The next afternoon, in the Mutants Club room.
"The first-year interviews are finally here! Ugh, I’m so nervous!" Toto exclaimed, frantically rubbing his arms.
Simon just smiled calmly and patted his back.
"You’re not the one being interviewed. Just relax."
"B-But still!" Toto wailed, clutching his head. "What if the first-years forget to show up? What if they get angry because they don’t like the test format? What if they take one look at our shabby clubroom and decide they don’t want to stay for even a minute?"
’He worries way too much,’ Simon thought, shrugging inwardly. "They’re applying because they like our club. They wouldn’t do any of that."
"Y-You think so?"
The door clicked open.
"It’s time." Fitzgerald emerged from the club’s basement.
Simon turned to him. "Why were you down there?"
"I had something simple to make," Fitzgerald replied. "Are the test preparations ready?"
"All done." Expecting the room to be packed with seventeen people, they had pushed the bulky sofa and other furniture aside to clear a space. All that remained was a single desk and chair.
The chair scraped against the floor as Fitzgerald, the club president, took his seat, with Simon and Toto standing beside him. Then, with the utmost solemnity, Fitzgerald placed something on the desk. It was a paper nameplate, clearly freshly made.
President: Fitzgerald.
"Hmph’," he grunted, adjusting his glasses before crossing his legs and leaning back at an angle.
Simon chuckled to himself. ’He takes such pride in these little things.’
"Judging by the noise outside, it seems the first-years have arrived," Fitzgerald announced, lifting his head. "Before we begin the entrance exam... let’s decide on our roles."
Simon blinked. "Roles?"
"Mm. To be precise, we need a discipline officer to keep the first-years in line."
Simon offered a wry smile. "Do we really need a position like that?"
"Of course. I’m not suggesting we act like those third-year thugs, but controlling the first-years will be difficult. We need someone they’ll be appropriately scared of," Fitzgerald explained, his gaze settling intently on Toto. "And the right person for the job is—"
"Meeeeee?!" Toto yelped, jumping back. "W-Wait a minute! I’m terrible at that kind of thing!"
"Logically speaking, you’re the most suitable candidate, Toto. This is an order from your president."
"Even if it’s an order, I’m telling you I don’t know how! You guys are much better at...!"
Fitzgerald shook his head. "Let’s break it down. First, Simon is the Student Council President. Not only is he not in a position to take on such a role, but his personality is also unsuitable. The Simon that the first-years admire is better suited to guiding and comforting his juniors. And as for me..." Fitzgerald pointed to his own chest and stated flatly, "I’m the president, so I don’t want to."
"W-Wait a minute! Fitz!"
Fitzgerald shot up from his seat and pushed a book into Toto’s chest. "For you, who keeps insisting you can’t do it without even trying, I present this."
The title on the cover read, ’The Position Makes the Man’.
"What’s this all of a sudden?!"
"Remember the last day of the club recruitment season, Toto," Fitzgerald said, his face deadly serious. "When you were dressed as a girl handing out flyers, how did people react?"
"Huh? Well..."
"I apologize for being blunt, but if you had handed out those flyers with your usual, nail-biting timidity, the first-years wouldn’t have given you a second glance."
’He apologized, but that was still brutal!’ Simon broke into a cold sweat as he glanced at Toto.
"But when you were dressed as a girl, your popularity was incredible," Fitzgerald continued. "The flyers we prepared were gone in an instant. Even the first-year boys who took a liking to you..."
"Agh! Aaaaargh!’ Please, please, ’please’ don’t say things like that, Fitz!"
"In any case, how did you feel?" Fitzgerald poked the cover of the book in Toto’s arms. "That explosive popularity and attention you’d never received before—that is the power of a position. It doesn’t matter that you’re Toto Amori. It doesn’t matter what kind of person you are. When you fully embody a given role, the public perceives and accepts you not as an individual, but as that role."
Toto’s eyes widened. "It... doesn’t matter what kind of person I am?"
"That’s right."
