Chapter 30: Club Recruitment
The next afternoon, his schedule showed only one class.
Uriel checked it twice.
That can't be right. Early dismissal?
Did they print the wrong timetable?
He looked below the class listing. A line of small print read:
Club recruitment activities for the current term are scheduled for Thursday afternoon of the third week of the semester. Afternoon coursework will be reduced to a single session on that day, with the remaining time designated for students to freely attend club showcase events.
…Oh. That's it.
He set the timetable down on the desk with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just read the nutritional information on a rice cracker. He glanced sideways.
Tian was already packing up her textbooks with brisk, practiced efficiency.
"Club recruitment," Uriel said. "Want to check it out?"
Tian slung her bag over one shoulder and nodded.
---
The courtyard and the corridors had been taken over.
Booths lined both sides of the main path, and students moved between them in loose clusters. Some clubs were waving hand-painted banners and calling out to anyone who slowed down. Others were running live demonstrations. Two seniors from the Swordsmanship Club were sparring right there on the flagstones, their footwork sharp and deliberate, and a small crowd had formed to watch and cheer.
Uriel walked with his hands tucked in his pockets, taking it in at a slow drift. Left side, right side.
Combat Arts. Swordsmanship. Archery. Equestrian.
Then the magic side: Formation Studies. Classical Thaumaturgy. Elemental Experimentation. Runic Research Society.
He slowed in front of the Classical Thaumaturgy booth.
The table had several open volumes of spellform diagrams propped up on display. A senior member stood beside them, running a live demo with a small fire-inscribed rune. The flame shifted direction with each movement of his fingers — precise, fluid, completely under control.
…Okay, that's actually interesting.
Uriel's gaze settled on the diagrams for a moment.
"Do you want to join?"
Tian had noticed. She leaned in slightly and kept her voice low.
"What about you," Uriel said. "Anything catch your eye?"
"Wherever you go, I'll go."
Instant answer. Zero hesitation.
Uriel looked at her.
Then he thought through the realistic outcomes, one by one.
Swordsmanship Club. Paired sparring session. Tian engages, pulls her strength back. The question was whether she could actually calibrate the gap. In theory she'd gotten much better at it. But the margin for error with her was…
No. Even with the best-case scenario, 'what if' is not a risk I'm taking.
He moved to the magic clubs.
Formation Studies. Intro session. Draw a basic guided array. First meeting stuff.
He mentally pictured Tian crouched on the floor, expression scrubbed clean of everything except 'totally normal new student,' painstakingly drawing the most foundational array in the entire curriculum.
Then the array activates and blankets the entire school.
Also no.
He finished his analysis. The conclusion was equal parts disappointing and inevitable.
He did have genuine interest in a few of the magic clubs. Learning some flashy technique for decoration purposes, or even just as cover, would have been more useful than sitting idle. But it wasn't an option. It simply wasn't.
"We're in the Going Home Club," he said.
Tian tilted her head. "The Going Home Club?"
"Going Home Club," Uriel confirmed, with the gravity of a man defining a legal term. "The Go-Home Club. The club whose only purpose is to abandon the premises the precise millisecond the final bell rings. No activities. No obligations. Just pure, unadulterated slacking."
Tian listened to this with full, sincere attention. She thought about it.
"But… we live in the dormitory."
"Yes."
"And most students here are from noble families. Even the royal students board on campus. They can't go home every day. So technically, wouldn't the Going Home Club require — an actual home to go to?"
Uriel looked up at the sky for a moment.
…She always misses the point. Every single time.
He looked back at her. Thought for exactly one second. Delivered his ruling.
"The dorm is home."
"Hm?"
"Wherever you are is home. So yes, we're in the Going Home Club. No further questions."
Tian went very still.
Something lit up behind her eyes, ripples spreading outward from a deep, wordless warmth.
Uriel looked away the instant he registered what he'd said. Too late.
That landed heavier than I meant it to.
"Uriel —"
She leaned forward. Both arms were already opening.
"Hold on —"
He stepped back half a pace, raised both hands, and held her cheeks. One palm on each cheek. He held her there at arm's length.
"You're dressed as a boy right now," he said, voice low, each word separate. "Do not. Hug. Me."
A muffled, slightly confused sound came from behind his palms.
"I know you're happy. But there are people around."
Her eyes slid left. Then right.
There were indeed people around. At least three groups of students nearby had already looked over, wearing the various expressions of people witnessing something they weren't sure how to categorize. One student had stopped walking entirely and was wearing the face of someone who had accidentally walked in on a private moment and was now trapped.
