On the Wednesday following Mineyuki Setsune’s downfall, the Tea Party announced it had signed a treaty with Gehenna Academy. Everyone in our workshop was gripped by shock and disbelief. For students and citizens alike, this was not just bewildering—it was painful.
Their school, a champion of equality, fraternity, and world peace, had joined hands with Hanuma Makoto overnight.
To the people of Trinity, this was as unthinkable as an alliance between the Pater faction and the Justice Task Force. In our workshop, some students openly wept, while others sank into somber silence.
I’ve never met a Trinity student who doesn’t despise Gehenna. Anti-Gehenna propaganda has been relentless, painting the Pandemonium Society as the epitome of evil on Earth. Tales of slander from the academy borders spread to every household.
Everyone knew it was Gehenna who killed and maimed Trinity’s students and workers. Of course, there were Nagisa’s diehard supporters who accepted the treaty without question.
Even the skeptics didn’t dare openly challenge the agreement. The pressure to denounce Arius was suffocating.
But in small circles, someone might first praise the Tea Party leadership, then naively ask, “Doesn’t signing a treaty with Gehenna Academy risk undermining the Tea Party’s ideological foundation?”
The response would inevitably be, “Well, Kirifuji Nagisa and the Tea Party must know something we don’t.” Occasionally, whispers of the proxy’s role would surface, only to be quickly buried.
Students wonder: Why, even if it’s Arius, should it be divided? It’s a disgrace.
Two academies, ideological archenemies, engrossed in clandestine meetings to carve up Arius Branch School in a grotesque display of realpolitik—it was absurd.
Trinity’s territory must remain Trinity’s.
Everyone will remember this day. Even if it’s just 2,000 acres, it’s still Arius Branch School’s land. How can the six words of the “Arius Partition” treaty, which shrank Trinity’s domain, be justified?
Outside the Tea Party, those supporting the Pater faction—or anyone who doesn’t intend to let this treaty stand—won’t stay silent.
Will the administrators purged during the Eden Treaty incident sit idly by? As always, they’ll surely attack if this is another unilateral move by Kirifuji Nagisa or Yamatsu Hikari.
…At least, that’s what I believe. If not, I’ll be disappointed.
Morishita Sayuri, Pater faction leader. Why else would the Pater convention have chosen her? Surely, they expect her to launch an all-out assault on those trying to sell Trinity to Gehenna.
The Filius faction administrators, Kirifuji Nagisa—and finally, Yamatsu Hikari. All of them.
My friends asked what I was talking about.
They’re people who don’t even understand what the Tea Party is. Good citizens, sacrificial lambs manipulated by vile spies of the Jongok (prison followers). My friends aren’t wrong—they’re just unaware, unguarded.
My path is righteous. It has to be. It must be.
I’m on the right side, and Gehenna is evil. That’s an undeniable truth.
It has to be.
…Really.
I believe it.
***
“The Finance Office students were bustling around all night. I saw their lights on until at least 4 a.m.”
“Pfft, figures!”
Oh, I nearly died laughing. As expected of Mitsuki-san, who’s been making headlines lately—her storytelling is no less entertaining. No wonder people read Chronos News, even if they call it garbage.
Trinity General Academy has gained a formidable diplomatic ally. Introducing: Gehenna Academy!
Plenty of people will be rattled by this. The announcement caused a bigger stir than expected. During the extraordinary meeting, voices criticizing the alliance with Gehenna’s “heinous mob” were loud enough to be heard.
Sayuri-san mentioned the Pater faction is in turmoil, and during tea time, Nagisa-sama spoke of the public’s chatter. Rarely has the political scene drawn this much attention.
For me, this is a very serious situation. People really hate Gehenna, huh?
“So you’re using Mitsuki-san to sway public opinion, right?”
“Ehe, the Trinity Secretary saying that puts me in a tough spot! What if I’m recording this call and leak it to your rival press? Be a bit more careful, will ya?”
As if. Mitsuki-san and I are in the same boat, aren’t we? If I go down, she’s coming with me.
“What if I send a complaint to Chronos School for ‘repeated unauthorized Tea Party access’ and get Mitsuki-san demoted? You’re the one who needs a broader perspective.”
“Ehe, not backing down, huh? Our proxy’s got some spine.”
It’s been months since I was promoted from commander of the 13th Border Checkpoint—still debating whether to expand it. Living off the social mess hall sharpens your knack for handling attacks.
“Sigh… So what exactly do you want? Another article like last time?”
“Let’s switch things up. We need to redirect this public sentiment. …Do you know the Treasury’s Oki Aoi?”
“Oh, that uptight girl.”
Whoa—Mitsuki-san’s throwing around insults now? Or maybe she’s always been rough around the edges, and I just didn’t notice. Guess we’re close enough for an affinity event, then.
I’m well aware of the Chief of Finance, Oki Aoi’s sterling reputation. They say she’s like a checkpoint inspector.
“…Yeah, her. Rumor has it she’s leading this whole thing, but I don’t know her true intentions. If possible, could you interview her? And send me the raw transcript.”
The General Student Council oversees administration, not subjective governance. They’re obsessed with keeping their public actions clean, spending all day making sure they don’t “get caught.”
I heard interviews with Council officers have to go through Cultural Office censorship. They sure work hard on that stuff.
“My team’s grumbling about it too. They’re saying we have to follow press guidelines or get shut down. But that girl’s not reckless. If push comes to shove, they’ll slap a D.U. entry ban on us.”
“That’s why I want the raw transcript. Mitsuki-san, you can handle that much, right? …Or can’t you?”
I deliberately poked at her pride. I read in some subculture stuff that goading people like this gets them to agree—hm. Now that I think about it, Mitsuki-san probably knows all these tricks.
“Hmph, I was gonna do it even without the taunt. What, you thought that’d work on me?”
Pfft—Mitsuki-san’s hearty laugh. Her personality’s something else.
“I get what you want, Hikari-san. Now, let’s talk about the price. How about we start with renewing my exclusive checkpoint coverage rights?”
…As if any other reporter bothers visiting the checkpoint.
Who’d trek to a remote checkpoint hundreds of miles from the city? Maybe someone passing through, but no one’s coming to this backwater on purpose. Even Hifumi-san’s barely shown up lately with no Black Market shipments.
“That’s up to my mood. Speaking of price… wait, the interview article itself will get tons of views, right? Do I even need to pay you?”
“That’s up to my mood.”
Ehe—that hag-like laugh of hers. What, does she actually want a bribe, like a fancy watch? If she doesn’t get caught, fine, but that’s not a good look.
“How about buying me dinner on the interview day? I’ll hand over the files at the restaurant. That’s fair, right, Hikari-san?”
…Way more wholesome than I expected. I’m the corrupt one here.
Mom, I know it wasn’t my choice, but maybe I shouldn’t have entered politics. I’m starting to sound like a Valkyrie Bureau chief.
“Deal.”
“See you in a few days, then. Fair warning: I’m not wandering around looking for a restaurant, so pick one in advance. Want me to send you the Defense Office’s top 100 restaurant list?”
Why does that even exist? Just publish it as an embezzlement scandal.
“Don’t worry, if it’s too pricey, we’ll go Dutch. Oh, and thanks for the Arius thing. If you hadn’t looked the other way, I wouldn’t have gotten those photos. Lucky me, I didn’t get caught by the armband squad and made it to the Basilica or whatever.”
Yeah, sure…
‘…’
?
“Wait—that was without a Tea Party access request?!”
Aha.
Mitsuki-san let out an awkward laugh.