Chapter 4: Light

The final day of the election period.

The students gathered in the auditorium were seated, their eyes fixed on the stage.

(…So it ends today, huh.)

In just a few minutes, Tennouji-san would appear on stage, and her speech would begin.

Once Joutou’s speech was over, the long election battle would finally draw to a close.

It had been a grueling fight, with no room to let our guard down from start to finish. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything we’d left undone, but even if I noticed something now, it was too late. Tennouji-san and the others were already backstage, preparing for their speeches.

“Tomonari, you’re surprisingly calm about this.”

Taishou, sitting next to me, called out.

“Yeah, I guess. At this point, all we can do is trust Tennouji-san.”

Honestly, I felt like we’d given it everything we had.

Of course, there had been failures and setbacks, but I believed we’d done all we could. That’s why I was able to look at the stage now with a clear, almost refreshed feeling.

“From the looks of it, the vibe’s pretty good, right?”

“I think so too! The policy trial event was a huge success, wasn’t it?”

Asahi-san nodded in agreement with Taishou’s comment.

Looking around at the other students, it seemed like a supportive atmosphere for Tennouji-san had formed.

On the final day, no election updates were distributed. So, no one knew how much the support rates had shifted after the policy trial event, but the response felt more than promising.

I was betting we’d either made a comeback or, at the very least, were neck-and-neck.

“Oh… God, please grant Tennouji-sama your divine protection…!”

In the front row, Suminoe-san was praying fervently to the heavens.

The students gathered in the auditorium were instructed to sit together by class. However, since the seating order was free, those of us involved in the election had grouped together.

Besides Taishou and Asahi-san, Suminoe-san, Kita, and Hinako were here too.

“Konohana-san, who do you think will win?”

Kita asked Hinako.

In that instant—every student around us turned to look at Hinako all at once.

It seemed everyone was curious about Hinako’s prediction. But with this much attention, her answer could potentially sway the final voting results. …This election had been a close race. That’s probably why some students were still undecided about who to vote for.

I shook my head slightly at Hinako, who was sitting to my left.

Hinako nodded quietly and responded.

“I have my own thoughts, but I’ll keep them to myself for now.”

Thank you, Hinako, for reading the room…

If Hinako had said “Tennouji-san” here, it might’ve swayed more students to vote for her. But Tennouji-san wouldn’t want that. To Tennouji-san, Hinako was her greatest rival. Suppose she found out she’d become student council president thanks to her rival’s influence. In that case, she might even step down from the position in the worst-case scenario. Knowing Tennouji-san, she’d do something like that without a hint of irony.

I let out a sigh of relief, but then I suddenly felt eyes on me.

Huh…?

“Hey, aren’t people staring at you too, Tomonari-kun?”

“…I was thinking the same thing.”

I nodded at Asahi-san’s comment.

It wasn’t just my imagination. Some of the gazes I thought were directed at Hinako were, for some reason, aimed at me.

The expressions of the students staring at me were mostly negative—nervous, suspicious, or outright skeptical.

The most common look was one of doubt.

(…Could they have figured it out?)

There was only one thing I could think of that might’ve caused these stares.

But why now, of all times?

I tilted my head, but no answers came, so I stopped thinking about it.

I felt guilty for making everyone suspicious. But those doubts should be cleared up during the final speeches that were about to begin.

Even if, as a result, I wasn’t chosen as vice president…

◇

Tennouji Mirei, upon arriving at the auditorium, was guided by the former student council officers directly to the backstage area. She was told to wait there until the final speeches began.

Joutou Ren was already there, seated at a distance.

Beside Mirei sat another girl.

“I-Is it really okay for me to be here?”

“You were guided here, so you should carry yourself with confidence.”

Miyakojima Narika was trembling, her face pale.

Honestly… Mirei let out a soft chuckle.

Narika’s personality was, as always, a bundle of contradictions. She usually showed a timid side, but in critical moments, her dignified presence was so striking that even Mirei couldn’t help but be captivated. And yet, she remained so innocent it was almost unfair. This girl had a knack for unconsciously displaying remarkable skill.

When Mirei heard that Narika had withdrawn her candidacy for president, two emotions stirred within her: loneliness and nervousness. If Mirei became president, she’d have to run the student council alongside Narika. Handling tasks under Narika’s piercing, dignified gaze would feel like a heavy burden, even for someone like Mirei.

The reason Narika had been guided to the backstage area was likely due to her influence. Even though she’d withdrawn, Narika had been a presidential candidate until the very end, and many students were still interested in her. If she tried to sit among the general students now, it would undoubtedly cause a commotion.

As they waited in their chairs, Minato Maki approached from the front.

“It’s almost time for the speeches to start. Get ready.”

Their preparations were already complete, so neither Mirei nor Ren did anything.

Mirei and Narika silently glared at Maki.

“Being stared at by both of them is, frankly, bad for my heart.”

“And whose fault is that, exactly?”

“Fair point,” Maki said with a laugh.

“From what I can tell, the atmosphere in the venue is leaning toward Tennouji-san. That policy trial event, was it? It was a big hit, so it’s no surprise.”

Maki grabbed a nearby chair, placed it in front of Mirei, and sat down.

“But you’ve got a ticking time bomb.”

