Negotiation

Uesugi Hara leaned back in his chair to relax for a moment, but eventually picked up his Terminal and opened the chat window with Horikita Manabu.

"President Horikita?"

After the message was sent, the Terminal screen dimmed and then lit up again. He stared at the signal icon pulsing at the top for half a minute before receiving a concise reply: "What is it?"

"I want to build a second-hand trading platform and discuss it with you. I hope the Student Council can help with promotion, provide a guarantee, and offer a 'venue'."

On the other side of the screen, Horikita Manabu's brows knitted together the moment he saw the message. The Student Council's affairs were already complex enough; having something like this pop up—which required multi-party coordination—truly gave him a headache.

The Terminal's notification sound chimed again after a moment, and Horikita Manabu's reply carried his habitual caution: "Reason."

Uesugi Hara's fingertips hovered over the screen as he thought for a moment before typing: "To reduce resource waste and make it easier for students to exchange what they have for what they need. For the school, it also standardizes on-campus transactions and avoids disputes from private trades."

He deliberately omitted the core motive of "making money," choosing only high-sounding rhetoric. Sure enough, the silence on the other end lasted even longer—so long that Uesugi Hara thought he was going to be rejected outright—before a new message popped up: "A guarantee requires a review of the proposal. Promotion can be coordinated, but only within the scope of compliance."

Uesugi Hara raised an eyebrow; this was smoother than expected. He immediately replied: "Tomorrow at 3:00 PM, see you at the Student Council office?"

"Understood." Horikita Manabu's message remained brief.

As the chat window dimmed, Uesugi Hara tossed the Terminal back onto the desk. He knew that Horikita Manabu had agreed so readily mostly because he was calculating based on "standardized management"—after all, private transactions had indeed caused some trouble in this school.

But that was just fine.

After finishing this, Uesugi Hara finally let out a sigh of relief.

"Really now..." he muttered under his breath, though he didn't continue. His fingertips tapped lightly on the desk, as if he were calculating something, or perhaps just waiting for tomorrow to arrive.

On Saturday afternoon, sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled light and shadows on the floor of the Student Council office. The hands of the wall clock slid quietly toward 2:50 PM, and the air was filled with a sense of quietude.

"Knock, knock, knock—"

Three knocks broke the silence, neither too light nor too heavy, carrying just the right amount of politeness.

"Please enter." Horikita Manabu's habitually cold voice rang out in the office, devoid of any excess emotional fluctuation. It was like ice-tempered metal—concise and sharp, yet carrying an unquestionable sense of pressure. It was as if those two words alone had already defined the boundaries and tone of the conversation.

Uesugi Hara pushed the door open and entered; the first thing that struck his eyes was the busy scene inside the office.

Horikita Manabu sat upright behind his desk, his spine straight, meticulously reviewing documents with an expression so focused that it seemed the movements around him had nothing to do with him.

Standing behind him was a purple-haired girl, her fluffy short hair tied into a playful bun on top of her head. She waited quietly, which strangely fit the serious atmosphere.

And on the sofa to the side sat a figure who seemed completely out of place—a head of striking yellow hair, lounging in the sofa with a casual posture, exuding an air of laziness.

Horikita Manabu looked up at the sound. His gaze paused slightly when he saw it was Uesugi Hara, then he calmly set down his pen, his fingertips resting briefly on the edge of the document.

"Uesugi, you're here. Sit." His tone was flat, and he gestured toward the chair in front of the desk, signaling him to take a seat.

As soon as he finished speaking, Tachibana Akane walked over with a glass of warm water and handed it to Uesugi Hara, her movements gentle and carrying just the right amount of attentiveness.

"Thank you, Senior Tachibana." Uesugi Hara took the glass, his fingertips touching the cool surface, and thanked her before sitting down in the chair as instructed.

Just as he settled in, the yellow-haired man on the sofa spoke up lazily, his tone carrying a hint of frivolity: "Uesugi? Is that Uesugi Hara from Class A of the first year?"

Nagumo Miyabi leaned forward from the sofa as he spoke, one hand resting on his knee, his fingertips tapping carelessly against his trouser seam. That striking yellow hair was somewhat dazzling in the light.

He scanned Uesugi Hara up and down, a half-smile playing on the corners of his mouth, his tone hiding a hint of probing: "I heard you earned several million points from upperclassmen as soon as school started. Quite impressive."

"You flatter me, Vice President Nagumo." Uesugi Hara looked up, his gaze meeting Nagumo Miyabi's probing stare calmly, his tone devoid of any ripples. He placed the glass gently on the edge of the table. "The matter of the points is just a rumor; it shouldn't be taken seriously."

