Chương 393: 179.Quote, Not Extortionate Price 1

The moment I looked up, I saw three people who absolutely did not belong to the Seitokai righteously occupying the Seitokai office. Jess was slumped sideways in a chair by the window, entirely boneless. D leaned against a cabinet, so heavily built it looked like someone had compressed an armored vehicle into human form and shoved it into a school uniform.

Harvey sat on the other side, calmly disassembling a small metal parts box, looking as if this wasn't the Seitokai at all, but a maintenance bench he'd borrowed for the afternoon. While I had no idea why Jess, D, and Harvey—three people who were definitively not Council members—had so naturally taken root in our office, since they were already here, there was no way I was going to drown in this sea of suffering alone. I slapped the files onto the desk and lifted my chin.

"You three. Helping out during non-class hours," I said.

"I'll give you extra credit at the end of the term." Jess immediately curled her lip.

"Abuse of power."

"Thanks for the compliment," I replied smoothly. D just shrugged, completely unbothered.

"Makes no difference to me. I can't leave until everyone's here anyway," he said.

"Might as well." Fantastic. I love this kind of loyalty. Especially the kind that can casually drag me out of the swamp of bureaucracy and paperwork right as I'm about to expire. Harvey looked up, still wearing that expression that suggested he was perpetually contemplating bullets, triggers, and why human beings were so complicated.

"I'll help if I can," Harvey said.

"I'm Akari's dedicated gunsmith right now." I gave him a look.

"The science and engineering track teaches you how to build guns?"

"No," Harvey replied without changing his expression.

"Self-taught."

"You say 'self-taught' like it's a virtue that belongs in a model student report."

"For Akari, tuning a gun so it doesn't piss her off counts as part of engineering ethics."

"The Lower House's talent cultivation direction is terrifying," Jess clicked her tongue.

"Other people study to get certificates; you guys study to learn how to legally drift along the edge of the penal code."

"It's called survival skills," I corrected her.

"It's called a prequel to Intro to Criminal Law," Jess said. I couldn't be bothered to argue with her. I looked down and spread out the files Maki had just shoved at me. They were densely packed with text—from competition venue equipment, external audio rentals, and medical support, to cordon routes, spectator diversion, and temporary facility applications. Looking at the whole set, it fully demonstrated that whenever the human species gathers to organize an event, they inevitably begin manufacturing disasters.

I pulled out the first file and handed it straight to Jess.

"Jess, go find the Broadcasting Committee. Confirm the quote for the rental audio equipment they're using for the tournament. Preferably, bring it back today." I paused, then added the most persuasive second half of the sentence:"Otherwise, Roy really will lose his mind." Jess had been about to feign reluctance, but at the mention of Roy's name, her expression immediately sobered. This was normal.

Because while Roy usually acted like a humanoid income-and-expense sheet capable of churning numbers into butter, the moment there was a blank space in the budget, he mentally evolved into a disaster early-warning system. It wasn't anger; it was the final siren before the collapse of civilization.

"... Got it." Jess stood up and grabbed the file.

"It's not that I'm scared of Roy. I just really don't want to watch someone calculate live on a desk until their pupils lose focus."

"You say that like it hasn't happened before," I said.

"It's happened twice," Lan added mildly from the side. Having said that, Lan went back to organizing the route drafts in her hands, her tone as calm as if she were reading the weather report. I pulled out the second file and turned to D.

"D, make a run to the Health Committee. Confirm the status of medical supplies and support during the tournament. Same deal—if it costs money, have them write up the forms and quotes on the spot." D took the file and glanced at it.

"Sure." The last one I handed to Harvey.

"Harvey, check with the Environment Committee on the locations and quantities of temporary toilets and trash cans during the event." Harvey glanced down at it, his expression as flat as a sleepy instrument readout.

"Understood."

"Also, get a clear answer on the clearing frequency. Don't let the trash explode before the spectators do."

"Copy that." The way Harvey nodded was so reliable that for a second, I almost wanted to feel moved. Sure enough, anyone who could survive around Akari either had a good brain, fast reflexes, or both. With the three files distributed, I finally felt my soul crawl a little further back from the brink of death. With a clear conscience, I walked over to the sofa and lay down flat, like a corpse that had finally found its coffin.

"So what are you going to do?" Jess asked, hugging her file. I folded my hands over my stomach, closed my eyes, and spoke with the serene tone of someone who had seen through life:"I am in charge of taking a nap. Goodnight." The office was quiet for two seconds. Those two seconds were incredibly precious. So precious I almost thought the world had finally learned to cherish the wounded. On the third second, a file slapped onto my face.

