Getting Fitted for the Uniform
January 1st.
A new year dawned upon the planet Blossom.
As the new year rose into the sky, people set out to begin the day with the resolve to live this one to the fullest, too.
In Korea, they'd ring in the first day of the year with the midnight bell ceremony, but here in the Zerta Kingdom, it was simply designated a holiday, without much ceremony attached to it.
Step outside and the streets were so packed with people enjoying the extended break that there wasn't an inch of ground to spare. Parents out on an excursion with their children, couples holding hands on a date, solos taking a rare outing and drifting about with nowhere in particular to go.
Countless people were doing their best to spend the day without regret. Crushed and struggling through society, they granted themselves the reward of rest and drew from it the vitality to push through another day.
Everyone in this city was enjoying the ordinary routine of a holiday — yet among them were those busier than anyone, devoted to their work.
The Academy's staff and students were exactly those protagonists.
And today, they would board the ship bound for the Academy.
"Sir, does the fit suit you?"
"It's fine. A perfect fit."
I gazed into the mirror, taking in my utterly transformed appearance.
A school uniform in which a refreshing light brown and a crisp white harmonized beautifully — a specially tailored outfit made for the Academy's students.
Cut from high-grade silk, the garment felt exceptional from the very moment I put it on. A soft texture that never irritated the skin, woven with magic that made it sturdier than armor and capable of adapting to any environment whatsoever.
Was this why the rich were so obsessed with expensive clothes when cheaper, decent ones were right there? I made a cautious guess.
"If there's any part that doesn't fit, please let me know right away. I'll take your measurements again and replace it on the spot."
Needle and thread floated up beside the attendant serving me. Fitting for a world where magic existed — no need to visit a factory or a tailor shop; they offered a service that could perform repairs right here, on the spot.
"I can only thank you for such attentive care."
"Oh, it's nothing. To tell you the truth, this is my first time making men's clothing, so I'm quite nervous."
I checked the mirror again, examining the outfit made especially for me alone.
There was nothing about this attire in the novel or its lorebooks — the Sword Saint had only ever mentioned it in passing: 'Back in my Academy days, I wore the uniform too.'
Never in my dreams did I expect to see it like this.
"I'll take it even if it's an empty compliment."
"Does it? I'm not so sure."
The measurements themselves were fine, but my build was so massive that instead of a uniform worn by fresh-faced students, it looked like some far older street thug had been forcibly squeezed into it.
Ah, right — a thug is exactly what I am. I keep forgetting I'm Solis.
"You said it suited me."
Well, well. Laugh it up, why don't you?
I glared at the Writer mocking me through the System window. If I had my way I'd deck her, but she wasn't here — there was nothing to punch.
"Um... sir? Are you all right?"
The attendant was dripping with cold sweat. Apparently, talking into empty air made me look like a lunatic.
"It's nothing. Some crazy bitch picked a fight with me, so I just gave her a look."
"Ah... I see."
The attendant did his best to avoid my gaze. One look at that face told me he was sure he'd crossed the wrong person.
"Anyone who glares into empty air is beyond being seen as sane anyway. Might as well be treated as a lunatic."
And that was the end of my encounter with the attendant. We weren't going to see each other again, so I didn't spare him another thought.
"More importantly, look around you. What we should be focusing on isn't the uniform."
I turned my gaze, showing the Writer the full scene inside the shop.
"Guys, what do you think? Pretty, right?"
"It looks so good on you."
"We should post this on InstaX. It'll pull in a ridiculous number of views."
Students dressed in the same uniform as me were snapping photos with their phones, recording the moment they'd officially become Academy students.
They were all buzzing with excitement, as students on the eve of a new semester deserved to be. In the faces of those who had climbed the road to success by passing the Academy's entrance exam, a bright future shone with unmistakable clarity.
"Everyone's too busy showing off their freshly tailored uniforms."
"Mom, Dad. Does this look good on me?"
"Our daughter looks wonderful."
"Aww, our little baby. You're all grown up now. An adult, a real adult."
These were people who had fought through brutal odds and earned their places with pride. Some were elites of noble blood who had walked the polished path to acceptance, while others had overcome desperate circumstances and achieved a dramatic rise in status worthy of a drama serial.
