Abandoned Student Council Room, Still Smoldering – Two Hours Post-Terms and Conditions
The peace summit looked less like diplomacy and more like a particularly violent food fight—except instead of pies and custard, the weapons were contracts, knives, hymnals, and the occasional flaming chandelier.
Rei sat slumped in his barely-standing chair, staring at the scattered documents now pinned into the table by blades, blood, or holy seals. His hair stuck out in every direction, dust clung to his robes, and he wore the dead-eyed expression of someone who had gone three rounds with bureaucracy, five with jealous women, and twelve with gravity.
"Okay," he croaked, his voice a thin reed in a hurricane. "So that was… productive."
"Productive?" Emilia raised a brow, parasol twirling lazily. "Darling, it was adorable. And you tried."
