Class

The research for creating a Magic Organ had continued for over a week.

Despite spending most of my time shuttling between home and the academy, building a Magic Organ was not easy. The Demonfolk's handwritten notes and training records that Seneran had handed over in bulk at the start, telling me to use them as reference, relied heavily on instinct or were frustratingly vague—much like knights' training records for aura—so they were of little help. Thanks to that, I at least confirmed that not all Demonfolk learned things systematically... but that wasn't information that helped me progress, so it amounted to little more than added trivia.

Still, it wasn't entirely without results. After all, I had the records and knowledge of mages who operated on an entirely different plane from those bastards who relied on instinct. Just because one used Magic Power didn't mean they could cast spells freely without formulas and calculation. The only difference was output and scale—Demonfolk mages, too, were slaves to calculation, verification, and spell formulas, no different from human mages.

Freshly realizing just how precious it was that scholarship had been systematically built, I tossed aside every last one of those dirty talent-carried warrior bastards' handwritten notes and studied the mages' writings. Fortunately, Seneran and my teacher both had several books authored by such Demonfolk mages, and with the two of them sticking by my side, serving as living annotation machines who unraveled and explained the contents book by book, I slowly but surely began to lay the cornerstone of my Magic Organ.

"I don't think I've ever studied like this in my entire life."

My body may have been fully grown, but I still had a fifteen-year-old's brain, so rote memorization was manageable enough. History, knowledge about monsters, tracking methods—all of those had been interesting, like reading novels, so I'd read them in that spirit. Well, law I'd memorized while grinding my teeth to dust, but in the end it was all still in the realm of memorization, so I'd endured.

But magic studies, which required solving things like math problems, was genuinely vomit-inducing. If I hadn't had the memories of my past life, I would have gone beyond being a math-dropper and become a magic-dropper. Even then, I'd held on because two excellent teachers were stuck to my side taking care of me—if I'd had to do this alone, I would never have managed it.

"I should get some language study in while I'm still young, even if just a little. They said relying on the common language alone would only get me so far when traveling."

After forcibly stimulating my will to learn like that, barely managing to lay the framework, testing the foundation of the Magic Organ several times against theory, and finishing experiments where I meticulously recorded differences in Magic Power circulation and efficiency, I stretched my stiff shoulders and drank the coffee I had set down when I first entered the lab.

"Fuck."

I'd thought not much time had passed, but apparently quite a bit had gone by. The coffee, in which no trace of warmth could be found, was so bitter and tasteless that the moment I took a sip, it brought to mind the researcher anecdotes Duke Lesrom had told me about. As I resolved to definitely buy one each for the lab and home later and downed the remaining coffee in one shot, the clock that had been ticking away announced lunchtime.

"Teacher, your meal—ah, she's not here."

Seneran and my teacher had been people who hadn't left the academy for a single moment these past few days, but Seneran had stepped out to purchase additional items I needed, and my teacher had been away since morning, saying she had business at the royal castle for a while. Wait—I was pretty sure I'd arrived by eight, which meant I'd been concentrating without budging for a full four hours. It was enough to make me marvel at my own focus.

"Laika. Let's go to the cafeteria."

[Yaaawn. Master! Boring!]

"They say a dog's life is the best life. That boredom is a good thing, dummy."

Laika had been sprawled out asleep in the makeshift bed I'd set up by rolling a blanket in one corner of the lab. When I stroked Laika, they got up fussing but were soon wagging their butt cheerfully. Simple creature.

"After we eat, let's take a short walk or something. I've been way too sedentary lately too."

[Walk! Good!]

Before heading out, I considered turning off the magic stone heater Seneran had brought, but since there was no fire risk anyway, I just lowered the output a bit. I grabbed my cape, threw it on, and slipped out of the lab. The moment I stepped into the hallway, an icy chill hit me—truly dreadful—but I suppressed it as much as possible and headed toward the cafeteria.

Maybe because vacation wasn't far off, but all the students moving toward the cafeteria looked cheerful. Even the second and third years who had been completely wrecked after returning from hellish group training just days ago were busy laughing away as if that had never happened. At first, right after they came back, they'd glared at me like I was their parents' mortal enemy, but now those looks had softened considerably. Now my face was known across all grades to some extent, and as I walked along returning the greetings of students who bowed and called me TA, Sheryl approached from afar as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Meal."

"...Sheryl? Don't you have any friends?"

When the professor or Seneran weren't around, she'd show up like a ghost and ask to eat together, which was nice and all, but by now her social life had become seriously suspect. It didn't seem like there was no one who wanted to eat with her, but she did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this every time.

Whether she knew my concerns or not, Sheryl just stared blankly at me and replied flatly.

"I have lots of friends."

"...Sure, let's go. I wonder what the menu is today."

