"Oh-ho~! So you actually went through with it!"
Theresa's voice echoed through the principal's office, papers fluttering in her hand like confetti. "You filed the student council paperwork for Victor?"
Across from her, Chris stood calmly—hands folded behind his back, smile subtle but satisfied.
"I did."
Theresa nearly beamed. "Bless your heart, Chris. Finally! Someone to dump—I mean delegate paperwork to. Do you know how many club reports are due this week alone?"
"I assumed the number would be 'too many,'" Chris said with quiet amusement. "Besides, he has the skillset. Leadership, discipline… intimidation. All very helpful for club mediation."
"And that glare? Oh-ho, priceless. He'll scare the delinquent clubs straight without lifting a finger." She sat down at her desk and started stamping forms with a glee far too chaotic for someone in charge of minors. "Maybe he can get the drama club to stop fighting with the robotics club over rehearsal space…"
In the corner, Eden stood—arms folded, expression unreadable. Her gaze drifted between Chris and the name signed in ink on the application.
"Chris."
He turned slightly, hands still behind his back.
"What exactly are you planning?" she asked, voice calm, but with the weariness of someone who had asked this question far too often over the years.
Chris didn't flinch. "Nothing nefarious, if that's what you're thinking."
"I always think it's nefarious when it's you."
He chuckled softly. "Then let me surprise you."
"Try me."
Chris finally walked over to her side, gaze distant for a moment as he glanced out the window at the sunlit fields beyond.
"I'm thinking about his happiness," he said simply. "He's been handed power, pain, duty—again and again. But this place… this life—it's different."
He turned toward her, expression still calm, but there was something more beneath it. Something rarer.
"I want to give him a way to enjoy the youth he never could," he said quietly. "A little peace. A little laughter. Even if it's through paperwork and club visits. Even if it's ridiculous."
Eden's brow furrowed, voice soft. "Are you really?"
Chris's smile faded slightly—not gone, just quieted. His eyes, usually dancing with irony, turned heavy with sincerity.
"I wish for him to enjoy this peace he's found…"
He paused.
"Brief as it surely will be."
Theresa, from behind her desk, glanced up from her stack of stamped reports. The room felt heavier, just for a moment.
"…You could've just said you cared, you know," she murmured, setting the papers aside.
Chris gave a slow nod. "It's easier for me to show it."
Eden said nothing—just looked down at the form again. At Victor's name. Her fingers hovered over the edge of the desk.
"... I just hope things will go well,"
-
Meanwhile…
The sun hung lazily above St. Freya's upper field, its golden light cutting through drifting clouds as the faint crack of bat meeting ball echoed across the floating campus.
Victor stood at the edge of the baseball diamond, a plain cap pulled low over his silver hair—ill-fitting over his usual black coat and dress shirt ensemble, which remained stubbornly buttoned all the way up despite the heat. The cap had a stitched red "F" on it, slightly tilted from how one of the girls had slapped it on his head while squealing something about "team spirit."
Which was ironic, considering he wasn't actually part of the team.
Didn't matter.
The moment he stepped onto the field, the entire baseball club descended on him like moths to brooding flame.
"Victor! You look good in the cap—want to try batting next?"
"Could you pitch to me next round?"
"Oh god, he's gonna kill the ball isn't he—wait I wanna film it—"
Victor simply sighed, adjusting the cap like it offended his entire bloodline.
"I'm only helping," he muttered.a
Five minutes later—
CRACK.
The aluminum bat snapped forward with a practiced swing—casual, effortless.
The ball sailed.
Not just over the fence.
Not just over the stands.
But off the edge of St. Freya's floating island, disappearing into the blue sky with a faint glimmer like a departing star.
"...That's gone," someone whispered in awe.
"That's not just gone, that's in orbit," someone else said, mouth open.
Victor handed the bat back with one hand, deadpan. "You'll need a new one."
The rest of practice didn't fare much better.
When asked to pitch, Victor rolled up his sleeves, loosened his stance—and delivered the first throw with such velocity it imploded into the dirt, embedding itself halfway into the pitcher's mound.
The next one?
It floated.
No spin. No arc. It moved like a dream. Then snapped into the strike zone with a sound like thunder.
"Physics?! Who needs it?!" someone cried.
By the end of the hour, half the team was either starstruck, terrified, or filing unofficial marriage proposals on the club group chat.
Eventually, Victor found himself back near the benches, holding a case of water bottles. He moved between the team members, passing them out one by one without comment.
Most accepted them in stunned silence.
A few whispered "thank yous" like prayers.
Finally, he reached the last one.
Kiana.
Sweaty, grinning, and smugly waiting with both hands behind her back like a kid about to pull a prank.
She rocked on her heels.
"Took you long enough," she teased.
Kiana took a long swig from her water bottle, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then tilted her head at him with a mischievous glint.
"Heh… so you're joining?"
Victor blinked. "Joining?"
She gestured lazily at the field. "The club. School life. Humanity."
Victor gave her a flat look. "No. I'm not joining anything. Technically... I'm part of the student council now."
Kiana's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Wait, technically?"
"It got forced on me."
"Ah." She nodded sagely. "Classic."
Victor exhaled through his nose. "He said it would 'serve me well.'"
Kiana snorted. "It's 'cause you look too broody sitting alone in courtyards like you're waiting for your tragic flashback arc."
Victor ignored that.
But she stepped in closer, hands behind her back, rocking on her heels again.
"Aww, big brotherrr," she sang, eyes glinting with mischief. "Did you join just so you could hang out with us without looking like you're lonelyyy?"
Victor turned his head slowly toward her. "You're not as funny as you think you are."
"I think I'm hilarious," Kiana beamed. "And also right."
"Not even close."
"You literally chose the baseball club first cause I'm here."
"Coincidence."
"You handed me a water bottle and stopped by to talk too"
Victor paused. "…You looked pathetic."
Kiana gasped. "Rude! Take it back!"
"Only if you admit you hit a tree instead of the ball earlier."
She squinted. "That tree moved."
Victor gave her the most unimpressed stare known to mankind.
Kiana huffed, then grinned wide enough to steal the sun.
"Well, whatever your reason—good. We all wanna spend time with you too, y'know."
Victor blinked, caught off guard.
Then she threw her arm around his shoulder, pulled him into a side hug, and smirked up at him.
"So go out there and slave away for us, Council Boy."
Victor sighed. "...It's work."
"Same thing!" Kiana chirped, already jogging away. "Don't forget to check in with the cooking club next!"
"…I hate this school," Victor muttered as he followed after her.
He didn't stop walking.
And he didn't stop smiling either.