Welcome to the Classroom of Espers (Classroom of the Elite x The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Chapter 9: Student Council President

What kind of image does the word student council bring to mind?

An organization that runs school events, acts as role models for the students, and exchanges opinions with teachers on equal footing to ensure everything runs smoothly.

That’s the sort of student council often depicted in fiction.

Strictly speaking, the student council refers to all the students enrolled in a school. From among them, candidates are recruited, and those elected by vote become council officers or executives who handle school events, preparations, and cooperate with teachers to create a better environment for the students.

So how does it work at this school?

The student council president is chosen through candidacy, and if there are multiple candidates, by a student vote.

However, the other officers are appointed or recommended by the president. Technically, one can still volunteer, but unless the president approves, they cannot become an officer.

That’s why Ichinose-san wasn’t able to become a council officer.

. . .

I’m here at the student council room, having thoroughly read the student handbook we received at the entrance ceremony.

Since it’s just before exams, the area is rather deserted.

But while I came all the way here, the fact remains that, just like us first-years, the upperclassmen in second and third year are also about to face their exams.

I’d heard that club activities are voluntary around this time, but I wondered how things are for the student council.

Now that I think about it, Ichinose-san said she had Hoshinomiya-sensei arrange an appointment for her.

I could have done the same, but if Hoshinomiya-sensei knew I had gone to meet with the student council officers, she’d probably get suspicious and start prying, which would be a pain. That’s why I ended up just loitering in front of the council room without an appointment.

(Hm...? There’s someone in front of the student council room. I didn’t hear anything about anyone coming today though.)

Only council officers are allowed to use this room.

I figured maybe one of them wanted to study for exams here—and it seems I was right.

“What brings you here? Do you have some business with the student council?”

(I don’t recognize this face. Must be a first-year.)

Well, of course he doesn’t recognize me—it’s our first meeting.

So this is the famous Horikita Manabu, the student council president said to be the greatest in the school’s history.

Since enrollment, he has led Class 1-A from the front, known for his intellect and martial skill.

The reason I knew who the president was right away is, of course, my ability.

Based on what Kanzaki and Ichinose-san told me, I used my clairvoyance to check Class 3-A and immediately noticed the aura he gave off, which is clearly different from the rest.

At first glance, with the control device removed and his hair dyed black, he could almost be mistaken for me. But seeing him up close—man, he’s got some sharp eyes.

(Yesterday it was Ichinose, the other day it was Katsuragi. Seems like this year’s first-years are unusually eager about the student council.)

“If you’ve come because you want to join the student council, then know that we’re in exam period right now. If you have business, the proper procedure is to arrange it beforehand through a teacher.”

Unfortunately, I have no interest in the student council.

Maybe it was wrong of me not to make an appointment, but if word got out that I’d met the president like this, it would just cause unnecessary trouble.

“Not the council, but me personally…? (Personal business with me? I don’t see it.) State your name and class.”

Standing around in the hallway wasn’t ideal. I gestured toward the locked student council room, suggesting we step inside.

“(Hoh…) Normally, that should be my line. But fine—you’re right.”

Apparently, the president was reasonable. He unlocked the door and let me in.

“There are no surveillance cameras in here. Now then, answer my question.”

My name is Kusuo Saiki. First-year, Class 1-B.

“(Class B? Same as Ichinose.) Saiki, what business do you have with me?”

Good—he wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. I appreciated that.

I told him what I’d heard: that there were past exam papers for the first-year midterms. And that I figured the student council president was the most likely person to have them.

“Who told you?”

If I said “my homeroom teacher,” that might get someone’s head chopped off.

This school strictly regulates what information teachers can pass on to students.

For example, they’re not allowed to disclose the specific reasons behind Class Point deductions or the exact amounts lost.

Of course, I already know nearly all of it.

At least, when teachers tell Classes D and C that failing grades will mean expulsion, they’re allowed to hint that there are ways to clear the hurdle other than simply studying hard—though without spelling it out.

That’s probably the excuse I should use here.

“I see. Then let me answer you plainly: yes, past exams exist. And yes, I have them.”

(If anyone was going to show up for this, I expected it from Class C or D. Didn’t think it would be someone from B. Still… judging from his attitude, he wasn’t after the contents themselves, but simply confirmation that they exist.)

Apparently satisfied, the president even had the past papers neatly digitized into PDF format on his device.

All that was left was to compare them with the copies I had reproduced via mind projection, to confirm their authenticity.

“And? What do you plan to do with them?”

(If he just wanted confirmation, things end here. But if he wants to buy, I could let them go for around 30,000 points.)

I wanted to verify them against my reproduced versions anyway, so I’d buy them.

Still, 30,000 for past papers was steep. I only needed to confirm them. Maybe I’d just buy one subject. At 6,000 points, that would be manageable.

“What? Just math?”

(Is he focusing on his weakest subject? Or maybe he burned too many points back in April and can’t afford to splurge? But Class B should have been given around 70,000 points in total.)

One subject is enough for confirmation.

So then, should I just transfer the points to you?

“Are you sure about that? Just one subject?”

(In my year, it was all five subjects, plus the late-April quizzes and answer sheets thrown in.)

Ah, so the quizzes were meant as additional confirmation material.

But I don’t need them.

The only real use would be reselling them at a markup to the other classes, but I’m not hurting for points at the moment.

Besides, Class D is supposedly at zero points this month. Taking points from them now would only hurt my reputation. I’m not foolish enough to play the scalper.

