Gate Guardian - Song of the Frozen Soul

PHASE 12 EXTRA - THE FRIENDZONE CLUB PROMOTION

PHASE 12 EXTRA - THE FRIENDZONE CLUB PROMOTION

Hey guys, your king Alaric Eisenhower is here. I know you missed my narration, but sadly, I won’t be doing it for a while. But hey, at least you will be with the arrogant heartthrob for this filler chapter.

I’m about to enter the organization that I have convicted myself into, the Friendzone Club. Their office is just beside the locker rooms, a few meters away from the dirty storage room. Well, the club office was originally the Storage Room 1, but who cares. At least the club has an office.

I’m holding a hiking bag full of school supplies. It’s quite heavy, but it’s required for me to do this. I also have this envelope that contains my formal documents in this club.

When I opened the door, I was wordlessly welcomed by a man in a plague doctor’s cloak.

We both had a stare for about five seconds until he finally spread his arm, pointing to the bench. He’s silently saying “Have a seat.”

I know it’s creepy, but you’ll get used to it.

The club room is not different from the storage room nearby. It’s quite a mess. There are plague doctors surrounding a pentagram, muttering creepy chants.

There is also this one plague doctor that is holding a naked barbie. He is puncturing it with a needle while laughing like a sadistic madman.

And some of the best-voiced plague doctors are singing “Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl ftaghn.” repeatedly while dabbing left and right. I don’t want to look at them. I don’t even want to listen. I hope I won’t turn into Cthulhu.

I sat silently and stared nervously at the ceiling. I made a deep inhale and sighed with a heavy exhale. I should be fine. I should be fine. I muttered to myself.

Suddenly, I heard a loud yell that says “Next!!!”

The plague doctor beside me nodded, and I nodded back. Then, he escorted me to the Friendzone Club President’s Office.

<>

In front of me is the club president, sitting on his desk. He’s a black man wearing leather armor and shades that would easily mistake him as Blade from the movie Blade (Duh). But instead of wielding guns, he’s holding a banana.

He’s Mark Kevin Smith. The President...or more like the Servant-Leader of the Friendzone Club. He gave me the warm welcome with his deep voice.

“Welcome, King Alaric Eisenhower, the first of his name, God of Arrogance and Rejection, Right Hand of the Anti-Feminism Rebellion, Co-Author of the Demonic Cutie-Poll, and a certified asshole. What can I do for you?”

“You already know why I came here, Your Grace.” I bowed elegantly like an aristocrat, then I presented him my application paper.

“This is…” the President is shocked. “This is an application for the promotion into a High Priest… Are you sure you have what it takes to be fit in that position?”

“Of course.” I smirked.

The President started to read my application form. “Your recent rejection by the Ultimate Idol Tiara Hikari certainly grants you the privilege for this position. You have already complied the requirements of crying twelve days and twelve nights without anyone seeing your manly tears. But the last requirement… You know what is it, right?”

“Yes, Your Grace. The offering to the god of Friendzones.” I bowed again as I presented my offering, which my large hiking bag.

“Let’s see what you can contribute with our society.” The president said.