First Lesson of Class A

Dawn broke.

I stretched my back straight, gazing at the brilliant sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains.

I slept well.

It was a refreshing morning. Climbing out of a bed so plush I felt like I'd melt into it like cotton candy in water, I looked around the sprawling house — so vast it was hard to believe a single person lived here.

So now I'm the master of this place, huh?

For someone who'd spent his life shuttling between cramped one-room apartments, the environment was utterly foreign. Looking at the home I'd be living in for the next three years, the corners of my mouth curled up on their own.

Residence provided upon enrollment at Purity Academy. A grand two-story mansion. As a benefit every Academy student was entitled to, the Headmaster had sent me straight here the moment he finished assigning me to my class.

I'd heard a senior from the previous semester had lived here, but the interior was spotless — clean enough that not a trace of anyone having lived here remained. Yesterday I'd wandered the whole house familiarizing myself with its layout, and after finishing my inspection, I'd gone to bed early so nothing would interfere with today. And now, I was rising from the bed to begin a brand-new day.

"Like a rock. I feel completely refreshed, thanks to that."

Having received the Writer's morning greeting, I headed straight into the bathroom and stripped off my clothes. I gave the fresh bar of soap on the sink a cursory scrub, rinsed it away, and finished a quick shower as I toweled myself dry.

"It's sad that a school uniform is the only thing I have to wear."

I stepped out of the bathroom and opened the closet. Hanging alone on a hanger in the otherwise empty space — the Academy uniform. I picked it up and draped it over my bare body.

"Sounds like a plan."

The house was spacious, but there was a real shortage of the clothing and furniture meant to fill it. I made a mental note to head into town whenever I had some spare time and pick up the essentials.

Going after all my classes are done will be the most relaxed option.

Changed into my uniform, I headed straight for the kitchen. A bright morning starts with a hearty meal — the solid breakfast that helps me power through the day. It was a crucial part of my daily routine that absolutely could not be skipped.

Naturally, the fridge was empty as well, but in preparation for just this moment, I'd bought a carton of fresh milk from the nearby convenience store last night and stashed it there.

"Better to put something in my stomach than head out on an empty one."

Clink.

I opened the fridge, pulled out the milk, tore open the carton, and chugged the whole thing.

"Relax. I'm finishing it all anyway."

One gulp, bottom's up! I drained the contents of the paper carton completely dry. The one-liter carton of milk vanished in under ten seconds, and only then did my shrunken stomach finally settle into a state of contentment.

"You have that kind of reaction over one carton of milk? How little do you even eat?"

Well, if she's called a God, she probably doesn't need food. But never once putting a bite of anything delicious in her mouth — just sniffing it and tossing it away. Isn't that a bit of a waste?

"If it were me, I think I'd take a bite if only out of respect for the effort someone put into making it — even food I'd paid for myself."

Maybe the Writer had her own share of burdens, because I could sense a faint note of self-deprecation woven into her chat. I went quiet after that. For some reason, it seemed wise to keep my mouth shut, given the mood.

"Got it."

I agreed with her and walked to the front door. I fished my sneakers out of the shoe rack, slipped them on, tied the laces, and stepped outside.

"Finally, my first class."

"I'm looking forward to this. What will they teach us there?"

"They say we train to become Guardians, so maybe I'll get a light spar or two in?"

From a residential street lined with identical houses, students were trickling out of their homes one by one, just like me. Each of them formed small clusters as they made their way toward the Academy right in front of them.

So this is Purity Academy.

A silver tower rising majestically from the sunlit ground. Around that structure — the symbol of Purity Academy — stood buildings of every color and personality imaginable. Yesterday I'd been too overwhelmed to take it all in, but today I finally etched the scenery into my eyes.

"Not nervous — just excited."

Forced here against my will it may have been, but this was the world of the novel I'd loved most. Setting aside my grudges against the Writer, actually setting foot in a place I'd believed could only exist on the page filled me with an overwhelming sense of wonder.

