With the sound of measured footsteps, a man entered the student council room. His hair was neatly styled away from his forehead, and a fashionable gray cardigan worn over his uniform shirt fluttered in the breeze. He wore sleekly tailored black pants and formal dress shoes, and his cold eyes shone from behind a pair of glasses.

’This person...’

Simon swallowed hard.

’...is the strongest in Kizen.’

He was instantly overwhelmed by the man’s static presence. It was as if he absorbed all sound, creating a profound silence around him. Simon had felt something similar when he first met Serne—a charisma that could devour a person whole.

As a myriad of thoughts swirled in his head, Aizel came to a stop before him. The others—Meirin, Dick, Kamibarez, even Malcolm—were frozen as if under a curse.

Refusing to be intimidated from the start, Simon confidently straightened his shoulders.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Student Council President Simon Polentia."

At his words, a faint line creased Aizel’s brow. The third-years watching from behind began to mutter.

"Crazy bastard."

"He’s saying that right to Aizel’s face, who has come to get the presidency back."

"He’s got guts, that one."

"He’s just clueless."

Though they were all third-years, every one of them was cautiously watching Aizel’s reaction.

Just then, Aizel slowly raised his right hand.

’An attack?’

But Simon detected no movement of Jet-Black, so he waited. Aizel’s hand was long and slender. Then...

He pointed behind him once with his index finger, then turned and walked away, his gray cardigan fluttering with each step.

As Simon stood there, dumbfounded, one of the third-years stepped forward.

"He means for you to follow," sneered Sota Pshyke, the recently appointed representative of the Necromancy Department and the 6th-ranked third-year overall. His hands were stuffed into his uniform pockets.

Simon recognized his face, though they had never spoken. Sota was the one suspected of trying to stir up trouble during the Dark Festival to embarrass the student council.

His smirk seemed to say, ’You’re dead meat now. Aizel’s gonna kill you.’

Simon sighed inwardly.

"Very well." He nodded coolly and followed Aizel.

"S-Simon!" the student council members cried, rushing to follow him.

The third-years also moved to trail after Aizel, but he shot them a cold glance over his shoulder.

"Oh, there it is!"

"The ice gaze!"

’What the heck is an ’ice gaze’?’ Simon wondered.

The female third-year students were busy analyzing Aizel’s every move, giving them names and providing running commentary.

For the first time, Aizel’s voice echoed through the hall.

"I wish to speak with him alone."

A moment of silence fell, then the third-years squealed in response.

"Okay, okay! We get it!"

"Go easy on him, Aizel!"

Meirin sidled up to Simon and whispered worriedly.

"Are you sure you’ll be okay? Should we secretly follow?"

"It’s fine. Nothing will happen."

Aizel and Simon slipped through the crowd.

---

They did not go far, ending up in the common lounge on the second floor of the student council building. Two men who appeared to be school staff were chatting over coffee, but they scrambled out of the way the moment they saw Aizel. Aizel told them it was fine, but they only made a bigger fuss.

Watching the scene, Simon scratched the side of his head. ’I’m the student council president, too, but I’ve never received that kind of treatment from the staff.’

It was clear that everyone considered Aizel the strongest in Kizen. And in a meritocracy like this, the strongest student was the de facto student council president. That was the harsh reality.

As the staff closed the door behind them, Aizel moved his delicate fingers as if playing a piano.

With a series of soft clicks, all the windows in the lounge sealed shut in unison, and the curtains drew closed with a soft whir.

The door locked from the inside.

Finally, faint magic circles materialized in the air.

’Soundproofing magic circles. When did he even construct the formula?’ The casting speed was practically chantless. He must have polished the ’memorizing property’ of Jet-Black to its absolute limit.

"Sit," Aizel commanded.

"Yes."

They sat down at the same time. The room was humid. As Aizel slowly removed his cardigan, Simon took off his student council president’s coat and placed it beside him. They now faced each other.

"Are you aware of the contract with former President Phantasus?" Aizel asked.

"I am."

"This will be quick, then." Aizel crossed his legs as elegantly as an actor in a play and fiddled with his tie. "We will hold a duel for the position of student council president. Once the duel is over, as per the contract, I shall recommend you for the third-year presidency."

He spoke of his victory as if it were a foregone conclusion. Yet Simon felt no offense.

’This person...’

It was Aizel’s attitude. He stated it as if it were an obvious fact, like saying water flows downhill. This was not confidence or arrogance; it was as if the very concept of defeat did not register in his mind. It was slightly frightening.

"However, Vice Principal Jane had a word," Aizel continued.

He explained that upon his return, Jane had filled him in. Simon’s student council had proven its exceptional competence and earned recognition from both the school and the main headquarters. While the faculty tried not to meddle in the student government’s affairs, replacing the entire council now, with major events and final exams looming, was not ideal. It would cause significant disruption to the school’s operations.

In other words...

"Vice Principal Jane proposed that if the student council were to be replaced, it would be better to begin the transition in the second semester."

