Soren Arden POV
After securing the final member of the Dessert Research Club, title pending, Soren went straight to the administrative building.
The late afternoon sun was slanting through the academy windows by the time he reached it.
The administrative building, with its polished floors and neat rows of desks, felt more like a government office than part of a school.
He stepped up to the reception window and slid the document forward.
One was the club creation form.
The other was the application sheet, with eight signatures, some in clean, some in messy handwriting.
The receptionist took the form, adjusted her glasses, and smiled politely.
"Understood. Please take a seat. We'll process it now."
Soren nodded and moved to the waiting area.
He sat on one of the cushioned benches by the wall, hands folded, eyes fixed on nothing.
Papers rustled around him, clerks walked by, students came and went, but it all felt distant.
He wasn't particularly nervous.
That surprised him a little.
A couple of months ago, the idea of submitting a club form, of putting his name down as president, of taking responsibility for anything would have made his chest tighten with panic.
Now, he just felt… normal.
A little tense, a little curious, but not crushed.
'Huh,' he thought to himself, staring at the floor tiles. 'I really did it.'
He had gone around and gathered people.
He had convinced Lilliana to supervise.
He had secured a ghost member.
He had written an activity description, filled out all the boring sections, and checked and rechecked the slots.
It was his decision from almost the beginning to the end.
His first real action taken purely by his own will.
No pre-written scenario.
No pressure forcing him to act.
Just something he wanted to do.
To make a place that belonged to them
He didn't even notice that until now, sitting there in the stale waiting room, hands empty, with nothing left to fill in.
'...Weird.'
There was still a faint sting in his chest.
Little questions that whispered when he got too quiet.
'Is it okay for me to do this?'
'Am I allowed to make something for myself?'
'What if it ruins everything later on?'
The familiar anxiety that had followed him since Aria's death still lingered in the back of his mind.
Survivor's guilt.
It was quieter now.
Not gone.
It probably never would be, but it no longer controlled every step he took.
For well over a year, it had dictated his life.
Every choice had been measured against some invisible scale of punishment, every moment coloured by the belief that he shouldn't exist, that he shouldn't want anything.
And yet now, somehow, he had made something.
He had friends who cared enough to worry about him.
He had financial security for the first time in a long time.
He had a plan to get stronger, to avoid repeating the same helplessness.
Even the trauma from the summer… the endless nightmares, the constant fear of being touched, the way his body froze up around men…
It was still there.
But he was moving forward.
Talking with Alex and Felix without flinching every time.
Letting Amelia drag him into sparring.
Letting Lilliana feed off of him.
He was still a mess, but he was a functional mess.
"Mr Arden?"
The receptionist's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
He stood and walked back to the desk.
"Your club has been approved," she said with a professional smile. "You are now officially registered as President of the Sweetheart Society."
His eyebrow twitched, but she continued without pause.
"Here is the key to your clubroom."
She placed a small silver key on the counter.
"The room is located on the top floor of the club building. When you enter, there will be rules and regulations on the table, as well as a description of your responsibilities as a small club."
Soren stared at the key, then at the woman.
"...Sorry," he said slowly. "What did you say the name was again?"
"You are Soren Arden, the president of Sweetheart Society, right?" she repeated.
The life in his eyes faded.
He nodded stiffly.
"Here is the key," she said again, sliding it closer. "Please make sure all members are informed of the rules."
"...Thanks," Soren replied.
His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears as he took the key and turned away.
He exited the administrative building in a daze.
Outside, the air felt fresher, but it didn't help much.
He walked a few steps, found the nearest bench, and slumped down onto it.
His elbows rested on his knees, his hands pressed against his forehead.
He stayed like that for several minutes.
Silent.
Thinking of every decision that had led to this moment.
"Fucking Sweetheart Society…" he groaned.
That was the name Louise had written down at the cafe yesterday.
He could see it clearly in his head.
Her bright eyes.
Her proud smile.
Her very serious, "It's cute, though?"
He had left it in the "Club Name" box, thinking he would change it later.
He hadn't thought of anything better yet, so he kept telling people it was the "Dessert Research Club, title pending" whenever it came up, ignoring the looks he got.
Then he had gone to bribe… recruit Lev.
And after that, everything had happened quickly.
The contract.
The funding.
The elixir request.
He had walked out of the alchemy building feeling confident, relieved, maybe even a little smug, and immediately submitted both the creation and application forms.
No edits.
No second glance at the name.
'...I'm an idiot.'
He looked down at the copy of the creation form in his hands.
[Club Name: The Sweetheart Society]
[Club Description: A club about making and tasting desserts.]
[President: Soren Arden]
[Vice President: Olivia]
[Supervisor: Professor Lilliana Roseblood]
It looked like something a child would write on a fake membership card.
"How on earth did an almost twenty-one-year-old woman come up with this?" he muttered.
He let his head fall back and stared up at the cloudy sky.
Wind brushed over his face.
No amount of breeze could cool the embarrassment.
And this was only the beginning.
He still had to go to everyone.
To show them the clubroom.
To show them the nameplate.
Including Lev, someone he had only spoken to once and had just bribed into an exclusive contract.
'I want to die,' Soren thought.
But there was nothing he could do now.
He had signed, they had stamped, the key was already in his hand.
The Sweetheart Society was real.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
Everyone, minus Lev, had gathered at the club building.
Soren had told them to meet there after classes while he went to collect the key.
By the time he arrived, around twenty minutes later, they were all waiting near the entrance.
Esper and Felix were bickering over something minor.
Amelia was yawning, leaning lazily against the wall.
Oliva and Alex were glued together, lost in their own worlds.
Lilliana stood slightly apart, arms crossed, watching the group.
And, finally, Louise was happily eating a small tart she must have picked up on the way.
Soren walked toward them with dead eyes.
"Is something wrong, Ren?" Lilliana asked, tilting her head.
He looked at her.
Then at Louise.
He glared.
Louise blinked back at him, confused, crumbs at the corner of her mouth.
Soren took a breath and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.
"You'll see. Let's go."
He opened the door to the club building and stepped inside.
The others followed behind him, each with their own level of curiosity.
"Our clubroom is on the top floor," Soren said as they started up the stairs. "Apparently, we're registered as a small club. Not that I know what that means."
"I think it means that our funding and clubroom are small, and the tasks we're expected to do aren't as important. It doesn't really mean much for us, though," Louise explained casually.
Soren turned his head and glared at her again.
She blinked, then pretended not to notice.
He sighed and continued upward.
The club building was six stories tall.
Most floors had long hallways lined with doors, each labelled with club names.
Sounds seeped through the cracks: laughter, arguments, music, the clanging of training equipment, the murmur of chants.
By the time they reached the fifth floor, a couple of them were breathing a little harder, but nobody complained.
Finally, they climbed the last flight of stairs and stepped onto the top floor.
They stopped almost immediately.
Unlike the lower floors, which were packed with corridors and clustered rooms, the top floor was… open.
There was a small, spacious area right at the top of the stairs, big enough to be a waiting room or lounge.
And at the far side of that space stood a single door.
One door.
No other rooms.
No branching hallways.
Just one, central entrance.
Soren, still wrapped up in his own misery, barely registered the difference; he walked forward mechanically until he stood in front of the door.
Then he saw it.
They all did.
On the door, at eye level, was a plaque.
Neat letters carved into a polished plate.
[The Sweetheart Society]
————「❤︎」————