I opened my eyes, pulled the paper off, and saw Maki standing by the sofa, her expression calm to the point of cruelty.

"Maki Kushima," I said.

"Attacking a wounded person with a blunt object—doesn't that violate the spirit of student autonomy?"

"That's not a blunt object; it's the schedule adjustment sheet," Maki said.

"And you're not sleeping. You're catching up on the work you delayed yesterday."

"I spent last night in a police station."

"Which is why you're alive and capable of working today."

"The way this organization uses people is truly black-hearted."

"Thank you for validating the Seitokai's operational efficiency." I glared at Maki. Maki looked back at me. That face was still that face—calm, orderly, pretty, looking like anything could be categorized and filed away by her. The problem was, I was very tired right now, and Maki clearly had absolutely no intention of letting me use "almost sending seven punks to the next stage of their lives last night" as an excuse to dodge today's work. Hedwig was standing right there.

She hadn't said much since walking in, just quietly watching the entire Seitokai office go from a government agency to a thug dispatch center in one second, and then from a thug dispatch center to a patient exploitation scene. When her eyes fell on my face, I suddenly remembered all those messy injuries from yesterday, and Jess's terrible joke earlier about the scarred prince and the princess. Thinking about that made me feel inexplicably uncomfortable. Ridiculous.

I hadn't felt this awkward when I was smashing people into the ground last night. Hedwig spoke softly.

"If Hoshino Shimo needs to rest, I can help with the remaining sorting." Her tone was very steady when she said it. It didn't sound like polite filler; it sounded like she had genuinely thought about how to fill the gap. Probably because she was never the type to just stand aside and act as a pretty background piece. Yesterday's events might have made her pale, but they hadn't scared her brain away. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Maki glanced at her and nodded.

"Fine," Maki said.

"Then Hedwig, start with cross-checking the lists. Committee replies, budget items, venue requirements—compare all three. Mark any discrepancies or omissions." I half-sat up from the sofa.

"Wait a minute, why does she get assigned the high-tech work the second she arrives, while I, the wounded patient, am only responsible for staying alive to do overtime?" Maki answered instantly.

"Because you'll try to sleep."

"That's personality discrimination."

"That's risk management." Jess was already laughing so hard she had to lean against the wall.

"I'm starting to like the Seitokai. This is basically a scene of institutionalized bullying."

"If you don't leave right now, I'll add two more pages to that Broadcasting Committee file," Maki said.

"Yes, ma'am, Vice President, ma'am." Jess immediately retreated toward the door with her file, not forgetting to turn back and salute.

"If I don't make it back today, please give the bag of cookies in my belongings to Lan. Don't give them to Roy; he'll eat them while calculating the calories."

"I can hear you," Roy said without looking up.

"See? Terrifying." D also shoved his file into his pocket and casually rolled his shoulders. It looked like someone preparing to move medical supplies, and also like someone preparing to demolish the building where the medical supplies were kept.

"I'm off," D said. I nodded at him.

"Remember to knock like a civilized person." D thought about it.

"How many knocks counts as civilized?"

"... The fact that someone like you is asking for details actually moves me." Harvey was the last to stand, folding the Environment Committee confirmation sheet neatly.

"I'm going too," Harvey said.

"If the Environment Committee asks, tell them this is an official Seitokai request," I said.

"What if they ask why someone from the Seitokai didn't come?"

"Tell them the Seitokai is so busy we've started outsourcing." Harvey gave a "hmm," seemingly finding this explanation perfectly reasonable. Once the three of them left one after another, the office quieted down significantly. That quiet didn't mean there was nothing to do; it just meant nothing new was exploding in the eye of the storm for the moment.

Roy was still checking spreadsheets, Lan was still tweaking routes, Maki was flipping through the upcoming schedule configurations, and Hedwig sat down at the adjacent desk, starting to categorize the pile of documents I'd just been handed. Looking at that scene, I suddenly felt a bizarre sense of dislocation. Yesterday, I was being held in a police station as a dangerous individual.

Today, I was in the Seitokai office, directing outsourced school labor to go ask where temporary toilets and trash cans should be placed. The order of human society is sometimes fragile to the point of being humorous. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, forced myself up from the sofa, dragged a chair over, and sat back down at the desk. Hedwig had already sorted three different colors of sticky notes. Looking up and seeing me back in my seat, her hands paused.