"Ah." Simon blinked, caught off guard by this unexpected development. He knew they were doing a good job, but he had not imagined Jane would support them this strongly.

’You will find out naturally, so it would not be appropriate for me to speak of it.’ So that’s what she had meant.

"So, did you accept her proposal?" Simon asked.

Aizel nodded. "The Vice Principal is right. Major assessments and final exams are approaching. Factoring in the time needed for a handover of duties, I would not be able to work effectively until the second semester anyway."

He opened his palm. "If you’re amenable, I would like to propose we hold the duel after the final exams."

Simon had no reason to refuse. It meant more time with his friends on the council, more time to focus on his exams and assessments, and a smoother transition of power. Aizel, too, had missed nearly an entire semester on his mission; he likely wanted to focus on his own schoolwork for now.

"I’m fine with that."

"It’s decided then." Aizel stood up. "Would it be alright if I find a location for the duel that offers no geographical advantage to either of us and inform you later?"

"Yes, that’s fine."

Simon was surprised by how reasonable and flexible Aizel was. Considering the third-years’ past behavior and their simmering resentment toward the second-year council, he had expected Aizel to fly into a rage and demand the presidency on the spot.

"Anything else to discuss?" Aizel asked.

"I don’t think so." Simon also stood.

Aizel mentioned he would stay a bit longer for personal matters, while Simon needed to return to the student council room to deal with his piled-up work.

"Well, I’ll be going then."

"Wait!"

As Simon turned to leave, Aizel’s usually composed voice suddenly rose. He reached out as if to stop him, then quickly lowered his arm as if it were nothing.

"Anything else to discuss?" Simon asked again, forcing a smile. ’But he just said there was not.’ "Is there something more you’d like to say?"

For a fleeting moment, Simon saw Aizel’s iron-clad composure shatter, his eyes wavering uncontrollably.

"...No."

But what could he do if the man himself said there was nothing? ’What a strange person,’ Simon thought, giving a slight bow.

"I’ll be going then. I’ll see you after the final exams."

"...Mm, right."

After bidding him farewell, Simon left the lounge. The third-years seemed to have dispersed.

"I should hurry back and tell the others."

A figure stood in the gloom. He didn’t have to leave the student council just yet; their term would continue until the end of the first semester. Simon was heading back to the office at a brisk pace when a thought struck him.

’Ah.’

He’d left something behind.

’Of all the things!’

He’d taken off his student council president’s coat and forgotten it in the lounge. He hoped this wouldn’t lead to some bizarre misunderstanding. He spun around and broke into a run, bursting through the lounge door.

"My apologies, Senior! I left something behind... Huh?"

Simon’s eyes widened. Aizel was there, but...

His glasses were off, and he was slumped over the table, head buried in his hands as he frantically tore at his hair. Then, he froze.

He slowly lifted his head and looked at Simon. His once-dignified eyes trembled violently, his expression that of a man whose deepest secret had just been unearthed.

"...I-I’ll be on my way."

A cold sweat trickled down Simon’s temple. He decided to pretend he hadn’t seen a thing and just grab his coat.

"Wait."

Aizel’s voice was different now—somehow younger, almost boyish.

"...Did you see?"

---

Aizel Bringer, the undisputed strongest in Kizen, the top student of the third years...

"...I’m screwed. I’m so screwed."

...had a side that no one knew.

"Dammit, I told them I don’t have the confidence for a responsibility as heavy as Student Council President. Why is everyone so desperate to push it on me?"

Aizel had a surprisingly timid personality. Simon shuddered at the jarring dissonance.

’Come to think of it...’

The man’s entire aura had changed. The hairstyle that had been the epitome of an elite, with a neatly exposed forehead, now hung limp, covering his eyebrows. Without the glasses, his face had lost its sharp edge, replaced by the gentle features of a handsome boy.

And he was... shorter. The shoes he’d been wearing were lifts, and his uniform pants were now too long.

"You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?" Aizel asked listlessly. "That the number one student, the strongest necromancer in Kizen, is actually just a total nerd."

Simon quickly waved his hands. "N-No! Actually, I really like this more human side of you."

"That..."

Aizel thrust his round, boyish face right up to Simon’s.

"Are you being serious?"

"Y-Yes, of course!"

Aizel pulled back, a look of faint surprise on his face. "Thanks. No one’s ever said that to me, not even as an empty compliment."

Simon had to break a sweat just to boost Aizel’s self-esteem until he finally calmed down.

"What on earth is going on?" Simon demanded once Aizel had settled, needing an explanation for the whole bizarre situation. At this point, he wasn’t even sure if this was the famous Aizel he’d heard so much about.

Aizel pressed a hand to his forehead. "...I was just playing the part of the ’Aizel’ everyone wanted."

Kizen, the most prestigious necromancer academy in the Dark Alliance. The person at the top was saddled with immense expectations and demands. In terms of sheer ability, Aizel was undoubtedly a powerhouse. But...

"Dammit, what am I supposed to do? My personality just won’t change, no matter how hard I try."