Chapter Text
⋆˚࿔ 𓅓
Cunning, too cunning.
If one word could describe the two, it would be cunning. Snarky, over-intelligent, irritating geniuses with ego so high it reached the Aeons. Other students would fawn over them, they fawned over themselves.
"Ratio." An annoyed voice grunted behind the paperwork. "Ratio", she repeated.
"I told you not to call me that name." Veritas murmured. "What is it that you oh-so need this time?"
The office reeked of the scent of books, though it didn't share the scent of a library. It had a mix of laminated paper, meeting notes, and the subtle scent of coffee.
The Student Council — the cliche of all egoistic smart students, preparing for what seemed to be an important event. In reality, they were all just doing it in favor of the overly-energetic students that yearned for it so much, despite it happening annually with no fail anyway.
"The plans." She complained, putting her hair up skillfully with a pencil. Her long, light-colored locks twisted into an intact hairdo. "Lovely how you keep hogging them with your slow pace."
Veritas turned around with his chair, slamming the pile of work onto Herta's desk with an annoyed smirk. "Patience is a virtue." he scoffed, "I'm sure you hate it."
“How are we only excused for two hours?” Herta muttered to herself, staring at the blinking line on her word document. Her mind was totally blank.
“They’re hypocrites.” Veritas yawned, head rested on his palm, stained with ink and the aromatic smell of iced coffee, which the two had shared over desperation.
“At least I’ve accomplished things.” She boasted, glaring at him, as if her work was that much more remarkable than what Veritas managed to handle.
Over the past few days, they’ve been arguing over these tight schedules completely out of their control, blaming each other like children trying to prove a point.
“Real mature.” Veritas stood up, looking up at the ticking grey clock hung up on the ceiling. Under it were bulletins of ideas, posters, advertisements, the usual kind of stuff you’d see at their club. He stared at it for a fleeting moment. Then grabbing his bag, he headed off to his class before they exceeded their excused hours.
Herta rolled her eyes, watching as the dark-haired man exited steadily out of the cramped office, listening to every heavy footstep.
Intrigued, another council member entered said cramped office — Ruan Mei quietly greeting the busy woman. “Good morning, Herta. I assume the plans have been going well?”
Herta nodded half-sure, assuming Ruan Mei had entered due to Veritas’ overdramatic exit. “Already half-done.” She fidgeted with the cup of iced coffee, letting the condensation wet her fingers. “I’m not exactly sure on Veritas’ part.”
Ruan Mei smiled, “For once, you called him that name.” She set down a box of decorations near the door of the office. Banners, flyers, a few things they had to assemble; all the materials that were assigned to her. “At least in my part, you’re sure.”
Herta’s eyes lit up. “You’re a life-saver, Ruan Mei.” She sighed and lowered her head in relief, reassurance suddenly curing her every need.
“Group project next period.” Ruan Mei reminded, leaving a note on Herta’s sleek, wooden desk. The desk had been long worn out.
“Already?” Herta’s posture dropped in frustration. “We just survived countless exams and tests. Can’t they give us at least one break?”
“I guess not.” Ruan Mei tilted her head slightly sideways. “You know what Veritas always says, they’re hypocrites.” she playfully quoted.
Herta glared in annoyance, not at Ruan Mei’s service or words, but more-so the mention of that name. “Of course.”
After a few chats, Ruan Mei left the office as quiet as she entered it, followed by another familiar face.
“Sunday.” Herta greeted, nodding as he let down an envelope of schedules.
“I’ve organized them for you.” He spoke in a straightforward manner. “Veritas also managed to bump into me earlier. Wanted to give you a file, yet claimed it was confidential.” Sunday sighed, questioning, but accepting.
“I think we both agree he is a confusing man.” Herta gently tore open the tape that was keeping the brown envelope closed. “Thank you for this, the work is just about done anyway.”
“Are those for Wednesday?” He pointed at the detailed decorations lended by Ruan Mei moments before.
Herta nodded. “Yes, we received them earlier.” She glanced at her schedule, flipping through a few sticky notes covering the actual calendar. “We’re still expecting a few more, though. It’s a huge campus.”
Sunday tapped his finger on Herta’s desk, taking a brief glance at his own. “You seem so busy compared to us.”