"I know where it is, so you don't need to tell me. If I didn't know this much, my status as a devoted reader would be revoked."

It was spelled out clearly in the web novel. West of the tower at its center — a triangular building standing there. I recited the passage in my head as I walked. Befitting the finest Academy in the world, the grounds were vast, but the student residential area was close to the Class A classroom, so about ten minutes of walking got me to my destination.

A pyramid-shaped structure that, from certain angles, brought the letter A to mind. The moment I stood before the building, the glass doors slid open automatically and the badge pinned to my chest glowed.

A voice notification announcing my identity had been confirmed. The instant I heard it, I entered through the large placard reading First-Floor Lecture Hall. It was a tiered lecture hall in the same style ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'd seen back in my university days. The chairs were arranged in folding rows like theater seating, and the auditorium floor was luxuriously laid with white marble. Fitted with the latest state-of-the-art equipment, the place was guaranteed — at a single glance — to have cost an astronomical sum.

This is where my first class begins.

Thanks to the novel's setting compendium, I already knew this world inside and out from self-study — but there was still a chance I might gain my own insights by actually sitting through an instructor's lesson. I took the front-row seat closest to the blackboard to help myself focus.

And it just so happened that a familiar face was there, too.

"Y-you—youyouyou!"

"Yo. Fancy meeting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you here."

Another student sitting up front with me — the girl with long, straight black hair tied back with a rubber band — recoiled in open alarm the moment I took the seat beside her.

"We meet again. At this point, it's gotta be fate, right?"

"Solis!"

"Calling me by name, too. I'm so moved I could die."

In response to her intense reaction, I flashed a grin, baring my teeth. When I thrust my thumb up at her, she thumped the desk with her fist in a ferocious welcoming gesture of her own.

"Don't tell me — you're in Class A too? You were in the Weaponry track?"

"That's how it turned out. More importantly, so were you, Chloe. Well, I guess that's a given, considering the sword the Sword Saint gave you."

"Don't act like we're friends!"

Grrrr!

Chloe bared her teeth at me like a foul-tempered chihuahua, glaring daggers. She was the one who'd greeted me first, and now she was getting mad at me for it. What kind of hypocrisy was that?

Now I'm genuinely curious.

Why on earth did she hate me so much? As an explanation, "she's sulking because she lost to me last time" left something to be desired. Maybe there was some other circumstance I didn't know about?

Shall I poke at it a little?

"Why are you getting so worked up? I only said something because I was worried about you."

"Worried? You? Worried about me?"

"Hnngh, even if youuuu weren't here, E-e-e-vaaaa and I wouldn't have shared rooooooms anywayyyy."

"HEY!"

I deliberately slurred my pronunciation, recreating the scene of her tearful breakdown. It was a blatant provocation, and my target flailed like a fish that had swallowed the hook.

Shink!

Chloe dropped into a sword-drawing stance, and black mana churned violently around her. I, too, wrapped mana around my whole body, ready to defend myself. Even if she swung that katana of hers, I made sure I could parry it — my senses sharpened on the blade at her hip.

"You two. Stop right there."

THUD!

"Oh?"

"Ngh — what the?!"

A sword came flying between the two of us and buried itself in the floor. The rapier, sunk clean through the marble, vibrated like a taut plucked string before falling still. Chloe and I both turned our heads toward the direction it had come from.

"That's quite enough. Fighting in the classroom is a nuisance to the other students and a clear violation of Academy rules."

A woman stood there, silver hair as if steeped in pale moonlight, ice-blue eyes sharp as a frozen lake. In her impeccably tailored suit, she drew every gaze with the crisp clicking of her heels.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

At her arrival, Chloe swallowed her indignation and bowed her head in apology. I too withdrew my mana and leaned back in my chair, silently conveying that I had no intention of causing any more trouble.

"Class will now begin."

Sylvia Clarinet — the instructor in charge of Class A's Weaponry track. Standing before the blackboard, she signaled the official start of the lesson.