The authority held by the Elite Ten was immense. As long as more than half of them agreed, it was treated as the will of all of Totsuki's members.
That was exactly how Azami Nakiri had taken the Director's seat in the first place. And by the same logic, the Elite Ten could also revoke Polar Star Dormitory's independent accounting system.
Once that happened, it wouldn't matter whether the people of Polar Star agreed or not. No matter how "independent" it claimed to be, Polar Star was still part of Totsuki.
Independent accounting required official approval from the school—without that, it was meaningless.
As long as Erina Nakiri stayed hidden inside Polar Star Dormitory, Azami had no way to get to her. But if the dormitory itself were dismantled, opportunities would naturally appear.
As for whether tearing down a dorm he himself had once lived in would make him feel even a hint of regret—someone as utterly selfish as Azami Nakiri would never have such thoughts.
That said, he didn't act immediately. His plan overlapped with his upcoming reforms anyway. Once he announced everything publicly, dealing with Polar Star would become simple and "legitimate."
Two more calm days passed.
On the surface, nothing seemed to change at Totsuki. But everyone knew this was only the calm before the storm.
During those two days, Erina Nakiri and Hisako Arato never left Polar Star Dormitory, leaving Azami without an opening. He wasn't in a hurry, though. He was busy preparing the reforms he was about to unveil.
On the third day, Azami Nakiri finally reappeared before the public.
Some students went to watch in person. Others stayed in their dorms or research societies, watching his speech on the big screens.
Everyone was curious about how Totsuki was going to change next—including the residents of Polar Star Dormitory, who were equally curious about what kind of nonsense Azami was about to pull this time.
Azami was very good at putting on an act. He had been the same way in the original timeline. In private, in front of Senzaemon Nakiri and the others, he was arrogant and vicious.
But once he appeared on the public screens, he became refined and gentle.
He understood this well. Senzaemon and the others already despised him, so there was no need to hide his true nature around them.
But most outsiders didn't really know what kind of person he was. Leaving a good first impression mattered.
That was why, at this moment, there wasn't a trace of arrogance on him.
"This guy really knows how to put on a show," Yuki Yoshino said, staring at the screen in disgust. "If I hadn't seen him show his true colors the other night—and didn't know what he's done before—I might've actually believed him."
"People like that are experts at pretending," Kael said with a smile. "As long as it benefits them, they'll do it without hesitation."
Someone like Azami Nakiri was far from rare in the real world.
Soon enough, amid everyone's growing irritation, Azami announced his reforms.
He planned to abolish all of Totsuki's research societies, clubs, small groups—and that included Polar Star Dormitory, the only remaining student dorm.
"This guy's really gone full rabid," Fumio Daimido shook her head. "He's biting at everything. He doesn't even plan to spare the dorm he used to live in."
Back when Gin Dojima and the others had graduated, Azami had already started showing signs of his true nature. Fumio had always known what kind of person he was.
She just hadn't expected him to go as far as targeting Polar Star Dormitory itself.
"I… I should leave," Erina said quietly. "He's going after Polar Star because of me."
She could tell. Azami was stirring up trouble because she was hiding in Polar Star Dormitory. The dorm's rules—set by Fumio—gave it independent accounting.
Without abolishing Polar Star, even if the Director himself showed up, Fumio could shut the door in his face.
"There's no way," Megumi Tadokoro said firmly, without a trace of her usual timidity.
"No matter whether he's targeting Polar Star because of you or not, we're all companions here. How could we abandon one of our own?"
The others nodded in agreement.
Ever since Erina moved in, they had already accepted her as part of Polar Star Dormitory. There was no way they would push her out as a shield just because of this.
"Erina, stop overthinking it," Kael said calmly. "Polar Star never abandons its companions. And don't forget—I'm still here."
"If Azami wants to move against Polar Star, he'll have to go through the Elite Ten. No matter which one shows up, I seriously doubt they'll dare to act in front of me."
Kael smiled faintly. He genuinely wanted to see whether the Elite Ten were really that brainless.
