A Verbal Clash

Yun Lan then followed Akane Tachibana to fill out the Student Council membership application.

"Your name is Yun Lan, right?"

Manabu Horikita watched Yun Lan fill in the name field on the form and slowly spoke.

The corner of Yun Lan's mouth twitched despite himself. He almost failed to keep up his serious expression as he filled out the form. My thoughts were instantly flooded with complaints: You don't know whether I'm Yun Lan?! We met in the Chairman's Office just a few days ago, and you even 'specially acknowledged' me onstage today. Then you had your secretary 'invite' me to fill out a form... only to turn around and pretend you don't know me, checking my name in such a by-the-book manner? Mr. President, your acting is a little over the top, isn't it?!

But the urge to complain lasted only a fraction of a second before he quickly suppressed it. He put on that just-right expression again, a little reserved and serious, nodded, and answered clearly, "Yes, President. Class 1-B, Yun Lan."

Still... I can understand. You can't exactly give me special treatment in public. Secretary Tachibana is right here taking notes, and who knows how many eyes are watching the Student Council President? He has to act impeccably and leave no one any grounds for criticism.

The "Reason for Applying" field on the form remained empty, like a small but crucial hurdle. Yun Lan's pen hovered above it 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 pompous "To serve my classmates and improve myself"? Too clichéd, and too fake. A detailed explanation of his "principles" and "ambitions"? Too soon, and it might expose his weaknesses. Several options flashed through Yun Lan's mind. In the end, the corner of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly, and he lowered his pen, briskly writing five words: Because I want to join.

No embellishment, no explanation—blunt to the point of arrogance, yet so simple that there was nothing to criticize. He filled in the remaining fields just as smoothly: "Brief Description of Personal Strengths" (equally concise and confident) and "Desired Position" (he checked Vice President and Secretary, both powerful and challenging positions). The whole process was fluid, without a moment's hesitation.

When he finished, he set down his pen but didn't immediately hand the form to Akane Tachibana. Instead, he leaned back slightly and raised his head, meeting Manabu Horikita's gaze. His posture wasn't provocative, but it was certainly not deferential either. It was more like the poised stance of someone waiting for an equal to respond.

Manabu Horikita's gaze first rested on the completed application for a moment, lingering especially on the "Reason for Applying" field. His expression behind his glasses was inscrutable; it was impossible to tell whether he approved, disapproved, or simply didn't care.

He didn't immediately comment on the form. Instead, in his characteristically even tone, devoid of emotion, he said, "I heard from the heads of a few clubs that yesterday, you... 'took very good care' of them."

He said "took very good care" in an utterly flat tone, yet the words seemed to carry enormous weight, clearly alluding to Yun Lan's exploitative schemes to seize their "activity funds" the day before. It wasn't a question but a statement, with an unmistakable air of scrutiny.

Yun Lan met his gaze without the slightest change in expression. He showed no guilt at being found out, nor any inclination to defend himself. He simply replied in an almost matter-of-fact tone:

"This is a school that puts ability above all else, isn't it?"

His voice was just as calm, even a little more detached than Manabu Horikita's, as if the matter had nothing to do with him. The unspoken meaning was obvious: Here, points were everything, and using "methods" permitted by the rules was also part of one's ability. I used the rules and their gullibility—or carelessness—to get points. That's in keeping with the school's fundamental logic. Do you have any objections, President?

Hah. So it's all about acting cold, speaking in officialese, and playing word games? I can do that too. You use "took good care" to make a veiled jab, and I'll reply with the core principle of the school motto. Let's see whether your Student Council's moral scrutiny carries more weight, or the cold rules this school lives by.

Their gazes met briefly. Manabu Horikita's expression remained unchanged, but his deep eyes seemed to grow more contemplative, as though he were weighing the meaning behind Yun Lan's words and his candid, even self-righteous, attitude.

"That's true, but don't you think the class collective is important too?"

"I won't deny that a class collective is much stronger than an individual. But first, it has to be a collective, not just a mob of scattered individuals. I only want to protect the people I want to protect."

The two of them spoke in cool, emotionless tones, like two AI systems.

"So you mean," Manabu Horikita slowly turned around, the gaze behind his glasses landing on Yun Lan's face with surgical precision, "that feelings matter more than anything else—even if that might mean you can't graduate from this school, is that right?"

He asked the question slowly, as though every word had been precisely measured. It stripped away all embellishment and pointed straight at the cruel heart of this school's rules: points, rankings, moving up classes, graduation. Here, feelings were often considered the least cost-effective "investment."

Akane Tachibana's pen hovered above her notebook, and her eyes widened slightly. The question was so sharp that it was almost a trap. To affirm that feelings came first in front of President Horikita, who prized efficiency and results, would be tantamount to openly challenging the school's foundations.

Yun Lan met that scrutinizing gaze.

He didn't look away or show any nervousness at being questioned. On the contrary, his expression was exceptionally calm, even candid, as if he had dropped his guard. His earlier tactful responses and shrewd calculations seemed to have been put away for the moment.

"Yes."

He nodded, his voice clear and utterly unwavering.

The answer was so simple it was almost reckless. There was no explanation, no conditions, no attempt to package "feelings" as something more in line with the school's values, such as "team cohesion" or a "long-term investment." He simply admitted it, with a candor that was surprising.

Yes, feelings matter. Maintaining bonds with those who matter to me, protecting what I want to protect, and following the principles I believe in—if I have to give all those things up one by one for the sake of "graduating smoothly," then what would it even mean to make it to Class A and receive the best treatment? This school teaches us to calculate everything, but some things simply shouldn't be weighed on a scale. Since you asked so directly, I'll give you the most direct answer. As for the consequences... Hah! The Yun Family heir can afford them.