Chapter 337
Chapter 337
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 337
Chapter Title: Side Story 21. Blue Spring to You (3)
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#08
Lanse arrived at the rear of the airship balcony to find the members already gathered.
Far below the railing, currents of clouds raced by swiftly.
This narrow balcony, accessible only through the side door of the cabin, was the perfect spot for plotting a conspiracy.
Lanse glanced around cautiously before speaking up.
"So, we really can't meet Navardoje after all?"
"Yeah. It's certain."
The boys nodded emphatically at Lanse's question.
Willumpf, the glasses-wearing bookworm, and Censen, the spear wielder.
They were friends from the Martial Arts Department who shared his ambitions.
Every one of them had a grim determination etched on their faces, looking like they were marching off to war.
Willumpf, peering around like a meerkat, continued.
"I overheard the professors in the hallway. The audience is canceled due to some circumstances. Damn it!"
"Haah... I was hoping it was bad intel."
Lanse let out a deep sigh.
If it came to this, they had no choice but to execute the plan.
A terribly dangerous plan, at that.
Censen prodded him, seeing his conflicted expression.
"Lanse. Why're you hesitating like that? This chance won't come twice."
"Yeah! You think we'll ever come to Adren again? Even if you might, this is our last shot!"
What they called urging was closer to pleading, really.
Even as students of Phileon Academy, visiting Adren was an extraordinary event.
It was an opportunity others would never get, handed to them only in the form of a school trip.
Only Lanse, as Ronan's blood kin, could visit Adren freely.
"Lanse. No, big bro Lanse. Please!"
Eventually, even Willumpf grabbed Lanse's pant leg.
Censen followed suit, dropping to his knees and bowing his head repeatedly.
They looked more desperate than survivors rescued from the desert.
Lanse shut his eyes tight as he gazed at his despairing friends.
"...Fine, just let go first."
"Y-Yeah! As expected of Lanse!"
"Son of a hero!"
Dawn broke across the boys' faces.
Their overwhelming gratitude was almost embarrassing.
He had no room to complain, having been the most enthusiastic supporter of the plan.
"Then, you brought all the supplies, right?"
"Of course. Check this out."
Willumpf grinned.
He pulled a small mechanical device from his inner pocket.
It was a palm-sized cube with a round lens attached.
"Custom-ordered from Didikan Workshop—a super lightweight camera. Light as a feather, totally silent, no chance of getting caught. Pretty killer, huh?"
"Just to be sure, you don't normally do creep shots or anything, right?"
"Fuck, what do you take me for? This baby's made solely for today. The only subject worthy of it is the Mother of Fire herself."
Willumpf growled.
Pushing down his glasses and scowling was a sign he was dead serious.
Lanse waved his hands placatingly.
"Sorry. My bad, calm down."
"Yeah. Don't doubt my sincerity, Lanse. I still can't forget those photos I saw at your place. The Mother of Fire standing with Lord Ronan... she was just... incredible."
Censen nodded vigorously beside him.
He was talking about Ronan's graduation photo.
His eyes, reminiscing about Navardoje's figure, sparkled like a child's first glimpse of the sky or sea.
To an outsider, it was a pathetic sight that might inspire suicidal thoughts, but Lanse couldn't judge.
He shared the same dream as those two.
Lanse said,
"Alright. Let's recap the plan. First, we sneak into the Flame Palace in the city center. We'll use the secret passage, so no worries there, but we gotta dodge the professors and other kids' eyes."
"It's solid intel, right? Not that I doubt Lord Ronan, but..."
"He said it drunk, so it's ironclad. Once inside the palace, we chug the invisibility potion right away. Censen, you got the perception interference scrolls?"
"Obviously."
Censen shook three scrolls from his pocket.
They were top-shelf perception interference scrolls from the Acalusia family, bought with half a year's allowance.
Even dragons wouldn't notice right away.
"Perfect. They don't last long, so don't activate till I signal. Best case, it kicks in when we snap the photo and holds till we escape the palace. Not sure if it'll go that smooth, though. Remember what I emphasized?"
"Yeah. If we get caught, make sure it's in front of Navardoje."
"Exactly. High chance she'll forgive us. Even if the photo fails, we get a second shot. Pull out the camera, say how much we admire her, beg for one commemorative shot. As pitiful as possible. Given her personality, she'll probably say yes."
"Y-Yeah... A true hero's son's idea."
Willumpf and Censen marveled.
He might look delicate, but a rascal was a rascal through and through.
Lanse had laid out a brilliantly devious plan worthy of forgetting his earlier complaints.
Suddenly, another variable crossed his mind, twisting his lips.
'Just don't let Sechika find out.'
The mere thought made him shudder.
Honestly, Sechika accounted for a huge chunk of what was dampening his resolve.
The moment the plan leaked, she'd telekinetically thrash Lanse and all the ringleaders.
Even surviving the magical beating, she'd hit them with a bug-eyed glare of contempt.