Uriel pulled his hands back, executed a smooth quarter-turn, and used his body to block Tian's arms, which had not quite finished retreating. He kept his voice easy and unhurried.
"Nothing to see. Let's go."
"Mm—"
"Keep up."
He was already walking.
He steered them along the outer edge of the booth row, found a quiet stretch of corridor with no foot traffic, and stopped there. They could wait out the rest of the event from here.
Tian stood beside him without speaking. But her eyes were still curved at the corners. The afterglow of that comment hadn't cleared yet.
Uriel wasn't looking at her. He let his gaze drift toward the courtyard, mostly as a way to pass the time.
Then his sleeve was pulled. Twice, lightly.
"What?" Uriel turned.
"Little Uri…" Tian kept her voice down. Even in disguise, that particular soft unhurried quality in her voice didn't change. "That man over there — the one with the half-white hair — his eyes are a little strange."
"Strange how?"
"It doesn't feel like a teacher looking at a student." Tian tilted her head, appearing to search her vocabulary for the right word. "When I used to hunt in the forest… it's like a starving hyena that just locked onto a particularly fat, defenseless rabbit. It’s a very predatory look. A little creepy, honestly."
Uriel went still for a moment.
It was the first time he'd heard her use the word frightening about anything.
He filed that away immediately. Galatina's instincts were not a casual data point. This was a woman who could lock onto a Demon Lord's presence from several kilometers out. If she said something was wrong, something was wrong.
He followed her line of sight.
Early fifties. Immaculate dark coat, the kind that cost money and was meant to. Hairline receding with age but posture still rigid and upright.
The Headmaster.
The man who'd given the closing remarks at the opening ceremony.
Uriel extended his Observer sense in that direction. The light settled over the man — white, but not the white of silver. Cooler than that. Something closer to moonlight, with a faint edge of blue. And thick. Mithril, maybe close to Orichalcum.
He tracked the Headmaster's gaze to where it ended.
A female student, standing near the edge of the crowd. She held a dress hat in both hands. The cut of her coat was expensive at a glance, the sort of thing only a great noble house could afford.
Uriel brought his attention back to the Headmaster's face.
The expression was focused. Evaluating. The look of someone running numbers.
Detective mode, activated.
A high-ranking noble's daughter. The Headmaster of the academy, standing in full view of three hundred students. Whatever he wanted from her, he wasn't going to take it here — too visible, too many witnesses, the downside was catastrophic. So it wasn't opportunity he was calculating.
…Got it.
Uriel let out a short, quiet sound. Something between a scoff and a laugh.
"I've got it," Uriel tapped his index finger against his thigh. A cold, clinical glint settled in his eyes.
"That fast?" Tian blinked.
"That look isn't a teacher looking at a student, you're right." He walked through it. "The old man has designs on that girl. Not protective. Not mentorship. Exactly what you said — hunter watching prey."
He touched his chin.
"Don't know the specifics yet. But it has 'messy political conspiracy' written all over it."
A beat of silence.
Then Tian's eyes went wide.
Both hands came up and clasped lightly together in front of her chest. Something lit up in those gold eyes — the specific, undisguised, almost embarrassingly genuine expression of someone watching their favorite person do something impressive.
"Wow—"
The sound that came out of her was the most sincere thing Uriel had heard all week.
"That's incredible, Little Uri. One look and you read all of that." She leaned forward half a step, the effort of staying still written plainly across her face. "You're so smart. You're going to be a great detective someday."
If there hadn't been people around, Uriel had absolutely zero doubt she would have dropped the disguise on the spot and pulled him face-first into a hug that smelled like home cooking.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat with great tactical deliberateness and forcibly flattened the corner of his mouth that was attempting to lift. "Standard operating procedure applies: We avoid him at all costs. We are invisible."
"Yes! Whatever Little Uri says!"
Tian nodded several times with the energy of someone who had just received a proclamation from a beloved authority figure. Her eyes were doing something that had no business happening on the face of a disguised male student in a public corridor.
Uriel looked away. He mentally tagged the Headmaster: watch this one.
Then he glanced at Tian.
She was still basking in the afterglow of 'my son is a genius.'
…Fine.
The Headmaster problem can wait.
"Come on," he said. "Going Home Club. We're going home."
"Yes!"
Tian jogged a few steps to catch up, then fell into easy stride beside him, matching his pace without thinking about it.
The Going Home Club, returning home with dignity.