Maki said, locking eyes with Mirei.

A time bomb…?

“Tomonari Izuki.”

Maki elaborated.

“From what I’ve seen, he’s been supporting both of you fairly. But let’s be honest—supporting two presidential candidates single-handedly is unprecedented. Not every student is going to understand his stance.”

That, Maki seemed to imply, was their winning card.

What are you getting at? Mirei wondered, and Maki continued.

“Tomonari Izuki deliberately took on the role of supporting both candidates to secure the presidential vote. …I spread that rumor earlier.”

Maki’s eyes glinted with a dark intensity as she spoke.

In Kiou Academy’s student council elections, presidential candidates could also vote. Notably, the vote of the elected president, known as the presidential vote, was worth one-third of the entire student body’s votes. In other words, the elected president had significant influence over who would be chosen for other officer roles.

A rumor was now circulating among the students that Tomonari Izuki had supported both Tennouji Mirei and Miyakojima Narika to ensure he’d secure the vice president position, no matter who won.

“Some students will start to suspect him. They’ll think he’s been playing both sides, acting like a cowardly bat to get the presidential vote. …And that suspicion will extend to you two as well. They’ll wonder if there’s something wrong with you for trusting a guy like that.”

Maki stared at Mirei and Narika like a spider eyeing prey caught in its web.

But Mirei and Narika—

““Hehe.””

Mirei laughed. Narika did the same.

Maki’s eyes widened.

She couldn’t understand why they were laughing.

“It seems you don’t understand Tomonari-san at all.”

“Exactly. Minato-senpai, you don’t get Izuki one bit.”

They’d been on guard, wondering what kind of scheme Maki might reveal, so this was a relief.

That’s all it was…?

Just something like that…?

“No need to worry. That bomb of yours is a dud.”

Mirei stood up. It was almost time for the final speeches to begin.

As she mentally reviewed her speech, she thought of Izuki, who had supported her all this time.

Maki didn’t understand Izuki at all. …That guy, who was practically honesty personified, wouldn’t overlook something as trivial as that.

◆

“We will now begin the final speeches for the 72nd Student Council Election.”

The former vice president, standing on the stage, announced the start of the speeches briefly.

The noisy chatter that had filled the auditorium moments ago fell silent. I unconsciously straightened my back, swallowing hard as I awaited the appearance of the presidential candidates.

In the almost painful silence, a girl with golden, curled hair stepped onto the stage.

Tennouji Mirei. The girl I’d supported more than anyone, believing she was the most suited to be student council president, stood before the microphone.

Facing the gazes of Kiou Academy’s students—future politicians and CEOs—she opened her mouth.

“First—I’d like to address Miyakojima-san’s withdrawal.”

Tennouji-san’s opening words were about Narika, her former rival.

“For the sake of her honor, I’ll make this clear: she chose to pursue the role of general affairs officer because she believed it held the most value. Miyakojima-san has her own convictions. Please respect them.”

Tennouji-san gave a small bow.

I already knew the contents of Tennouji-san’s final speech. She’d told me in advance that she’d start with this. It struck me again how characteristic it was of her to begin by defending her friend’s honor. Tennouji-san was someone who cared about winning, but she didn’t discard the process. What she sought was a clean, honorable victory, not just any win.

“Now, let’s begin anew.”

Having honored her friend, Tennouji-san scanned the students gathered in the auditorium.

Then, with her mouth wide open—

“—I am Tennouji Mirei!!”

Tennouji-san’s voice echoed through the hall.

Immediately, a thunderous cheer erupted.

(The auditorium’s shaking…!)

Her bold personality amplified the impact, and Tennouji-san’s introduction seized the hearts of the students.

Bathed in the stage’s lighting, her golden vertical curls gleamed brightly.

“If I become student council president, I will transform Kiou Academy into a place where everyone can live with nobility!! Specifically, as I’ve shown you all before, I will implement etiquette classes to teach manners that will serve you in the wider world!!”

Tennouji-san reiterated the promises she’d made in her earlier speeches.

“However, etiquette classes are merely one form of what I have in mind! If needed, I’ll employ various methods to elevate everyone’s refinement! —For example, something like the salon Miyakojima-san proposed.”

The students stirred.

In other words… Tennouji-san might adopt Narika’s vision of establishing a salon.

“There’s nothing strange about it. Manners are meaningless if you don’t put them into practice. …Fortunately or unfortunately, this academy has a hierarchy of family backgrounds. That makes conversations with those of different statuses a perfect rehearsal for the future.”

That was brilliant. I couldn’t help but admire her argument.

The issue of family background disparities had come up repeatedly in the debates. Tennouji-san had reframed it in a positive light. Because of those disparities, this academy could simulate the real world. After all, graduating from this academy wouldn’t let you escape those hierarchies.

“Where’s the budget for all that?!”

A student shouted from somewhere in the crowd.

Holding etiquette classes and setting up a salon—many students were understandably curious about the funding. But—

“No need to worry.”

The moment Tennouji-san said that, the screen behind her lit up.

Displayed on the screen were the materials Tennouji-san had prepared.

“Here!! This is the student council’s management strategy that I propose!!”

The screen showed various charts and graphs.

