Chapter: 293
I perched myself on the laqulacque that Erich gave me as I surveyed the club room. With seven active members, one advisor, and an honorary member hanging around, it definitely felt more lively compared to last year.
Turning my gaze to the right, I saw Louise checking the oven while baking cookies, with Marcilio, who was taking an interest in confectionery, and Sera helping out by carrying ingredients nearby. They were all still pure and untouched by madness, which was quite a sight.
‘They get along well.’
I’m particularly relieved that Louise and Sera seem to be getting along fine. For Sera, excluding Marcilio, who acts as the member’s representative, Louise is the only other female member and the president, so it would be awkward if they weren’t getting along.
Moreover, setting aside the club relationship, Sera would be looking up to Louise as an elder brother figure once they graduate. It wouldn’t hurt to get close ahead of time.
‘This is what a pastry club is all about.’
Anyway, seeing a gathering of women with vibrant hair colors—pink, white, and gold—baking pastries really gave the impression that this was, indeed, a pastry club. Only Louise among them had actual pastry skills, but hey, it’s still fun to watch!
‘What are those guys up to?’
I quietly turned my gaze left to see a group of five guys who were sheer insanity. They had given up even watching the pastry action. It was undeniable that they had volunteered to join the pastry club at some point.
“Really bizarre tactics you’ve got there.”
“Haha, thanks for the compliment.”
After being the latest victim of the 4-bishop tactic, Ainter put on a smile and pulled off a ‘Game on!’ move. Of course, to Rutis, it was a huge compliment, so he just laughed it off.
In the pastry club room, chaos reigned with chess games even happening in one corner while actual pastry-making took place. Logically, someone should object, but the male members just watched on with excitement.
“I’ll go next.”
“Oh, winning against the blessed saint with a bishop must feel special!”
No, they were not just observing, they were actively participating.
What the heck is this early trash-talking? At least you should provoke after winning!
‘This is genuinely a pastry club.’
I couldn’t stomach watching any longer and closed my eyes. Sure, I’d seen this nonsense last year too, but I had the excuse of getting rejected by Louise to justify it back then. It makes sense to wander a bit when you get rejected by the girl you liked during your prime. So, I stood by as the pastry club morphed into a chess club, poker club, and beach volleyball club—all in the shadows.
But this time feels different. I had time to reflect during winter break, and the new academic year has started. Isn’t it time to stop drifting and approach the club with a fresh mindset?
Though, I guess turning the pastry club into a multi-purpose entertainment club does sound like a new start.
‘These lunatics.’
My blunder. I had momentarily forgotten they evolved from little pups into a labor force and showed unexpected brainplay. Their essence is still that of madmen.
“Before we play, let’s eat. I just finished the cookies.”
Thanks to Louise announcing the cookies were ready, Tannian’s defeat got postponed. Frankly, I can’t even picture Rutis losing at chess.
“You can eat while playing chess—”
“Then you’d just drop crumbs everywhere.”
With that firm declaration to focus on eating while eating, Rutis clicked his tongue in disappointment.
I felt like sighing because of this absurd conversation. Does it really matter whether you’re playing chess or just eating, as long as you’re eating?
‘They’ve compromised.’
Not just the lunatic male members, but even President Louise accepted this situation. Whether they were playing chess in the club room or going outside to play volleyball, it seemed like she was okay with it. It was enough for her to just have people enjoy the treats they bake and have conversations together.
Of course, the real purpose of club activities is to foster camaraderie, so it’s not strange—still, you’d expect them to at least pretend to follow the founding goals…
‘I’m sorry.’
As I bit into a cookie and caught sight of Sera smiling softly, guilt surged through me.
Since the president accepted this compromise, it goes without saying that new members like Marcilio and Sera wouldn’t think differently. Marcilio found the free-spirited attitude of the current generation intriguing, while Sera adopted the flawed notion that this madness was normal.
It’s horrible. I just showed Sera, who’s doing her first social activities, something completely abnormal. I wonder if the maid will end up crying if she finds out.
‘There’s nothing I can say.’
The worst part is being unable to halt this creepy phenomenon.
Sure, they’re not acting like a pastry club and instead like a multi-entertainment club, but honestly, it doesn’t harm me. I just feel a sense of despair watching them fail to live up to their namesake.
As long as they gather regularly and enjoy the entertainment they want quietly, from the manager’s perspective, isn’t that the best situation? I’d rather not intervene and risk them saying, “Then we’ll just play somewhere else.” and have to beg them not to leave.
