Simon let out a small sigh, closed his eyes, and brought the wine glass to his lips. It was a white wine, with a clean body and a subtle, fruity flavor.
"Thanks for the help," he said, setting the glass down. "But won't Lorraine get mad if you keep controlling people like that?"
"Oh, please. What's the big deal?" Serne waved a dismissive hand. "No one saw, and they won't remember it anyway."
She snapped her fingers. The male students who had been waiting on her melted back into the crowd, looking around as if waking from a daze.
But...
'Ukik! Ukikkik!'
"What's wrong with her all of a sudden?"
The girls who had surrounded Simon were still hopping around, imitating monkeys.
"That," Serne said, taking a delicate sip of red wine, "is the punishment for not knowing their place and touching what's mine."
Simon's eyes narrowed. "By whose authority am I—"
"It's just been so long since I've seen you."
The scent of her perfume washed over him, thick and sudden. Before he could react, Serne had leaned in impossibly close. "You're looking even more magnificent."
Simon froze like a statue. She slid her knee between his legs, her body pressing against his. The curves of her dress were on full display, and her warm, sultry breath tickled the nape of his neck. Her eyes, feigning innocence, roamed his face before curving into mischievous crescents.
'Heh,' just kidding," Serne purred, pulling back into her seat. A strand of her ivory hair brushed against his cheek as she moved.
'Ugh.'
'She's impossible,' Simon thought, forcing himself to regroup. "Stop teasing me. What makes you any different from those girls?"
"There's a crucial difference, isn't there?" she said, winking as she placed her hands on her pristine white knees. "Those monkeys will throw themselves at anyone for a taste of power. But not me. In fact, you can count on one hand the number of people who can meet my gaze and hold a normal conversation."
Her jade-colored eyes glinted with a strange light. "I don't converse with monkeys. That's why I turn them into dolls. But you... you are worth leaving as you are. I've acknowledged you as my equal."
Placing a hand on her chest, she lowered her voice, feigning vulnerability. "Honestly, it takes a great deal of courage for me to even sit and talk with you face-to-face like this, you know?"
Simon sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Aside from the fact that you're completely unhinged, I have no idea what on earth you're talking about."
"Don't be in such a hurry. We can get to know each other gradually," she purred, leaning in to whisper just loud enough for Simon to hear. "Because I'm going to follow you to the Summoning department."
"What?!"
Simon's eyes widened in surprise.
"Not Jet-Black Dynamics?"
"What's there to learn? It's all so predictable, isn't it? I only have one rule when I make a decision." Her languid eyes fixed on him. "Whether or not there's something I want. That's all."
Simon said nothing.
The air suddenly felt thick and hot. Simon avoided her gaze, grabbing his wine glass and taking a quick sip. It was sweet yet sharply acidic, with the rich body of a red. 'Wait.'
This was red wine. He was sure he'd been drinking white just a moment ago.
Simon's head snapped around to see Serne swirling his original white wine glass. 'No way! When she leaned in close, did she switch our glasses?'
"My, my, Simon. You're far more devious than you look," she murmured shyly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. She then pressed her pink lips to the rim of his glass, leaving a faint imprint.
Simon's face burned crimson.
"Serne!"
"Hee hee hee!"
Her shoulders shook with amusement as she dissolved into a fit of giggles, bending over with laughter. "Oh, you're just so much fun to tease, Simon," she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Still flushed, Simon shot her a resentful glare.
"I'm leaving."
"Before you go," Serne interjected, "I told you a secret, so you have to tell me one. It's only fair, isn't it?"
"...What secret?"
"For example," she said, her eyes narrowing to slits, "any information you might have about the next Student Council President?"
Simon, who had been about to rise from his chair, let out a small sigh.
"You're well-informed."
"Of course. Oh, and I heard there's still one position open on the student council..."
"You want me to make you an officer?"
Serne shook her head. "I'm not the type to work under someone. Especially since the Vice President will be our dear Meirin, right? That would make her my superior? I couldn't possibly bear that."