From the student council’s budget to a list of necessary expenses and intermediate goals, Tennouji-san’s vision for the council’s operations was laid out clearly for all to see.

If Tennouji-san became president, anyone would be able to access this information.

“If I become student council president, I will make the budget’s usage completely transparent!! From outsourcing costs for etiquette instructors to equipment and miscellaneous expenses, everything will be disclosed!!”

Tennouji-san promised an unparalleled level of integrity.

From what I’d researched, no past student council president had ever made financial movements this transparent. It was obvious to anyone that this was the most honest approach. Yet no one had done it because it was considered an impossibly thorny path.

Transparency in finances would give students room to complain. Is this expense really necessary? Will this investment actually pay off? Such critiques would pour in endlessly, much like vocal shareholders. Too many complaints could slow down decision-making.

Even so, Tennouji-san chose the thorny path.

As a management-type leader, Tennouji-san had the confidence to overpower any dissenting voices.

I’ll say it outright—Joutou doesn’t have this strength.

“Some of you might be doubting whether this is really feasible. But have you forgotten? I am the sole heiress of the Tennouji Group. When it comes to management, there aren’t many who can outdo me—”

Clutching the microphone, Tennouji-san glanced briefly at Hinako.

“—Not that many, I assure you!!”

I mean, she could’ve just said it outright, you know…

Still, everyone acknowledged Tennouji-san’s skill. In the management game, she’d achieved results on par with Hinako.

Looking at the now-silent auditorium, Tennouji-san’s expression turned serious as she spoke again.

“Joutou Ren’s policies are revolutionary.”

She made a statement that seemed to acknowledge her rival.

“Democratizing Kiou Academy. The idea of making the students here capable of thriving in the outside world has some merit. However—”

Tennouji-san clenched her fist.

“I, too, will give you all the strength to succeed in the outside world!”

Her powerful gaze pierced through the students gathered in the auditorium.

“Manners, etiquette—these are fundamentally for that purpose! A mindset that ensures you’re never rude to others! If you master that, there’s no need to fear any disparities!”

This was the fundamental difference between Joutou’s strategy and hers.

Joutou wanted to create an academy where disparities didn’t exist. In contrast, Tennouji-san aimed to build an academy where disparities didn’t matter.

“Of course, it’s important to reach out to the common folk! But let me say this boldly! We are students of Kiou Academy!! Living in this prestigious institution, we should find our own way to fit into society!!”

The raw, fiery passion within Tennouji-san carried through her words.

Before I knew it, the students were watching her with faces full of excitement.

Reflected in their eyes—was a golden light.

“Grace, dignity, refinement. Students of Kiou Academy are often expected to embody these qualities. Surely, some of you feel insecure about meeting those expectations.”

To me, every student in this academy was brimming with grace. But the earnest students of Kiou Academy, after experiencing high society or formal dinners, often felt they still fell short.

“Then let’s create it!! —A classroom where you can learn grace!!”

The students listening to her speech widened their eyes. I could understand their feelings.

Exactly. Thinking about it, the absence of such a thing had always been strange.

Why wasn’t there a classroom like that? Why weren’t there classes to learn etiquette? Everyone here knew how important manners were in this academy.

To become top-tier politicians or CEOs, there were essential skills this academy didn’t teach. The students were finally realizing that oddity.

Tennouji-san had presented the missing puzzle piece. She’d boldly filled a gap no one had even noticed was there.

Without opportunities to learn, differences in natural ability created disparities.

By addressing that injustice, she aimed to create an environment where family background disparities wouldn’t matter.

“And aim for it!!”

Tennouji-san declared.

With her eyes and hair sparkling brilliantly—

“To become someone like me—the most noble of all!!”

With a fearless smile, Tennouji-san’s voice rang out.

In that moment, an overwhelming cheer erupted. The sheer volume almost made me want to cover my ears, but I resolved to listen to this roar until the very end, even if it deafened me.

This was Tennouji-san’s power.

This was the person called Tennouji Mirei—!!

Tennouji-san, standing on the stage, was light itself. A guiding beam that led the students with her radiance. A noble beacon carrying the weight of this academy.

The most noble of all. Even claiming that title, no one could deny her. It wasn’t just the brilliance of this moment—it was the culmination of everything she’d built up until now.

I looked around. The normally polite and composed students of Kiou Academy, now shouting at the top of their lungs, were a breathtaking sight.

It felt like witnessing a historic moment.

In the context of Kiou Academy, that might not even be an exaggeration.

As the cheers gradually subsided, Tennouji-san brought the microphone back to her lips.

Seeing her, the students fell silent, awaiting her next words.

“…Lastly, I’d like to talk about Tomonari Izuki-san, who supported me.”

Tennouji-san continued.

“This time, Tomonari-san, a vice president candidate, did something unprecedented by supporting two presidential candidates single-handedly. Some of you might have suspected he was after the presidential vote. I believe many of you, seeing his conduct during the election, have already dismissed that misunderstanding, but some doubts may linger.”

Tennouji-san glanced at me for a brief moment.

“Tomonari-san… knew about that possibility from the start.”

I could feel the agitation of the students around me as if it were tangible.

Tennouji-san was right. Before the election period even began, I’d sensed that risk. I’d thought that leaving it unaddressed could eventually become a liability for us.