‘…As long as they’re happy, right?’
I forced my happiness circuit into action. If the president doesn’t say anything and all the members are happy, isn’t that what counts? As a guardian whose priority is the happiness and safety of the members, shouldn’t I genuinely appreciate this situation?
Yeah, let’s just think of it that way.
Fortunately, an objective voice from a third party outside the club broke through my thoughts.
“We might need to change the club name soon.”
“I think so too.”
Hearing my complaints, Marghetta spoke up with an awkward smile. With only one out of seven official members actually doing pastry, isn’t that more like a pastry flavor enhancer with just 0.03% concentration?
I feel cognitive dissonance creeping in. The only new member has enthusiasm but lacks pastry skills, while the existing members possess skills but lack any enthusiasm. The balance is out of whack—who arranged this mess?
“Still, it’s a relief that they seem to have affection for the club itself.”
At least that comment offered some solace, and Marghetta nodded in agreement.
No matter how much I emphasize it, the pastry club’s practical function is more important than its public image. It’s meaningless if the members love pastry but can’t keep Rutis or Lather from leaving; yet, if they stay even in a pastry club (that’s not making any pastry), that’s enough.
‘Let’s keep it this way.’
But there’s a slight worry. They’re already disregarding the club’s external function and enjoying their freedom, aren’t they? If they disregard the club structure itself someday, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned.
So please, just please keep it this way until graduation. Whether it’s the pastry club or the volleyball club, I don’t care. I’d even let it go if the club room turned into a casino.
“By the way, Carl. I hate to bring this up right now, but…”
While I was busy swearing to soothe the shocked Louise, Marghetta cautiously mentioned, observing things carefully.
I felt uneasy. What the heck is she gearing up to say?
“Soon it’ll be the application period for the fair… remember?”
“Ah.”
“I forgot about that.”
The memory, which had been buried deep in my mind, finally resurfaced. Right, the first major event of the academy year is the fair. Last year was a frenzy with both the first and fourth managers attending due to the third glory.
“We need to apply for which booth each club will run—what booth will the pastry club operate?”
“……”
At that, I couldn’t even open my mouth. I couldn’t confidently yell, “We’ll have the pastry booth again this year!”
Looking at our current state, it seemed we’d have to propose running another booth.
My ill-fated prediction was spot on.
“Isn’t it boring to have the same booth two years in a row?”
As always, Rutis flicked his tongue, prodding the devil’s fork without mercy.
I nearly slammed my forehead in disbelief. Of course, a club would continue with the same theme for their booth, not suddenly jump to unrelated topics. Other clubs would cry if they heard that!
No need to look far—just the expression on Louise’s face alone showed shock. Is this the difference between madmen and normal people?
“The booths are normally done with the same theme.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Yes, you little punk.
Those words nearly flew from my throat, but I held back. The 78th season Rutis is not the same as the 77th season Rutis… even now, he has a way higher contribution than the standard, so I should endure…
‘Why is there even a discussion about this?’
Simultaneously, a sense of futility washed over me. Deciding the fair booth themes—does that really need discussion? Surely we’ll be going with the pastry concept again like last year, right?
“Nowadays, clubs also run booths unrelated to their theme?”
“No… not really…”
Marcilio, observing the chaos unfold, discreetly asked Louise. Maybe he was wondering if the fair’s format has changed in the last hundred years.
Of course, Louise helplessly answered with a voice that sounded like her heart was breaking. The reply only brought deeper puzzlement to Marcilio’s eyes.
‘Damn it.’
Holding back a sigh that felt like it might burst, I stared blankly at Erich. Before the lunatics change the world, we need to recruit as many normal people as possible.
Fortunately, noticing my gaze, Erich hurriedly spoke up. I could see the urgency in his eyes to stop that insane redhead from causing havoc.
“Wouldn’t a pastry booth be better? The excuse for keeping out the new members was that they can’t bake, but if we drop the baking, that would be odd.”
“That’s a valid point. If we lose the justification, the control we barely established will crumble,”
Erich’s entirely reasonable argument also gained support from Lather.
I felt touched. My laborers 2 and 3 are following my lead. Is this what it feels like to manage a team as a boss?
‘…What would I have done without them?’
I would have had to persuade all five members by myself, instead of relying on any help at all.
Terrifying. Past me really held on without losing my mind.
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