I stood outside the Student Council Room, pacing anxiously. It was already 7 a.m., technically the time I was supposed to report in, but I couldn't bring myself to open the door. The truth was, I didn't have the nerve to face the Student Council President alone. The one thing I dreaded most was being alone in a room with her… without my senior there as backup.
Not that I was just loitering, mind you. I had a mission: to listen for any voices inside, to figure out if Elira had arrived before me. If she was already in there, it might be safe to step in. But so far, it was dead silent, not a single chirp of noise, the kind of silence that makes you wonder if everyone had already packed up and left.
Maybe today was a holiday for the Student Council? Maybe the President and Elira forgot to mention it yesterday, or they were stuck handling some third-year classwork. That would make sense, right? They probably had a mountain of responsibilities to deal with.
Yes. That's probably it.
I should definitely come back later.
...Right?
I hovered near the door a moment longer. Still no sound, no movement. Just that awful, heavy silence pressing in from all sides.
Maybe I was overthinking it.
"Should I just go in?" I muttered aloud.
"…"
"What are you doing?"
Startled, I jumped back as a languid, feminine voice sounded from behind me. I turned and there she was. The Student Council President, standing just a few steps away. Her silver hair flowed in soft waves, a neat stack of documents tucked under one arm. She looked at me with those pale grey eyes, calm, unreadable, but unlike yesterday, there was a shift; they seemed a little less cold now, touched with a faint glimmer of interest.
My mouth opened, then immediately forgot what it was supposed to do.
"I—I was just, uh… making sure the room was secure."
She blinked slowly, as if trying to process what I'd just said, trying to make sense of whatever language I was apparently speaking.
Flustered, I scrambled to defend myself.
"No, no, no—I was actually just waiting for your arrival, President. Yeah. You know, for the keys. The door wasn't opening because… there wasn't a key."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. For a second, it looked like even she was at a loss for words. She stared at me a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, in a voice that gave nothing away, she simply said:
"Open the door."
"…What?"
"I said open the door."
"The key?"
"Just open the door."
Confused, I stepped forward and gave the door a little push.
And lo and behold, it swung open in one smooth motion.
I had just made a complete fool of myself, hadn't I?
The President stepped up beside me, her silver hair brushing lightly past my shoulder.
Then, just as my heart skipped a beat,
She gave me a small pat on the back.
A quiet, rhythmic thump-thump—once, twice. Then she walked into the room.
I stood there for a second.
Still processing.
That had… that had actually just happened.
What even was that, Pat? Sympathy? Sarcasm? Subtle bullying?
Ugh.
Maybe I should just go home. Pretend today never happened. Transfer to another academy or something.
I finally stepped inside.
The President was already at her desk, quietly setting down her documents. She moved with deliberate ease, opening a nearby cupboard, pulling out more files, pens, and whatever else she apparently needed to prepare for the day.
She spoke up as I stood there awkwardly. "The Student Council room is always unlocked. You can enter anytime and…"
From the cupboard, she tossed something at me.
I caught it instinctively.
It was a name badge.
Dark blue leather backing, silver trim, clipped to a short black lanyard. My name, 'Ryven Velaryn', was printed in bold letters. Below it, in even larger type: Vice President.
"The badge is for your identification," she said flatly. "Wear it during council hours." She paused. "I have more to explain, but wait a few minutes."
The President was already buried in her own rhythm, pulling out documents one after another, scanning them with quick, clinical efficiency. She'd check something on the page, then either toss it onto the growing pile on the table or slide it neatly back into the cupboard without a word.
I turned my attention back to the badge, caressing the leather backing with my thumb.
Vice President, huh
I clenched the badge in my hand and glanced back toward the President. She'd just finished sorting through the last of her files. Two neat rows of documents now lined the table.
With a subtle whip of her silver hair, she lowered herself into the chair with practiced grace.
Glancing over the table for a moment, she finally looked up at me. "So, let's begin."
I straightened instinctively, trying to look at least somewhat professional. "Yes, President."
She gestured toward the chair across from her desk. "Sit."
I obeyed, settling into the seat while clutching the badge like it was some kind of protective talisman. The President folded her hands on the desk, her pale grey eyes fixed on me with that same unreadable intensity.
"As Vice President, your primary responsibility is to assist me directly," she said. "You'll attend all council meetings, review documents I assign to you, and handle correspondence when I'm unavailable."
I nodded slowly. That didn't sound too terrible.
"You'll also serve as a liaison between the Student Council and the general student body. Any complaints, requests, or concerns that don't require my direct attention will be filtered through you first."
Ah. There it is. The catch.
"So I'm basically... a human shield?" I ventured.
Her expression didn't change. "I prefer the term 'initial point of contact.'"
"That's just a fancy way of saying human shield."
"Essentially, yes."
At least she was honest about it.
She reached for one of the document piles. "Elira handles event coordination, budget management, and external relations with faculty and other academies. I handle policy, official academy business, and final decisions on all matters." She slid a much thinner stack toward me, maybe ten pages at most. "You'll handle these: student petition reviews."
I picked up the stack and flipped through it. Request for extended library hours. Complaint about cafeteria food quality. Petition to add more recreational facilities.
"These need to be categorized by feasibility and urgency," she continued. "Approved requests go to Elira for budget review. Denied requests get a formal response explaining why. Anything unclear or potentially problematic comes to me."
That... actually made sense. It was like a filtering system. Students → Me → Elira/President, depending on the issue.
"So I'm middle management," I said.
"Precisely."
"Great. The worst position in any hierarchy."
For the briefest moment, and I mean briefest*,* I could've sworn I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. But it was gone so fast I might've imagined it.
"Any questions?" she asked.
"Just one." I held up the stack. "What happens if I approve something you would've denied?" "Then you'll learn from the experience." "...That's ominous." "It's meant to be."
Just then, the door burst open with a cheerful jingle of energy.
"Good morning~!"
Elira practically bounced into the room, still wearing that ridiculous French maid uniform from yesterday. How was that even allowed as school attire?
She spotted me and her face lit up. "Oh! Ryven! You actually came!"
"Why wouldn't I come?" I asked, a bit defensively.
"Well..." She tilted her head, that mole on her cheek shifting as she grinned. "You looked pretty traumatized yesterday. I thought you might try to flee the country or something."
She's not wrong.
"I considered it," I admitted dryly.
Elira laughed, bright and warm, then turned to the President. "Serina, you're not bullying our new Vice President already, are you?"
The President didn't even look up from the document she'd just started reading. "I don't bully people."
"You absolutely do."
"I provide constructive challenges."
"That's just bullying with extra steps."
I watched the exchange with growing fascination. Elira was probably the only person in the entire academy who could speak to the President so casually. Even the teachers seemed to tread carefully around Serina Caldrein.
The President finally glanced up, her expression unchanged. "Elira, show Ryven where his workspace is. Then help him understand the filing system."
"Aye aye, captain!" Elira gave a mock salute, then grabbed my arm. "Come on, newbie. Let me give you the grand tour."
As she pulled me toward a desk in the corner of the room, I cast one last look back at the President.
She was already absorbed in her work again, pen moving across paper with mechanical precision.
This is going to be a long year.