I recalled the stares I’d felt before the speech started. My guess was that those looks were tied to what Tennouji-san was talking about now.

If that was the case—then it was fine.

“The day before the election period began, Tomonari-san promised to support both me and Miyakojima-san. And then, he made one more request.”

Tennouji-san voiced the words I’d said to them that day.

‘No matter who becomes president—please don’t cast the presidential vote for me.’

The auditorium buzzed with murmurs.

The students around me all turned to look at me at once.

Even Taishou, sitting next to me, was wide-eyed with shock.

“Tomonari… seriously?”

“Yes.”

Taishou stared at me with eyes that seemed to behold something unbelievable.

“After much deliberation, we decided to respect his wishes.”

Tennouji-san said with a complicated expression.

At first, both Tennouji-san and Narika opposed me. Even so, I insisted on stubbornly upholding this one resolve. In the end, they relented, and I believe this was the right choice.

This way, I didn’t tarnish the light on that stage.

“I, Tennouji Mirei, declare the forfeiture of the presidential vote. …As for who should be vice president, Tomonari-san entrusts that decision to all of you.”

I couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

The presidential vote was lost. But that doesn’t mean we’re guaranteed to lose.

If I’m truly worthy of being vice president—then I should be able to win even without the presidential vote.

“—And with that, my speech comes to an end!!”

Tennouji-san concluded her speech with a commanding voice.

Thunderous applause erupted. Striding off the stage with her chest puffed out and a confident expression, Tennouji-san held the students’ gazes captive until the very last moment, like a trailing beam of light.

Gradually, the students began discussing their thoughts on the speech.

The auditorium quickly regained its lively atmosphere.

“We won, right!? This means we won, doesn’t it!?”

“It’s basically a win already!!”

Asahi-san and Taishou exclaimed in excitement.

“Tennouji-samaaaaaaaa—!!”

Suminoe-san was screaming, tears streaming down her face in a torrent.

For once, I couldn’t bring myself to reprimand Suminoe-san’s outburst. Looking around, while others weren’t screaming, many students were just as exhilarated, barely containing their excitement.

“Tennouji-san’s speech was amazing, but… Tomonari-kun, I can’t get you out of my head.”

Kita said, glancing at me.

At his words, Asahi-san and Taishou turned to me as well.

“Exactly!! Tomonari-kun, that was just too bold!!”

“Forfeiting the presidential vote—wasn’t that a bit too much?”

Cornered by the two, I gave an awkward chuckle.

“Well, I mean, I did hesitate a bit…”

Before consulting Tennouji-san and Narika, I thought it through carefully on my own.

In the end, the reason I couldn’t accept the presidential vote was—

“Instead of clinging to the outcome, I wanted to become someone who could take pride in that outcome…”

I thought about who I wanted to be. And when I did, I knew I couldn’t accept the presidential vote.

Wanting to be vice president doesn’t mean sacrificing what’s important. It’s the same as not wanting to compromise Tennouji-san’s victory. These choices, bit by bit, build the confidence I’ll carry into the future.

“So… so cool…!!”

Hearing my words, Taishou’s eyes sparkled.

“Tomonari…!! You’re seriously such a cool guy…!!”

“Being told that so directly is kinda embarrassing…”

Maybe I said something a little too bold.

Scratching my cheek, I glanced at Asahi-san, who was muttering something, her face bright red.

“Ughhh… no, no, no, no. I can’t get involved, it’ll get messy… I’m neutral, I’m neutral, I’m neutraaaal…!”

Holding her cheeks with both hands, Asahi-san was mumbling to herself.

…Lately, Asahi-san’s been acting weird sometimes, hasn’t she?

As I pondered this, I noticed Suminoe-san staring at me.

Suminoe-san glared at my face, her eyes boring into me…

“…Well, if you want to stay by Tennouji-sama’s side, you’d better be able to say at least that much.”

I’m not sure what she meant, but it seems I passed some kind of test.

Asahi-san fanned her flushed face with her hand to cool off.

“Seriously, that was some incredible resolve, right? Don’t you think so, Konohana-san?”

“Indeed.”

Hina, addressed by Asahi-san, nodded quietly.

Wearing the perfect mask of an Ojou-sama, Hina spoke with a calm expression.

“Let’s build a monument here.”

“Konohana-san?”

I couldn’t help but call out to her.

Please don’t.

It’d be a nuisance to everyone.

“It seems the next speech is about to begin.”

Suminoe-san said, looking at the stage. The microphone and lighting setup were complete, and now it was just a matter of waiting for Joutou to appear.

Before Joutou’s speech began, I took another look at the students around me. …Even without bias, Tennouji-san’s speech was flawless. I’m not letting my guard down, but the atmosphere in the auditorium feels solidly in favor of cheering for Tennouji-san.

Joutou appeared from the wings of the stage.

Seeing the look on his face, I understood.

This election battle—the outcome was decided.

◇

Stepping onto the stage, Joutou Ren scanned the faces of the students gathered in the auditorium and instantly knew.

(I’ve lost.)

Ren realized his defeat.

No single speech could overturn the atmosphere in this room.