Having listened quietly, Simon turned his head. "...Fitzgerald. Have you been spending a little too much time with Dick lately?"
"Ahem. Quiet." With a flick of his wrist, Fitzgerald produced a black hat from his subspace. It was adorned with horns on either side and a logo in the middle depicting a blazing flame and a menacing, wide-eyed skull. "From the moment you put on this hat, Toto Amori is gone. You will become the Mutants Club’s version of Will Douglas."
"Me... as Senior Will..." Toto’s head was spinning.
Like a hypnotist, Fitzgerald spoke in a slow, languid voice. "With this hat, you will cover up your insecure self and become the discipline officer who upholds the organization’s rules."
"...The discipline officer who upholds the rules."
"That’s right."
Fitzgerald carefully pressed the black hat onto Toto’s head, the brim slanting down to slightly cover his eyes. He then stepped back and crossed his arms. "Hmm. It suits you. There’s no trace of the timid Toto Amori. Feeling a bit more confident now?"
"...Yeah." Toto adjusted the black hat and clenched his fists. "I’ll... I’ll do it!"
"Good. Intimidation is key for a discipline officer." Fitzgerald returned to his seat and held out a hand. "Bring in the first-years with all the force you can muster."
"Got it!" Toto placed his hands on his head, muttering as if hypnotizing himself. ’I am the scary Senior Will. I am the scary Senior Will.’
A moment later, he opened his eyes, strode forward, and kicked the clubroom door open.
’BANG.’
"You first-year brats!"
Startled screams erupted from beyond the door.
"Is the front of the clubroom your personal playground? Huh? Get in here, now!"
"S-Sorry!" the first-years stammered, scrambling into the room. There were no exceptions, not even for Princess Molly or Sasha, Special Admission No. 1.
Having unleashed the shout himself, Toto blinked in disbelief. ’Th-They actually listened to me. The first-years...!’ He stood there, dumbfounded, as if he’d had a grand epiphany.
Simon tapped Fitzgerald’s shoulder. "Hey, is this really okay?"
Fitzgerald pushed up his glasses. "You still don’t know Toto. His timid nature has always held back his potential. I think experiencing a role like this will be a great help to him."
"...I hope so."
Meanwhile, the first-years’ silence lasted all of ten seconds. As soon as they entered, they began giggling, looking around, and chattering loudly. Off to the side, Sasha was waving at Simon.
"Simon," she called out.
Simon smiled and waved back.
"You undisciplined first-year brats!" Toto shrieked from behind them. "Can’t even keep quiet for a second? Did you leave your manners at home? Think your seniors are a joke? Huh? Back in my day, if a senior told us to, we’d have dunked our heads in a skull bowl full of shit soup! Form a straight line, now!"
At his words, the first-years quickly fell silent and politely formed a line.
’Isn’t he getting a little too into this?’ Simon thought, a bewildered smile on his face.
’Those who have suffered make the best imitators,’ Fitzgerald mused, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. This was far beyond his expectations.
And on that day, Toto awakened to the joys of hazing.
White, the last applicant, arrived a little late. As he sauntered into the clubroom, he was met with resentful glares from the other first-years. ’Who’s this guy?’
Ignoring them, White took a spot at the very end of the line, right next to the window.
"Everyone’s here," Fitzgerald announced, adjusting his glasses. "We will now begin the entrance exam for the Mutants Club. Of the seventeen of you, the number who can join us is..." He held up his fingers. "Only seven."
Tension immediately sparked in the first-years’ eyes. Sasha and Molly shot competitive glances at each other. The only ones who seemed relaxed were Arthur, the Mercenary King’s grandson, who was grinning foolishly, and White, who was focused on a bird flying past the window.
"The exam has three stages, and Toto, Simon, and I will each be in charge of one," Fitzgerald continued. "Now, we will begin with the first test, which I, the president, will administer."
Simon and Toto went around, handing out sitting mats and test papers. The first-years found comfortable spots, spread their mats, and took out their papers and quill pens.
