The late dusk sun spilled lazily through the stained-glass windows of St. Freya's upper hall, painting soft color onto the marble tiles below. Footsteps echoed down the marble hall, soft and unrushed. Elysia's heels hovered lightly against the floor beside Victor's quieter steps, hands tucked into his coat pockets, while Elysia clung to his arm with all the subtlety of a lovestruck vine.
"You know…" she began, her voice honey-sweet with mischief, "with how hard you've been working lately, I wouldn't be surprised if they gave you a position in the council."
Victor snorted softly. "I didn't even say yes to being in the council."
"Details," she waved off, grinning.
"You've already helped every club and put half the student body in love with you. That's resume material, darling."
He gave her a look, half exasperated, half amused. "What position though?"
Elysia leaned closer, eyes glittering. "Mmhmm. Imagine it—President Victor. You'd get a shiny new pin. Maybe a sash. Definitely paperwork."
Victor shrugged. "Could be worse."
Elysia blinked, then gasped dramatically. "Don't tell me… are you actually considering it?"
He didn't answer right away, but the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
She laughed, skipping ahead a step to twirl in front of him, hands clasped behind her back. "Victor! Joining clubs! Running councils! Being liked! Look at you embracing life like a real boy."
"I blame peer pressure."
"Mm, I prefer to call it character growth."
They stopped before the double doors of the student council chamber—polished mahogany, inlaid with the emblem of St. Freya and flanked by velvet banners.
Victor glanced once at Elysia.
"Wish me luck?"
"I'd rather wish him luck," she grinned, stepping aside with a wink.
He rolled his eyes and knocked once.
The door clicked.
Then creaked open.
"Victor." A voice called calmly from within.
He stepped inside.
The air shifted the moment the doors closed behind him. The council office was quieter than expected—high ceilings, lined shelves of ancient tomes and curated records, and the scent of old paper, tea, and something faintly metallic. A long mahogany table stretched down the center, chairs tucked in like sentinels in waiting. An untouched cup of coffee steamed gently atop a stack of files.
And at the very end of the room, framed by the tall glass window overlooking the academy's eastern gardens—
Stood Welt Yang.
Hands clasped behind his back.
His posture impeccable.
His silhouette cut sharply against the warm light outside.
Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, his footsteps slow as he crossed the room, gaze locked on the man who had once led empires of resistance and now stood like a shadow of history watching time unfold.
Welt didn't turn to greet him.
But he spoke.
Calm.
Measured.
"I've been waiting for you."
Victor stopped a few steps behind.
"…And I've been wondering why."
Finally—Welt Yang turned.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment—Victor forgot how to stand.
Welt Yang's gaze was not sharp. Not heavy. Not even stern.
It was… warm.
Like the crackle of a campfire in the middle of a winter patrol. Quiet, constant, comforting. It wasn't the kind of gaze someone gave a soldier or a stranger—it was the kind a father might give his son after a long road home.
Victor blinked.
Then blinked again.
He felt his spine stiffen on instinct—like the warmth unsettled him more than the cold ever did.
"…You called for me," he said, slower than usual, voice respectful but unsure. "Why?"
From the side of the room, Elysia floated lazily past the display cabinet of antique medals like she was browsing snacks. At Victor's tone, she tilted her head, smiling as she raised an amused eyebrow. Her eyes sparkled.
Respectful, huh?
Welt smiled faintly, folding his hands behind his back as he began to pace, just once, in a slow arc. "I've heard of your transgressions throughout the campus."
Victor blinked again. "Transgressions?"
The corner of Welt's mouth twitched. "Helping the cooking club. Teaching the baseball team how to defy gravity. Intimidating the robotics lab into actual productivity. And most recently…" He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"Making Mobius laugh."
Victor looked away, ears faintly pink. "…That last one was not my fault."
"Mm," Welt hummed, finally turning to face him again. "Regardless. I'm thankful."
Victor tensed slightly. "For what?"
"For helping," Welt said simply. "The council has been… lacking in strength, ever since the last batch of members graduated. We lost not only skill, but presence." His steps brought him closer, until they stood only a foot apart.
Welt paused—
—and placed a firm, steady hand on Victor's shoulder.
His voice was quiet.
"But more than that… I'm glad to see you're having fun."
Victor's eyes widened.
He didn't know how to respond to that.
Fun?
The word caught in his chest like a stone skipping water. He hadn't even realized he was enjoying anything. Not until someone said it out loud.
"I…" He opened his mouth, then closed it. "I wouldn't call it fun exactly—"
Welt's grip didn't budge, but his smile deepened, just slightly. "Then call it something else. Peace. Purpose. Even passing time." He let go. "But it suits you."
Victor stood there for a beat, uncertain.
Then Elysia leaned in from behind with a wide grin, chin resting on his shoulder.
"Awww~ He does care," she cooed.
Victor groaned under his breath.
Welt chuckled.
Victor cleared his throat and looked away, the warmth still lingering faint on his cheeks. A rare fluster crossed his usually impassive face.
"…Thanks," he muttered.
Then quickly followed with, "Is that all?"
Welt smiled faintly at the tone—half-awkward, half-desperate for an exit.
He turned away, pace returning to its earlier rhythm, the sound of his steps echoing gently against polished floors.
"That," Welt said, voice thoughtful, "was as myself."
He clasped his hands behind his back again.
"Now—" he turned slightly, gaze a touch more official, "as the Student Council Advisor, I'd like to ask if you're willing to take up the position of president."
Victor blinked.
"...Come again?"
Welt stopped, facing him fully now.
"I'm planning a festival for this semester. One of St. Freya's oldest traditions. We'll need events, coordination, oversight, and someone capable enough to lead."
Victor's brow furrowed. "So you're asking me to be president."
"Just for this year," Welt confirmed with a nod. "You'll be free to assemble your own council. Whomever you think fits."
Victor stared.
Then crossed his arms. "Why me?"
Welt didn't hesitate.
"I believe in you."
Victor squinted. "That's not a reason."
"It's all the reason I need," Welt replied evenly.
Victor narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
Welt smiled again—this time deeper, more knowing.
"Because you're you."
Victor stared at him for a long moment.
Then looked away again, jaw working slightly.
"…That's the second time someone said that to me this week."
From behind, Elysia beamed and whispered, "Because it's true, silly."
Victor groaned quietly.
Welt chuckled.
"So?" he asked gently.
Victor exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
"…I'll think about it."
"Good," Welt nodded. "I already filled out the paperwork."
Victor looked up. "...You what?"
Welt was already walking away toward his desk.
"Welcome aboard, President."
Elysia burst into laughter.
Victor stared at the ceiling like it had betrayed him personally.