"Weren't you going to sleep?" Hedwig asked.

"Originally, yes," I said.

"But the Seitokai doesn't accept human shutdowns." Hedwig lowered her eyes, looking like she was suppressing a smile. It was just a tiny, faint curve, so brief it was like a hallucination from my concussion last night.

"Then here, take this one." She pushed a half-sorted sheet toward me.

"I've cross-referenced the committee replies against the original requests once. There are two duplicate applications here, one unreasonable quantity, and one... I suspect someone's handwriting is just terrible, rather than there being a problem with the content." I looked down at it and went silent.

"... You're far more suited to living in this pile of paper than I am."

"That is not a compliment."

"My mental state is poor right now. This is the closest thing to a compliment I can produce." Hedwig looked at me, and after two seconds, said very softly:"Then I'll accept it." I froze for a second. It felt weird. Not because she'd said anything earth-shattering, but because she said it so naturally. It was as if that mess last night hadn't pushed her away, but instead allowed her to step more openly into my daily routine. This was bad.

I must really be too tired, otherwise why would I find even this level of conversation slightly dangerous? Maki didn't look up, but spoke mildly at that exact moment.

"Hoshino Shimo."

"What."

"If you stare blankly at those documents again, I will consider the promise of extra credit at the end of the term void." I woke up instantly.

"Maki Kushima, you are truly excellent at grasping other people's lifelines."

"Thank you."

"I wasn't praising you."

"I know." Beside us, Roy turned the page of the newly organized budget, his tone as flat as a judge delivering a sentence.

"Audio, medical, environment committees. If two out of those three come back today, there's still time to recompile the spreadsheet tonight. If they don't, I'll have to pull an all-nighter."

"You say that like someone here actually cares if you pull an all-nighter," I said. Lan looked up and glanced at me.

"Maki cares."

"... I can't argue with that." A brief, light ripple of laughter went through the office. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to blow away a little of the cold that had settled into my bones from the night before. I lowered my head and started marking the documents. Hedwig took the ones I finished, taking over so naturally it felt like we were always meant to work side-by-side like this.

When her fingers brushed the corner of the paper, they came very close to the back of my hand—close enough that I could feel her body temperature for a split second. I glanced up at her. Hedwig looked back at me.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing." I pulled my gaze back.

"Just confirming that all that mess last night didn't scare you into dropping out." She was quiet for half a second.

"It didn't," Hedwig said.

"It just let me know that you are... far less likely to obediently live within the rules than I originally thought."

"That doesn't sound like a good review."

"I didn't say it wasn't." I looked at her, and finally couldn't help but give a low laugh.

"Alright," I said.

"Then you'd better learn fast today. Because when you're next to me, the first lesson usually isn't about the rules. It's about how to find the exit before the rules explode." Hedwig didn't answer immediately. She just pushed the next document in front of me.

"Then teach me," she said. I looked at the paper, then back at her.... Fine. I'd only wanted to lie on the sofa and sleep for a bit, but I'd ended up back at the desk anyway. Under Maki's supervision, Roy's budget, Lan's routes, and Hedwig's overly quiet yet inexplicably strong presence, I continued to clean up the world for this ridiculous tournament. In a place like the Seitokai, there really was no rest. Only knocking people down, and then deciding from which angle to continue using them.

Jess was the first to return. She didn't even knock, just kicked the Seitokai office door open like a guerrilla fighter returning from behind enemy lines with stolen intel. She held a piece of paper high in the air, wearing an expression somewhere between "I brought back a huge problem" and "praise me for not hitting anyone on site."

"I'm back," Jess said.

"And a moment of silence for the Broadcasting Committee's conscience. Though I'm guessing that went out of production a long time ago." She slapped the quote onto the desk. The sound wasn't loud, but the effect was like someone hitting the pause button on a patient's EKG in an operating room. Roy, who had been organizing the budget sheet, only lifted his eyes and pulled the new quote over for a look. Just one look.

And then I watched Roy's face—a face that normally treated numbers as a religion—slowly drain of color. It's hard to describe that look. If the expression I saw on the law enforcement officer in the police station yesterday was "seriously considering whether this girl could dismantle a chair barehanded," then Roy's expression right now was "the cost control of civilized society is officially dead, and the murderer is lying on this piece of paper in my hand."

"... What is this?" Roy asked. His voice was still steady. But that kind of steady wasn't calm. It was the kind of steady right before a storm, when the whole port is so quiet even the dogs stop barking. Jess threw her hands up.

