"Denied."
Lee Sae-a's razor-sharp refusal made me click my tongue inwardly.
Though, honestly, I understood completely.
Lee Sae-a despised delinquents with a passion.
A guy who looked every bit the troublemaker walking in and saying he wanted to join the student council?
I'd have turned him down flat too.
"Shouldn't you at least give me an interview?"
"…Are you genuinely serious about joining the student council?"
"If I weren't, I wouldn't have waited until after school and come all the way here."
"I assumed it was some tasteless prank."
Reading her reaction, it was clear Lee Sae-a had no intention of welcoming me with open arms.
Well, fair enough. If she'd greeted someone who looked like me with open arms, I'd have been the suspicious one.
*I need to change her perception of me, somehow.*
The student council was the one place that could help with university admissions while still leaving me personal time.
So first, I had to shatter her prejudice against me.
Fortunately, I had the knowledge of the original story.
I knew exactly what she needed right now.
*The current Lee Sae-a must be drowning in an overwhelming workload, running herself ragged.*
With my exceptional mind and my ability, solving a problem like hers would be simple enough to flip her opinion entirely.
In the original story, there was even an episode where the protagonist naturally grew closer to Lee Sae-a by helping her through her overwork.
*Not that it's any of my concern, of course.*
But that was a future that hadn't happened yet. If the protagonist and Lee Sae-a were destined to end up together, that'd be one thing — but they weren't.
*The protagonist and I haven't even crossed paths yet, after all.*
Honestly, at this point, the original protagonist was practically a stranger to me. I was living my own life. I had no obligation to step aside for him.
So I'd be taking that student council seat, thank you very much.
First come, first served.
"First, I have a question. What is your purpose in wanting to join the student council? I would appreciate an honest answer."
"It helps with university admissions, and I figured I could carve out a lot of free time."
At my completely unvarnished answer, she blinked once.
But only for a moment. She gave a small, dry cough and looked back at me.
"You are candid."
"You asked me to be."
"Most people lie."
"I happen to dislike lying quite a bit."
"That is a commendable attitude."
Then Lee Sae-a gave a small shake of her head and continued.
"However, I am afraid you will be disappointed. Contrary to what you may be imagining, the student council's workload is enormous. Far from securing free time, you would find it taken from you."
"Is that so?"
"If it were otherwise, I would have no reason to still be here after school."
In other words — unless you had an exceptional head on your shoulders, the work would swallow you whole.
Which was a bit of a problem for her argument.
Because using my head happened to be my specialty.
"Let me ask you something. What does the student council gain by selecting you?"
Lee Sae-a fixed me with a sharp look as she posed the question.
"Overwhelming administrative capability."
I answered without hesitation.
Under normal circumstances, I'd have no interest in boasting like this — but now was the time for it.
"I happen to be fairly sharp."
I tapped my temple with one finger.
Most people, seeing me do that, would either burst out laughing or scoff.
A guy who looked like he'd sworn off anything resembling intellectual effort saying something like that — how could it not be absurd?
"Is that so."
But Lee Sae-a's expression didn't shift in the slightest.
She simply gave a small nod, rose from her seat, and picked up a large document envelope.
"Then prove that capability right now. Please take a seat."
Once I'd sat down, she handed me the envelope she'd been holding.
"These are the accounting documents for the upcoming sports festival. Review them within thirty minutes."
A thick stack — easily over twenty pages.
"If you succeed, I will acknowledge your ability. But if you go even a second over time, you will have to give this up quietly."
Thirty minutes for this much?
That was more than enough time to spare.
"Fine. You'll have to keep that promise."
Let's see what I can do.
***
Lee Sae-a was, frankly, baffled.
Someone who looked like he spent his nights wandering around causing trouble was telling her he wanted to join the student council.
It wasn't that she held the student council up as something sacred.
But even so, it wasn't the kind of organization a student this visibly delinquent could just waltz into.
Well — his manner of speaking was, surprisingly, more polite than his appearance suggested.
…Still. She didn't like it.
Looking at someone dressed like that brought back unpleasant memories.
The nightmare of that day kept resurfacing, and she had no desire to face it for long.
