The second year of high school hit Veneri with the same dull rhythm as before, just louder, messier and more socially aggressive than he cared for.
That year, the school elections started early.
Greshina Emberforge had already thrown her name into the race for student president. There were posters everywhere, loud hallway conversations, groups forming and dissolving within days and such stuff. Even teachers subtly adjusted their tone when talking about the campaigns, like they were watching something inevitable unfold.
Veneri stayed outside of all that noise, at least, on paper. In reality, he was already sitting in the student council as treasurer. That position didn't come from ambition. It came from utility.
In his first year, he had been pulled in after a series of school events nearly collapsed financially and logistically. Vendors mismanaged, budgets were miscalculated and timing issues kept stacking up. He stepped in quietly, fixed what needed fixing and kept moving. He didn't even ask for recognition. After that, the council didn't let him go. They made him the permanent treasurer.
He accepted it without resistance because they paid him.
The private school system had a habit of attaching small stipends to student council positions. For Veneri, it mattered so he stayed. That single decision started building a reputation around him that he never actively pursued.
By the time second year settled in, people had already labeled him the most handsome male student in school. It wasn't a formal title. It was just repeated often enough that it became accepted fact. He was European, handsome, and carried himself with a kind of calm neutrality that made him stand out in a crowd full of noise. But it wasn't just looks.
It was his behavior.
He didn't overreact. He didn't chase attention. He didn't try to be liked but he also never gave people a reason to dislike him. If someone needed help, he helped. If something was pointless, he didn't waste time pretending otherwise. And then there was the cooking club which he created himself.
It started as something small for structured practice rather than casual cooking. But it didn't stay small for long. The club filled up quickly, which was mostly boys. A few girls joined but the internal culture shifted in a very specific direction. It wasn't about relaxation or hobby cooking. Members were required to bring a dish assigned by the president and vice president. They had to cook twice every school day.
Morning and afternoon expectations were implied, enforced through structure rather than shouting. If a member failed to meet their standards three times in a row, they were removed. It wasn't a safe space and somehow, that made it more attractive.
The boys in the club changed over time. They started carrying their own food instead of relying on the cafeteria as their habits shifted naturally under the club's rhythm. They became more self-contained and less socially erratic. Even their interactions with girls changed. Their performative behavior faded too.
By last year's school event, the cooking club had become impossible to ignore.
Their sales numbers broke expectations completely. While other clubs struggled to stay relevant, the cooking club dominated the event space. Their food was consistently bought, repeatedly recommended and constantly requested. They formed nearly fifteen times the revenue of other clubs.
Teachers started paying attention after that. Students started joining for reasons they didn't fully understand themselves. Now, during election season, that influence turned into something else. Candidates began appearing in his classroom regularly. They wanted him to "consider supporting" them. The wording changed depending on who was speaking but the intention was always the same. If he supported someone, student voting patterns shifted and everyone knew it.
So, they came to him over and over again.
One group entered the classroom that day while he was still sitting near his desk. There were too many rehearsed sentences waiting to be delivered. He didn't respond much. Another group arrived not long after the first one left, trying to catch him before he could disengage. That was when the pattern became obvious enough to be exhausting rather than interesting.
The classroom was already turning into a war zone before lunch.
Two campaign rep representatives had just left Veneri's desk after trying—again—to get him to "consider supporting" their candidate, and he looked one interruption away from climbing out the window.
He had one elbow on the desk, staring at absolutely nothing. A classmate leaned over next to him.
"Another one came looking for you during break."
"I'm starting to feel hunted."
A few students laughed. After a while, the classroom door slid open and Vivian stepped in. Like always, she carried herself with this effortless composure that somehow cut through noise. A few boys from the cooking club immediately noticed her and started whispering.
"Vice president came again."
"She really visits every day."
"Obviously for the president."
Vivian ignored them and walked straight to Veneri's desk. He looked up.
"You're here early."
"I had to rescue you before the election people carry you off."
"That serious?"
She glanced at the campaign flyers piled on his desk.
"Actually, it's worse. They are ruining our club activities."
He sighed dramatically and dropped his forehead onto the desk.
"I'm being politically harassed."
"So come have lunch with me."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
He pointed at the classroom entrance where another student candidate was visibly trying to peek in.
"You see that?"
"I do."
"They've been circling like vultures."
"Well, the famous cooking club member has become public property. So are you coming?"
"I'm kind of busy trying to avoid being recruited into five political alliances."
"That sounds hard."
"It is."
She nodded with mock sympathy.
"Good luck surviving."
He narrowed his eyes.
"That sounded very unhelpful."
"It was encouragement. I'll save you a seat."
She paused at the door and looked back.
"Oh. And don't accidentally endorse someone by breathing in their direction."
A few students burst out laughing. Veneri pointed at her with a mock expression.
"You're abandoning me."
"Correct. Good luck."
Then she left. The moment she disappeared, two students from another campaign started approaching the room. One of Veneri's classmates immediately whispered.
"Run."
He didn't need to be told twice. He fled the classroom through the opposite side before they reached him.
"Bro actually escaped."
"He ran?"
"Our treasurer has entered survival mode."
One girl shook her head laughing.
"Can you blame him? Every candidate wants him."
"Of course they do. If he backs someone, half the school follows."
"Half? Try most."
Another leaned back in his chair.
"Seriously, if he ran for president himself, the election would end in one day."
"Forget president, teachers listen to him too."
"It's because everybody likes him."
"No, it's because he somehow influences people without trying."
"And the cooking club alone could swing votes."
That got nods.
One girl near the window said, "Do you realize he made boys in this school start bringing homemade lunches? That's a terrifying influence."
"My brother joined that club and now he cooks food better than before. He's honestly too powerful for a student."
That was when Greshina, passing by the hallway with campaign materials in hand, slowed down. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop but hearing Veneri's name repeated made her stop.
"If he supports someone, it's over."
"The students trust him more than campaign speeches."
"Even teachers take his opinions seriously."
"He could decide this election if he wanted."
Greshina stood still. One of the boys inside kept talking.
"I'm serious. Candidates aren't chasing votes. They're chasing him instead. Maybe only Greshina is. Whoever gets his support basically wins."
Greshina's brows lifted slightly. So the rumors were true but hearing ordinary classmates say it so naturally made it feel different. A girl near the door suddenly noticed her outside.
"Oh. Emberforge's there."
Everyone turned. Greshina didn't look embarrassed at being caught listening. If anything, she looked thoughtful. One student grinned.
"Looking for Veneri too? Get in line."
Greshina looked once toward the hall where he had escaped, then back at the class. A faint smile touched her mouth.
"So, is he really that troublesome?"
A boy answered instantly.
"No. He's worse than that."
Greshina, still standing there with campaign papers in hand, found herself far more interested in the elusive treasurer who ran from candidates than in the candidates themselves.