“Hello everyone,” Alena began, her voice calm yet carrying across the hall.

“I am Alena Beaumont, your Student Council President. I won’t take much of your time, as most of you already know my abilities.

As you know, we worked together two years ago, and I hope I created the conditions you wanted and did not disappoint you.

To those who were not present during my previous term, it is a great honor to stand before you. Thank you for your trust.

I will do my utmost to fulfill your expectations, maintain order, and satisfy your needs as best as I can.

To the students who have recently joined our school, congratulations on the new academic year, and welcome to our institution.”

The applause that followed was polite yet firm. New students smiled admiringly, while returning ones merely exchanged knowing looks.

“She’s polite, yes…” one whispered, “…but when crossed, she’s just as terrifying as Kalen.”

Kalen stepped forward next, posture straight, voice firm, and commanding.

“Hello everyone. I am Kalen Vinderholt. Congratulations on the start of the academic year and best wishes for success in your studies.

As some of you may recall, I served as President of the Disciplinary Committee two years ago, so you should already know the level of discipline I demand—regardless of gender or status.

For those who joined us later, please note that irresponsibility will not be forgiven. Follow the rules, and we will get along well.

Once again, I wish you all success in your academic life.”

Even the freshmen instinctively straightened their posture. His tone left no room for doubt.

The headmaster nodded, satisfied.

“Thank you to both presidents for their words. Now, Vice Presidents—anything you’d like to add?”

The vice presidents stepped forward politely.

“It is an honor to work alongside you,” said one.

“We will do our best to maintain order and support your leadership,” added the other.

For formality’s sake, Alena and Kalen shook hands with the vice presidents, exchanging short, polite congratulations.

Then, under the quiet gaze of the crowd, they turned toward each other.

“Congratulations, President Vinderholt,” Alena said smoothly, extending her hand.

“Likewise, President Beaumont.”

Their hands met—polite in appearance, yet both tightened their grip slightly.

It wasn’t a handshake anymore; it was a test of will.

“Still as competitive as ever,” she murmured through her smile.

“I’d call it consistency,” he replied just as evenly.

Neither blinked until the crowd’s polite laughter broke the tension. They released each other’s hands simultaneously.

---

Backstage

The moment the curtains fell, the atmosphere shifted from ceremony to reality.

The former Student Council President and Disciplinary Head—now 11th graders—approached them with teasing smiles.

“Well, well,” the girl said playfully. “Looks like the throne’s been reclaimed. Back to ruling the stage, huh? How does it feel to survive this time as well?”

Alena crossed her arms lightly. “Survive? I’d call it returning home.”

Kalen raised a brow. “At least this time, the committee’s records won’t go missing halfway through the semester.”

“Hey, that was an accident!” the boy protested, grinning. “Anyway, congratulations, seniors. Try not to make us look too bad.”

“Can’t promise that,” Alena muttered under her breath. Kalen gave her a sideways look—half disapproval, half amusement.

The juniors laughed and waved off, leaving them alone in the corridor.

---

“Let’s find our classroom,” Alena said finally.

They navigated the crowded halls, dodging groups of excited students and echoing chatter.

After a few wrong turns and sarcastic remarks, they managed to locate their room.

The homeroom teacher was already inside, arms crossed.

“You’re late,” she said, though her tone softened a moment later. “Come on in. Find any open seat and sit down.”

The two exchanged a look—half relief, half exhaustion—before stepping inside together.