Chapter 305: The Vice President’s Summons
"You have it completely backward, Emily," Arthur whispered, his face inches from hers. "Now get out of my room so I can sleep."
Emily stepped back. Her golden eyes stayed tight with anger and concern.
She wasn’t stupid. She saw the shift in the dynamic, and she knew exactly how dangerous the Student Council could be.
"I don’t care what she looked like in that medical tent," Emily said, her voice dropping to a serious, warning tone. "Amara Harper is older, she’s politically connected, and she is used to getting exactly what she wants. Don’t let her make you responsible for her mess."
Arthur let out a dry breath, offering a light jab to cut the heavy tension in the room.
"You’re talking like I got kidnapped by the Student Council."
Emily gave him one last, hard glare. She walked to the bedroom door, gripping the handle.
"Just lock your balcony," she muttered, before stepping out and shutting the door firmly behind her.
The moment the click of the latch sounded, Arthur dropped the joking expression.
He walked over to his bed and sat down. He looked at his hands, remembering the desperate, trembling way Amara’s fingers had gripped his sleeve in the pitch-black ruins. He thought about the way she had quietly, willingly accepted his fabricated tactical report to save her pride.
[Mission: Tame the Villainess]
Progress Updated.
Sol’s voice chimed briefly in his mind, offering the update without her usual commentary.
Arthur dismissed the system prompt. Saving her from public embarrassment wasn’t the end goal. It was a temporary fix. It didn’t solve the crushing inferiority complex that was slowly driving her toward the demon contract waiting in her future.
He lay back against the mattress.
He wasn’t going to chase her. He had given her an out in the medical tent, and he had given her the Elixir of Potential weeks ago. The next move belonged entirely to her.
If she wanted to speak, she could come to him.
The next morning, the sprawling Vanguard training grounds were cold and overcast.
Squad Two gathered near the tactical observation decks for their normal physical conditioning. Arthur stretched alongside Alicia, Nadia, Akira, and Althea. The group dynamic was mostly intact, though Alicia noticed immediately that Emily—standing by the tactical monitors—was much quieter and more watchful than usual.
Cedric walked past with Alex’s squad, tossing a mock salute toward Arthur.
"They dropped a whole transit hub on your head and you didn’t even ruin your hair, Ludwig," Cedric joked. "Leave some glory for the rest of us."
Arthur brushed it off with a lazy wave. Nobody in the squad openly discussed Amara. The faculty review was still ongoing, and the rumors were already flying around campus, but Squad Two kept their mouths shut.
A few minutes later, the heavy doors to the briefing room opened.
Amara Harper walked in.
She was the acting commander for the joint-operation debrief. To the rest of the room, she looked absolutely flawless. She wore a fresh pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a pristine, perfectly tailored uniform. Arthur’s eyes tracked the incredibly slight, almost imperceptible stiffness in her right thigh—the only lingering evidence of the deep laceration beneath her trousers. She hid it perfectly.
She didn’t look helpless.
Amara stepped up to the podium and delivered a sharp, ruthlessly competent breakdown of the Sector 4 disaster.
She noted Squad Two’s excessive destructive output. She openly criticized her own command for failing to account for the unstable architectural structures of the transit hub. She pointed out that the collapse had successfully exposed a critical gap in the Academy’s simulation safeguards.
"Future operations in urban environments will require clearer retreat lines and strict mana-reserve limits for commanding officers," Amara stated firmly.
She did not blame Arthur. She did not reveal the false report.
She proved exactly why she was the Vice President, taking control of the narrative with cold, military efficiency.
As the briefing wrapped up, a cocky second-year student near the back leaned against the wall, muttering loudly enough for the front row to hear.
"Strict mana-reserve limits," the second-year scoffed to his friend. "Translation: the Ice Queen panicked and burned her core empty before the swarm even hit."
Before Amara could snap her gaze toward the back of the room, Arthur cut in. He didn’t stand up. He just leaned back in his chair, speaking casually over the murmurs.
"The Vice President kept the structure standing long enough for everyone else to get clear," Arthur said, his voice carrying easily across the room. "If you have a better plan, volunteer for the next collapse."
The room went dead silent. The second-year shut his mouth, suddenly very interested in his boots.
It was a simple, calculated move. It supported the official report without making Arthur look like he was openly simping for her.
Amara noticed. She glanced at him, her storm-grey eyes unreadable, before returning to her datapad.
More importantly, Emily noticed. From her spot by the monitors, Emily’s eyes narrowed. She realized Arthur was actively protecting Amara’s public position, but she couldn’t tell if he was helping the Vice President or being manipulated by her.
As the students filed out of the briefing room, Alicia walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Arthur.
She had caught the brief, loaded look exchanged between the first-year and the Vice President. Alicia didn’t start a fight or raise her voice. She simply looked straight ahead and murmured, "You collect difficult women like cursed artifacts."
Arthur smirked, adjusting the collar of his jacket.
"At least cursed artifacts are honest," he replied.
After the physical conditioning drills concluded, Arthur felt his comm-device buzz in his pocket.
He pulled it out in the locker room. It was a secure message sent through the private contact channel Amara had given him during their first tense encounter at the campus café weeks ago.
The text was short, formal, and devoid of any emotion.
Amara Harper: Student Council Office. 1900 hours. Come alone.
Arthur stared at the glowing screen for a second.
[The Ice Queen is finally making the first move, Host,] Sol chimed in, a hint of amusement in her digital voice.
It’s not a date, Sol, Arthur thought back dryly. It’s about the false report, the cave, and whatever she plans to do with the elixir.
He locked his device and tossed it into his bag.
By the time Tuesday evening rolled around, the sun had fully set over the academy.
Arthur walked across the quiet campus toward the Student Council building. The crisp night air did little to cool the thoughts running through his head.
He remembered Emily’s warning from the night before. She’s used to getting what she wants.
He knew exactly what this meeting was going to be. Amara was going to try and reassert control. She might threaten his squad’s resources, restrict their armory access, or demand a magical contract of silence regarding her breakdown in the ruins.
Arthur walked up the stone steps of the building.
He decided right then that he would not allow her to turn their rescue into a political debt. He wouldn’t let her bury the truth behind paperwork and rank. But at the same time, he decided he wouldn’t use her fear against her.
He had the leverage to crush her pride completely, but taking the cruel route would just break her, not build her.
He reached the heavy mahogany door at the end of the second-floor hallway.
The polished brass plaque read: Vice President — Amara Harper
Arthur didn’t knock. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Amara looked up from the paperwork on her desk. The office was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of a mana lamp. She looked cold, sharp, and perfectly controlled.
"Close the door, Ludwig," she said.
Comments