Sakuramoria

Futaba lay down on the table, spreading her arms out. Her hair was scattered messily across the tabletop, and her vacant gaze was fixed on the ceiling. Ignoring the presence of the talking head, she fumbled in the pocket of her blazer with a trembling hand and pulled out a crumpled, worn-out pack of cigarettes. She lit one, took a deep drag, and held the smoke in for about half a minute, until her gaze became clouded and her lungs felt like they were on fire, then she exhaled. She dangled her legs, which didn't reach the floor, over the edge of the table, and took another puff, dropping ash directly onto the table – but this time, it wasn't the shabby dorm room table, but one made of polished, dark wood. It's interesting how a table made of such material affects its user. It's unlikely to be positive.
Perhaps from the outside, it seemed like she was thinking something over carefully, but that wasn't the case. Against the backdrop of the past few weeks, with the increasing signs of mental instability, the current day, filled with nerves, linguistic maneuvers, all kinds of negative emotions, and verbose revelations, had exhausted her so much that her head was now heavy and refused to organize the received information into words. The only aspect of her awareness of herself in this reality at that moment was the leaden fatigue of her body and soul.
Finishing her cigarette and getting to her feet, she lowered her head and slumped her shoulders, and Futaba let out a sigh that could probably inflate a dirigible balloon in one go.
"I can fulfill this role... but only in exchange for my conditions. They are very simple. No student in this school will be subjected to humiliation, witchcraft, physical violence, or, even more so, death. No tricks, like the ones from April or today, under any circumstances. This is non-negotiable, and I don't care if it's your new energy experiment or you just want to show off your animalistic nature. The moment something like that happens, the deal is off, and you can forget about my participation. You won't force me to do that in any way. If you know anything about me, you should understand that I'm not joking. I have no desire to build something that will then be destroyed."
"Secondly, the fate of those who stood against Mandragora today will be decided by me, and not by any of you. The old man spent a lot of effort to turn the challenge thrown at him personally into a challenge directed at me – which, frankly, is not very dignified at his age, and in general, makes me wonder if this was a hidden attempt to insult the crown? So let him stay quiet in this situation. I need written guarantees on these two points."
"And thirdly, I have no intention of tolerating your artificial attempts to isolate me from the rest of the student body, based on this," she pointed her finger at the wedding stamp on the new student's ID. "For the others, I can be the 'president' if my title requires it, but no one will be forced to kiss my boots at the barrel of your gun."
"And before you dismiss my conditions again, saying that it's not up to you to accept them, I believe that, as the right hand, or whatever, you should have at least minimal authority for such trivial matters. And if not, pass them on to someone who can approve them."
"That's all. And take me to one of your 'installations.' I want to see with my own eyes what all the fuss is about."