"The revised quote," she said righteously.

"They said the original one was just a 'baseline estimate.' This one is 'closer to actual requirements.'" Lan reached over from the side and took the quote to look at. Hedwig, sitting next to me, also leaned in slightly to look at the piece of paper that was about to cremate the Seitokai's budget. Maki still didn't speak immediately; she just put down her pen and shifted her gaze over.

In that moment, I suddenly felt that the most dangerous thing in the world wasn't a gun or a knife, but a group of accounting-types who hadn't spoken yet.

"Main PA system revised up by twenty-eight percent," Lan read flatly.

"Backup speakers increased from four sets to six. On-site director wiring changed to a temporary installation fee. And they added..." Lan paused. I saw her eyebrow twitch slightly. Just once. For Lan, that counted as a massive emotional fluctuation.

"... Ritualistic Ambient Soundscape Design." I almost slid out of my chair.

"What?" I looked up. Jess immediately raised her hand.

"I asked," she said.

"They stated that if the tournament opening lacks a sufficiently impactful sound field, the audience's emotions won't build up."

"So they plan to use Seitokai money to lay a carpet for the audience's emotions?" I asked.

"That's the gist of it."

"We're hosting an intramural sports tournament, not a National Foundation Day gala." Hedwig finished reading the sheet quietly. After two seconds, she spoke very softly.

"This quote is no longer an amendment," she said.

"It's redefining the entire event in a different direction." I tilted my head and looked at her. Said so politely. If I were saying it, I'd call it robbery packaged with an official stamp. Roy put the quote back on the desk, laced his fingers together, and stayed silent for a few seconds. During those few seconds, the Seitokai office was almost solemnly quiet.

I was even briefly worried that Roy's next sentence would be "Please leave me alone for a minute," or "I need to go look at the horizon right now," or, most terrifyingly—"It's fine, I'll calculate it again." Fortunately, Roy just took a breath.

"This isn't a quote," he said.

"What is it then?" I asked.

"It's a ransom note written by the Broadcasting Committee to the Seitokai." Yes. Exactly. That was the flavor. Roy didn't usually speak out of turn, but when he did, he switched directly from accounting mode to sentencing mode. High lethality, and incredibly accurate. Jess chimed in immediately.

"That's what I thought too," she said.

"And they also said that if we want to push it back down to the original quote, they'll have to cut the 'experience quality.'""What exactly do they mean by 'experience quality'?" I asked. Jess looked down and flipped through the small notebook she'd brought back.

"Low-frequency ambient backing for audience entry, BGM for competitor introductions, announcement transition pacing, closing emotional resolution—""Stop." I raised a hand.

"Any more and I'll think we're hosting a wedding." Jess chuckled.

"A wedding might not even be this expensive."

"Shut up." Maki finally reached out and took the quote. She read it fast, as fast as a blade slicing paper. As her eyes swept over the numbers, I could almost picture those inflated items being dragged out in her mind one by one, pinned against a wall, and interrogated about their ancestry.

"Jess," Maki said.

"How did they justify increasing the backup speakers by two sets?"

"They said the venue depth is larger than expected, and they're worried about dead zones."

"We sent them the venue map three weeks ago."

"Right."

"They know that."

"Right." Maki gave a small nod and asked again:"What about the temporary installation fee?"

"They said they originally thought they could tap into the school's existing wiring, but after reviewing it today, they felt it was better to run independent lines 'just to be safe.'""When did they review it today?" Jess put on a very honest expression.

"I'm guessing they did a spontaneous review while I was standing there staring at them." I couldn't help but laugh. Even Hedwig's lips pressed together slightly. The smile was faint, but it was clear she also smelled the heavy stench of bullshit in this. Maki set the paper down flat.

"Fine," she said. Just one word. But I knew it too well. Whenever Maki said "fine," it usually didn't mean things were actually fine. It meant things were about to be very un-fine for certain people. Lan placed the original quote and the revised one side-by-side, tapping a few of the columns with her finger.

"If this were just an amendment for wiring and backups, the increase wouldn't look like this," Lan said.

"There's extra packaging in here. They've mixed non-essential items in with the essentials, trying to get them all approved together."

"Meaning," I added, "they're not just trying to quote higher. They're trying to slip in things they normally can't expense while the Seitokai is busy."

"That's the general idea," Lan said.

"Truly touching." I leaned back in my chair.

"An intramural tournament can actually inspire such vigorous creativity across the committees." Roy finally looked up at me.