class representatives just like a university. In ordinary classes, the position was little more than a formality, but the Special Class was different. It was a gathering of the kingdom’s most prominent talents, and representing them carried enormous symbolic weight. From my experience, becoming class representative also meant building closer ties with the professors—an invaluable advantage in an academy where rankings were determined by faculty evaluations.
‘Professors naturally give better scores to students they know well.’
I had learned that lesson firsthand back on Earth. Because of this election, my mood had soured. At present, I held three separate identities: Mercenary King Jace Allen, Dark Mage Marco, and Trailblazer Trickster. Naturally, I was already three times busier than everyone else. On top of that, I still had to deal with the black market issue. Running for class representative was the last thing on my mind.
‘If I weren’t so busy, I’d do it myself…’
Unfortunately, I simply couldn’t spare the time. So I had no choice but to install someone manageable in the position—ideally someone who had no chance of becoming top-ranked. The problem was that none of the current candidates fit that description.
“Normally I would have just appointed someone,” Serge Geis continued, “but since so many of you are interested, we’ll have to hold a proper vote.”
That only made things worse. None of the applicants appealed to me in the slightest.
“If you wish to run for class representative, raise your hand once more.”
At his words, hands shot up across the gymnasium. The Hero was the first. He was followed by the Elf Princess, Archmage Constantine, Grand Duke Philip, Prince Maximilian, the genius Pierre Baumann, and several other formidable candidates. Every single one of them was a serious contender for the top rank. I needed someone harmless—preferably someone who could never become valedictorian. These people were the exact opposite.
‘The prince, the grand duke, and even Pierre are dangerous in their own ways.’
The usual four I had to watch—the Hero, the Saintess, the Elf Princess, and the Archmage—were already enough of a headache. At least the Saintess hadn’t stepped forward. If she had, the election would have been over before it began. I scanned the raised hands again and still couldn’t find a single person I could comfortably turn into a figurehead. That was the real issue.
Ah, there was one exception. Technically, he wasn’t even human.
“Haha! I’ll run as the representative of the dwarves!”
It was Dubalton, the Iron Fist, who had recently taken quite a beating from me. I could tolerate him becoming class representative, but the problem was obvious.
‘Who in their right mind would vote for him?’
The Special Class had a hundred students in total. Only three of them were dwarves. His chances of winning were practically zero. I let out a quiet sigh. I had never intended to run myself. Even though I had a bit of an attention-seeking streak, I was simply too busy. But what if I only ran to gather votes and then consolidated them behind someone else…?
‘That might actually work.’
I could collect support and then force a unified front behind a single candidate. The most important thing was preventing those three from winning.
‘Absolutely not.’
I looked at the Hero, the Archmage, and the Elf Princess. Letting the Hero become class representative was a matter of pride—I refused to allow it. That left Prince Maximilian, Grand Duke Philip, Pierre, and Dubalton as possible options to consolidate behind. Fortunately, the actual vote wasn’t happening today. With so many strong candidates, the election had been scheduled for a week later.
“Anyone else?”
At Serge Geis’s question, I raised my hand.
“Hmm… Jace Allen as well…”
He nodded and wrote my name down. The Hero’s expression twisted immediately. He clearly didn’t like the fact that I was participating.
‘Why? Because we’re finally standing on the same stage?’
Once, I had only been a supporting character in the Hero’s party. That was no longer the case. Now we were rivals.
“Wait, is this for real?”
“I have no idea who to vote for anymore.”
The other students looked equally troubled. Under normal circumstances, the Hero would have been the overwhelming favorite. But his reputation had taken a serious hit lately, especially on the Study Gallery. Combined with the presence of the Mercenary King, the Elf Princess, the prince, the grand duke, the Archmage, and the genius swordsman, the field was far too competitive. The students had every reason to feel conflicted.
“Haha! Being class representative must be awesome! Tilada would definitely like that!”
No one paid any attention to the loudly laughing dwarf. The first real stage of competition had begun, and I wore a deeply troubled expression.
‘Tch. There has to be a better way…’
***
Swordsmanship class ended without incident. Surprisingly, Serge Geis’s lesson had been quite substantial. Since it was still early in the semester, he had focused on theory, and I had gained something unexpected from it.
‘I really don’t know much about theory, do I…’
As a mercenary, I had learned swordsmanship purely through real combat. Theory had never been my strong suit. Yet listening to the lecture had given me quite a few insights—not full realizations, but plenty of useful fragments.
‘A sword is merely another tool that reveals the heart of its wielder…’
I couldn’t fully agree with everything he said, but I didn’t reject his perspective either. Little by little, these lessons would accumulate and become the foundation for reaching greater heights. Thanks to the class, I had momentarily forgotten about the election. That peace didn’t last long.
A familiar man approached me.
“A pleasure. I believe this is our first time speaking directly.”
It was Grand Duke Philip, one of the most prominent figures in the Special Class. He was a handsome young man in his early twenties, clean-shaven and appearing even younger because of it. I stopped my thoughts and returned his greeting.
“Likewise.”
I spoke casually. His brow twitched, but the displeasure vanished almost immediately. Instead, he acknowledged his own mistake.
“……Tsk. My apologies. I’m not accustomed to speaking informally with others. I would appreciate your understanding.”
I was genuinely surprised. I hadn’t expected the grand duke—the pinnacle of nobility—to react this way. A mercenary had spoken down to him, yet he had apologized first. His political acumen was clearly a cut above the Hero’s.
‘That’s exactly why he’s dangerous.’
There was a reason I had marked both the prince and Grand Duke Philip as threats. I asked him what he wanted. He got straight to the point, skipping the usual noble flourishes—probably out of consideration for me. The content itself, however, was anything but light.
“I’d like to form an alliance.”
“An alliance…?”
“Yes. You know as well as I do that if things continue like this, the Hero will become class representative.”
“Hmm. That’s true…”
So this was the insight of a sitting grand duke. He saw the situation clearly. The Hero was under heavy attack right now, particularly on the Study Gallery. Much of it was his own fault, but excessive criticism often bred sympathy. The more viciously someone was attacked, the more likely they were to gain defenders. The Hero’s current position was exactly that. He now had roughly twenty passionate supporters—people who had started defending him precisely because of the relentless criticism.
‘If there were only two or three candidates, I wouldn’t be worried. But eight… that’s the problem.’
In this fragmented field, even twenty votes could be enough to win. The Hero already had that many loyal backers. It was a bad situation for me, and apparently for Grand Duke Philip as well. I felt my thoughts leaning toward cooperation, but I needed to be certain. I asked him a probing question.
“……An alliance. Then who would become class representative?”
I had no intention of taking the position myself—I was far too busy—but I asked anyway to test him.
“Oh? You’re different from the rumors.”
He looked mildly surprised that I had cut straight to the core issue. After a moment of thought, he answered with genuine sincerity.
“You should do it. As long as it isn’t the prince, I don’t care.”
“……I see.”
I nodded at his answer and began preparing to leave the gymnasium.
“So, what’s your response?”
“I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“Very well. Just don’t take too long.”
“Understood.”
I gave him a small smile and a polite farewell. The moment I turned away, my expression hardened.