The Student Council President and the Heir

Inside an opulent cordovan-walled room, occupied by a lavish furniture set of burgundy colou\r, a youthful-looking man in his thirty's dressed in a navy blue suit was currently having an audience with the Student Council President. Two cups of freshly-brewed tea were served on the wooden table amid them.

"How's the situation around here, President Escarlot?" the man asked after taking a sip of his tea.

"We have it under control, Chairman, though there's a few notable occurrences recently," Allen answered solemnly, peering at the older man with a small smile.

"I see. It's been more than a year since you guys came. Have you gotten used to life around here?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mr. Hildert Canaan, the seventy second Chairman of Canaan's Private Academy and owner of one of the country's biggest conglomerate businesses, was well-known for his magnanimous heart despite his unrelenting character, proven by how he'd always start a conversation with Allen by inquiring their well-being. Albeit an influential figure, Mr. Canaan was self-effacing and queer in the eyes of many. That's because behind the scene, he acts as a lid that conceals the ever mystifying existence of the Champions and summoned creatures from the outside world – an oath that his ancestor pledged to carry out ever since the school was founded.

"As for these occurrences, I'm afraid I have to hear them later today. I had to take care of something first. You'll also be busy for today's event," Mr. Canaan voiced out, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

"I understand, Sir. But, I request that you hear them from our leader instead. They're quite... perplexing," he replied, mirroring his expression.

"Hmm... That's a surprise. It's a shame that I like the tea you brew better..." he quipped meaningfully, which didn't go unnoticed by his student.

"Please be reasonable, Chairman," he deadpanned.

While Allen knew well that Mr. Canaan was honoured and deemed favoured to be the chosen generation that got to witness Metis's Champions' appearance, he's also aware that his opinions of them varied. There's a reason why he's the one reporting to the Chairman on a regular basis, instead of their venerable leader.

"As you know, Escarlot, I fear no man but that boy..." he trails off before mustering a grim expression.

"...He terrifies me... a tad bit..."

It's ludicrous how an adult – a prestigious entrepreneur to boot – dreaded a fourteen-year-old to the point he doesn't want to converse with him, but if the said offender was Harrison Louen, it's somehow conceivable. The preeminent Aristian ruler who took office at such a young age was just simply out of this world. Allen doesn't judge Mr. Canaan for his perception of him, nor does he view him any less remarkable.

He's not the only one, after all – even the wisest and highest ranked nobles of Aristia had feared the youth.

"Then, I'll just tag along," Allen chimed in, complying with his implicit request.

"That's reassuring... Now that's settled, I'd like to ask for another favour," Mr. Canaan replied, making him blink at him questioningly.

"My son will be attending this school starting today. I'd like you to keep him company for now. Just drag him along as you do your duties. That way he'll be able to tour around," he continued, much to Allen's flummox.

"Your son?"

"Yes, my successor. And also, I implore that you keep the matter about the Champions and summoned creatures a secret from him. He shouldn't involve himself yet."

Allen recalled that the Chairman has two sons.

However, the elder one, who's supposed to be the true heir, had vanished without a trace, which threw not only the family, but the whole industrial world into tumult. As he remained missing for years now, Mr. Canaan probably grew weary of the impact of his absence on their business and was pressured to choose a replacement. But then, Allen knew the older man enough to think that he won't come up with such a crucial decision for the sake of public opinion alone.

"Good afternoon, Father. You called?"

His train of thoughts halted at the husky voice of a teenage male.

Swiveling his head around, Allen was greeted by a fair-skinned, handsome boy with spruce, perfectly aligned golden brown hair and round, ocean blue eyes. He wears an oxford blue denim jacket, probably custom-designed, instead of the school's iconic black jacket. Although he certainly resembles the Chairman, his aura doesn't seem that overwhelming for a conglomerate's successor.

"Yes, son. I'd like you to meet Mr. Allendis Escarlot, the Student Council President. He'll be the one to take you around," Mr. Canaan remarked, introducing Allen whose eyes remained glued at his look-alike.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Ezekiel Canaan, heir of Canaan's Corporation. You may call me Zeke," the Chairman's son greeted courtly.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Zeke. You can also just call me Allen," the red head replied, standing up and returning the gesture.

A moment later, Mr. Canaan finally bid them farewells before sending them out of the room.

Allen caught a glimpse of Zeke slightly slumping and sighing in relief upon returning to the hallway. With that, he had an impression that perhaps, this boy wasn't really what he seemed, but he just veiled his curiosity and decided to put some distance as early as now, both for the sake of Mr. Canaan's request and their own confidentiality.

He really wouldn't want another Angelica Claes joining the party.

Not even an hour later, he proved his prediction right. Allen's prior image of Zeke as a dignified and well-behaved rich kid from a strict manor shattered in a matter of minutes. Contrary to his initial belief, he lacked what people call the pride of someone born with a silver spoon on his mouth.

Prejudice wasn't really good, after all.

"Come on, Allen. You got to know something about the secret myths of Canaan Private Academy. I'm really curious!" Zeke exclaimed for the hundredth time that day, irking Allen even more.

They've been walking along the corridor of the building where most of the clubrooms were located when the young heir suddenly blurted this out. He was taken aback when he started interrogating him about supernatural occurrences, shady-looking people, and abnormal cases inside the campus to which the mellowed Student Council President only pretended to be clueless of. Obviously, he's referring to them. Even after lying about not catching wind of any peculiar circumstances, Zeke continued pestering him to spill the beans.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know anything," Allen apologized, keeping his calm.

"But, you're the Student Council President! You're supposed to be the smartest one here," Zeke retorted.

"I don't see what it has to do with anything."

"Don't tell me... Are you a fraud? Maybe you don't do your job well. If that's so, this school is done for."

Allen just clenched his fists at this, his smile strained and eyebrows slightly twitching in miff. Not even Hal or Noah were capable of such humour.

In less than an hour, he was able to come up with a lasting impression of Ezekiel Canaan.

"This nosy, bigmouthed little brat..."