*That said — he said overwhelming administrative capability, did he?*
Was it the bluster of a student who simply wanted in?
Or did it come from genuine confidence?
Most likely the former.
Genius was called genius precisely because it was rare.
She couldn't imagine the delinquent in front of her belonging to that rare category.
Haah.
She was already exhausted, and now this.
She wanted to throw him out on the spot.
But that wouldn't satisfy him either.
So she'd given him a task.
A bundle of accounting documents for the sports festival she'd planned to handle tomorrow.
Even for her — someone well-versed in handling paperwork — it took a minimum of thirty minutes.
For a student, it was a volume that would be daunting to even attempt.
If he truly finished reviewing it perfectly…
*Then I'll accept him.*
A student with administrative ability on par with hers was someone she should be welcoming with open arms.
Of course — only if he actually succeeded.
She unwrapped a piece of candy from the stash beneath her desk and popped it into her mouth.
Savoring the sweetness spreading across her tongue, she glanced over at the delinquent.
"……"
She nearly let out a hollow laugh.
He wasn't even reaching for a calculator while reviewing accounting documents.
He didn't even have the basics down.
"Here."
"Hm? Oh — thank you."
The delinquent accepted the calculator with a slightly sheepish, wry smile.
Silence followed.
The only sounds were the turning of pages and the scratch of a ballpoint pen.
On the surface, it seemed to be going smoothly enough.
But Lee Sae-a had more than one or two things that bothered her.
He wasn't reading a manga — so why was he spending so little time on each page?
He'd glance at a receipt for half a second and push it aside.
Was he actually reading the contents properly?
There was no way.
Even executives at major international corporations couldn't read that fast.
Lee Sae-a was beginning to wonder whether this person was taking the test seriously at all.
Haah.
She just wanted to go home…
"I'm finished."
"…Pardon?"
…Had that much time already passed?
She checked the clock.
It had been just about six minutes since the test began.
He hadn't even used the calculator.
And he was claiming he was done?
She took back the neatly organized envelope with a silent click of her tongue.
If he'd at least shown some genuine effort, she'd have sent him off with a kind word.
But this — this left her no choice but to be blunt.
She'd check it first, at least.
Not that it would be anything but a mess.
She began reviewing the documents he'd organized, from the beginning.
And before long —
"……?"
A large question mark rose in her mind.
*…What?*
The documents that should have been a disaster were…
The calculations were correct.
Cross-referencing between documents had been completed.
Sections requiring correction had notes explaining why.
Missing supporting documents had all been tracked down.
There was even a proposed budget improvement.
…This was impossible.
*Why is it perfect?*
Was she seeing things?
As that thought flickered through her mind, her head tilted slightly.
Wait — this one calculation looked slightly off.
She ran it through the calculator again. Sure enough, the number was wrong.
But that was it.
After that, not a single other error.
Flawless work.
One arithmetic mistake — that was all she'd found.
She didn't want to admit it, but she had no choice.
The delinquent in front of her was, at minimum, her equal.
Possibly a monster with administrative ability that surpassed even hers.
"…Review complete. Your ability is certainly impressive. Aside from one arithmetic error, the review was without fault."
"An arithmetic error?"
"Look here."
Lee Sae-a handed him the document with the single miscalculation.
He studied it for a moment.
Then immediately let out a quiet, amused breath.
"Ah, this? This isn't an arithmetic error."
"Pardon?"
"Could you hand me the sports festival master budget summary? And the tent vendor quote as well."
She complied without argument.
"If you look here, this vendor's quote has been added twice. And over here, the tax has been applied twice. Also, the number of classes decreased by one compared to last year, but the budget was carried over unchanged."
"……"
"If you factor all of that in and recalculate…"
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His large frame belied the swift, precise movements of his fingers as he worked the calculator.
A number appeared on the display.
"You get this — the correct figure."
The exact number she had flagged as an arithmetic error.
She wordlessly picked up the calculator.
And recalculated, following his explanation.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The result didn't change.
The fatigue that had been dulling Lee Sae-a's eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a sudden, sharp light.