Senior and Junior (3)

Why on earth had Professor Muniher accepted that?

Resolving doubts about the start-of-semester evaluation through duels, of all things...

Given the professor’s eccentric temperament, Junon had known something odd might happen, but subjecting everyone to a repeated class assignment exam was baffling. Unlike in his previous life, the disgruntled students had not even managed to scrounge up a plausible pretext this time.

"Senior!"

Renias came storming toward him, abandoning her usual demure patter in favor of indignant, bounding strides.

"Aren't you even angry, Senior Junon? Why were you just standing here watching them? Your exam scores just evaporated into thin air!"

She was not merely annoyed; she was utterly furious. Having stood right beside him as his partner during the end-of-term evaluation and witnessed his prowess firsthand, she found the prospect of a retest completely intolerable.

Yet the man in question remained unfazed.

"Even if I stepped forward, it wouldn't change much."

His tone was entirely detached, as if the matter had nothing to do with him.

Renias bit her lower lip hard. "This is wrong... It makes no sense! Why are you just accepting a situation where your hard work isn't even recognized?"

The bright, gentle smile she usually offered everyone was nowhere to be found. Instead, righteous anger burned behind her eyes at the blatant injustice of seeing her partner's earned achievements scrubbed away without cause.

"I don't understand why you're so indifferent. It makes me feel like I'm the strange one for being upset..."

"..."

"It breaks my heart. Truly. Why do you have to listen to people say things like that...?"

Her voice cracked on the final words. Sniffling as tears welled in her eyes, Renias reached out and clutched both of Junon's hands tightly. To Junon, such bureaucratic unfairness had been shoved down his throat so many times across his lives that he had simply grown numb to it, but to someone watching from the outside, it was intolerable. Had Renias been in his position, she would have protested until the walls shook. She gripped his hands with desperate resolve, refusing to let go until he gave her a real answer.

"Renias."

"Yes?"

"You aren't the strange one. It's this academy that's rotten to the core. You think I enjoy this? Of course I don't."

"Then why... why didn't you speak up?"

Renias wished he would tell her that he simply welcomed the duels out of sheer confidence. Or, at the very least, offer some plausible excuse so he wouldn't look so disheartened. But the answer she received only tightened the knot in her chest.

"Because one person standing up doesn't change a thing."

A bitter, silent sigh caught in her throat. If only I had understood sooner...

"Besides," Junon murmured.

Just as a single tear began to trace its path down her cheek, a rough, calloused finger brushed gently across her eyelid, whisking away the droplet before it could fall.

"If I had caused a scene there, wouldn't it have just made things harder for Professor Muniher?"

Renias blinked through her damp lashes. Though she said nothing, her wide eyes practically screamed for an explanation.

"Think about who protected those students all this time so they could enjoy those privileges."

For years, the academy had kept its darkest corners shrouded in shadow. Despite clear rules, hazing and vicious discrimination went unchecked at every turn. For such contradictions to persist for so long, the administration had to be deliberately turning a blind eye.

It did not take Renias long to arrive at the answer.

"Could it be... the faculty were pulling strings...?"

"Exactly. That's the real reason behind the mass expulsion of the corrupt professors."

Yet one question still troubled her.

"Weren't the vacant seats filled by people recruited from the empire?"

"You catch on fast. You're wondering why the issue isn't resolved if imperial figures took charge of the academy's administration and personnel, right?"

Renias nodded in confirmation.

"An individual student has every right to contest their own score," Junon explained calmly. "But is there a single rule in the handbook that permits collective demonstrations like that?"

"No, there isn't..."

"Of course not. By all accounts, they should never have dared to march up to Professor Muniher like an unruly mob."

The academy's disciplinary code was famously strict. Accumulating enough penalty points resulted in humiliating sanctions. A student would lose access to campus facilities and be barred from enrolling in their desired lectures—a devastating blow to any aspiring mage or warrior. Under normal circumstances, no one in their right mind would risk breaking the rules so openly. Yet those noble students had acted as if consequences did not exist.

