Ch. 112 - The Secret? Free Cookies

I hauled the massive display board, which was literally bigger than me, through the sea of people. 

It took a while to navigate the labyrinth of booths before I spotted Ying Shiqian slacking off at the back of the recruitment area.

She was sitting bored behind a folding table, her elbow resting on a stack of blank application forms. The only thing identifying us was a flimsy banner overhead that read "Bakery Club."

Compared to the other clubs, which were putting on flashy talent shows, we looked like we were hosting a very sad yard sale.

“Seriously, Ying Shiqian? You get here early just to scroll on your phone? You didn’t even bring the gear!” I slammed the heavy board down in front of her, finally snapping her out of her trance.

“Huh? Oh! Yuehan! You’re actually here!” She jumped up, looking like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “I’ve been so bored sitting here alone! I should’ve stayed at the shop, waaaah…”

Her dramatic wailing started drawing looks from the seniors at the neighboring booths.

“Zip it! Honestly,” I said, putting a hand out to stall her enthusiasm.

I pointed at the board. It looked like it had been custom-designed once upon a time, but it definitely had that "vintage" (read: weathered) look from years of use. At least it was still functional.

“Oh, that? The base was too clunky, so I just left it,” she said, collapsing back onto the table like a piece of overcooked pasta. “Besides, most recruits quit after a week anyway. Doesn’t really matter if I try or not.”

“Pull yourself together! Aren’t you worried the Manager will do a surprise inspection?” I leaned over the table, giving her a reality check.

Behind her bubbly facade, Ying Shiqian was a world-class slacker. She only acted energetic for strangers; the moment we became friends, she stopped pretending to have a work ethic.

“Why would I be scared? If she shows up, I’ll just act cute and complain about how hard I’m working. She’ll let it slide,” she said dismissively. “Come on, take a seat. Suffer with me.”

“Fine, whatever.”

I spent a few minutes assembling the display board and positioning it behind us. Once everything was set, I flopped into the chair next to her.

“How long are we stuck here?” I asked, pulling out my phone.

“Two days. Today and tomorrow.”

“Great. And do we actually have a 'talent' to show off? A pitch? Anything?”

“A talent?” Ying Shiqian shot me a look of pure disbelief. “What are we supposed to do? Decorate a freshman’s forehead with buttercream frosting?”

“Okay, fair point. But... are we just going to stand here? Why didn't we bring those free sample cookies from the shop? We could hand them out to get the freshmen interested.” I suggested it mostly because I had helped make those cookies, and I’d rather see them go to a hungry student than the dumpster behind the shop.

“Wait—that’s a brilliant idea!” She bolted upright. I’m not sure which part of my sentence triggered her, but she was officially out of "slacker mode."

“Uh, what?”

“That’s it! I’m going to go charm some freshmen!”

Ah. It was the "freshmen" part. I hadn't realized Ying Shiqian had such an obsession with underclassmen.

Though, considering how she treated me when we first met, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. She just has a very short attention span for "new" friends.

“Hey, I’m a freshman too, you know,” I said mischievously, tugging on her sleeve.

“Well, yeah, but... Yuehan, you’re like a sister now! I need to recruit more freshmen so we can have a bigger sisterhood! Stay here—I’m going to go find you some siblings!”

She was clearly making it up as she went, but she didn't wait for a rebuttal.

“Fine, go. I’ll hold down the fort,” I said, stretching my arms out and leaning back.

“You’re the best! I’ll be right back!”

I watched her disappear into the crowd. Since I was stuck here alone, I figured this was as good a time as any to test out my Presidential Access.

It was time to start dragging my Section 14 classmates into the group chat—whether they liked it or not.

I started the painstaking process of numbering my classmates, sending out friend requests, and issuing group invites. 

It was incredibly tedious—the digital equivalent of filing endless paperwork.

But soon enough, "boring" turned into "overwhelming."

As soon as the first wave of students joined the chat, the floodgates opened. Welcome messages, panicked freshman questions, and technical troubleshooting requests started hitting my notifications in a relentless wave.

I had no choice but to step up.

I posted a formal introduction in the main chat, explaining my role as Class President and why they were being added. I also made sure to slip them the link to the "Section 14 Underground" chat—the one without the advisor.

You couldn’t have a real student community if the teacher was watching your every move.

As the headcount climbed, the "Official" chat turned into a chaotic mess of water-cooler talk. Freshmen were asking the same three questions over and over.

By the fifth time I explained where the cafeteria was, I’d had enough. I whipped up a comprehensive "Orientation FAQ," summarizing all the solutions, and pinned it to the top of the chat with a massive @All tag.

Read the manual, people!

I went back to the grind of adding students. It was only the second morning of the semester, but more than half the class already had their contact info registered. One hundred people is a lot of logistics for one person to handle.

A few random freshmen stopped by the booth to ask about the Bakery Club, but since my own knowledge was pretty surface-level, my pitch was weak at best. Most of them wandered off without a second glance.

By the time Ying Shiqian made her first round-trip back from the shop, I hadn't handed out a single application form.

“Yuehan~ I’m back!” Ying Shiqian chirped, slamming a large wicker basket onto the table.

“You brought the whole stock?” I asked, staring at the mountain of cookies.

“Well, the shop’s dead anyway. Might as well give them away here where people can actually see them,” she said, her usual high-energy persona back in full swing. “Wanna come with me and pass some out?”

“I’ll pass,” I said, waving her off. “I’m buried in class business. I’m the President now; my people need me.”

Being the go-to person for a hundred clueless freshmen was exhausting, but surprisingly rewarding. 

Interestingly, it seemed like I was the only person in Section 14 who had arrived early. I remembered seeing plenty of early arrivals during the move-in period—how many sections did this school have if none of them ended up in my class?

Despite my grumbling, I actually found myself enjoying the role. There’s something strangely satisfying about being the "savior" for people who are staring at their phones in total desperation, waiting for anyone to answer their frantic questions.

As the day ticked by, I realized my schedule was finally clearing up. I had my flight license, the bakery job was on autopilot, and I finally had some breathing room. I decided it was time to hit the library.

I couldn't stay in this "slacker" rut forever.

I’ve been at this academy for a while now, and while I picked up some Transcendence tricks, I couldn’t exactly say it was through hard work. Most of it was just... happening to me.

But this is a school. The whole point was to study the mechanics of Transcendence, to master the flow of power, and to uncover the secrets of the unknown. That was the real charm of being a witch, right?

Comments