I Accidentally Built a Harem of Girls Who All Hate Each Other

"My... my what?" I stammered, the words "campaign manager" and "election" ricocheting around my exhausted brain. "Yui, what are you talking about? This isn't an election! There's no one to vote for! It's a disaster!"

"Incorrect," Yui stated, her voice sharp and clear, all traces of her previous emotional turmoil gone, replaced by the crisp, focused energy of a political strategist. "You, Kaito Tanaka, are the nation. A small, beleaguered nation with valuable resources—your time, your attention, your kindness—that is currently being targeted for annexation by multiple, aggressive foreign powers."

She began to pace again, her mind clearly on fire with this new metaphor. "Kujou is the expansionist empire, seeking total control through force and political maneuvering. Miyamoto is the boisterous, friendly neighbor who wants to form an 'alliance' that is really just a takeover. Fujii-sensei is the benevolent superpower offering 'humanitarian aid' that creates a cycle of dependence. And Mori-sensei... Mori-sensei is a rogue state specializing in espionage and psychological terrorism."

It was the most terrifyingly accurate and insane description of my life I had ever heard.

"And you?" I asked, a sense of dread pooling in my stomach. "Where do you fit into this international crisis?"

She stopped pacing and gave me a sharp, brilliant smile. "I am no longer a foreign power. I am your domestic government. Your campaign manager. My sole purpose is no longer to 'win' you for myself, but to ensure the sovereignty and long-term stability of the nation of 'Kaito'. My victory is your continued independence and eventual, freely-given choice."

It was a masterful reframing. She had just redefined her possessiveness as patriotism. Her jealousy as a desire for my autonomy. It was brilliant. It was terrifying. And it was, somehow, incredibly reassuring.

"So... what's the platform?" I asked, a hint of weary sarcasm in my voice. "What are we campaigning on?"

"Phase One is Damage Control and Neutrality," she announced, pulling a small notebook and pen from her pocket. She had come prepared. "The 'Tart Incident' was a major blow. Kujou has successfully created the public perception of a special relationship. We cannot counter this with aggression. We must counter it with overwhelming, unimpeachable blandness."

"Blandness," I repeated. My life's original goal.

"Precisely," she said, scribbling in her notebook. "Your new position as 'Special Assistant' is a double-edged sword. She thinks it gives her control. We will use it as a platform for your new image: The Diligent, Incorruptible, and Utterly Professional Public Servant."

"You want me to be a bureaucrat," I sighed.

"I want you to be a fortress of professionalism," she corrected. "When you are with Kujou, you are to be polite, efficient, and emotionally distant. Address her as 'President Kujou' at all times. Refer to your tasks as 'official duties'. Frame everything in the language of work. You are not her assistant; you are an assistant to the office of the President. The distinction is crucial."

I nodded slowly, seeing the logic. It was a subtle but powerful way to push back, to create distance without open rebellion.

"Now, regarding the other candidates," she continued, her pen flying. "Miyamoto is a simple challenge. We manage her through exhaustion. When she wants your attention, you will be 'too busy' with your official duties. You will be polite but unavailable. She thrives on energy; we will give her none."

"And Fujii-sensei?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The home-visit incident still felt like a raw nerve.

Yui's expression hardened for a moment. "The Nurturing Mother archetype. This is our most delicate front. We cannot reject her kindness, as that would make you appear ungrateful and cruel. Therefore, we must accept it, but universalize it."

"Universalize?"

"Yes. She brings you onigiri? You thank her profusely, and then you offer one to the person nearest you. 'Fujii-sensei is so kind, she's always looking out for all the students!' You reframe her personal kindness as a general kindness towards everyone. You dilute its potency. You make it public, not personal."

My mind reeled at the sheer, Machiavellian brilliance of it all. Yui, freed from the constraints of her own jealousy, had become a terrifyingly effective strategist.

"Okay," I said, a new sense of hope dawning. "Okay, I can do that. Bureaucrat. Unavailable. Universalizer. What about... the library?"

Yui sighed. "Akiyama-san. The dark horse candidate. Her platform is 'shared intellectual pursuits'. This is dangerous because it's based on a genuine connection. We will handle this the same way as Fujii-sensei: public and professional. You will 'study' with her, as promised. But you will do it in a high-traffic area of the library. And you will invite a third person."

"A third person?" I asked, confused.

"Yes," Yui said, a cunning glint in her eye. "Me. I will be joining your 'study group' to 'improve my grades'. It's the perfect cover. It turns your intimate intellectual rendezvous into a mundane group study session."

It was perfect. It was also completely insane. My life was now a series of carefully managed political appearances.

"There is one more thing," Yui said, her expression turning serious. She reached into her school bag and pulled out... a t-shirt. It was a plain, white t-shirt. But printed on the front, in bold, black, block letters, were the words:

OFFICIALLY ASSIGNED TO STUDENT COUNCIL DUTIES. PLEASE MAINTAIN A PROFESSIONAL DISTANCE.

I stared at the shirt, speechless.

"You will not actually wear this," she said, seeing my horrified expression. "This is your new uniform. Not the shirt itself, but the idea of the shirt. This is the energy you must project at all times. You are on duty. You are unavailable. You are a walking, talking 'do not disturb' sign."

She folded the shirt neatly and tucked it back into her bag. "The campaign has begun, Kaito. And our first objective is to survive the day."

Just as she finished her sentence, the rooftop door creaked open. It was Reina. She had clearly come looking for me, her new 'assistant'. Her eyes immediately fell on Yui, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face.

"Hamasaki-san," Reina said, her voice cold. "I would have thought you'd be at home, baking your feelings into a pie. What are you doing with my assistant?"

Yui didn't flinch. She turned to face Reina, her expression perfectly placid and polite. She gave a small, respectful bow.

"President Kujou," Yui said, her voice clear and professional. "I was just congratulating Tanaka-kun on his new appointment and offering my support as a fellow classmate. We all must do our part to ensure the Student Council runs efficiently for the good of the school."

She had just used Reina's own weapon—professionalism and the 'good of the school'—against her.

Reina was momentarily stunned into silence. She had expected a tearful confrontation, a jealous outburst. She was not prepared for a polite, supportive, politically savvy rival.

Yui then turned to me. "Well, Tanaka-kun, I won't keep you from your official duties. Good luck today." She gave me a smile that was encouraging, supportive, and completely devoid of the personal intimacy she usually had. It was the smile of a campaign manager sending her candidate into a debate.

Then she walked past Reina and out the door, leaving the two of us standing on the rooftop.

Reina stared after her, a new, deep frown on her face. The game had just changed, and she knew it. The simple, emotional girl she had so easily manipulated was gone, replaced by someone she didn't understand. Someone who was playing the same game she was.

She looked at me, her crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion, as if trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Come, Assistant Tanaka," she said finally, her voice tight. "We have work to do."

As I followed her, I felt a strange sense of empowerment. I was still her assistant, still trapped. But I wasn't her prisoner anymore.

I was a candidate. And my campaign had just officially begun.