The smile on Nagumo Miyabi's face deepened, as if he found this reaction quite satisfactory. Just as he was about to say something more, he was interrupted by Horikita Manabu's cold voice.

"Nagumo, Uesugi has business with the Student Council. If you want to chat, wait until we've finished the official business." Horikita Manabu shifted his gaze from the documents to Nagumo Miyabi, his tone flat but carrying an indisputable weight.

Nagumo Miyabi raised an eyebrow. Instead of getting up, he sank deeper into the sofa, a playful smile on his lips: "Oh? Can I stay and listen to what it's about? After all, as Vice President, it's not overstepping my authority to understand the thoughts of the lowerclassmen, is it?"

Horikita Manabu didn't respond immediately, only looking at him in silence—a silence that carried a tacit "as you wish." He turned back to Uesugi Hara, his tone returning to its previous steadiness: "Uesugi, tell me your specific thoughts."

Uesugi Hara understood the situation, feeling no surprise at the clash between the two. He steadied himself, looked at Horikita Manabu, and spoke in a calm tone: "It's about the 'second-hand trading platform.' I intend to create a website hosted under the Student Council's official site. I already explained the necessity and preliminary concept via email to the President yesterday."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the documents on the table, and added: "Simply put, it's to integrate the trading of idle items on campus—from textbooks and notes to sports equipment, and even second-hand props for club activities. Everything can be priced clearly on the platform and settled with points. This not only reduces resource waste but also makes it more convenient for students to obtain the items they need, without having to find people for private transfers, thus avoiding unnecessary disputes."

Horikita Manabu tapped his fingertips on the desk twice, his gaze resting on Uesugi Hara: "How will the technical side be resolved? Who will be responsible for maintenance and management?"

"I can handle the technical construction, and for daily maintenance, the Student Council can assign specific personnel to coordinate, or we can ask students from the Computer Club to assist." Uesugi Hara was well-prepared.

"Oh? Settling with points?" Nagumo Miyabi suddenly sat up straighter, tapping his chin with his fingertips, his eyes flashing with interest. "Sounds like a decent channel for accumulating wealth. What's the platform's commission rate? Or is there some more interesting plan behind this?"

"The platform needs to charge a 3% service fee," Uesugi Hara added without a moment's hesitation. "This portion of points will be used as costs for technical maintenance and credit guarantees. As for the profit, we'll split it 50/50."

As soon as Uesugi Hara finished speaking, the air in the office went silent for a moment.

Nagumo Miyabi put away his playful smile, which then transformed into deeper scrutiny. He sat up straight and leaned in closer: "50/50 split? Split with whom?"

Uesugi Hara met his gaze, his tone as steady as before: "The Student Council and the executing party will each take 50%. I am responsible for the platform's construction and operation, so naturally, I count as the executing party."

"Ho—" Nagumo Miyabi let out a low laugh, drawing out the tone, the interest in his eyes almost overflowing. "A first-year student daring to negotiate a split with the Student Council? Student Uesugi, your appetite is quite large. Aren't you afraid of being accused of seeking private gain in the name of the Student Council?"

Horikita Manabu had been listening in silence, but now he finally spoke, his voice still cold: "By 'profit,' do you mean the remainder after deducting costs such as technical maintenance and credit guarantees?"

"Yes." Uesugi Hara nodded. "Of the 3% service fee, 1% is expected to be used for basic expenses, and the remaining 2% is considered profit. This portion is distributed proportionally, which not only ensures that the Student Council's activity fund has income but also motivates the executing party to maintain the platform well—after all, no one will invest energy long-term in something that isn't profitable."

Nagumo Miyabi sneered and leaned back into the sofa, hands behind his head: "You make it sound so high-minded. I think you've calculated that this platform will be a hit, haven't you? With so many people in the school, even if everyone only trades once, this split is enough for you to make a small fortune."

"If the platform can truly benefit the entire school, this split is nothing," Uesugi Hara's tone remained unchanged. "Conversely, if the platform attracts no interest, I naturally won't get any points. Risk and reward are equal; it's very reasonable."

Horikita Manabu tapped his fingertips on the desk three times and looked up at Uesugi Hara: "Are you confident that the platform can run stably?"

"I am."

"The detailed rules must be reviewed by the Student Council, and the split accounts must be fully transparent," Horikita Manabu's tone was devoid of fluctuation, yet carried a final decision. "If you can do that, this proposal can be run as a trial. Organize the specific rules and details and give them to me before the day after tomorrow."

Nagumo Miyabi raised an eyebrow and didn't argue further, but the look he gave Uesugi Hara held a bit more intriguing appraisal—this first-year student not only dared to think big but also dared to aim his calculations at the Student Council; he was certainly more interesting than he had imagined.