Midterm Evaluation (8)
"S-something else..."
"Is that not allowed? My arm was injured, after all."
The Princess, evidently never having imagined I would ask for a different reward, stood there flustered, while the Saintess reacted to the mention of my injured arm as though I were spouting nonsense — then, recalling what had caused that injury, she bowed her head once more. And bowing lower still, she forced her words out with difficulty.
"Th-that business with your arm back then... I'm truly sorry."
"I only meant to use enough power to knock you out... I wasn't aiming for your arm in particular... I'm sorry..."
According to the Princess, she had intended to run the current through my whole body just long enough to knock me unconscious, yet for some reason the electricity had condensed in my arm alone. Watching her bow her head again and again, insisting that losing control of her magic was her own fault, I thought to myself—
'That... was my doing, though...'
It left me feeling a little uneasy, and I couldn't help it. After all, it had been my doing, every last bit of it. Not that I had any intention of saying so out loud. I had been injured, that much was true, and I knew full well that the power behind her spell was no fit strength for a friendly bout. When I thought back on how my entire body had been scorched by lightning until I blacked out, my appetite for compensation only sharpened.
Unable to ignore my relentless stare any longer, the Princess finally pulled a tearful face and, in a timid voice so faint that even I, standing right beside her, could barely catch it, uttered the words I had been waiting for.
"Wh-what is it you want...?"
And I was not a man to let an opportunity slip by.
"Albert, how long do you plan on sitting there like that?"
...
Having finished my business with the Princess, I walked over to Albert, who was still drowning in self-reproach, and spoke to him.
This one, unlike your average noble, wasn't the least bit arrogant. He was one of the few aristocrats who believed commoners and nobles were no different from one another — a strange fellow who would walk right up to a commoner without a shred of hesitation and blurt out, of all things, let's be friends. He had been the first to approach me back when I was still playing the delinquent, and he was the one still striking up conversations with me even now. I never did learn what his reasons were, only that he claimed I looked like I was having a hard time. Whatever the case, he meant a great deal to me, and this was not a sight I cared to see.
"Are you going to keep this up?"
"..Isn't it because of me.."
"What is?"
"Everyone who was with me got wiped out."
...
"If I hadn't charged in first... if I'd scouted our surroundings more carefully... maybe something would have turned out differently.."
"..Pathetic."
At the words I tossed out so carelessly, his head finally began to lift — though I'll admit there was a trace of irritation mixed into them.
"..You think I'm pathetic..?"
"I do."
"Is that... so.."
Albert was no royalty, but he was a Duke's son all the same. True, in the course of his heir's lessons he had met all manner of people, and it wasn't as though he had never experienced being resented before. But it had never come at him this directly. The thought that the friendships he had built might crack terrified him, and the knowledge that it was entirely his own fault only made it worse. Regret soon showed across his face, and he dropped his head again, burying it in his knees. It was a sight hard to believe of Albert, who had never once, anywhere, failed to square his shoulders and hold his head high.
And Jenison did not like it — not the man sitting there as though the world had ended over this alone, nor the students around them too busy pointing fingers at one another.
"Are you going to keep this up?"
"..Pathetic."
What am I supposed to do, then? This whole disaster is my fault. If it isn't my fault, whose is it?
I was the one in a position to command everyone. My opinion was the one that spoke for all of them. I was the first to charge at the monsters, and we were devastated soon after. My rash judgment made countless friends vanish. They would be automatically eliminated by now, most likely. If they resented me for it, I would have had nothing to say in my defense.
But what is this man talking about? This was my fault, and it should be my fault. Is he saying such things so carelessly just because he doesn't know what happened back then?
Irritated, I lifted my head to look at his face — and black was looking back at me. A calm black, without so much as a ripple. Eyes that seemed composed in the kindest light and emotionless in the harshest, still fixed on mine.
What does he want from me? Does he think I'm pathetic and wants to look down on me? Does he want to sneer at the sight I make?