As Lanse reassured himself it would be fine,
"Intriguing. I heard Navardoje's name and wondered what conspiracy was afoot."
"Wh-who's there?!"
A familiar voice rang out from above.
The boys froze as they looked up.
A bronze-skinned girl perched atop the cabin roof.
"N-Naviroje? How did you...!"
"I heard everything, you monkeys."
Lanse's face drained white.
Naviroje landed lightly on the balcony.
Despite the height, her footsteps made no sound.
She sighed as she scanned the boys' faces.
"Males are impossible to understand. Coming all the way to Adren just to peep at breasts... For the first time, I'm questioning my profession."
"Not breasts, the Flame Palace."
Willumpf suddenly shoved his glasses down and pointed accusingly.
His expression was that of a revolutionary defying oppression.
Naviroje furrowed her brow.
"What?"
"And it's not peeping—it's etching unprecedented beauty into history. What would a wasteland like you know?"
His index finger hovered at Naviroje's chest.
Her brow narrowed at the unheard-of insult.
"...Wasteland?"
"Yeah. You might have some confidence, but next to the Mother of Fire, you're nothing. I don't care where you popped from—don't butt into a man's dream just 'cause you're a woman!"
"Living long, I hear all sorts... Fine. I'll overlook your courage this once, so scrap the plan quietly."
"Nonsense! You swear to keep what you saw and heard secret. I won't go easy just 'cause you're Instructor Naviroje."
With that, Willumpf drew a scroll from his pocket.
The rolled parchment was enchanted for emergencies.
Seeing his resolute eyes, Naviroje chuckled dryly.
"You should attend class with that seriousness, Willumpf."
"What? How do you know my name..."
"I refuse the oath. Consider this disciplinary action instead."
As Willumpf opened his mouth,
Naviroje's form vanished, reappearing behind him.
Thwack!
A crisp impact echoed, and Willumpf's eyes rolled back.
"Guhk!"
Willumpf collapsed, eyes whites-up.
Normally, his forehead would have split, but Naviroje caught him before he hit the ground.
"Willumpf! What the...!"
The boys cried out in shock.
Censen hadn't even grasped what happened.
Their forms overlapped for a split second, then Willumpf was out cold.
"N-No way..."
Only Lanse realized.
He barely caught Naviroje closing the distance and chopping Willumpf's nape with her hand blade.
Thus, terror rooted Lanse to the spot.
He'd grasped the insurmountable gap.
Meanwhile, oblivious Censen charged with a roar.
"How dare you touch my friend...! Won't go easy just 'cause you're a lady!"
"Your form's still so stiff, Censen."
It was even more reckless than a moth to flame.
Naviroje watched him approach, hands in pockets.
Lanse tried to shout a warning, but the fight was over.
Thud!
The delayed impact sent Censen sprawling forward.
"Honestly."
Naviroje clicked her tongue.
The self-loathing was as intense as when wearing her uniform.
Knocking out students she'd taught just days ago.
'What the hell am I doing?'
She wanted to knock Lanse out too and toss him to her new 'friends,' but held off.
The canceled audience with Navardoje was shocking news to her as well.
After laying Censen down, she turned to Lanse.
"Lanse."
"Wh-what?"
"There's one way to keep today's events secret."
"What's... that?"
"Take me instead of these guys."
"...Huh?"
Lanse blinked in confusion.
Naviroje was already gathering Willumpf and Censen's gear.
She was someone who had to meet Navardoje, by any means.
After enduring the humiliation to reach Adren, a formal ban on audiences was unacceptable.
Aiming at Willumpf and Censen, Naviroje tore a scroll.
Shooo...
Mist rose from the paper, seeping into their noses and mouths.
"Good thing it was expensive. No side effects."
Naviroje muttered.
It was the hush scroll Willumpf had pulled.
The mist held fragmented memory erasure and sleep magic.
Lanse still hadn't replied.
Finishing cleanup, Naviroje looked up.
"No answer? Don't wanna?"
"I-It doesn't make sense. Why do you wanna go? It could be... super dangerous."
"Not hearing that from a guy planning to sneak into the Flame Palace for a photoshoot."
"Th-that's...!"
Lanse flushed red.
At least he had some shame.
Studying his face, Naviroje chuckled.
The top disciple of the current generation.
His upturned eyes, long lashes, and sunset irises were Ronan clones.
If only he'd inherited the face and talent...
"You really look like Ronan. Uncannily so."
"Y-You know my dad?"
"Of course. Taught me about hereditary tastes. Big is always better, huh."
"Uh...?"
Lanse tilted his head, but Naviroje didn't answer.
She suddenly grabbed his ear and twisted.
"Aaaah! Wh-what're you doing!?"
"Quiet. We're landing soon—follow me."
"My ear! It's gonna rip off!"
"Great grip. Even that takes after him."
Naviroje laughed.
It felt like the days a decade ago, teaching Ronan.
Dragging the screaming Lanse, she headed back to the deck.
Under the bright full moon, the dragon city floating in the sky loomed ever closer.