And even if no one from the Elite Ten came—if Azami sent some lackeys instead—Kael wasn't worried. He could still intimidate them easily.
As long as they had even half a brain, they would understand one thing very clearly: Azami Nakiri might be troublesome, but provoking Kael meant their future would be completely ruined.
"That's true," someone said. "With Kael here, no one would dare touch Polar Star. But our research societies… that's another story."
That reminder dampened the mood.
According to Azami's announcement, all research societies were going to be abolished.
"Yeah… just thinking about the Regional Cuisine Research Society being shut down hurts," Megumi said softly.
Research societies were made up of people with similar culinary interests. Their discussions and exchanges helped everyone improve faster. But now Azami planned to wipe them all out.
"What's there to worry about?" Kael shook his head. "Even if the research societies are abolished, we can still gather and exchange ideas on our own. He's only banning the system, not students' freedom."
"This is a school, not a prison."
"That may be true," Hisako Arato said, "but once the research society system is gone, venues and funding become our own responsibility."
"That's easy to solve," Kael replied. "If the school won't provide venues, we'll rent places outside campus. There are plenty of suitable locations around Totsuki."
"As for rent and research expenses—that's even simpler. Research societies exist to improve our cooking and create better dishes together."
"So we just add one more activity: weekend food stalls."
"Anyone who can still stay at Totsuki is an elite. If they're willing to run stalls outside, covering venue costs and expenses will be effortless."
"In fact, Azami's move helps us clean out the freeloaders."
As Kael spoke, everyone's eyes lit up.
Before, the school had covered rent and venues. Now they could simply take responsibility themselves.
Totsuki students knew better than anyone how easy it was for them to make money—not huge sums, perhaps, but more than enough to sustain a research society.
And on top of that, it would train their cooking skills and their business sense.
As for those who refused to contribute or participate? If you weren't willing to put in the effort, no one needed you dragging the group down anyway. It was the perfect way to trim the dead weight.
"That's an excellent idea," Fumio said, clearly impressed. "It benefits the students and keeps them out of Azami and the Elite Ten's control."
Everyone else agreed. The more they thought about it, the more it felt like there were no downsides at all.
Just then, Azami announced another new plan.
After abolishing all research societies, he would establish a new organization—the Central.
It would consist only of people he personally approved. Azami and the Elite Ten would lead it. Those deemed "valuable" would be taken in. Those without value would be left behind to rot.
He also made a promise.
Students wouldn't need to worry about unnecessary expulsions, pointless competition, or brutal evaluations. As long as they obediently followed orders, they could coast all the way to graduation.
That single condition instantly tempted countless students.
Totsuki's graduation rate was notoriously low. Some years, only a dozen students graduated—sometimes even fewer.
Graduating from Totsuki meant a bright future. Even if you didn't become a legend of the culinary world, you were guaranteed a comfortable life.
"With that rule out there, a lot of students are going to be tempted," someone muttered. "No one wants to get expelled…"
And Azami couldn't afford to expel the elites either. If he did, Totsuki itself would collapse.
But without expulsions, he had no way to deal with those research societies anymore. Their venues were off-campus. Their funds were self-earned. His reach simply couldn't extend that far.
Across the academy, students watched Azami's decisions and reacted in very different ways.
Some—confident in their own abilities—knew they could graduate on their own. They also understood that research societies were a positive force.
Being absorbed into some bizarre "Central" would bring them no benefits at all.
Cooking thrived on creativity and innovation. Azami's approach demanded blind obedience, like slaves following orders.
The moment creativity was cut off, collapse was inevitable.
But far more students were drawn in by Azami's empty promises.
They had come to Totsuki for one thing: a diploma.
Now that diploma was right in front of them. Obey, and graduate. No exams, no competition. Just lie flat and coast to the finish line.
Between struggling endlessly with no guarantee of success, and graduating effortlessly by being obedient—any "normal" person knew which option looked more attractive.
What they didn't realize was that Azami was selling nothing but hot air.
He had neither the ability nor the intention to give them the future he promised.