Days Union Oneshot Book [DISCONTINUED]

i do however miss feeling happy

A/N: i cant tell if i wanna call this the lost oneshot or the month-late Christmas present that i unpublished a few days after Christmas. either way it's back woooo

also note: this is a REWRITE of Milian. DO NOT SUPPORT VANDRIS MILIAN OR HIS ADMIN (or i will find you and switch out your sugar for salt 😁)

* * *

Tomorrow would decide the future of the Days Union. Tomorrow, vicious debates and competition that could crack the sturdiest emotional walls would find themselves in front of live camera lenses for all of the nation to see. Tomorrow, the civilians would place votes for their best candidate—the best candidate. Insults would hurl themselves at opponents like hail, cheers and boos would echo through the streets of Yutir, and the history of Vorbeckia—Zirianata itself—would change.

But tonight, the candidates chose to cast away such a looming pressure and relax.

An election of this caliber to instill an individual into the Union government was a rather modern concept for Vorbeckia; government officials took to the habit of handpicking who they deemed the best for the roles, even to the extent of choosing the Supreme Leader itself in such a manner. As a result, the electees found no celebratory tradition planned for them the night before their biggest day yet—not even a guest stay in a fine hotel or a personal meeting with the benefactors one of them would soon have the honor of working with.

So they placed the responsibility upon themselves to organize one.

"How long will this take, again? If the other City Guards were not so kind to take my duties, I would have lost my job just to attend this!" Izyaur complained as the group of five walked toward the tavern.

Chanoch rolled his eyes, "You could have declined the event if you so wished. After all, you did enter this election rather late—"

"Oh, can't we save the debates for tomorrow? We're meant to spend this night having fun before the big day!" Calypso shut down the argument by skipping between them. "Come on! The tavern's just up ahead!"

As Milian brushed invisible dust off of his pristine white coat, he sneered, "Could we not have gone to a more... sophisticated place? We're entering the ground of the common!"

Chanoch cringed in disgusted irritation. "Good luck becoming the people's Governor with that sentiment."

Behind the four other candidates, Synictis trailed behind at a slower pace, their four eyes carefully observing each candidate. Izyaur's apprehension over such small details regarding tonight's plans plastered all over him his insecurity and anxiety about the election like a public poster. Milian's instinctive snobbishness had always lost him the favor of the people—almost to the point where it seemed hopeless for him to run for Governor, yet hopefully, tonight would be the tipping point for the end of either his foolish notion or the people's hope in him. Calypso was a harder case to discern; their optimism never ceased, even as far as this odd "tradition" they sought to create. Maybe tonight would confirm their theory about the Yellow Candidate's optimism being a facade after a few drinks and a gateway to a secret-spilling episode. And of course, Chanoch's argumentative behavior could easily give away some weak points about his character, especially under the influence of some hard alcohol.

And yet, Synictis wondered if this is how they wished to spend the night. While everyone else drank and laughed the pressure of tomorrow away, Synictis would have to spend it silently watching with a calm smile to report it back to the Coalition. Would even the tiniest celebration await their potential victory in the election? Likely not, as their victory was not a possibility—it was an order. Did they really want to waste one night offering them their first moment of hilarity and joy for the sake of futile spying efforts?