As every manner of delusion drifted through my head and impure emotions threatened to take hold of my body, his voice broke through.
"Why do you think this is your fault?"
Why? Isn't it obvious? I represented them, I commanded—
"Did you drag them into it by force, when not a single one of them agreed?"
No. They had offered their own opinions. The decision was made in an atmosphere where everyone was on board.
"Then did they seem unwilling to you?"
That wasn't it either. Everyone, myself included, had been smiling with confidence at the thought of the bonus points.
"Or did you know about the mid-tier monsters in advance and press on anyway, deliberately ignoring the information?"
No. The scouts' report made no mention of mid-tier monsters, and I had trusted it.
"Can you name a single improper judgment you made?"
...
"Do you have any reason to feel guilt in this situation?"
...
"Shouldn't you be pleased, if anything? You did eliminate other people, after all."
"What the—!"
I tried to carry on, but the words wouldn't come. They felt jammed in my throat.
"You seem to be laboring under a misunderstanding, but this is an evaluation."
"It means a ranking is being decided — yours against everyone else's."
"If the others are gone, doesn't your rank climb by exactly that much?"
"Students were counted among the bonus-point targets from the very beginning, after all."
"So there is no need to torture yourself over having knocked the others out."
"..I never knew this world contained an idiot who blames himself for being swept away by a typhoon."
Who could have predicted it? That mid-tier monsters were on this island? And who objected? Not a single person had objected to hunting those monsters down. Then whose responsibility is this?
Hm... we're nearly there... But I'll have to strip that insane self-blame out of him first, or nothing I say will get through.
"E-even so.."
"That's enough, Albert."
....
"However much you blame yourself, their eliminations will not be overturned."
Can they even see you like this? Is your guilt something you can share with anyone? Did they ever tell you to your face that they resent you? Did you commit a sin grave enough to earn everyone's resentment?
He had shaken his head at each of my words, but at the final question he stiffened and held still. I couldn't say whether he truly believed his sin ran that deep, but a flicker of hesitation remained in his eyes. Which suited me fine. Hesitation meant he was still wrestling with it.
His head had gone motionless, but his pupils were trembling violently. His lips were clamped tightly shut, as if to hide them from view, and blood was seeping from his clenched fists — his nails must have bitten clean through the skin. No one had ever witnessed Albert looking so unsteady. Even the students who had been blaming him fell silent at the sight of him, and the Saintess, who had been moving to treat him — along with the Princess and Isabella — could only watch him quietly.
At last his silence broke. He rose slowly and began walking toward me. By then nearly every student was watching us, but he paid it no mind, closing the distance step by step until, barely two or three fists away, he stopped and stared at me.
He held my gaze a long moment, then burst into a hollow laugh and brushed right past me. Ahead of him stood the crowd that had been blaming him only minutes before. Some students watched with anticipation, eager to see what Albert would do; others hesitated, wondering whether someone ought to step in and stop him. The very clique who knew his strength best was among them, and replaying how insolent they had just been toward him, they took it for granted that an attack was coming and squeezed their eyes shut.
But no matter how long they waited behind closed lids, Albert's blow never came.
"I'm sorry."
"..Huh?"
"My hasty judgment got a great many students eliminated."
....
"When the evaluation is over, I will take every last one of your complaints."
To the students watching, it was an utterly unexpected sight. Whatever else he was, Albert was a noble — a Duke's son, at that. And after everything they had said to his face, far from attacking them, he had apologized. The recipients themselves only stood there dazed, as though they couldn't make sense of what was happening.
"If those monsters keep rampaging.. we won't survive long."
...
"I know it's shameless of me.. but lend me your strength one more time."
...
"At the very least, I refuse to let the monsters be the ones to finish our evaluation."
...
"But I can't do it alone. So.."
He was asking for help.
It was an apology no one could have foreseen, delivered in a voice brimming with everything he truly felt — and every student present could sense the sincerity in his words. It was more than enough to rekindle their will to fight.