'...Right. Of course not.'
"Ooh-hoo-hoo." Serne propped her chin on her hand, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Our Meirin must be absolutely dying to tell me, isn't she? Squirming in her seat, holding herself back because she wants to brag so badly..."
'Thwip.'
Serne froze mid-sentence. Her eyes darted to the side, where a sharp piece of cutlery was now aimed directly at her neck.
"You just can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?" Serne commented coolly.
A girl with lustrous, night-black hair and ruby-red eyes was glaring at her. Simon's eyes widened.
"Lorraine!"
"Make them stop," Lorraine repeated, her voice flat.
Serne offered a foxy smile and tilted her head.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Them," Lorraine insisted. "Make them stop."
The girls mimicking monkeys were on the verge of collapse, drenched in sweat with tears streaming from their eyes.
"I was actually being quite lenient, you know," Serne said, her eyes crinkling in a mock smile. "I considered killing them off quietly. But I decided to settle for letting them live with the humiliation in front of the whole school and ruining their social lives..."
"I won't say it again." A dangerous light flickered in Lorraine's red pupils. "Stop."
"...'Haaah'." Serne reluctantly snapped her fingers twice. The girls immediately crumpled to the floor, their bodies limp and soaked in sweat.
Lorraine lowered the utensil.
"You're getting disciplined for this, Serne Aindark."
Serne laughed.
"That's rich. Do you have any proof I did it?"
She hadn't used her feathers on those girls directly. She had used one to brainwash a Cursology major, who then cast the curse. The student's memory of the event had, of course, already been erased. Even if Lorraine examined the girls, she wouldn't find a single trace of Serne's magic.
"...If I conduct a physical examination of the entire student body right now, I'm sure I could find it," Lorraine countered, though she knew it was a long shot.
"Go ahead and try," Serne challenged without batting an eye. "Are you really going to cancel the opening ceremony and department selection, and cause a huge scene with physical exams and whatnot, just to punish little old me? That kind of messy business..." Serne's eyes narrowed like a fox's. "That isn't the Kizen way, is it?"
As the two of them locked into a deadly staring contest, Simon broke out in a cold sweat. 'So this is how they've been fighting all through our first year.'
"Well, the mood's been ruined, so I'll be on my way." Serne stood and flashed Simon a cute smile. "See you later in Summoning class, Simon."
"Huh? Oh, right."
Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked past him, her gaze falling on Lorraine's necklace. The choker was fastened with a small lock.
"That look is quite becoming on you," Serne remarked before walking away, her faction immediately swarming to follow in her wake.
A brief silence fell in her absence.
"Ah, hi, Lorraine," Simon managed, breaking the tension.
"Hello, Simon." Lorraine's hostility vanished, replaced by a faint, reserved smile. Simon watched as she reached up and snapped the lock on her neck shut with a sharp 'click'.
"The department welcoming ceremony is about to start. You should get ready."
"Thanks for the heads-up."
"I have something urgent to attend to, so I'll be going." It seemed Lorraine hadn't given up on catching Serne just yet. She turned to leave, then paused. "Ah," she said, looking back at Simon. "Me too."
Simon was confused.
"...I'm going to the Summoning department. I look forward to it." With that, Lorraine spun on her heel and hurried away.
Simon scratched the side of his head. 'Somehow, I have a feeling this year is going to be incredibly exhausting.'
After the opening party, teaching assistants filed into the banquet hall.
"Alright, form two lines!" they commanded.
The assistants organized the students and led them to the next location. The once-raucous crowd fell silent, their expressions growing tense as they walked. They passed through the party hall and down a long corridor, arriving at an auditorium even larger than the last.
"Did you guys see it? Did you?" While everyone else stared nervously ahead, Dick was already gossiping. "Those girls from Class D running around like monkeys! It was absolutely hilarious."
"Shh, be quiet." Meirin pressed a finger to her lips and gestured forward with her chin. "It's the third-year seniors."