The magnitude of the emotion differed, but every one of these victories was the fruit of grueling effort. Those who passed the exams could climb this far only because they refused to give up and tempered themselves through tireless work.
The emotionally rich Writer tossed a choked-up remark into the System window. Her voice couldn't be heard, but somehow I could feel the surging feeling packed into that single line she'd sent me.
"Don't really care. I'm not free enough to fuss over every single extra."
Ah. That answer might have been a bit too blunt.
The gloom settling into the Writer's text needlessly weighed on my mind.
She may have been the nemesis who sent me here, but during the three years Academy Yuri Princess was serialized, we'd exchanged messages and built up our share of fond feelings and resentments alike.
Fine. Here, I would offer her my honest impression, sincerely.
"If you insist on an impression — everyone here is an exceptional talent who made it into the Academy, so their mana pouches are stuffed full. Whoa, look at those knockers."
"Oh, and the author has returned."
Apparently she'd recovered her energy thanks to my words. Yokatta, yokatta.
Anyway — the uniform was fitted, and my luggage was already packed.
All that remained was to board the ship bound for the ends of the world.
Swish.
'That is...?'
A fleeting presence brushed past, and I turned my head to chase the trace of it.
There, a girl in a white one-piece was walking along.
Sky-blue hair falling to her shoulders, pupils pure white — her expression was blank, as if hollowed of everything within.
She resembled a lifeless doll, yet her face was that of a marble statue carved by a master who had poured a soul into every stroke, and together the two conjured an otherworldly, uncanny beauty that seemed to belong to no part of this world.
Each time her bare feet touched the ground and left their prints, a scattering of glittering stars bloomed in her wake. The sight was like stars embroidered across the earth, beautiful enough to steal the soul of anyone who beheld it.
It was a spectacle wondrous enough to seize every eye in the shop in an instant — yet not a single soul there registered her existence.
I alone perceived her, precisely and completely.
...
The girl passed the Academy students with calm, unhurried steps — and in that instant, something uncanny happened.
Shwooo!
Leaving only the afterimage of a passing breeze, the dress she wore shattered into motes of light and vanished without a trace.
In its place, a uniform identical to the ones the students wore — sized precisely to her frame — materialized and wrapped itself around her.
Even in the moment of that transformation, she never broke her stride. And just like that, as if nothing had happened, she left the shop without a flicker of lingering attachment.
"Writer. You saw that, right?"
That was my first time seeing her in the flesh. I'd assumed that even in the best case, I wouldn't meet her until after we were inside the Academy.
Marin Light.
The subject of the very first fan art I ever drew.
A heroine of Academy Yuri Princess — the leading lady of its third act, gracing the final stretch of the story.
The bearer of the God King's legacy: the Star's Fragment.
"Never thought I'd catch her here. Writer, did you know?"
Marin's outfit change had been depicted in the web novel too, but only in a brief line — that she had copied the uniform of a passing student. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine she would appear in this shop, at this very moment.
"I was planning to head out as soon as my uniform was fitted. Almost missed quite the show."
"A loose bra top with plain white cotton panties, huh. The definitive standard of women's underwear — the royal road, truly."
Through every stage of that transformation, from dress to uniform, I saw it all with perfect clarity.
Like a magical girl's transformation sequence, the dress enveloping her dissolved into light — and beneath it, her frail, delicate body was laid bare in shameless full view!
"Compared to Eva's volume or Chloe's balance, her figure falls short — but a sexy-slim body has its own charm."
"Is it that I look like I love every woman on sight? Big misunderstanding."
"The face. Whether the body is lacking or not — if she's pretty, she wins. End of story."
The Writer's curse-laden words struck me square in the face, but they had no effect.
A powerless ghost who can't even touch the mortal world — your job is to sit there and watch how I make this ending mine.
Peeeet!
"Academy students! The ship departs in thirty minutes. Please prepare accordingly."
A guard circling the shop blew his whistle and announced the departure time. I moved in step with the sound.
"So it's finally time."
Toward Purity Academy, where the true story of Academy Yuri Princess was about to begin.