[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 138

Inori-senpai’s anguished cry cloaked the Tea Party hall in silence, and I realized she’d carved out my moment.

Honestly, I couldn’t fully grasp her words. Limbs torn off, trenches surrounded by a million corpses—it sounded like a fantastical tale, detached from reality. A world too vast.

Yet, I didn’t think Senpai was lying.

Trinity General Academy is Kivotos’s most expansive autonomous district. Its sprawling campus, dwarfing others, answers all questions. But let’s be clear: in terms of weight, Gehenna Academy doesn’t bow to anyone.

A clash between the two would spark a war of unimaginable scale. Subduing Chairwoman Hina might secure a win, but the cost would be catastrophic.

A “war to end all wars”? No such thing exists… but yeah, Senpai might be right.

What matters is I got my chance. Students who despised Pater—Sayuri-san shouting first—rushed in, turning the hall into a chaotic arena of debate and brawls. The Chair, flustered, yelled, “Order!”

I’m no longer the old me; I’m a proper Tea Party administrator now. You lot? Politically done today!

Bang—bang—bang.

The Chair hesitated briefly at the sudden request to speak but soon decided. Yamatsu Hikari, speak!

Setsune-san, caught off guard, snapped.

“This—this has nothing to do with the hearing’s purpose! Madam Chair, why grant her the floor?! I protest, this violates canon law—”

“That argument lost its weight after Senpai’s speech. Administrator, why keep dragging up the Eden Treaty incident? Now I’ve got to pull out your weaknesses. You’re making me feel bad.”

Setsune-san knows her vulnerabilities well. She’s capable enough, and those were promises she once proudly made. Too bad she didn’t keep them.

The Tea Party’s core faction, Pater, holds a convention to elect its faction leader—always a single “princess.” Candidates pitch their platforms, rallying support.

And those promises? Naturally forgotten. Nobody cares or remembers—at least, that’s Pater’s deal.

“Madam Chair, Setsune’s authority was propped up by opposing executives. It was a regime built on hollow economics, ending in disaster! They’re left with nothing but a collapsed political sphere and Pater’s infighting!”

Tea Party protocol rank 7—faction leader—is no small authority. It grants meddling in all policies and budgets, in both senses of the word!

For reference, the Border Checkpoint Commander’s around rank 40. But as proxy, I’m outside the hierarchy entirely. Let’s have a drink to that.

“Let’s see what we’ve got.”

I pulled papers from under the desk, pretending to flip through them.

By the way, Setsune-san pitched massive tax cuts at the convention. Reducing consumption taxes and the tea tax on black tea… Well, has that policy ever changed?

“Tax cuts for high-income students? Gone!”

gone.

A 45% progressive tax—insane money, but no real impact on the elite.

“Corporate tax cuts? Gone!”

Gone.

The call for order faded. Students who’d ignored my claims started joining in, one by one.

“Tax cuts for low-income students? Gone!”

GOne.

A small voice, but I heard it clearly. From checkpoint members to regular students, they caught my drift.

“Energy policy to prevent the Millennium incident? Gone!”

GONe.

Was it the day before the Student Council President’s disappearance was announced? Millennium Science School’s wind farm shut down, plunging most of the district into a blackout, and the community went wild. Yeah… oil power’s nice.

But Setsune-san, you should’ve kept your promises before attacking Gehenna.

“Consumption tax abolition? Gone!”

GONE!

Just a 10-12% tax, but it rakes in big revenue. Would’ve been a shame to lose it.

“Economic credibility? Gone!”

GONE!

With six chants, I was condemning her. Border Checkpoint, Filius, Sanctus, and minor faction members joined in, shouting in unison. Quite a sight.

The honorable Mineyuki Setsune seemed at a loss, barely reacting.

“…And the administrator’s closest ally announced her political retirement. She’s gone too. Everything’s gone. So why’s this one still here?”

HEAR!

A voice rang out from a corner of the hall. Support and acclaim… in the face of overwhelming justification.

I caught Inori-senpai’s gaze and confidently gave a thumbs-up. She flashed a pretty smile. I don’t know the details, but I avenged a senpai who owed much to bagpipes.

“…Madam Chair, I’m a fighter, not a quitter. Mark my words: you’ll see.”

Poor Senpai.

***

The next day, Pater reported Mineyuki Setsune’s political retirement.

Willing to be a laughingstock? The fiery senpai who vowed to fight yesterday was gone, replaced by a girl fleeing in haste. Still, as her friend, Mika-sama fidgeted sadly at the news.

The hearing ended in my victory. I kept my post under Nagisa-sama’s strong trust. Honestly, even if the Tea Party passed a no-confidence vote, I could ignore it. Don’t like it? Earn trust yourself.

Mika-sama retained her title as Pater’s interim representative. Not quite Tea Party, but a free princess.

Having quelled a sudden political crisis, it’s time to turn my gaze to the broader world. The General Student Council, Gehenna Academy, and Arius Autonomous District. The first issue’s settled with the Treasury’s retreat, but the others… you know.

Gehenna’s a Prefect Team matter. I suspect our Pandemonium Society collaboration might’ve irked Chairwoman Hina. I’ll cautiously raise it during the next cocoa delivery.

“Sorasaki Hina… definitely easier to deal with than the Pandemonium Society. I have high hopes, Hikari-san.”

“I’m not that capable.”

Nagisa-sama chuckled, setting down her teacup. The evening sunset was breathtaking. The Tea Party hall’s sky, rarely seen even by administrators… yeah, I’ll admit it. I got lucky.

I desperately saved my alma mater from collapse. How? Rallying people, rooting out trouble like rats, and rebuilding.

I stirred the Tea Party to seize what I saw. Signed papers, mustered troops, and reclaimed what was ours. Nagisa-sama, Chairwoman Hina, even Sensei… they luckily trusted me.

“Trinity isn’t an academy swayed by just me. Yamatsu Hikari’s a student who can barely manage a few hundred people, let alone true skill. The proxy role is too much, and I’m just grateful. Without Urawa-san, I’d struggle with paperwork.”

“If you’re calling yourself incompetent, I’d argue otherwise. You led the academy through a crisis.”

“Luck.”

Lucky to be outside Tonggong’s High Cathedral, lucky to be delegated full authority. Even ignoring that, if Ritsuko-chan hadn’t been there when the checkpoint was attacked, I might’ve died. It’s purely His will.

“I know my limits. There’s much to do, but… well, I’ll have to step down as proxy soon. Even Sayuri-san escaped her faction leader role.”

Until now, I was too busy to feel it. proxy—effectively Trinity’s second-in-command. It’s overwhelming.

“…Is that your request?”

“More like advice. In the past, maybe, but now Nagisa-sama’s beyond my meddling. She’s leading the academy splendidly. I’m no advisor like Urawa-san or some genius student.”

Trinity isn’t run by me alone. While I tackled major issues, Nagisa-sama was the true force shaping the political tide. She’s got the public in her grip.

“Price stability, budgeting for the British Operation… not something an ordinary person could do. Impressive.”

Embarrassed by sudden praise, Nagisa-sama brushed back her hair. But I meant it. Documents processed the day she returned from the hospital? Seventeen pounds’ worth.

“I’m hopeless at economics. All I know is this seat isn’t mine.”

That was my truth.

A brief silence. Nagisa-sama half-emptied her teacup.

“I see.”

Clink—the gold-rimmed glass was set down. Our eyes met.

“Then, until that time, please keep working hard.”

“Understood.”

I half-emptied my tea too. Mmm, delicious!

“…Because I believe in you.”