A Verbal Clash

Afterward, Yun Lan followed Akane Tachibana to fill out the Student Council application form.

"Your name is Yun Lan, correct?"

Manabu Horikita watched as Yun Lan filled in the name field on the form, speaking slowly.

The corner of Yun Lan's mouth twitched uncontrollably, and he nearly failed to maintain his serious expression while filling out the form. (Internal monologue flooding: You don't know if I'm Yun Lan?! We met in the Chairman's office just a few days ago, you "gave me special attention" on stage today, and now you had the secretary "invite" me to fill out this form... and yet you turn around and pretend not to know me, checking my name as if this were purely official business? Mr. President, isn't your acting a bit too exaggerated?)

However, this urge to retort lasted only a fraction of a second before he quickly suppressed it. He put back on that perfectly calibrated expression of slight reserve and seriousness, nodded, and replied in a clear voice: "Yes, Mr. President. Class B, first year, Yun Lan."

(Internal monologue continuing to analyze rapidly: Still... I can understand it. In public, he can't exactly let me use the back door. Secretary Tachibana is recording right next to us, and who knows how many eyes are watching the position of Student Council President. He has to be airtight in his actions; he can't afford to be caught with any leverage.)

The "Reason for Application" field on the form was blank, like a small but crucial hurdle. Yun Lan's pen hovered above it, pausing for two or three seconds. From the corner of his eye, he could feel Manabu Horikita watching him fill out the form.

What should he write? The high-sounding "serve my classmates, improve myself"? Too cliché and fake. Elaborate on his "philosophy" and "ambitions"? Too early, and it would easily reveal his weaknesses. Several plans flashed through Yun Lan's mind, and finally, a nearly invisible arc curled at the corner of his mouth. The pen tip descended, and he wrote five words decisively: Because I want to.

No embellishment, no explanation; it was so blunt it bordered on arrogance, yet so simple that no one could find fault with it. He then proceeded to fill out the remaining "Brief Summary of Personal Strengths" (also written with conciseness and confidence) and "Desired Position" (he checked Vice President and Secretary, both positions of real power and high challenge) with the same fluid speed. The entire process was done in one go, without the slightest hesitation.

After finishing, he put down his pen. Instead of handing the form to Akane Tachibana immediately, he leaned back slightly and lifted his head, casting a steady gaze at Manabu Horikita, who was standing to the side. His posture was neither provocative nor submissive; it was more like an equal stance, waiting for the other party to respond.

Manabu Horikita's gaze lingered on the completed application form for a moment, scanning the "Reason for Application" field in particular. The look behind his lenses was dark and unreadable; it was impossible to tell if he felt approval, displeasure, or indifference.

He did not immediately comment on the content of the form, but instead spoke in his signature, steady tone that lacked any emotional fluctuation: "I heard from several club heads that yesterday, they... received a lot of 'care' from you." The word "care" was spoken in an extremely flat tone, yet it seemed to carry a thousand pounds of weight, clearly pointing to Yun Lan's actions of seizing "activity funds" yesterday. This was not a question, but a statement, and it carried an underlying sense of scrutiny.

Yun Lan met his gaze, his expression not changing in the slightest. There was no guilty conscience from being exposed, nor any intention to offer an excuse. He simply replied in a tone that was almost like stating a fact:

"This is a school that prioritizes ability, isn't it?"

His voice was equally calm, perhaps even more detached than Manabu Horikita's, as if the matter had nothing to do with him. The subtext of this sentence could not be more obvious: Here, points represent everything, and "means" within the scope of the rules are also part of one's ability. I utilized the rules and their (gullibility/negligence) to obtain points, which aligns with the fundamental logic of the school. Does Mr. President have any higher insights?

(Internal monologue: Heh, acting cold, speaking in bureaucratic jargon, playing word games? Who doesn't know how to do that? You use "care" to mock me, and I'll use the core of the school motto to respond. Let's see if your Student Council's moral scrutiny is more powerful, or if the cold rules this school upholds are truly supreme.)

The two men's gazes met briefly in the air. Manabu Horikita's face remained expressionless, though his deep eyes seemed to grow even quieter, as if he were evaluating the weight behind Yun Lan's words and his calm, even righteous, attitude.

"That is true, but don't you think a class group is also very important?"

"I do not deny that the power of a class group is far greater than that of an individual, but that is on the condition that it is a group, not a bunch of scattered soldiers. I simply want to protect those I wish to protect."

The two of them stood there like two emotionless AIs, conversing in cold tones.

"You mean," he slowly turned around, his gaze behind his lenses landing on Yun Lan's face with the precision of a scalpel, "that emotions are more important than other things—even if this might mean being unable to graduate from this school smoothly, is that it?"

This question was asked very slowly, each word seemingly weighed with precision. It stripped away all embellishments and pointed directly to the most cruel core rule of this school: points, rankings, class advancement, and graduation. Here, emotions are often categorized as the least cost-effective "investment."

The pen in Akane Tachibana's hand hovered over her notebook, and she widened her eyes slightly. This question was too sharp, almost like a trap—in front of President Horikita, who values efficiency and results, affirming that emotions are supreme was tantamount to openly questioning the foundation of the school.

Yun Lan met that scrutinizing gaze.

He did not look away, nor did he show any nervousness at being interrogated. On the contrary, his expression was exceptionally calm, even possessing a sense of relief from dropping his disguise. The smooth responses and shrewd calculations from just a moment ago seemed to have been put away.

"Yes."

He nodded, his voice clear, without any hesitation.

This answer was so simple it bordered on reckless. No explanations, no additional conditions, no attempt to package "emotions" into something that better fit the school's values (such as "team cohesion" or "long-term investment"). He admitted it just like that, with a frankness that was surprising.

(Internal monologue: That's right, emotions are important. Maintaining bonds with important people, protecting what I want to protect, following the morality I recognize in my heart—if all these things must be discarded one by one for the sake of a so-called "smooth graduation," then even if I climb to Class A and get the best treatment, what kind of victory is that? This school teaches us to calculate everything, but some things were never meant to be weighed on a scale. Since you asked so directly, I'll give you the most direct answer. As for the consequences... Heh! The heir to the Yun Family can afford it.)