I had the distinct feeling I'd just heard the stock lie that friendless kids always told. I changed the subject lightly and patted her shoulder, and Sheryl matched my pace as she answered.

"They said today is a special meal."

"Special meal? Out of nowhere?"

"To commemorate the demon that infiltrated the Holy Light Cross Order being vanquished, apparently. From what I heard, the Hero's party was quite active."

"Demons disappearing is certainly something to celebrate, but the academy is putting on a special meal for a reason like that?"

"The dean is a believer of the Holy Light Cross Order."

So it was an unexpectedly self-serving reason. I wondered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if it was really okay to throw money around freely for such personal motives... but since staff and TAs got free meals regardless, it was none of my business. No, actually, it was a good thing. The academy food here was already remarkably generous and tasty, and on top of that, a special meal. I was so excited about what might be served that my steps lightened on their own.

"Is it really that good? It's always seemed just average to me."

"That's because your tongue is a noble's tongue. Plentiful portions, good taste, and variety—that's not easy to come by. You've eaten emergency rations while working as an adventurer, and you still say that?"

This wasn't the hell of British cuisine or the chaos of medieval cooking, but eating delicious food wasn't as easy as just saying the words in this world. Seasonings and spices were expensive just the same. Come to think of it, even in my past life where such things were commonplace, places with good school meals were few and far between. Just as I was thinking she was too spoiled for her own good, Sheryl tilted her head with an expression that was remarkably hard to read.

"...Ah, well, weren't those just average too?"

"......"

This insane world. Was she really the type who could only distinguish puffed snacks and raw fish by their texture—crunchy versus chewy?

They said your palate was something you developed. How could a kid raised on the delicious food of the Ogatorf household make such a hopeless statement? No wonder she'd been happily gobbling down dishes that would make other nobles convulse—there'd been a secret like this? Sheryl must have noticed my appalled gaze and sensed something was off, because she hurriedly changed the subject, something she rarely did.

"R-right, speaking of which, I heard the reason the professors have been busy since morning is because of the Hero's visit!"

For a split second I agonized over whether to keep teasing Sheryl about her hopeless palate or let it slide, but even with some distance between us, there were too many eyes around, so I decided to move on.

"...Why is he coming here?"

"Ah, it seems the dean pulled some strings. There's talk that he was so moved just by the fact that the foul evil defiling the Holy Light Cross Order had been struck down that he shed tears. And since demon byproducts were produced as well, they're planning to hold a grand banquet to both express gratitude and stimulate the students."

"There's no way the dean of the Royal Academy can make that happen just by asking with personal motives, surely?"

"It's an excuse, isn't it. Even though it happened within the kingdom, the Holy Light Cross Order made their own judgment and requested the Hero's help—the royal family didn't step in directly. They want to express thanks but it'd be awkward to do it officially, so the story is they took this form."

"Politics, for fuck's sake..."

Shaking our heads at the needlessly complicated face-saving, we entered the cafeteria and decided to forget the complications and focus ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠solely on the special meal. And the special meal more than justified that focus. Astonishingly, the special meal declared by the dean wasn't just something like a large-quantity chicken dish—it was a buffet piled high with incredibly high-class dishes where you helped yourself.

"The phrase 'mountain of food' has never been more fitting. Even if they're students, can they really eat all that?"

"It's not just the students who'll be eating it."

A man answered the words I'd muttered to myself while briefly faltering at the overwhelming sight. Turning my head, I saw Griwills—looking every bit the typical sly-eyed character, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠yet someone who had diligently built his fundamentals more earnestly than anyone—gazing at us with a smiling face.

"It's been a while, Griwills. So there are guests?"

"It's been a while, TA Ega. I heard that the Hero is leading the group, and the holy warriors and holy knights of the Holy Light Cross Order returning to Ogwen are joining as well. Thanks to that, the students are in an uproar."

"...Because of all the food?"

I'd said that because I figured that was the only reason students would go wild, but Griwills quietly laughed and shook his head.

"Because they want to see the Hero's party."

Hmm, I hoped he wouldn't go around groping butts left and right here. Silently wishing that the students' admiration could remain intact, I picked up a tray and asked Griwills.

"You don't seem all that interested."

"I'm not completely uninterested, but... he's not someone you can easily see just because you want to, is he. It'd be a waste of time. Since I happened to run into you, TA, wouldn't it be far more beneficial to ask about swordsmanship instead?"

For whatever reason, Sheryl seemed to have taken a dislike to Griwills, but from my perspective, he was a guy whose incredibly diligent swordsmanship had a way of endearing him to me. Even if his face looked like he was about to say "That's a secret" at any moment, you shouldn't judge people by appearances alone. I nodded, feigning nonchalance, and said briefly.

"You're pretty lucky, then."

"...?"

Griwills, who had no idea that while getting swordsmanship advice he was also about to meet the Hero, just tilted his head with a puzzled expression and nodded back.