(Most likely, by this morning, the support had already swung back. And then that speech on top of it. Without some kind of wildcard in this situation, there’s no path to a comeback.)

Standing before the microphone, he took a deep breath.

He’d been told he could start the speech at his own pace, but with defeat already certain, there was nothing to lose by making the students wait.

Savoring this conclusion, Ren carefully considered the reasons for his loss.

(Forfeiting the presidential vote became the final push to highlight Tennouji-san and Tomonari-kun’s sincerity… Honestly, are they just naturally like that, or was it calculated?)

Ren let a faint smile cross his lips.

To think they’d make such a declaration at this precise moment…

If they’d announced the forfeiture of the presidential vote right after the election period began, it probably wouldn’t have swayed support. But in the context of the final speech, it gave those two a dramatic flair. Such a pure, refreshing fact revealed at the climax—anyone would get swept up in the excitement.

Maki spreading rumors backfired as well. In a situation where suspicion was clouding Izuki, declaring the forfeiture of the presidential vote created a perfectly scripted comeback story.

Light…

Ren recalled what Tennouji Mirei said she needed to show the students.

Mirei, delivering her speech on stage, had indeed been radiant. But Ren didn’t think he’d lost on the speech itself. In terms of performance alone, he might even have the edge.

But then Ren realized.

It wasn’t on the stage.

In the eyes of the students watching Tennouji Mirei—there was light.

Seeing the light in the students’ eyes as they gazed at Mirei, Ren finally understood its true nature. Just as Mirei had said, it was a sense of clarity, a bright and uplifting impression.

But it wasn’t just something Mirei radiated—it was something each student emitted as well.

The students supporting Tennouji Mirei looked so content. Refreshing, upright, straightforward, and brimming with confidence. The people around her were the same. Tomonari Izuki, Asahi Karen, Taishou Katsuya, Suminoe Chika, Miyakojima Narika, and even Konohana Hinako… all of them cheered for Mirei with clear, radiant expressions.

That was what Ren lacked.

He thought of Rintarou’s face. He thought of Maki’s face. The eyes that looked at Ren held no light. They were dim, unnatural, wavering.

The moment he failed to ignite light in their eyes—Ren had already lost.

(…What could I have done?)

How could he have won?

The light Mirei showed was in a realm Ren wasn’t skilled at, but it wasn’t impossible to replicate. Unlike Mirei, who could inspire clarity through her way of life, Ren had the means to deceive students into seeing light. For a politician, that was a standard tactic. You didn’t need to be truly pure—just convince others you were.

Even so, he couldn’t envision a scenario where he inspired the same level of expectation in so many students as Mirei did now.

He looked at the students’ eyes.

The hearts of those who believed in Mirei were strong and unshakable. Deep within, there seemed to be a profound understanding of her.

Then, Ren remembered.

The policy experience event the other day. Ren had secretly observed not only Narika’s salon but also Mirei’s.

During his visit, he overheard a conversation by chance.

“Oh, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Hey, you remembered me! I was in the same class last year…”

“Of course I remember. Come, please have a seat.”

He remembered the conversation because the student who approached Mirei was a classmate.

Ren, aiming to solidify his base, treated the third floor of the school as his home turf and won over students from classes D to F.

But at the last moment, many of those students defected.

Most of the defectors were acquaintances of Mirei and Narika.

(…I see.)

Ren replayed that conversation in his mind one more time.

Last year. That was time Ren didn’t have.

From the second semester of his first year, Ren had slacked off for a while. But during that time, Mirei and the others had been living earnestly. Classes, exams, the Management Game—they tackled everything with full commitment.

That was the difference.

He lacked the foundation of past efforts.

It was only natural that the students understood Mirei more than they did Ren.

Ren let out a soft chuckle.

In the end, it all came down to how you carried yourself day by day.

If he’d been serious from his first year—maybe the outcome would’ve been different.

But this wasn’t a world of what-ifs.

In this world, Ren—had lost.

“Joutou Ren here.”

After a long silence, Ren finally spoke into the microphone.

“To everyone who’s supported me this far, thank you.”

Bowing deeply, Ren saw the students stir with unease.

They must’ve sensed the difference from his usual passionate speeches.

Raising his head, Ren thought of those who’d cheered for him—Rintarou, Maki—and silently apologized to them in his heart before continuing.

“However, I’ve come to realize my own shortcomings.”

The auditorium buzzed.

“I want to see the academy that Tennouji-san envisions.”

Ren’s voice echoed through the vast auditorium.

He wanted to see it. The way that impossibly upright girl lived her life.

The new academy they would weave together.

“So, I’ll be voting for Tennouji-san.”

Leaving the stage, he returned to the wings.

There was no applause. He’d probably confused them. But after a brief delay, the students realized Ren had raised the white flag.

Glancing at the now-chaotic auditorium, Ren bowed to Maki, who was waiting in the wings.

“Sorry, I couldn’t live up to your expectations.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

Maki looked at Ren and said,

“Deep down, didn’t you want this outcome?”

His heart skipped a beat.

He recalled a few days ago… The moment Rintarou launched the negative campaign, Ren had indeed foreseen this future. To take responsibility for the sins of his precious kouhai, stepping back from the presidency was the only way. It’d be a lie to say that thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

That’s why, the day before the debate, he approved Maki’s suggestion to steal information. If he was going to step back anyway, he thought he could at least play the role of issuing a warning.

