"S-S-Student Council President, w-welcome…!"
"Just Snow is fine, junior," the white-haired girl replied softly, her smile never fading.
"T-Then… S-Senior Snow… w-welcome!" Emilia's voice cracked like dry twigs underfoot as she stood up so suddenly her chair scraped loudly against the ground.
Her hands trembled behind her back as she bowed slightly, face flushed with nervousness.
The aura exuding from the young woman before her—calm, dignified, and cold—was almost suffocating.
Just looking at Snow felt like being stabbed by a thousand invisible ice blades.
Snow's presence wasn't something one could get used to.
It was refined. Beautiful. Lethal.
Emilia had always admired her from afar. The elegant princess from the imperial family. The one who stood above the rest—not just in terms of grades, or magical ability, but in sheer untouchable authority.
She had even been someone the Pope himself told Emilia to approach, back when she was first chosen as the Saintess.