"Then... don't tell me this protest was..."

"Staged exactly as their backers wanted. It means there are still plenty of them left—professors who draw fat stipends from the academy while pulling strings in the background."

It was true that many of the dismissed faculty had been replaced by scholars recruited from the Artena Empire. A prime example was Professor Nervel, who had just brazenly demanded a retest in front of Muniher, egging on certain noble factions while delegitimizing the start-of-semester evaluation. The pieces aligned perfectly with the deduction she had just made.

"The moment I stepped forward, they would have seized on it to blow the issue out of proportion and drag Professor Muniher down with me," Junon continued. "That's how those people have kept the academy's dirty secrets buried for so long."

They did not torment the weak simply for amusement. Subjugating and berating the lower classes yielded tangible, systemic benefits. Even if someone countered unreasonable demands with flawless logic, one needed political leverage to make words stick. With so many corrupt roots buried deep within the academy's foundation, a simple majority vote would never favor justice. While an immediate protest might make a brief splash, being cautious was infinitely wiser when the true extent of the opposition's influence remained unknown.

Incredible...

What good was a sterling reputation won on the battlefield? What did heaps of praise matter? In the end, Renias was little more than an outsider blind to the academy's internal politics. She realized with a pang of humility that she had failed to read the situation right before her eyes, and her awe at Junon's sharp foresight only deepened.

"Still, thank you," Junon said softly. "I appreciate that you were upset on my behalf."

With a gentle smile, he patted her silver hair. The simple warmth of his palm worked wonders, soothing the bitter indignation that had coiled tightly in her chest.

"Though... speaking of holding on, look who's grabbing who this time."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Pardon?"

Renias looked up blankly, wondering what he meant. Junon cast his eyes downward, prompting her to follow his gaze. There, still wrapped tight around his hands, were her own fingers, clutching him without the slightest intention of letting go.

Flustered, Renias loosened her grip and sheepishly scratched her silver locks. "Ahaha... I-I'm so sorry..."

Junon chuckled, remarking that they were even now, while Renias pouted, teasingly asking if he still remembered their very first encounter. With the lighthearted memory smoothing over the tension, the two set the matter aside.

"To think he had already factored all of this in while I was debating whether to postpone his private lessons."

Just around the corridor corner, Professor Muniher offered a faint, approving smile after listening in on their conversation.

"And it seems a bit of a commotion is brewing over there as well."

Crash! Thud!

Down the hallway echoed the sounds of Sylvia, a girl who felt deeply indebted to Junon after the end-of-term exam, blatantly breaking school regulations by physically disciplining several arrogant students. By rights, a professor ought to intervene and separate them, but Muniher decided to overlook the uproar just this once.

She is a loyal friend. Or perhaps... it is that boy's doing?

Nodding quietly to himself, Muniher turned and walked away, looking thoroughly satisfied.

"In any case, the boy never fails to exceed my expectations. I suppose I had better prepare something suitable myself."

Countless students sought Muniher's favor, yet few ever received more than a passing pointer, as his discerning eye had kept him from ever taking an official disciple. Yet one student had finally succeeded in curving the lips of that eccentric, impossibly exacting man into a genuine smile.

"Ugh...!"

Meanwhile, in a corner of the training facility, Charlotte bit her lip as she struggled desperately to suppress her mana. She forced the energy surging through her core to circulate faster and faster. In response, raw, dark-blue demonic energy slowly seeped into her pathways, scorching her mana circuits with searing heat.

"Hngh...! It hurts...!"

Charlotte groaned in agony, but the towering instructor standing over her showed no mercy.

"Endure it! Was your resolve only worth this much?"

"N-No, it isn't!"