“…Maybe so.”

Ren admitted in a small voice.

“But I fought to win, seriously.”

Ren declared firmly.

Part of him felt relieved to lose.

But part of him had wanted to win. Otherwise, what was this frustration? Why had he analyzed his defeat when he realized he’d lost?

He wanted to win.

He wanted to lead this academy.

“Joutou-senpai—!!”

With loud footsteps, a student rushed into the wings.

Rintarou ran up to a surprised Ren.

“Rintarou—”

“—Is it my fault!?”

Rintarou shouted.

Tears streamed from his eyes.

“Did I mess things up by doing something unnecessary…!?”

“…No, that’s not it.”

He’d fought seriously and fallen in the end.

Even if part of him wanted to lose, he hadn’t held back. He’d given it everything he had. It was a fight he could hold his head high about.

“Rintarou… I was always relying on others.”

Ren shared the reasons for his defeat that he’d considered on stage.

“I wanted Konohana-san to be president, and even after learning she wouldn’t run, I kept hoping someone would understand our intentions.”

But in the meantime, an impatient Rintarou had resorted to schemes.

Reluctantly, Ren had grown more proactive in the election, but it was already too late.

“Someone who’s always relied on others can’t just swoop in and claim victory at the last moment… It was too convenient a thought.”

It wasn’t just about the election period.

The sincerity with which he’d lived every day until now had determined the outcome.

From the wings, he observed the students.

The initially confused students were now calmly celebrating Mirei. With Ren’s declaration of defeat, Mirei’s victory was assured.

At the center of the crowd, basking in applause, Mirei stood tall, beaming with joy.

Ren, too, clapped for her from the wings.

“Let’s celebrate for now… It’s okay. Life is long. We can use this lesson for the next time.”

Life is long. That’s why you can build something up.

Ren felt grateful to learn this before becoming an adult.

“I’ll never forget this day.”

With eyes as if gazing at something dazzling, Ren fixed his gaze on Mirei.

In those eyes, a light was kindled.

◆

After Joutou’s speech, we wrote the names of our chosen candidates on the voting slips distributed earlier in the classroom and placed them in the ballot boxes lined up along the auditorium walls.

Once voting was done, we returned to the classroom to await the results.

Under Fukushima-sensei’s watchful eye, the broadcast began.

“We will now announce the results of the 72nd Student Council Election.”

The students tightened their lips.

In the tense atmosphere, a voice rang out.

“Tennouji Mirei has been elected Student Council President.”

Even though I’d expected it—my shoulders relaxed.

The students in Class A applauded Tennouji-san, who wasn’t here. The generous applause echoing from the next classroom over spoke to the trust they had in Tennouji-san. Looking at my classmates’ faces, it was clear everyone was hopeful for a bright future.

Was that a distant “Ohohohoho!!” laugh I heard? …Even if it wasn’t my imagination, maybe just for today, it’s fine.

As the applause died down, my heart pounded fiercely.

The student council president had been announced. Next—it was my turn.

For a fleeting moment, my heart wavered. …Tennouji-san’s become president, so isn’t that enough? The goal’s been achieved. I don’t have to be vice president to support Tennouji-san, and maybe I could leave the rest to Rintarou.

I scolded myself for wanting to take the easy way out with those thoughts.

No way.

I want to win.

Not someone else—I want to be the one to support Tennouji-san.

“Next, we will announce the student council officers.”

My breath stopped.

After a silence that felt like an eternity, a voice rang out.

“Vice President, Tomonari Izuki-san. Treasurer, Abeno Haruka-san. Secretary, Yodogawa Ryuuji-san. General Affairs, Miyakojima Narika-san.”

This time—for real—every ounce of strength drained from my body.

I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. If Tennouji-san saw me, she’d probably yell, “Straighten your back!” but I couldn’t move for a while.

It’s been so long…

Getting here was truly exhausting…

As I vaguely recalled all the struggles up to this point, applause erupted from my classmates. Everyone was looking at me, their eyes brimming with unwavering trust.

“Elected student council members, please proceed to the student council room.”

Right… of course.

Since I was chosen, I needed to head to the student council room for introductions.

Forcing my suddenly heavy body to move, I stood and made my way to the hallway.

On the way—

“Congratulations!”

Someone called out to me.

“Nice job!”

“We’re counting on you!”

“Do your best!”

“We’re rooting for you!”

Everyone was cheering me on.

Hearing the resounding applause and encouragement, my eyes grew hot, and I stopped in my tracks. A small chuckle reached my ears, making me feel embarrassed. Feeling pathetic, I wiped the corners of my eyes with the back of my hand.

I became vice president without the president’s vote because of everyone’s support.

It was because everyone believed in me.

“—Thank you, everyone!!”

Holding back tears, I bowed deeply.

Amid the unending applause, I lifted my head and locked eyes with Hinako.

Understanding the words conveyed in her gaze, I responded with my eyes alone.

—Go get ’em.

—I’m off.

To become someone who can stand by Hinako’s side without anyone’s complaints.