’So it starts with a written exam,’ Molly thought. She sat gracefully on her mat and tied her hair back, then glanced over at Sasha, who had been so confident earlier but was now holding her quill with a nervous expression. ’Right, you were always weak in written exams. Theory, on the other hand, is my specialty. I will definitely get the highest score and join the Student Council President’s club!’
Just then, Fitzgerald spoke from the front. "The test is a single short-answer question. The time limit is twenty minutes." He started the timer on his watch. "Begin."
With a collective flip of paper, all the students turned over their exams to see the question. Molly did the same. ’I’m confident in my knowledge of summons! I can solve anything...!’
The question read:
’Considering the club’s name, ’Mutants,’ from a constructivist perspective, did you accept it as a subjective cognitive structure that denies the objectivity of knowledge, or as an objective image formed through social consensus? Based on the selection model of fact and cognition, state your judgment and write at least 1,500 characters.’
Molly was thrown into utter confusion. What did this even mean? Was this even the continental language? She couldn’t understand the question. Even mobilizing all the knowledge she had acquired from the best tutors in the royal palace was useless. Was Kizen’s academic standard really this high?
A collective sigh of despair echoed around the room. Her only comfort was that the other first-years seemed to find it just as difficult.
But amidst the chaos, the scratch of a single quill broke the silence. Sasha had picked up her pen and begun to write.
’She understood the question?’ Molly watched the unhesitating movement of her quill, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. She was definitely writing down an answer she knew. Molly felt her mouth go dry as a sense of urgency crept in. She couldn’t lose.
’I-I have to write something!’
Twenty minutes later, Simon collected the test papers, and Fitzgerald quickly flipped through them as the first-years stood by with tense expressions.
"Hmm." Fitzgerald put down the papers and sighed. "Everyone fails."
The first-years’ jaws dropped in unison.
Simon shot Fitzgerald a sharp glare. ’I told you so!’
Fitzgerald approached Simon and whispered, "I didn’t expect the first-years’ level to be this low. A member of the Mutants Club should naturally be able to..."
"Even I can’t solve that!"
The first-years began to murmur in confusion. What would happen now? Would none of them get in?
"D-Don’t worry!" Simon stepped forward, sweating profusely. "Actually, that was a test to select a first-year club representative! Since no one was chosen, we’ll just pass on it for now. We’ll decide the successful applicants in the remaining two tests, so I look forward to your best efforts."
A wave of relief washed over the first-years.
"Yes, Senior!" they replied, clasping their hands and giggling. "What a relief!"
Simon smiled, but inwardly he was sighing heavily.
"And," Fitzgerald said, waving one of the test papers. "Who is Sasha Andrasill? No matter how difficult the test is, doodling is forbidden."
"I’m sorry," Sasha chirped, bowing her head.
Molly watched, horrified. ’It was just a doodle?’
"And Molly Dresden." This time, Fitzgerald held up her test paper. "Although you rambled on about something completely unrelated to the question, I acknowledge the effort you put into filling the entire page. In high praise of that effort, I will now briefly read it aloud and offer my interpretation."
’Nooooooo!’
For a moment, the princess of a nation was thoroughly mortified. As Molly’s face turned so red it looked like it might drip crimson, Simon closed his eyes with a troubled expression. ’Please, let the next test be somewhat normal...’
"The next test is my turn!"
All the first-years tensed. The short, scary senior in the black hat was walking toward them.
"Looking at that last test, you’re all a mess! A total mess!" he barked. "How dare you turn in blank papers? Is this a joke? The problem is you show no will to try hard!" Toto was now imitating the discipline officer so well it was almost frightening. "Anyway, it’s my turn. The test I’ll be giving is...!"
At that moment, the clubroom door clicked open. Everyone turned to see a slender, cream-haired young woman walk in.
"Oh my, did I interrupt?" Benya Vanilla, a third-year, waved cheerfully.
"S-Senior Benya!" Toto gasped. ’I didn’t hear she was coming!’
And just like that, after barely an hour, Toto’s reign of terror faced a crisis.

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