Chapter 134

Chapter 134

From Cosmic Rascal to Professor.

Episode 134: Elections (3).

Two first-year students. Six second-year students. A total of eight students would compete in a deathmatch for the positions of president and vice president of the Stellarium student council.

The second-year students, soon to be third-years, sighed as they examined the list compiled for the finals.

First Year

Aidel von Reinhardt

Zelnya von und zu Trisha Adelwein

“Adelwein and even Reinhardt…”

“What’s wrong with the juniors this year?”

“At this rate, the first-years might take both the president and vice president positions.”

At Stellarium, an implicit rule existed: a capable first-year had a certain probability of becoming vice president. At the same time, a second-year was almost guaranteed to become president. Yet, this year’s lineup was unexpectedly formidable. One candidate was the future head of the illustrious Adelwein family and the other a hero who had single-handedly defeated 300 Outer Gods. Both were at the top of their respective departments and strikingly attractive, akin to celebrities. Their campaign promises were ambitious, ensuring they would receive significant support.

Among the freshmen, heated debates erupted over whether Aidel or Zelnya would emerge as president.

“If this continues, we will all lose.”

Thus, an emergency strategy meeting was convened. The second-year candidates, like knights preparing for battle, gathered around a round table, their voices low as they began to strategize.

“The support rate for the two juniors is no joke. At this rate, none of us will be elected.”

“Then what should we do?”

“If the probability converges to zero, let’s raise it to 1/6 instead.”

“Unification?”

“You mean unify the candidates?”

The eyes of the senior leading the meeting sparkled.

“The freshmen are still inexperienced. They don’t know the school system well, and even if they have some student council experience, they’re lacking compared to the people gathered here. So, I think this is something we second-year students should handle.”

He skillfully fostered a sense of camaraderie with the term “second-year.” By establishing a clear boundary, he subtly incited competition and hostility towards the freshmen. Divide and conquer—an essential skill for any politician.

“But you know, I think those two might be better than us…”

“If popularity decided everything, idols would become presidents, right? Besides, one of them is a medical student, and the other is focused solely on research. They probably don’t have the time to tackle all the issues coming from various places.”

This would have made Zelnya and Aidel laugh, but their reactions weren’t the priority. The goal was to unify the second-year candidates.

“Nowadays, thanks to family names, the student council president election has turned into a popularity contest. I wonder how many students actually vote based on the pledges.”

The senior leading the meeting spoke calmly.

“Everyone, have you seen the pledges made by Reinhardt Junior?”

“I haven’t yet. What are they?”

“About half of them relate to graduates. He proposed setting up a consultation center for graduate school admissions, creating a comfortable meeting room with professors, and adding a research lab search function to the school’s bamboo forest…”

Additionally, there were pledges to review tuition fees alongside the graduate student council, construct a giant moving walkway connecting the college and the graduate school, and increase the number of colloquium events, among others.

“Are these really pledges for college students?”

“Oh, not bad.”

The senior, who always mentioned his aspirations to attend the Graduate School of Political Science and International Relations, nodded in admiration.

“It’s quite clever if it’s targeting third-year students who are planning to go to graduate school.”

“Let’s not talk about that crazy guy.”

And just like that, he was quickly subdued.

“Ahem.”

The senior at the center of the round table cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation.

“As you all know, the voting rate among graduating third-year students is low. In contrast, our second-year voting rate is the highest. If we unify, we can secure the student council president position.”

“So, who do we unify under?”

“That’s what we need to decide right now.”

Then, the candidate unification will be under Sinclair. The rest of you, please submit your resignation letters by this coming Saturday.

Zelnya absorbed the movements and judgments of the second years.

“How trivial.”

It was so trivial that she felt a deep sense of humiliation at the thought of winning the student council presidency against such fools. Clicking her tongue, she removed the eavesdropping earphone from her ear.

“No matter how many minnows gather, they are still minnows.”

Even if a salmon strives to swim upstream, once it’s caught by the paw of a fishing bear, it’s over in an instant. Zelnya chuckled, her laughter was undoubtedly that of a bear.

The only thing left was to devise a strategy to divide them. As she pondered her next move, a voice broke through her thoughts.

“Interesting. Using eavesdropping just to win an election.”

The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere—perhaps from the side, the back of her head, or even above.