Today, I took a huge step toward that goal. I haven’t fully achieved it yet, but I’m definitely on the right track. Keep going straight. My instincts were telling me so.

On my way to the student council room, students in the hallway clapped for me.

It felt like a triumphant return. I nodded a few times as I walked.

Pushed forward by the cheers and applause, I arrived at the student council room, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

A familiar voice came from inside, making me tilt my head.

Opening the door, I saw exactly who I’d expected standing before me.

“Minato-senpai?”

“I’ve been waiting, Tomonari-kun. …Congratulations, you’re the vice president starting today.”

“…Thank you.”

I bowed, half-confused.

I’d heard this was supposed to be a meet-and-greet for the new student council members… Were last year’s officers joining us too?

Puzzled, I looked at Minato-senpai, who gave me a gentle smile.

“It’s tradition for the former student council president to welcome the newly elected members in this room for the handover.”

“…I see.”

That made sense for the transition.

Still, Tennouji-san and the others hadn’t arrived yet.

…Maybe I got here too early. The sheer volume of applause and cheers had overwhelmed me with surprise and embarrassment, so I’d hurried over.

Maybe I should’ve taken my time.

“Looks like the other members will take a bit. …That’s convenient.”

Convenient? What did that mean?

Minato-senpai fixed her gaze on me.

“Tomonari-kun, shall we have a little chat?”

◇

Staring at Izuki, Minato Maki recalled her first year at Kiou Academy.

Back when she’d just enrolled, the Rakuou Group, run by her family, was hitting a performance plateau. The group’s specialty—then and now—was e-commerce, but the market had matured over the past decade, and profits were stagnating.

To turn around the flat performance, Maki’s father, under pressure from shareholders, revamped the management of their e-commerce division and began strategizing for profit growth.

That’s when they brought in an external advisor—a monster named Konohana Takuma.

This was the trigger for Maki and Takuma’s fateful encounter.

“Oh? You were thinking the same thing?”

“Yes!”

It happened during a dinner meeting with her father and Takuma.

Having grown up watching the Rakuou Group through her father’s work, Maki had long predicted that the e-commerce division would eventually shrink. She’d even devised her own countermeasures.

When she explained her ideas at the dinner, her father was shocked, and Takuma showed interest.

Maki’s strategy closely resembled the one Takuma had proposed to her father as an advisor.

The moment she realized this, Maki was thrilled. My abilities are already viable in the adult world. Here was someone thriving in that world, sharing her perspective.

In that instant, Takuma became her guiding star. His proposal was similar to hers but far sharper, with meticulous detail. In other words, Takuma was her superior counterpart—the embodiment of the future she aspired to.

Maki devoted herself to observing and learning from his tactics. The more she learned about his knowledge and experience as a consultant, the more she was awed. Above all, Takuma’s ability to inspire people was extraordinary. She began to dream of becoming like him.

Unable to contain her swelling emotions, Maki finally made her plea one day.

“Please take me as your disciple!!”

Seeing her bow deeply, Takuma let out a small sigh.

“Fine, I suppose.”

Overwhelmed with joy, Maki savored the moment she was accepted as his disciple.

But she didn’t notice.

At that moment, Takuma was calculating how much he could strengthen his connection with the Rakuou Group. The group’s meteoric rise in the industry made it a valuable ally, even for him.

Takuma didn’t dismiss Maki because he wanted to maintain ties with the Rakuou Group.

He accepted her as a disciple because it would solidify his relationship with her father, the president.

Maki was oblivious. Takuma had no interest in her abilities from the start.

So, the end came abruptly.

“Takuma-san! I’ve organized the documents!”

“Oh, yeah. Just leave them there.”

Alongside her studies, Maki worked as Takuma’s assistant.

It wasn’t all menial tasks. She accompanied him on jobs and even consulted with him. Compared to Takuma, she was inexperienced, but occasionally, she offered insights she was proud of. Some were adopted, and she believed she was contributing. She had no intention of belittling Kiou Academy, but she felt her work surpassed that of a mere student.

Yet, for some reason, Takuma’s gaze never changed.

Whether she was useful or not… he seemed indifferent.

One day, Takuma handed her several documents.

“This company’s struggling with their suppliers.”

Maki nodded immediately, recalling a company they’d visited together. They’d been debating whether to outsource part of their operations, so looking for suppliers meant they’d made a decision.

“Can you pick a promising supplier from this list?”

Maki’s eyes widened.

This was a task with far more responsibility than anything before.

Until now, she’d only made suggestions, but finally, she could choose a supplier herself. Her efforts were paying off, and she rejoiced inwardly.

Holding the list Takuma gave her, Maki’s eyes sparkled.

“Understood!! Please give me a week!!”

“What are you talking about?”

Takuma said flatly.

“Choose now.”

His ice-cold eyes locked onto Maki.

It took a moment for her to process. This wasn’t a high-responsibility task. It wasn’t a reward for earning his trust.

Quite the opposite…

Takuma was testing her talent.

Using only the given time and information, could she derive the ideal answer?

Maki thought it was impossible. The list had over twenty supplier candidates. Normally, you’d carefully research each company’s strengths and weaknesses, visit them if needed, and deliberate extensively to reach a conclusion. That’s what consulting was.

But Takuma could probably find the answer with just the information at hand.

