Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 109: For Student Council

Chapter 109: For Student Council

The grand hallway of the Sturgon Academy buzzed with nervous energy as a long line of students stretched across the polished marble floor. Each one fidgeted, adjusted their uniforms, or whispered to their neighbors, all vying for a coveted spot on the student council. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of ambition and noble pride pressing down on the young hopefuls.

Lord Daniel Marciel, the poised and charismatic president of the student council, stood at the front of the hall, his sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd. His blonde hair was neatly combed, and his tailored uniform exuded authority. Beside him stood Lady Famina, the vice president, her emerald curls cascading over her shoulders. Her expression was one of barely concealed impatience, her lips pursed as she folded her arms.

"Is there anyone promising in this crowd, Lord Daniel?" Famina asked, her tone clipped as she surveyed the line of students. Her emerald-green eyes flickered with judgment, as if she were weighing each candidate’s worth by their lineage alone.

Daniel tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I invited a few who caught my eye. Some have potential, but..." He paused, his gaze drifting toward the empty space at the back of the line. "The most interesting one isn’t here."

Famina’s face soured instantly. She didn’t need to ask who he meant. Her voice dropped to a hiss. "No baron’s daughter belongs on the student council, Daniel. Not when we have counts and dukes’ heirs in line. The noble triangle must be respected."

Daniel’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes sharpened. "If she’s skilled enough, Famina, she deserves a place. Tradition or not."

Famina’s jaw tightened. She respected Daniel’s leadership and ideals, but the rigid hierarchy of nobility was sacred to her. "Whatever, you want Lord Daniel." she muttered, tossing her hair. "Where’s Archmage Mandira? She’s supposed to help us interview these students."

As if on cue, the heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall creaked open. A ripple of awe passed through the crowd as Archmage Mandira entered, her flowing robes shimmering with usual grace as usual. Her slightly violet hair glowed under the sunlightr’s light, and her presence commanded silence. But it wasn’t Mandira who drew Daniel and Famina’s attention—it was the pair walking beside her.

A girl with short dark hair and a nervous expression shuffled next to the archmage. Christina, the baron’s daughter, was unmistakable. But it was the young man beside her who piqued their curiosity. Dressed in the crisp, black-and-white attire of a butler, he carried himself with an unusual confidence. His emerald eyes sparkled with intelligence, and his dark hair was slicked back neatly. Mandira was speaking to him, not Christina, her face alight with interest.

"Who’s that?" Famina whispered, her eyes narrowing.

Daniel shook his head, his curiosity piqued. "No idea."

Their voices were low, but they caught the tail end of Mandira’s conversation with the young man. "...never thought I’d meet such a knowledgeable servant from a baron’s family," Mandira was saying, her voice warm with admiration. "I’d love to hear more about your grandfather’s sword-forging techniques. Certainly, something I would like to experience myself."

Christina, standing beside the man, looked pale, her eyes darting nervously. Famina frowned. "Why does she look so scared?"

Before Daniel could respond, he stepped forward, his voice smooth and commanding. "Archmage Mandira, what a pleasure to meet you." He bowed deeply, his movements graceful. "Thank you for joining us."

Mandira acknowledged him with a nod, her sharp eyes softening. "Let’s proceed with the interviews, Young master Daniel." Her gaze flicked to Christina. "You, girl, join the line."

Christina hesitated, her expression one of someone being dragged into something against her will. The young man beside her bowed low, his voice calm but laced with charm. "My lady will join the line in order, Archmage Mandira." He straightened, his emerald eyes meeting Mandira’s. "And I, too, would be honored to continue our discussion later, greatest of archmages."

Mandira’s lips curved into a rare smile. "I look forward to it, young man."

As Mandira, Daniel, and Famina turned to head into the student council office, Famina cast one last curious glance at the butler. His presence was... unsettling. Intriguing. She shook her head and followed the others inside.

Meanwhile, Christina grabbed the young man’s arm and pulled him toward a quiet corner of the hall, away from prying eyes. Her voice was low, almost a hiss. "Shennong, what are you doing? First, you pretend to be a student, and now this? Why don’t you just wait somewhere else?"

Shennong, the butler, smiled—a slow, mischievous grin that made his emerald eyes gleam. "I thought you’d chase me away by now, my lady. But I’m here because I’m curious. The capital is full of interesting people, and I want to see them for myself."

Christina’s shoulders slumped. She realized, with a pang, that his actions weren’t about her. She had no right to dictate what Shennong did or didn’t do. "Fine," she muttered. "Do whatever you want."

