With a new objective etched into my grand design, I moved with calculated haste.
The primary target of my first operation was, without question, Kallen Stadtfeld.
Utilizing my administrative privileges within the Student Council, I cross-referenced her timetable to plot the optimal trajectory for a 'fateful' first encounter.
'Perfect. Once second period concludes, she will borrow a book from the library and head toward the Student Council Building. The moment she rounds that corner, we shall collide with practiced naturalism.'
The plan was flawless.
A collision with a frail, delicate girl. Books scattering across the floor.
I would gallantly help her up, gather her belongings, and, as an apology, smoothly transition into an invitation for tea—securing our next meeting.
It was a cliché, certainly. But tropes are clichés for a reason: they work.
The hour of our engagement finally arrived.
I lay in wait at the corridor's edge, counting the seconds until Kallen appeared. In the distance, the silhouette of a crimson-haired girl carrying a precarious stack of books came into view.
'Now!'
Taking a single, centering breath, I surged forward at the precise moment.
"Whoa!"
With a dull thud, my body was repelled, sent flying as though I were a mere scrap of parchment caught in a gale.
Crash!
When my senses returned, I found myself splayed out ignominiously upon the corridor tiles in a star shape. The outcome was the exact inverse of my calculations.
It was not Kallen who had fallen. It was me.
Kallen remained standing, her mountain of books still secure in her arms, looking down at me with an expression of bewildered concern.
'What in the world... is this wretched constitution? I have been jogging and performing push-ups daily since my transmigration, and yet this is the result? It defies logic!'
A scream of internal frustration echoed through my mind. I had failed to account for just how abysmal Lelouch's physical specifications truly were.
"Oh... are you alright, Lelouch-kun?" Kallen asked, her voice adopting the careful, sickly tone of her public persona.
Struggling to mask my humiliation, I donned Lelouch's characteristic cynical mask and spoke.
"Ah, my apologies. I was momentarily lost in thought."
"No, no... I wasn't looking where I was going..."
Flustered, Kallen hurriedly apologized and extended a hand toward me. I grasped her small, soft hand to hoist myself up, but was struck yet again by the surprisingly firm grip she possessed.
I brushed the dust from my uniform and revised my stratagem on the fly.
"That stack of books looks quite heavy. Allow me to carry them as a gesture of apology."
I reached for the pile with an air of dignified confidence, but Kallen subtly sidestepped me.
"No, really, I can manage this much on my own."
"There is no need for modesty. Consider it my penance."
I exerted more force, intent on taking the books, but the pile remained as immovable as if it were rooted in bedrock. On the contrary, I was nearly dragged along by Kallen's own reflexive strength as she tried to maintain her hold.
A moment of silence stretched between us.
I ceased my struggle and stared at her, my eyes narrowed in sheer disbelief. Meeting my gaze directly, Kallen's face instantly flushed a vivid scarlet.
"W-why are you looking at me like that?!"
The thought slipped through my lips before I could restrain it.
"...You are unexpectedly strong, aren't you?"
"Huh? N-no! That's not true! How could I be... It's just... the books are heavy, so...!"
Babbling incoherent excuses, Kallen scrambled backward and fled down the hallway, disappearing as though the very hounds of hell were at her heels.
I stood there, staring blankly at her retreating form.
"Am I to count this... as a success? I suppose a connection has been forged, however clumsy..."
As I offered myself a wry smile while analyzing the debacle, a familiar voice drifted from behind me.
"Hey, Lelouch. What are you standing around in a daze for?"
Rivalz Cardemonde approached, spinning his motorcycle keys around his finger. He looked back and forth between the corridor where Kallen had vanished and my bewildered expression, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Wait... wasn't that Kallen Stadtfeld? You two are on speaking terms?"
"No, we merely collided in passing," I replied curtly.
Rivalz let out an intrigued "Oho~" and gave my shoulder a playful nudge.
"Collided? That young lady is so frail she looks like a stiff breeze would knock her over. Is she okay? Maybe you should pay her a visit in the infirmary?"
At his words, the memory of being bounced off her like a toy returned to haunt me, and my expression stiffened.
"...It was I who was knocked down."
"What? Pwahaha! Seriously? You?"
Rivalz doubled over with laughter. I aimed a sharp, but light, kick at his shin.
"Quiet. My foot merely slipped because I was preoccupied with a complex problem."
"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Vice President! Truly, the weight of your intellect must be a heavy burden to carry! So, is she fine? She looked quite startled—she was bright red when she ran past me."
"I wouldn't know. She left without a word."
I shrugged, feigning indifference, though a slight sting of embarrassment remained. Rivalz continued to chuckle, patting my shoulder in what was either consolation or further mockery.
"Don't dwell on it, pal. Kallen Stadtfeld is an 'untouchable flower.' Commoners like us can barely get a word in with her. Consider yourself lucky you managed even a conversation out of a collision."
"And why exactly am I a 'commoner'?"
Rivalz stared at me as if I had lost my mind.
"Did you even hear yourself? You spend all your time doting on Nunnally or locked in your room with your nose in a book unless it's Student Council business! Anyway, let's change the mood. My treat! Let's go!"
"Where?"