"Good. You're doing fine. Push a little harder and take it right up to the edge where the turbid mana is stripped bare! Keep going until it feels like there isn't a single drop left circulating through your heart! Squeeze out every last ounce!"

To overcome a physical constitution prone to mana rampages, Charlotte had placed herself under Goden's spartan training, dedicating countless hours to refining her control.

"Michel, is something bothering you lately?"

"Huh? Oh, no. Nothing's wrong."

Michel, who had been staring blankly into empty space, snapped to attention as Senia called her out.

"I don't buy it. If we're in the same boat, shouldn't you be honest with your crew?"

"It's just... things at the orphanage aren't going so smoothly, that's all."

"Hmm, really?"

In truth, the financial troubles had already been largely resolved thanks to Charlotte's assistance. Furthermore, having her unique magic officially recognized by the academy meant Michel was now certified to hunt magical beasts on her own, leaving the Noble Coalition with no financial leverage over her. The real reason her thoughts were drifting had nothing to do with the orphanage.

It was because of one specific person.

Is it... you again?

He was the one found covered in blood after subduing Charlotte during her violent rampage. The student who had stood at the dead center of the start-of-semester evaluation's hidden crisis, known only to a select few. The very person who had scattered Mistellis through the underground waterways ahead of time, as if knowing the Giant Kud Rat would appear.

Junon.

Every single hand on the clock of Michel's suspicions pointed toward that single name.

She shifted her gaze across the hall. There stood Goden, fiercely drilling Charlotte on suppression techniques; Erika, carefully mending the minor scrapes and bruises blooming on the girl's skin; Senia, nonchalant on the outside yet impossibly hard to read; and Charlotte herself, battling her own turbulent constitution so she would never harm another human being again. They had barely gathered enough members to form a small group, let alone a fully rounded party.

"Feels like we're missing one key spot, doesn't it?"

Senia took the initiative, as if she had arrived at the exact same conclusion.

"With Goden and me, the frontline is basically set as a pair. Erika's our buffer, and the rearguard support is pretty much covered between your firepower and Charlotte's. But don't you think we're missing the single most vital position?"

"...I suppose so."

Michel could not deny ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. A tactical anchor capable of commanding transitions between offense and defense while handling sudden emergencies with absolute flexibility—the party's tactician and vanguard core.

The Center.

Strictly speaking, if every member possessed the battlefield awareness and tactical insight to assess situations independently, the role could be bypassed. But mock battles had shown that their responses to unexpected crises were still clumsy. In a real life-or-death engagement, such hesitation would prove fatal. As it stood, Tembris had no one capable of taking up the center position.

He would fit the role perfectly, though.

The neutralizing purifier prepared well in advance. The decisive judgment shown in ordering Noel and John to evacuate the moment Charlotte ran amok. The hidden caliber required to subdue Charlotte in the worst imaginable scenario and find the sole path to survival. While he had technically emerged as the only student critically wounded during the start-of-semester evaluation, Junon's tactical choices had been nothing short of optimal.

To Michel, the ideal candidate for the party's vacant center role aligned uncanny well with the black-haired student who occupied her thoughts.

"In exchange, I hope we never cross paths again."

His parting words, spoken as he handed over the money, weighed heavily ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on her mind. Even so, he was too remarkable a talent to let slip away without a word.

Still... I need to talk to him at least once.

Tick—

Deep within the Grand Duchy Temple, the hands of the sacred clock shifted once more.

"It moved again!"

"The interval is twice that of the previous turn, and the direction is still counterclockwise. But..."

"How on earth are we supposed to interpret an oracle like this when we cannot grasp even the faintest clue...?"

All they could observe from the outside was that the hands were turning counterclockwise at fixed intervals. Even after summoning high priests and prominent scholars from across the Kempf-Litton Continent, not a soul could decipher what the celestial mechanism signified.

And then, an ominous voice echoed in the void.

Just as had happened with Charlotte, fragmented visions of the past began to reflect across the minds of two specific individuals.