As they entered the massive hall, they saw them: students seated at seven large conference tables, golden badges pinned to their collars. It was the symbol of the 'third-years,' the absolute pinnacle of the school. The badge color changed annually; this year, it was gold.
'The atmosphere in here is insane.'
'Th-they're terrifying.'
The third-years sat with blank expressions, their gazes fixed on the incoming second-years.
"They're sitting by department," Dick whispered. "From the left, it's Cursology, Jet-Black, Summoning, Necrology, Hemomancy, Venomology, and Combat Magic. All the famous seniors are here. Hailey, Benya, Balak... Huh, but I don't see Aizel, the strongest of them all."
"I told you, Aizel is on a mission," Meirin hissed back.
"Hey, no talking over there! All second-years, this way!" a teaching assistant barked.
Following the assistant's lead, the second-years filed past the seven tables. Their seats were a block of small chairs arranged between the third-years' tables and the podium at the front.
"Ugh, I can feel them staring."
"Don't look back. You don't want to make eye contact and get on their bad side."
The second-years settled into their seats. A moment later, footsteps echoed from the podium, and all eyes snapped toward it.
"Welcome, you punks!"
The tension in the room shattered. Every student's eyes went wide. Standing there was a woman with wild, grayish-brown hair pulled into a ponytail, an eccentric outfit, and a wide, refreshing smile that revealed sharp, triangular teeth like a shark's.
"Professor Byulya!"
"YAYYY!"
An explosive cheer erupted from the second-years. The third-years, who didn't know her, looked on in bewilderment.
"You punks! Did you have a good break?!"
"Yes!"
"Good, good. I like the energy. Looks like only the sharpest ones are left!" A broadcast minion scurried out breathlessly and handed her a magic amplification crystal and a schedule. Her voice was so powerful she had been addressing the entire hall without any amplification.
"Hey, how the hell do I read this?" The minion, sweating profusely, gave her a crash course in the formal continental language.
"This is so fucking complicated for a simple opening ceremony. Tsk!" As Byulya scowled, quiet laughter rippled through the crowd. Even a few third-years cracked small smiles, easing the grim atmosphere.
"Professor Byulya hasn't changed a bit," Meirin giggled. The other three nodded in agreement.
"Okay, okay. I've got it now." She bared her teeth and raised her head. "We will now begin the opening and department selection ceremony! Is everyone ready?!"
"Yeeees!"
"Alright, first up is the opening address or whatever." She glanced behind her. "Come on in."
'Clank!'
The curtain parted, and an old man walked onto the podium. His forehead was lined with wrinkles, but he stood tall in his suit, his back perfectly straight. 'I've seen him before, at the opening and closing ceremonies.'
"It is a pleasure to meet you all, second- and third-year students of Kizen." He was one of the elders from Kizen's headquarters. Dick immediately yawned and closed his eyes, while Meirin and Kamibarez started whispering to each other.
"You will all play a pivotal role in leading the future of the Dark Alliance..."
'You are the future. Everyone is looking forward to your accomplishments.' His talent for dragging out such platitudes was truly something to behold. The electric atmosphere Byulya had created dissipated completely within ten minutes.
"That is all." The elder seemed immensely pleased with his speech. A thunderous round of applause erupted—a clear signal for him to leave quickly. Satisfied, the elder waved to the young necromancers, who were undoubtedly moved by his words, and departed.
Byulya was already slumped in her chair like a cat. The moment the elder was off the podium, she spoke quietly, her voice carrying without amplification. "You guys worked your asses off to get here. Don't you just hate it when adults butt in and try to take all the fucking credit?"
The students kept their faces neutral, but knowing smiles spread throughout the crowd. Byulya picked up the amplification crystal again.
"Alright, next up. Oh, now we're getting to the good stuff." After reading the document, she looked up, her expression serious. "Provisional Student Council President, step forward."
A wave of murmurs swept through the hall.
All the second-year students turned to look toward the third-years.
However.
'Screeech!'
The sound of a chair scraping came not from behind, but from the front.

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