Yuna looked up just in time to see Austin and his group approaching. Perfect timing.
Before her nagging classmates could latch onto her again with their "Yuna, take more points" nonsense, she shot up from her seat and greeted the returning hunters with what could almost pass as enthusiasm. "You're back. Let's go."
Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Austin by the sleeve and swiftly led them away, leaving her classmates blinking behind her.
The academy cafeteria wasn't crowded at this hour, which suited Yuna just fine. As soon as they settled, the group presented her with the mutated beast meat—a portion even larger than usual. Yuna didn't bother asking why. She simply pulled out her storage bag and stuffed the meat inside, where time stood still, preserving it perfectly.
Her eyes flickered over them briefly. They looked… better. Fewer injuries this time. That was nice. She allowed herself the smallest, almost imperceptible smile before quickly smoothing her expression back to neutrality.
With her 'business' concluded, Yuna folded her arms and leaned back slightly. Silence stretched between them.
…Why were they still here? She has no interest in holding a conversation—small talk is tedious and downright irritating.
She didn't ask how they were doing. Didn't ask if they were tired, hungry, or needed anything. She had the meat. That was the end of the transaction, as far as she was concerned.
The second brother hesitated for a moment before finally asking, "Yuna, why don't you take any points?"
Yuna blinked, as if the question itself was strange. "Why would I?" she asked flatly.
The four of them exchanged glances, clearly expecting a better explanation.
Yuna sighed and rubbed her temples. Fine. If they wanted a reason, she'd give them one.
"The restaurant business is run by my classmates," she began, tone patient but distant. "The apothecary and armament stores are also attended by them. The potions, the weapons—everything is made by them. Even the meat is hunted by them."
She shrugged. "Since I don't do any of those things, why would I take the points?"
She makes a very clear distinction.
Her voice carried no trace of self-sacrifice, no hidden humility. She said it so matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. At least, to her, thinking like so is the most natural and what she thinks how it should be.
But did Yuna ever realize that, as the class representative who guided and cared for her classmates as a whole, it was only natural for her to receive a share of the points? That thought never seemed to even cross her mind.
The four people fell silent.
Austin's expression remained unreadable, but the siblings and the boy looked at her with a mix of disbelief and something dangerously close to reverence.
Yuna frowned slightly. 'Why are they looking at me like that? I just explained basic logic. It's not that deep'
She ignored their strange reactions and leaned back in her chair, thinking the conversation was over and concludes that what she said made perfect sense and there is nothing strange about it.
If only she paid more attention, but she was just too laid-back when it came to dealing with others.
.....
Yuna stood on the sidelines of the training field, arms crossed, expression blank.
In front of her was not a battlefield. No, this was a disaster site. A circus. A zoo. A… spiritual trial designed by the heavens to test her patience.
She had allowed her classmates to spar against the combat puppets with their summoned beings to evaluate their combined combat effectiveness. The result?
Carnage. Utter, gloriously uncoordinated carnage.
One poor student screamed as her summoned creature—a sleek, noble wolf—chose that moment to stretch luxuriously mid-fight, yawning like it was auditioning for a nap-themed perfume commercial.
Another student's summoned creature decided it was a good time to juggle pebbles instead of attacking. "Look, Yuna!" he called out proudly. "He's improving his dexterity!"
Yuna pressed her hand to her forehead. "You're in the middle of a battle simulation, not a talent show," she muttered, already feeling the telltale throb of an incoming headache. She started to understand the spade class teacher irritation.
Elsewhere, a mischievous summoned had "accidentally" tripped its summoner with a vine. The summoner faceplanted, the combat puppet paused—clearly confused—and Yuna just sighed. Again. For what felt like the twentieth time in the last ten minutes.
One student was crying in the corner because their summoned being refused to move, lounging on its side like a diva mid-retirement. Another was arguing with theirs—loudly—because the creature kept mistaking enemies for teammates and trying to "hug" them mid-combat.
"Beautiful," Yuna whispered flatly
It was no wonder the club class teacher kept hammering on the importance of summoned being training. If they couldn't even move in the same direction as their partner without tripping over each other, how could they ever hope to be real combat support?
She turned her eyes to the sky, wondering if she could trade her soul for a 10-minute nap and a bag of chips.
"Being class rep is truly the pinnacle of spiritual suffering," Yuna mumbled to herself. A non-existent single tears slipping down her face while lamenting her plight "Why do I have to be the one with responsibility? Why couldn't I have been lazy and oblivious like a normal background character?"
Wasn't she supposed to be a background character who doesn't even get screen time in the novel? Then what the hell is all this?! Yuna felt completely scammed..
From the field came a loud crash followed by a cheer. Yuna's head snapped toward the source—one of the students had actually managed to land a coordinated hit with their summoned partner.
"Oh?" Her eyes narrowed. "Accidental success, or divine mercy?"
Either way, it was a small, flickering light in the void. Maybe there was still hope.
Maybe.
Sighing for the nth time that day, Yuna scribbled something in her notebook: Mandatory day-and-night bonding with summoned partners. Possible threat of duct taping them together. Desperation level: critical.
From that day on, the Heart Class became a walking parade of summoned chaos.
Students were now permanently attached to their summoned beings—eating together, grooming together, even awkwardly trying to sleep together like some mismatched buddy comedy gone wrong. There was no escape. The poor creatures couldn't be tucked back into their summoning space, no matter how much both sides may have desperately wanted a break from each other.
Yuna order is ultimatum.
Each student was required to meticulously document their summoned being's abilities, quirks, and combat progress. Yuna would then dutifully collect their reports, compile them into neat little charts, and hand them over to Professor Veyne during his weekly Q&A session.
She'd always smile politely and ask for "guidance," but what she really meant was: Here, take this mountain of work and suffer with me, dear teacher.
If she had to drag herself through the mud, there was no way anyone else would be allowed to waltz through flowers. If Yuna was working hard, then everyone was working hard. If she was miserable, then nobody got to smile. Hmph! Fairness, after all, was the foundation of any good class rep's tyranny—I mean, leadership.