“I’m not.” Herta boasted, “This is a perfectly okay amount of work.”
“I apologize.” Sunday coughed awkwardly. “I just noticed the differences in paperwork.”
Herta observed her piles, looking down in defeat — he was unfortunately right.
Sunday stood straight, heading out the door. “Make sure to meet up with us during lunch. I’m sure we all need a break.” He looked at her dead in the eye, but he had the right intention.
“Mmm.” Herta hummed, “Get Veritas to do his work first.”
“Fine.” Sunday sighed. “Next time, don’t include me in your quarrel.”
⋆˚࿔ 𓅓
Veritas’ head rested upon piles and piles of accomplished paperwork.
“I don’t think it’s working.” Ruan Mei commented lightheartedly.
Sunday did not particularly care, shamelessly eating his lunch, merely watching the two without further analysis; he knew his head would hurt if he did so.
“I finished it.” Veritas urged, poking Herta’s face repeatedly until she accepted the work.
Herta sat there, doing the same as Sunday; ignorance.
“What deal did you exactly offer him, Sunday?” Ruan Mei took a brief sip from her water bottle.
Sunday gave a small, subtle smirk. “I don’t exactly think you’d want to know.”
“I’ve done everything you could ever ask for.” Veritas boasted, “I signed the agreements, I messaged our teachers, I organized every schedule you had in your drawer, I even—”
“Wait, you searched through my drawer?” Herta interrupted.
“Not the point.” Veritas scoffed. “As I was saying, I even annotated all the plans we had for the entire week.”
With this unprecedented effort from Veritas, Ruan Mei started to wonder if it was truly him. Sunday on the other hand, observed Herta intently, waiting for her response.
“This motivation of yours,” Herta chuckled, a charming yet amused look on her face, “he offered money, didn’t he?”
Sunday paused eating, looking at Veritas, then Ruan Mei, then Herta — which in response, Veritas gave a look of defeat.
“I knew it from the start.” Herta claimed with pride. “I told Sunday all about how petty you were, asking him to force you to do your work, and he accepted it with ease! Your wallet’s completely stripped because of our projects and you’re obviously human, just an irritating one, who needs money to buy food and all that nonsense. Therefore, Sunday could easily buy you into work in no time! Bingo.” With a confident face, she quickly accepted the files, overjoyed by her triumph.
Veritas grumbled in disbelief, completely taken aback. Instead, he averted the topic to something insanely irrelevant. “Did you read the note, at least?”
Herta was reviewing the countless annotations written in blue ink, perfectly crafted to her liking of format and criticism. “I did, felt like it needed more effort.”
Sunday and Ruan Mei glanced at each other with raised eyebrows.
“Fine.” Veritas sighed. “You win."
⋆˚࿔ 𓅓
Whether it be sports, booths, or stalls with food or toys, every student had to participate in the festival somehow. Whether it be organizing classroom decorations, being a player in whatever sports they chose, or simply cheering.
"Ratio."
It was a tiresome event, but it was a break from academics. Veritas appreciated that.
"Ratio."
"What?" He replied, lost in his thoughts — though he wouldn't admit that. He covered it up as frustration, a faux upset tone in his voice.
Herta wasn't a complete opposite from him — but she was still much different. Both are egoistic yet in much different ways. Though in Veritas' point of view, she was a complete side character, unworthy of notice.
She held out her right hand, an envelope of funds in the other. "Your contributions."
Veritas sighed, not finding any use for the funds. "I thought we already had all the materials?"
Despite his response, he opened his bag to look for his money.
The last bits and pieces, mostly from Sunday’s bet, which he wanted to use to treat himself at least a little bit — but alas, his pending doom; the festival, took another toll on him.
"It's for decorations." Herta replied, "Visuals are also a key factor for any festival booth."
Before Veritas could properly hand his contribution, he gave a snarky response: “Are you sure you won’t pocket all this money?”
"I'm sure Class 1A trusts me enough with their money." Herta gave an irritated smile, "I'm also sure only you don't."
The snicker, the pride, the unprecedented intimacy — though the last part they would deny, was amusing to say the least.
With the planning mostly done, they had a minor break, now focused on the little schoolwork left until the huge event. A few days before having to prepare the decor; for them, it was a whole holiday. — or so they thought.