I pressed the president for the bare minimum, and he confirmed the payment amount.

(6,000? Did he already anticipate that I’d price it at 30,000?)

“10,000. That’s the going rate for a weak subject, isn’t it?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have named my own price first.

Still, it’s a necessary expense—I’ll pay it.

“…Let me ask you, Saiki. Are you really bad at math?”

I’m not, actually. But it was the most plausible excuse for buying just one subject.

Isn’t it normal to spend 10,000 points to make sure you don’t fail your weakest test?

(The insight to notice the existence of past papers. The initiative to come directly to me to confirm it. And he’s Class B—so even if math is a weak point, factoring in the coming changes to the test range, he should be able to avoid failing on his own. So why insist on just one subject? The only explanation would be that he’s already acquired the past papers from another source, but doesn’t know if they’re authentic—so he came to me to confirm…)

Man. How the hell did he figure that out?

My control device almost popped off in surprise. (Not that it actually would.)

His deduction was so on point it shocked me—but then he shook his head, as if dismissing it himself.

(I don’t fully understand him… but he’s interesting. With someone like this, against Nagumo—maybe…)

Nagumo? Right, that was the vice president.

I’d also heard he was in the soccer club, same as Shibata.

“Very well, Saiki. As a reward for realizing the existence of past papers on your own, I’ll give you all five subjects, plus the April quizzes and answer sheets—for free.”

What’s “very well” supposed to mean?

I had no idea what he’d just reasoned out to satisfy himself, but if he was handing them over for free, I wasn’t going to complain.

“But there’s one condition.”

Of course. Nothing’s ever truly free.

What kind of condition was he going to attach?

If it was join the student council, I’d have no choice but to walk straight out.

“Join the student council.”

Well, thanks for your time. Goodbye.

“Hey, don’t just walk out!”

I told you earlier, didn’t I? I didn’t come here to join the student council.

All I wanted was the past papers. I have zero interest in a council seat.

“Your classmate wanted to join the student council. Are you aware of that?”

Yeah, I know.

So what about it?

“The reason I rejected her—Ichinose Honami’s—application to join the council wasn’t because of any problem with her grades or personality.”

Then what was it?

If it wasn’t her, then the reason must lie with the president himself or with the other officers. Ah, is that where Vice President Nagumo comes in?

I’d only heard about him through telepathy, so I couldn’t say it out loud, but I asked if it was due to external factors.

“That’s right. There’s a man one year ahead of you—Nagumo Miyabi. You may know him as the vice president.”

So what about this Nagumo?

My guess would be something along the lines of: he’s got a rotten personality, or he’s a womanizer, and Ichinose-san would be in danger around him.

“His class was originally first-year Class 1-B, but he raised its standing and is now in second-year Class A. And it was Nagumo who made it happen.”

…That sounds like a good thing, doesn’t it?

In this merit-based school, raising your class is proof of real ability.

“Yes, that much is true. But—he intends to reshape this school into something even more ruthlessly meritocratic after I step down.”

(He’s probably already noticed the truth about the special exams, but now isn’t the time to mention it.)

I see.

In other words, if Nagumo becomes president, the school will become even more extreme in its meritocracy… meaning more competitive events, more class battles, and more expulsions. That’s what Horikita, the current president, is worried about.

And to prevent Ichinose-san from becoming one of Nagumo’s pawns, he refused her entry into the council.

Well, in that case, wouldn’t it be enough to stop Nagumo’s reforms without me joining the council?

“…I’m surprised. You pieced that much together just from what I said? Yes. I like this school as it is, and I believe everyone should be able to graduate safely.”

I could feel that he meant it sincerely.

I think I finally understood why people call him the greatest president in the school’s history.

As for me, I’d also prefer to avoid needless conflict or more opportunities to expose my powers.

If they held more of those expulsion-risk exams, it would be nothing but trouble.

If possible, I’d like Nagumo to have a change of heart before he takes office.

“Heh… I agree. But waiting until something happens would be too late. As for joining the council—you don’t have to decide now. Just give it some thought.”

Saying that, the president operated his phone and shared the exam data with me.

So, it wasn’t that Ichinose-san lacked ability—it was because she might have been used by Vice President Nagumo that you turned her down, right?

“That’s right. Perhaps I did something unfair to her, but having a so-called ‘Nagumo faction’ rise up in your year would only bring trouble.”

Well, if Nagumo was the leader who lifted Class B all the way to Class A, it’s not impossible Ichinose might admire and even follow him.

On the flip side, if she came to be disillusioned with him, or if she found a stronger conviction within herself, the president might permit her to join the council after all.

“I’ll contact you again about the matter with Nagumo when the time is right.”

I accepted the past exam papers, and we exchanged contact information.

Until now, the only entries in my phone were my classmates and Shiina-san—now the student council president’s name had been added.

More trouble had just landed in my lap, but if all I had to do was stop something before it happened, then the hurdle wasn’t all that high. At least, not for me.

Ah, that’s right.

“Hm? What is it?”

Keep quiet about my visit today—and about our conversation.

As for Ichinose-san’s rejection, I might explain the reason to her if I ever feel it’s necessary.

“Very well. I promise not to tell anyone. As for Ichinose, I’ll leave that in your hands.”

I decided I should at least make an effort to respond sincerely to the president’s earnest attitude.

“Then, let’s meet again, Saiki Kusuo.”