My name is Himeko Yamamoto. My family kept me from magical girls, charming guys, and a responsibility to protect countless lives at a young age. Luckily, my doctor promised that at 17 I'd be too old to save the world, and I'd finally be a normal per...
I've only been to the Student Council room once to run an errand for Misaki. Since then, nothing has changed - the looming wooden cabinets, wide work desk, and huge windows. At the center of the room were gaudy red sofas and a glass coffee table. I recognized the cookies on the plates - Paris's grandmother co-founded Kim Confectionery, a line of bakeries dedicated to expensive sweets. All her iconic cookies - butter, sugar, chocolate chip, sea salt - were here.
Paris sat beside of me. He couldn't stop shoving sweets into my mouth, to the point where I gave up and ate them all. Across from us, Adam poured tea, and Feng kept checking his phone. Did he have something after this, or was he just bored?
Finally, I mustered all my courage to ask this question: "How did you know it was me?"
The president just leaned back and sighed. "Back at Alessa Zhang's concert, I saw my underclassman Yui Kimura hold you up. I must apologize, Star Child, for my actions. I would've cost you your life -"
"I'm not fit to be a Star Child. I have a weak body, and poor strategies...and I don't know how I'd deal with your fangirls!"
Feng pocketed his cellphone and sat up. "We have funds to hire personal trainers and bodyguards, Ms. Yamamoto," he fixed his gaze on me. "And I can donate my collection of tactical combat books."
"Please," I blurted, "Let's all go by a first-name basis."
"Understood."
Adam picked up a manila envelope off the floor, opened it, and handed me its contents - several contract forms. "We've already signed them. Chairman Cheng is proposing we assemble as a unit, which means all of us will be busier than before." That's right - our headmaster believed in students defending themselves from monsters as a means of magic practice.
One of the papers explained Cheng's plan: he would hire freelancers to complete Student Council work, like writing speeches to budgeting. Of course, Elodie would still work with Photography Club to make this year's scrapbook. All these changes meant Adam, Feng, and Paris would have more time for...me.
I noticed only one signature box remained. "Do my parents have to sign anything?"
"No," Feng handed me his fountain pen. "It's your decision, though I highly suggest you accept right now."
My decision. I quivered at the thought. In the past, my parents made all my choices - what to wear, who to befriend, where to go, how to live - all to keep me alive. Now here I was in the Student Council room with this life-changing decision: to be, or not to be a Star Child?
"Why are you hesitating?" the vice president fixed his glasses. "Perhaps, you're hiding something from us?"
Paris grabbed my hands. "Himeko, please! We swear to protect you from any harm, so if there's anything we need to know..."
"That's right," Adam furrowed his brows. "What does this princess request of us?"
The words couldn't stop echoing in my head. My decision, my decision, my decision! Would I die if I picked the wrong one? Chose the wrong words? Loved the wrong person?
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"A week," I stood up and walked towards the exit. "Please, give me a week to think this over. I...need some space."
Shutting the doors, I heard Adam muttered under his breath: "This is not good."
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Thrusting the contracts into my bag, I wondered: did I do the right thing? Did I say the right words? Did I leave the Student Council with the right attitude?
"How DARE you," an upperclassman clacked her feet at me. "How dare you, an underclassman with no background whatsoever, to receive special treatment from the Student Council!"
What.
"You're a nobody!" she placed both hands on her hips. "I co-founded Adam-sama's fanclub, I spent three years trying to get Feng-sama's attention, yet..! This commoner, this woman with no status!"
Ah.
Grace Shio, eldest daughter of the Shio Group's founder, Kentaro Shio. An ex-member of Feng Li's fanclub. She spreaded hurtful rumors to get what she wants. I should've cowered in fear, got on my knees, and begged for forgiveness, so I could stay out of harm's way, but I stood my ground and looked her in the eye. "Classic," I walked past her.
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Why did I act so fearless?
I could feel her eyes tear through my body, sending chills down my spine. Yet, I never looked back.
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Two days later, I woke up afraid to face myself in the mirror. Long brown hair, brown eyes - who was she? "It's real," I muttered to myself, and I grabbed my hair dye from a nearby cabinet. Yui asked me if my genes still produced crimson hair, and I had no answer.
"Almost all otome protagonists have brown hair," she said from the other side of our dorm. "Maybe you should leave it be. We have thirty minutes to get to class, and that dye takes longer."
"I can skip."
"You hate making up quizzes in her class, though!"
"It's just this one time," I spread my hair care tools on the vanity. "I can't even show my face like this!"
I told Yui everything that happened in the Student Council meeting. Being a Star Child. Having school funds poured into my work. All the eyes on me, and the pressure to defeat every unbeatable monster on campus. What if I screw up Chairman Cheng's name? What if I get bullied by other students? Oh wait, Grace Shio.
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"My favorite rumor about you is that you made a man lose his wife at the train station," Yui laughed at her phone. "Seriously, couldn't Grace think of anything better?" Yesterday, I dodged ten attempts at tripping me, two falling buckets of water, seven insults, and countless glares. My brown hair could either be a disguise or another tool for rumors. Maybe Grace was just bored, or had a god complex?
Nevertheless, it still felt like my fault. Because they always hung out with me, students put the Kimura twins on their radars. Yui promised she would resume digging dirt on Aila, but I doubt she could with her current reputation. For now, I decided it would be best to lay low, skip class, and conduct research in the library.
Yui almost stepped on an extravagant gift basket, filled with homemade sweets and a letter from Elodie expressing her thanks for the other day. I watched my roommate's face flush red. What was going on between them?