Only now did Maki understand what Takuma sought.

He wanted overwhelming talent on his level.

Being capable for a student? That level of skill didn’t even register with him. Cleverness or small tricks held no interest. To put it bluntly, Takuma had no regard for results achieved through effort. Only innate genius caught his eye.

In the end—Maki couldn’t produce an answer that satisfied him.

Seeing her unable to respond immediately, Takuma yawned lightly and started working on his laptop. Clutching the list, Maki stood frozen for ten minutes before presenting her answer, but all she got was a sigh.

“We’re done with this master-disciple thing, right?”

You’re not going to cling to it, are you?

Pierced by his gaze, Maki could only nod. Realizing she’d never been expected to succeed, she lost the confidence to continue as his disciple.

Takuma had likely secured enough connections with the Rakuou Group. After that, he naturally stopped interacting with Maki, and she began avoiding him.

Maki became student council president by chance. During her time as Takuma’s disciple, she’d thrown herself into academics to earn his approval, and before she knew it, she was on track to run for president. With everyone’s support, she slid into the role.

When she was elected president through inertia, Maki felt disillusioned with Kiou Academy. If this was enough to claim the president’s seat, then even Kiou Academy was just a gathering of naive students.

But Takuma had dismissed even that version of her.

There was likely no one in this academy who could satisfy that man. Perhaps not even in the adult world.

For a mere girl to dream of being his disciple was utterly reckless.

At the very least, she decided to take pride in having been his disciple, even briefly, and move forward.

That’s how Maki put an end to her relationship with Takuma.

—And yet.

Yet, he appeared.

That man’s disciple.

A boy who satisfied him.

And of all places, here at Kiou Academy—

(…I was cast aside.)

Suppressing the emotions swirling in her gut, Maki stared at the boy before her.

Tomonari Izuki. …She’d suspected he was Takuma’s disciple when she heard about his reputation in the Management Game and investigated his business acumen.

She was stunned.

His approach was like a mirror image of Takuma’s.

Intrigued, Maki dug deeper into Izuki as an individual. If he was close to the impeccable Ojou-sama, Konohana Hinako, it wouldn’t be surprising for him to have a connection to Takuma. The more she investigated, the more it seemed Takuma was behind him. Before the election, she called Takuma to confirm.

Tomonari Izuki.

That man’s disciple.

Maki had the right to judge his talent.

“Honestly, I thought I’d broken your spirit during the debate.”

Maki spoke.

“I figured you’d either crumble or resort to underhanded tactics like I did… but you didn’t. Was it because of the two presidential candidates?”

“…Yes. If it weren’t for Tennouji-san and Narika, I might’ve used the same methods as you.”

Hearing his response, Maki nodded, satisfied. “I see.”

In Maki’s mind, there was a suspicion that Tennouji Mirei and Miyakojima Narika were overly reliant on Izuki. If Izuki fell into despair, would those two fall with him? Apparently, that was a baseless worry.

“The policy experience event was impressive. …Kiou Academy students tend to be pragmatic, especially those aiming to be entrepreneurs. Your strategy of building even just a framework was highly effective.”

Saying this, Maki picked up some documents from the desk.

“Do you know the student council’s first task?”

“…Managing the cultural festival?”

“Exactly. It’s an annual tradition, but since the structure isn’t solidified yet, it’s quite challenging. I struggled with it myself, so I thought I’d lend a hand.”

Maki handed the documents to Izuki.

“I’ve compiled a list of potential suppliers for the cultural festival equipment. …Tomonari-kun, can you pick a promising supplier from this?”

“Pick one… right now?”

“Yes.”

Maki nodded.

“Choose now.”

She was recreating the trial she’d failed all those years ago.

Izuki, looking slightly confused, took the documents and scanned them.

What answer would he give?

Would he, like her, be unable to respond immediately?

Would he, like her, sweat profusely and offer a half-baked answer based on superficial knowledge?

“Let’s see…”

As Izuki reviewed the documents, he suddenly blinked in surprise.

Tilting his head, he looked at Maki with a curious expression—

“—They’re all great.”

He answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Every supplier listed here is top-notch, right? …As expected of the former president. Thank you for finding such reliable options.”

His response was perfect.

Izuki was right. …Maki had deliberately listed only exceptional suppliers. It was meant to be a trap where choosing any single company would be a misstep.

But his answer was so flawlessly correct it almost sounded sarcastic.

“Hahahahahaha!!”

Maki burst into laughter.

Izuki was startled by the sudden outburst, but Maki was the one truly shocked.

—I lost.

Maki realized she’d been defeated by this boy.

Takuma’s judgment wasn’t wrong. It was inevitable that he’d set his sights on this boy.

She felt no regret. In fact, she felt exhilarated.

The emotions that had been smoldering deep in her chest were finally fading.

(Ah, I…)

Laughing, Maki thought of Takuma.

She hadn’t wanted to admit it. She’d wanted to protest countless times. I’m worthy of being your disciple. If you let me go, you’ll never find someone this capable again.

And yet, he appeared.

Someone far more suited to that man than her.

(I… was never acknowledged by him.)

The emotions she’d desperately suppressed deep within her heart began to spill out.

From now on, she could finally walk forward.