Dick led Simon, Fitzgerald, and Toto on a tour of the nearby club booths.
"I’ve asked a few of our servants to bring some materials for decorating," he explained, casually slinging an arm around Fitzgerald’s shoulders. "In the meantime, we’re going to spy on the competition and figure out what we’re lacking."
"Understood," Fitzgerald replied.
Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses and nodded.
"I believe this is the first time we’ve been properly introduced. My name is—"
"Fitzgerald, ranked twentieth overall," Dick cut in smoothly.
Fitzgerald’s eyes widened. Enjoying the familiar reaction, Dick rattled off the information with the air of a seasoned informant. "Hobbies include reading. Specialty is philosophical debate. Your proudest recent acquisition is a pair of thirty-gold luxury glasses."
"...How do you know that?"
"Haha! Don’t worry about it; it’s my trade," Dick said with a dismissive wave. "Anyway." He stopped walking and swept an arm out to the side. "Take a look at the competition. You too, Toto."
"Ah, okay!"
Fitzgerald and Toto’s gazes slowly swept across the bustling club booths before returning to him. Dick grinned.
"Getting the picture? See why they’re succeeding and you’re failing?"
"Not at all."
Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses.
"I... I don’t quite understand," he stammered. Toto mumbled his agreement.
Dick turned to Simon and mouthed, ’Are these guys always this dense?’
Simon quietly looked away, pretending not to notice.
"Alright, fine! Don’t overthink it!" Dick pointed ahead. "The Gourmet Club. They’re running a massive food stall, captivating the first-years with irresistible tastes and smells. You know what they’re about at a single glance! And free meals for applicants—that’s a nice touch."
He then gestured to the opposite side. "The Physical Club members are wearing nothing but trousers, glistening with oil, drawing attention with the sheer spectacle of their muscles. The Jet-Black Kendo Club is stealing the show with a stunning display of their sword collection, and the Transformation Club is holding an event where a member turns into a cat and you have to guess which one is real."
Dick shrugged. "See now? They’re all showcasing things that fit their club’s identity."
"That’s strange," Fitzgerald mused, tilting his head. "We’re already implementing that feedback..."
"You can’t be talking about that hideous Siren Chimera and the Death Worm that keeps croaking and vomiting, are you?"
Fitzgerald looked offended, but Dick just shook his head and pressed on. "It’s important to feature elements that fit your club’s identity, but they also have to be things the general public will actually ’like’. You know... small, cute summons that girls would find appealing?"
"We have a mini ‘Abomination’ chimera made by stitching together the organs of a rat and a rabbit," Fitzgerald offered. "It’s small and cute..."
"Denied, my good sir." Realizing the situation was more dire than he had thought, Dick let out a deep sigh. "Let’s put aside highlighting the club’s personality for a moment and tackle something more fundamental, more essential." He clapped his hands together. "What are humans drawn to?"
As if a topic worthy of a response had finally emerged, Fitzgerald’s eyes lit up.
"The pursuit of truth and limitless intellectual curiosity."
"...Someone shut this guy up," Dick grumbled, then continued. "Alright, I’ll put it more simply. What are teenage boys and girls drawn to? An interest in the opposite sex!"
Fitzgerald nodded.
"Reason. I agree with that."
"Oh, really? Now we’re getting somewhere." Dick shrugged and raised his voice. "Come on, let’s be real. What do you think seventeen-year-olds like? Romance! Heart-pounding moments! The thrill of the new! Campus dates! Guys! Girls! Love! It’s all of that! Look over there!"
In the alley ahead, a group of male students was handing out flyers. Every one of them was dressed in a sharp suit, with faces that looked as though they were carved from marble. They casually struck up conversations with passing female students, their skilled pickup lines making the naive first-year noble girls blush crimson. There was even one girl who, after receiving a flyer, fixed her hair, circled the block, and went back for another.
"And over there, too!"
In the opposite alley stood a group of second-year female students. Some were in cheerleading outfits with daringly short skirts, while others had even brought maid uniforms. As these stunning seniors clung to the first-years’ arms and whispered for them to join, the male students could only sign the application forms with dazed expressions. It was a completely different world.
"Wh-what is all this!" Toto exclaimed, his face beet red.
"Disgusting. And vulgar," Fitzgerald added, annoyed.
Simon, who had been watching quietly, gave a bitter smile.
"Didn’t you just agree about the interest in the opposite sex?"
"That is different from ’reason’," he retorted, adjusting his glasses. "This is closer to animal instinct. A disgrace to the elite name of Kizen. In any case, I have no intention of accepting any first-years who are lured in by such methods."
Hearing that, Dick’s eyes snapped wide open.
"You have no right to mock them, Fitzgerald!" he roared, pointing at a female student in a maid outfit. "Do you think they ’like’ doing that? Everyone wants to be comfortable and respected in a classy atmosphere! But those students out there, working their asses off, they ’know’! They know what’s more effective! They know which methods yield greater results!"
Not backing down, Fitzgerald glared back.
"The Mutants have their own philosophy. I would rather continue with only second-years than accept first-years roped in by such tactics."
"No! You’re completely wrong! You need people first. Only when you have people will you find those who agree with your philosophy and values. Right now, you’re just a ‘zero’ with nothing! Your potential, your future—it’s all zero!"
"...Dick, calm down." Simon tried to restrain him, wondering why he was getting so worked up.