"I know a place that'll suit even the refined palate of a fussy young master like you. A new pizza joint just opened up—the cheese is absolutely divine!"
Rivalz dragged me toward his motorcycle. Sensing I needed the diversion, I went along with his proposal. Hoping his recommendation wouldn't be as lackluster as my encounter with Kallen, I climbed onto the back of his bike.
The 'Kallen Conquest Operation' had been a farce from the start, but for some reason, I didn't feel entirely discouraged.
The pizza Rivalz recommended was, in a word, spectacular. The rich, savory aroma of the cheese seemed to melt away the lingering irritation of my failed stratagem.
"So? My recommendations never miss the mark, do they?"
"Hmph. It's passable," I replied coolly, hiding my satisfaction behind a cynical mask.
"You're so dishonest with yourself," Rivalz grumbled, though he couldn't hide the smirk of victory.
By the time we finished our meal and left the shop, the streets were already bathed in the twilight of dusk.
"Well, we should probably head back. No telling what kind of elaborate event the President is cooking up for us."
As we walked back to the motorcycle, a commotion caught my attention at a corner near the shopping district. A group of Britannian soldiers had surrounded several Japanese men, interrogating them with overbearing arrogance.
'An inspection...'
It was a common sight in Area 11. Under the guise of counter-terrorism, Britannian soldiers treated the Japanese as latent criminals, dealing with them harshly at the slightest pretext.
My gaze lingered on the scene until my breath caught. At the center of the beleaguered group was a man with disheveled hair and glasses—a face I recognized instantly.
'Kaname Ohgi!'
The man who would become the deputy commander of the Black Knights. Beside him were Tamaki, Inoue, and other key members of the future rebellion.
"Rivalz, I'm sorry, but go on without me. Something urgent has come to mind."
"What, again? You've been acting weird lately, you know that? Fine, just get back safe."
Rivalz tilted his head in confusion but didn't press further, driving off on his bike. Once he was clear, I immediately moved toward the inspection.
"The address on your ID doesn't match your residence. Terrorist scum love hiding like this, don't they?"
The soldier sneered at Ohgi, who was stammering excuses that the soldiers had no intention of hearing. If this continued, they would be detained indefinitely.
I adjusted my collar and adopted an air of haughty, aristocratic disdain as I approached.
"What is this ruckus?"
My voice drew their attention. The soldiers scowled, clearly annoyed by a mere student interfering with their work.
"Move along, kid. We're on official duty here."
"Official duty...? From where I stand, it looks like a pack of thugs harassing innocent citizens."
"W-What?! You little...!"
One soldier stepped forward, his hand tightening around his baton. I didn't blink. Instead, I reached into my coat and produced a leather wallet, sliding out a thick, heavy card which I held before their eyes.
"Do you recognize this crest?"
It was no mere student ID. It was a certificate of patronage issued by the Ashford family. The crest was intricately embossed in gold foil, and at the bottom sat the signature of Superintendent Ruben K. Ashford, declaring that the family personally vouched for the holder's status and safety.
Though they had fallen from their peak, the Ashfords were still a noble house with ties to the Imperial family, and their academy was the premiere social hub for the aristocracy's children. This card was a clear warning: to touch the bearer was to invite a political nightmare.
The soldier's face paled as the crest caught the dying sunlight.
"The... the Ashford Family?"
"These men are laborers I've contracted. I summoned them urgently for repairs to the Ashford estate. If they are delayed here, the construction schedule will suffer. Will you be the ones to explain that delay?"
I lied with brazen confidence. They had no connection to the Ashfords, but the soldiers had no means to verify it. The raw authority of the certificate paralyzed their reasoning.
"L-laborers? But these men are Elevens..."
"And? Is there a law forbidding Elevens from working? Or perhaps you intend to intentionally sabotage the Ashford family's affairs?"
I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a cold, razor-edged tone.
"Shall I take this up with your commanding officer directly? I could even draft a formal letter of complaint under my name regarding the disruption."
To soldiers, bureaucratic complaints are the ultimate terror. The lead soldier frantically waved his hands in a panicked dismissal. He cast a sour look at Ohgi's group and signaled his subordinates.
"Move out. Our apologies for the interruption, Young Master."
"Hmph. See that it doesn't happen again. Carry on."
I dismissed them with a flick of my hand. Only once they were completely out of sight did I allow myself a sigh of relief. Cold sweat prickled against my back.
"Um... thank you. You truly saved us," Ohgi said, stepping forward hesitantly.
I turned to them, my face softening into a gentle, approachable smile.
"Think nothing of it. Assisting those in need is merely common decency. I only hope you realize that not all Britannians share the arrogance and violence of those men."
I offered a slight nod and began to walk away. Prolonging the conversation would only invite suspicion. It wasn't the right time yet, but creating this point of contact was a vital investment.
"Who was that student?"
"His uniform... it's the same as Kallen's. Ashford Academy. He must be a noble..."
Hearing their hushed whispers behind me, I couldn't help but smirk. Despite the farce with Kallen earlier, the day had yielded an incredible harvest. I had established a potent first impression with the future core of the Black Knights.
'Everything is a calculated coincidence, after all.'
I began to hum as I walked back toward the academy. The mere flap of a butterfly's wing can herald the arrival of a devastating typhoon.