Shennong’s smile softened. "Good luck with the interview, my lady. I can see it clearly—Lord Daniel Marciel has plans for you. If my guess is correct, you’ll be chosen no matter what. It’s a grand opportunity to prove you’re the most suitable woman of your age to join the Order despite their agenda for you."

Christina sighed, her heart heavy. She turned and walked toward the line of students, her steps slow and reluctant. As she joined the queue, her eyes caught a familiar figure—Lord Udo Komasi, the son of the count her baron family served. He stood at the front of the line, his broad shoulders and blond hair unmistakable. But to her surprise, he stepped out of his prime spot and moved to stand behind her.

Christina frowned. What’s his problem?

Udo cleared his throat, his expression awkward. "Uh, Lady Christina. It’s... good to see you."

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, keeping her gaze forward.

He shifted uncomfortably, then launched into small talk. "How’s your family? I heard your estate had a good harvest this year. And, uh, the weather’s been nice, hasn’t it?"

Christina’s lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn’t in the mood for this. Udo, sensing her disinterest, changed tack. "Look, Christina, I’ve been seeing things differently these past few days. I’ve been thinking a lot about... everything."

She remained silent, her eyes fixed ahead.

Udo’s voice grew quieter, almost pained. "I always felt bad about what happened. I was so ignorant back then, thinking I had no right to step in. That’s why I ignored it when you were... when you were bullied."

Christina’s fingers clenched, her nails biting into her palms. The memories of those days—whispers, laughter, cruel pranks—flooded back. She bit her lip, forcing herself to stay composed.

"I’m sorry," Udo said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up. I was hoping... maybe we could be friends?"

Christina turned to face him, her expression cold and formal. "As you wish, Lord Udo," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. She turned back to the line, her heart pounding with suppressed anger.

Udo’s shoulders sagged. He knew she wasn’t going to forgive him so easily. And he knew she had every right to be angry. He fell silent, staring at the floor.

Inside the student council office, Daniel, Famina, and Mandira settled at a long oak table. The room was adorned with banners bearing the academy’s crest and Sturgon’s royalty crest, and sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden patterns on the floor.

Mandira steepled her fingers, her voice calm but commanding. "Let’s begin. Bring in the first candidate."

Daniel nodded to a servant, who opened the door and called the first student. A nervous young man, the son of a viscount, stepped forward. He stammered through his introduction, his hands trembling as he presented his qualifications.

Famina leaned toward Daniel, her voice low. "He’s mediocre at best. No presence, no charisma."

Daniel smirked. "Give him a chance. Not everyone shines in their first moment."

As the interviews continued, the candidates varied in skill and confidence. Some impressed with their eloquence, others faltered under Mandira’s piercing questions. Famina grew increasingly restless, her thoughts drifting to the mysterious butler outside.

"Who was that man with Lady Christina?" she whispered to Daniel during a brief pause.

Daniel shrugged, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "No idea. But Archmage seemed taken with him. That’s... unusual."

Coincidentally, the next candidate to enter the room was none other than Christina Percival herself, which caused the atmosphere in the room to shift quite a bit, as everyone had their own agenda with her—except Famina, who didn’t want Christina in the student council.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, her head held high and quickly took her seat in a lady like position.

Inside, Daniel greeted her with a warm smile. "Lady Christina, welcome. Please, tell us why you wish to join the student council."

Christina’s voice was steady, though her hands trembled slightly. "I believe the student council should represent all students, not just those of high rank. I may be a baron’s daughter, but I’ve studied governance, strategy, and swordmanship diligently. I want to serve the academy and my nation and prove that skill matters more than blood."

Famina’s lips twitched, but she said nothing. Mandira leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Bold words. Tell me, what specific contributions would you make?"

Christina hesitated, then spoke with conviction. "I’d advocate for fairer representation in academy events. Too often, lower-ranking students are overlooked for leadership roles."

Daniel nodded, clearly impressed. "A fresh perspective. Thank you, Christina."

As she left the room, Christina felt a mix of relief and anxiety. Had she done enough? She glanced at Shennong, who stood near the door, his emerald eyes watching her with quiet confidence. He gave her a small nod, as if to say, You did well.

Back inside, Famina leaned toward Daniel. "She’s... not terrible when it comes to talking but do you realize how insane her words were?"

The Archmage heard Famina’s words but chose to ignore them, knowing that these pure noble supremacists were always like this. Still, she sensed that everything would collapse someday—and Mandira felt that day was drawing near, with more and more lower-ranking nobles and even commoners proving to be more talented than the pompous aristocrats who only bragged about their lineage.

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