"Look at you, acting all high and mighty, calling the students working out there disgusting and vulgar! You drone on about your own picky standards to everyone. How arrogant and foolish is that? Compare the person who works hard—even if it’s a little embarrassing—to secure members and achieve results, to you, who just scoffs at them and achieves nothing!" He jabbed a finger at Fitzgerald and said coldly, "Which one is more like Kizen?"
Fitzgerald’s pupils wavered. He turned his head away and adjusted his glasses.
"I’m not confident in my looks or charm, though."
’Phew.’ Dick swept his bangs back. "That’s not what’s important. Whether you wear a mascot costume or put on makeup, what matters is the mindset. The will to draw people in! That is what’s important."
With that, Dick started walking ahead.
"Let’s go back to the booth. The materials should have arrived by now, right?"
When they arrived at the booth, servants had already delivered the items. Under Dick’s command, everyone worked together to redecorate. First, they took down the hideous occult decorations and replaced them with a clean, modern design. The crude ‘Mutants’ sign on the roof was altered to be more readable, pictures of interesting summons were put up on the walls, and Toto recalled the smelly Death Worm into his subspace.
"Nice work!"
The Siren summon was now performing a juggling trick, tossing balls with its six arms. Fitzgerald, controlling it with his thoughts from behind, adjusted his glasses.
"This much is basic."
Then, with a somewhat defeated look, he hung his head.
"But for some reason, it feels like I’ve lost..."
"Hahaha! In the name of commerce, you do whatever is popular and eye-catching!" Just then, Toto peeked his head out from behind a tent pole. "Hey, Dick! Are we really doing this while wearing this?"
"Of course... huh?"
Toto walked out, blushing. He was wearing a loose, long one-piece dress and a wig of long hair. Dick, not expecting it to suit him so well, gasped in admiration.
"Perfect! You’re the picture-perfect frail, beautiful girl!"
"...Dick." Simon sighed and glared at him. "Stop messing with Toto."
"Messing with him? I’m always serious. This is the only way to save this failing club!"
"...If Toto cross-dressing is the only way for us to survive, I think I would rather we fail."
"Ahem!’ Let’s not do that! We have a tool to attract the girls, but nothing for the guys, so I had no choice." Dick thrust half the flyers into Toto’s arms and shouted, "Now, go! The secret weapon of the Mutants! Go win over the first-year boys!"
"No way! How can I... in this outfit!"
"Don’t worry! With the makeup on, no one will recognize you."
Swayed by Dick’s sweet talk of disguise and anonymity, Toto, who had been refusing repeatedly, began to look uncertain.
"Th-they really won’t recognize me? Right?"
"You have my guarantee as the Kizen Treasurer! Now go!"
As Toto left with an anxious expression, Dick turned to Simon.
"And Simon! How long are you going to stand back there looking so stoic? Your clubmates are working their butts off. You should at least lend a hand."
Simon blinked.
"You know I’m the Student Council President. Is it appropriate for me to directly help a specific club?"
"Hehe!’ I knew you’d say that, so I had my servants ask Professor Jane earlier. She said that since the budget allocation criteria are clear this year, it’s fine for you to help out a little on the last day."
Dick patted the dust from Simon’s Student Council President coat and gave a meaningful smile.
"The hero of the famous entrance ceremony rescue! Shall we put that reputation to good use?"
A shiver of dread ran down Simon’s spine.
At the same time, Princess Molly was strolling through the central plaza alone.
The friends who had come with her to watch the ’Seiwyr’ performance had scattered, and now she was left by herself. Second-years who spotted Molly approached her like hyenas from all sides.
"Princess, club activities are the very flower of Kizen!"
"It would be an honor to have you at our research society!"
"Princess, if you would join us..."
Molly coolly shook her head and kept walking.
"My apologies."
She wanted to leisurely browse the booths and try out various activities like the other first-years. But with seniors recognizing her and flocking to her from all directions, she couldn’t think straight.
"Get lost, all of you! Hey! I said get lost, didn’t I?" Pushing aside the club members trying to recruit her, a sharp-tongued second-year planted herself in front of Molly. It was Elisa Selin, president of the Noble club, flanked by her members.
"Princess Molly! We’ve been waiting for you! Please, come with us." Elisa curtsied politely and continued, "Of course, we guarantee you the position of Noble’s president when you become a second-year. Following in the footsteps of Prince Andre..."
"...You mean my brother, Andre." Princess Molly’s expression turned icy. "Are you talking about the brother who used a classmate’s weakness to treat them like a personal maid, abused school authority and budget, dragged the honor of the Kingdom’s Black Knights through the mud, and even caused trouble for Simon?"
’This isn’t good.’ Elisa’s face filled with panic.
"P-Princess, that’s...!"
"My apologies, but there is absolutely no chance I will be joining Noble." Molly walked away quickly and vanished into the crowd. Elisa and the Noble members, who had assumed Molly would join without question, stood stunned, as if they’d been slapped.
’I’ll just check one last thing and then head back.’ With a fed-up expression, Molly pushed through the crowd. She was concentrating on the booth map she had taken from her uniform pocket when—’thwack!’—an elbow slammed into her face. She let out a choked gasp and tumbled to the ground.
She had never even been slapped in her entire life. Clutching her nose, she let out a silent scream.
"Ah, sorry."
A voice came from above. When Molly looked up, she saw a female student perched on a tall stool, holding a large three-tiered cake.
"Didn’t see you there."
Short brown hair, pale, brown-sugar-colored eyes, and a distinct, menacing aura.
’...No way!’
Clutching her stinging nose, Molly looked at her with a tense expression. The undisputed strongest first-year. Special Admission No. 1, Sasha Andrasil, was right in front of her.

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