Start of the Student Council Election

<Lala>

I had been summoned to the Social Studies Room, also known as the “Liberal Room.” It was where members of the liberal party within the student council gathered. Rumor had it they were also connected to liberal parties in the adult world, such as Edgehope Corporation.

“So you’re Lala, right? I hear you want to run for student council secretary.”

“Yes.”

I had planned to run without any party affiliation, so it was surprising that someone reached out to me. The person speaking was a former student vice president, a stout individual wearing glasses.

“Traditionally, the position of secretary goes to a first-year student. But this year, we don’t have any new first-year candidates from liberal families who want to run. We can’t officially endorse you, but we could give you our recommendation.”

“I… see.”

It was an unexpected offer. Student council elections aren’t easy—you can’t just run without any support base and expect to win.

If I accepted their recommendation, my chances of actually becoming secretary would shoot up.

From what I could tell, it wasn’t a bad proposal.

“So here’s the deal.”

He placed a thick, dictionary-sized book and a stapled booklet of about thirty pages in front of me.

“I want you to memorize everything in here and base your campaign speech on it.”

“Does that mean I can’t give a speech in my own words?”

“Does that matter? Society is full of constraints, and very few people get to say or do exactly what they want. If you really want to follow your own path, you can do that once you’re over seventy. When you’re young, you endure and pay your dues—that’s how the world works.”

“But…”

“I’ve heard rumors about you. You want to be a politician someday, right? Then you must know it’s reckless to run without a support base. It’s rare for an unaffiliated candidate to get elected to our student council. So you’ll just have to follow our party’s rules.”

“…”

I decided to look through the booklet first, leaving the thick book for later.

“They’ve already decided on the campaign promises…?”

“So what if they have?”

“One of them mentions free tuition for honor students…”

“Yes. If someone is truly capable, they should have an equal opportunity regardless of gender, race, or status. That’s what free competition is all about. Don’t you think that’s a wonderful principle of equality?”

“But the standard for ‘honor student’ hinges on classical language grades, right?”

“So what?”

“Classical language dictionaries and pronunciation software are expensive. Only families with enough money can afford them. On the surface, it looks like an equal chance for all genders, races, and social classes, but in reality, economic disparity directly translates into academic performance. It’s basically a hollow policy.”

“They can just go to the library.”

“Classical dictionaries are always in high demand, so there’s a long waiting list. Wealthier students won’t face that delay.”

“But I heard you yourself got top scores in classical language, Lala. No matter your circumstances, you proved that hard work can overcome obstacles.”

“That’s only because my father risked his life working as a mercenary to pay for me…”

I swallowed the words that would have revealed he lost his life in the process.

“See? If you work hard, you can pull it off. A free market rewards effort. Anything else in the campaign promises you’re concerned about?”

“The promise about expanding the diversity enrollment slots…”

“Yes, we’re giving more minorities a chance to enroll in the school.”

“But the selection criteria are unclear. It ends up favoring wealthy minorities who—”

In my mind, it would actually be fairer to use something like a purely skills-based vocal audition that doesn’t consider race. If people think certain backgrounds receive preferential treatment, it’ll increase public resentment toward liberal policies. We should focus on equality of opportunity, not forced equality. Ultimately, capable and motivated minorities will bear the brunt. I tried to say that, but he cut me off.

“You’re getting annoying. Should I withdraw our recommendation? Is that what you want? You do want to build a career in the student council, don’t you?”

“I… understand.”

I squeezed my hands tightly over my skirt.

“Glad you see it my way. Since I never know what you might say, I’ll prepare a script. Just read it during the campaign speech.”

“…Yes.”

I left the Social Studies Room.

“Lala? What’s wrong? You look terrible. You okay?”

My roommate, Forte, peered into my face, worried.

“Ugh… Waaah!”

I couldn’t hold back my emotions and threw myself into her arms, tears streaming down my face.

“H-Hey, Lala! What’s going on? Is it something you can’t talk about?”

I couldn’t discuss it with Forte. This was about how I intended to live my life.

I was standing at a major crossroads, deciding what to accomplish and which path to follow. The time had come for me to be tested.