“I’m speaking directly into your mind.”

“Wh-who?”

Zelnya stammered, startled. She stumbled backward, tripping over the desk leg and landing on the floor.

“Oh dear, be careful.”

“Ah! Damn.”

“Your palm is slightly grazed. Just wait a moment. I’ll heal it right away.”

Zelnya stared blankly at her palm as starlight coursed through it. The pain from scraping her skin against the floor gradually subsided, and she watched in awe as new skin formed.

Healing—so this is what healing feels like. She had seen Professor Reinhardt perform it before, but this was her first time experiencing it personally.

“Were you very surprised?”

“You’re a Constellation, aren’t you?”

She found herself speaking formally, the reverence slipping into her tone without her realizing it.

“Why have you come to me?”

“I just happened to be passing by and saw you. I was simply curious. But you—well, you don’t seem like such a good kid.”

It was definitely a Constellation, pointing out her moral failings so directly. It felt absurd. She hadn’t killed anyone; she had just eavesdropped to gain an advantage.

“That’s the problem. It’s a bad thing.”

“You don’t know anything.”

Zelnya had to win this election, no matter the cost. To build a reputation comparable to Aidel’s, she needed to lay the cornerstone first.

“Simply winning isn’t everything. Why don’t you try doing what I say?”

“No, thanks.”

“Aren’t you looking for a Constellation? If you keep acting like this, all the approaching Constellations will run away.”

“This is my business, so I’ll handle it. If you have no interest in me, Constellation, just go somewhere else.”

Instinctively, she sensed that contracting with this Constellation would be a hassle in many ways. Besides, it didn’t seem to correspond to the Zodiac’s twelve. It should at least reach that level to make a contract worthwhile.

“Well then, for now…”

The Constellation surprisingly backed off, saying, “I’ll come back later.”

“……”

Something about the Constellation felt off. First, it hadn’t revealed its name, and second, it hadn’t mentioned the artificial Constellation. Especially the latter—it was troubling that it insisted she uphold trivial morals while remaining silent about the artificial Constellation. Something was definitely amiss.

“Pathetic.”

Zelnya examined her newly healed palm. It looked fine, but an unsettling feeling lingered. She went to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands thoroughly.

At that moment, Aidel appeared from the opposite direction. Just in time—there was something she needed to confront him about.

“You should focus on your research. Why are you wasting precious time running for student council president?”

Once again, I find myself embroiled in an argument today.

Oh heavens, what am I to do with this white rose? If there truly is no answer, must I pluck all its thorns?

“If you wish, I can immerse it for you.”

No, that won’t do. Stay out of it, Cartesia.

The God of ‘Wisdom and Curiosity’ clicks her tongue.

Asking an Outer God for a favor is like dealing with a monkey’s paw; they always demand something dangerous in return. So, no matter what, seeking a favor without insurance is forbidden.

Zelnya continued, her venomous glare unwavering.

“Even now, you should withdraw. Don’t waste your precious time.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

Surprisingly, my support in the polls is quite strong. Although I initially launched this campaign to prevent the arrogant Zelnya from meeting and falling for an Outer God, I have many policies I want to pursue if I become student council president. Especially considering that next year, talents like Merlin Whiritia and Welton Yusford will be joining us. As a senior, shouldn’t I pave the way for them?

“I hope it will be a good competition.”

“……No way. Are you intentionally competing with me?”

Zelnya’s eyes widened like a rabbit before she twisted her mouth into a sneer.

What is she suddenly talking about? Well, of course, it is a competition.

“Hmm.”

[Mental state]

Feels good to be acknowledged as a rival.

I blinked and touched my forehead. Strange. Just three seconds ago, she was seething with anger. I can’t figure out what this girl is thinking.

“Hey, so why did you come here?”

“To pick up the promotional pamphlets I ordered.”

Elections are a war. In war, what’s important are people (manpower), ammunition (promotion), and fuel (gossip). The more strategic reserves I have, the better. The more exposure I get for myself and my promises, the easier it will be for people to decide whether to vote for me or not.

Of course, picking up pamphlets isn’t the only reason I’m here. It’s a meeting disguised as a coincidence.

I lowered my head slightly and leaned toward Zelnya.

“Zelnya.”

“W-what is it all of a sudden?”

“I have something to tell you.”