(Dazai Crowley's POV)
Cerulean Academy, Present Day
The Student Representative Event. This trial would mark the very start of our school year. And judging from the rules they've established, I'm certain the outcome would have a great impact on our future.
Naturally, further discussion was already underway.
"Any questions?"
Multiple hands were raised. From amongst the crowd, Mrs. Gwein had to pick one in particular.
"What exactly is a Student Representative?"
"Just like the name suggests, they "represent" your class as a whole. Meaning they take on the official role as your leader. For better context…—hmm. Oh, I know. Just think of them like special class presidents, except with more power, so to speak."
Class presidents, eh?
Poor choice of words there, teach.
One student in particular scoffed at her words.
"Class presidents? Hah. Why should we even bother with such a title? It's not like they are even important, let alone necessary in the first place."
It was a remark that came from a student, who, if I remember correctly, was named Kite Marcellus.
Other students rallied behind his statement.
Understandably, too.
However—
"—Please shut up."
An unexpected retort was shot from left field. A retort that came from Esmes Montoya herself.
"Huh!?"
Surprised, Kite turned his attention towards her.
"The fuck you say!?"
Esmes simply sighed.
"Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I don't seem to recall anybody ever asking for your personal opinion on the matter. So instead of trying to derail the conversation, I suggest you be quiet and listen."
"Oi, are you trying to pick a fight with me!?"
Offended, Kite stands up and raises his voice.
Esmes sighs and waves her fan, showing no intention on going back and forth with him.
"Tch…—whatever."
With all eyes on him, Kite had to sit back down.
Meanwhile, Ryoku stood up, getting us back on track.
"Yes, Ryoku?"
"Just to be certain, how important is this "Student Representative" role exactly?"
"Do you even need to ask?"
"Not really, but personally I believe it would be better to state it's true worth to all of us first."
It was a question concerning whether or not this role was even worth pursuing in the first place.
But most importantly—it was Ryoku's first move.
Mrs. Gwein stops for a moment to think.
"True worth, huh. Well, to be honest, its "true worth" is really only decided by how exactly the class intends to utilize the role specifically."
Ryoku raised her eyebrow.
"What does that supposed to mean?"
"You're free to take that however you will. For now though, let's just say that role will serve to be quite the double edged sword. Now as to how powerful that "sword" is exactly is determined by the class."
"And if we were to use it to its fullest potential?"
"Hmm…—well, let's just say "that" person will have a lot of responsibilities to deal with moving forward."
It was an answer that neither properly explained itself, nor concealed everything either.
In short, the role of leader was a variable whose strength was something we ourselves had to decide.
"—Yes, I figured as much."
Satisfied, Ryoku smiled.
Now why exactly did she smile?
It was because her choice of words was more than sufficient for what was about to happen next.
"Responsibilities". The very word alone was enough to repel interest from most of the other students.
Understandably, too.
Ever since middle school, the role of Class President has always served only one very simple purpose.
To embody the will of the class as a whole and the act upon their collective wishes as its mouthpiece.
On paper, it doesn't sound all that difficult. And generally, it's not. The problem however lies within the title of it. Being the Class President means you are forced to stand out. When that happens, on the off chance that the teacher may require additional help from a student, the president will immediately be their first target.
In other words, it means that, more than likely, you may be susceptible to other tasks that exist outside your original responsibility.
Because of this, being a Class President doesn't amount to hardly much in terms of benefits.
If anything, it would be detrimental to the student in question seeing as how they would most likely be reduced to nothing more than a mere errand boy.
No human wants to be an errand boy. And no student wants to work more than they should.
That's why most students find the occupation to be completely useless, if not, a horrible curse. A curse to which one could only pray to not be caught by.
To that extent, I sort of agree with them.
Atleast to, again, a certain extent.
—However, there is one thing I cannot ignore with.
And it seems a few others have noticed it as well.
For now though, from start to finish, I decided to silently watch the situation play out before me.
Ryoku decided to back out as well.
Assuming her preparations were complete, she would only need to simply wait.
Soon after, another person raised their hand.
"Sensei?"
"What is it?"
"You said that usually the competitions and tests that the school gives out will be accompanied by some sort of reward. Is there any for this event?"
"No, I'm afraid. This test in particular is a special exception. However, it's not something you should easily neglect either."
"....Does this have to do with the "small penalty" on rule 5, perhaps?"
"Indeed. If you fail to nominate a leader by the end of the month, I'm afraid I will have to deduct 100 points from our class's Set Amount."
"....Damn!!"
"100!!?"
Naturally, students immediately complained.
For Class D, 100 points wasn't by, no means, a "small amount". Losing that much now this early into the game would only worsen our already uphill battle.
This was a trial with obligatory profit, yet a trial littered with nothing but devastating cons.
Only few would have any interest in taking part.
But if we want to avoid being put at a disadvantage, we would have no other choice but to face this trial.
—Points aside though, perhaps there was another way to profit in "this" exam in particular…
If such a prize did exist however, I wonder who would be the first to obtain…—"that".
The answer to that was already set in stone.