The Art of the Draw (1)
The moment I confirmed it was Anna, I lowered the muzzle, but letting my guard down was still off-limits.
"What's that you're hiding behind your back?"
My voice came out ice-cold. It wasn't that I suspected Anna. What I was wary of was the chance that the thing standing in front of me wasn't Anna.
Demons or magical beasts that extract memories and masquerade as loved ones—a classic deception trick favored by spies in any fantasy tale. If I naively bought it and thought she was Anna, I'd end up with my throat slit and taking a tour of the afterlife.
"Th-that's... Flint, um, you see..."
Anna's face went pale. She rolled her eyes and backed up, but my chilling presence pinned her against the wall. I could see her hand trembling behind her back.
Explosives? Or some medium to amplify mana? Or maybe an artifact to hide her true identity?
"Three seconds. Show it or I shoot. One, two..."
"O-okay! Fine, I'll show you! You pervert!"
Pervert? My train of thought derailed for a split second at the sudden insult, and that's when Anna hurled whatever she'd been hiding behind her back to the floor.
Thud.
What hit the damp underground corridor floor wasn't a magic bomb or a sharp dagger. It was... the black boxer shorts I'd shoved in the laundry hamper a few days ago, neck all stretched out.
"......"
"......"
Silence stretched out. The silver revolver's barrel wandered aimlessly in the air, lost. I alternated glances between my fallen doppelgänger on the floor and Anna's face.
"...Anna. Why the hell do you have this?"
"I-it's 'cause! You were heading off to the academy all alone, so this big sis got worried and came to take care of you! I figured a slob like you wouldn't do laundry right, so I snuck it in to wash it for you... you idiot moron!"
Anna's face flushed red like a ripe apple, while mine paled with an indescribable wave of shame.
"Why were you pulling it out right here, right now?"
"I was gonna keep it separate so it didn't mix with other people's stuff, okay?! Why're you treating me like a criminal!"
Anna huffed and snatched up the laundry basket from the floor. It wasn't just my underwear— it was piled high with everyone else's clothes too.
I averted my eyes in embarrassment and carefully cocked the revolver's hammer back.
Click. The menacing barrel vanished into its holster.
My head was a mess. What the hell was even going on here?
"Hold up, Anna. So you're the new emergency hire?"
"Huh? How'd you know? There was this sudden job posting, so I rushed to prepare and came. But what're you doing here? Skipping class to wander around with that weird metal thing? Not studying?"
I shut my mouth at Anna's innocent question. Where the hell was the real spy?
My memories couldn't be wrong. In the original story, the terrorist incident kicked off with a spy infiltrating the servant quarters here.
"You ever see a super tall woman around here with paper-white skin? About as tall as me."
"Huh? Oh! That lady? She came for an interview but I beat her to it! Someone you know?"
Not someone I knew—I was debating how to explain she was the academy-bombing terrorist—when Anna added,
"She had this haughty, pretty vibe? But the headmistress asked, 'Our academy's like a family—seven-day weeks and unpaid overtime are standard. Can you handle it?' Her face went blue. Then she kicked open the interview room door, yelling stuff like 'The empire's scarier than home!' and 'Even the Demon King doesn't work people like this!' Packed her bags and left."
"...What?"
"The little headmistress said it was a relief I applied. If that lady had been the only applicant, she'd have forced a blood contract and made her work anyway. Headmistress jokes are scary, huh? Hehe."
Something snapped in my head with a twang.
In the original plot, that spy was supposed to terrorize the academy relentlessly, sowing chaos inside. But instead of terrorism, she'd been broken by the work conditions and fled back to the demon realm?
'Even the Demon King doesn't work people like this.'
No way... the bombing wasn't even an order? Just stress relief?
Please, no. I screamed internally, but it was too late.
So what the hell had I skipped class for? What had crawling through this moldy underground passage and pointing my gun at my childhood friend been for?
"Flint? Your face looks weird. You okay?"
"...Nah. Just feel kinda empty."
If I'd known, I'd have sat there quietly copying scripture from that asshole Lucius. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about a meeting with that lunatic tomorrow.
Spilled water—no, spilled laundry. I holstered the revolver and rolled up my sleeves in defeat.
"I'll help. Class is already screwed for today anyway."
"Really? You're the best, Flint!"
Anna beamed and grabbed my arm, dragging me along.
And so, silver revolver at my hip, I battled a mountain of laundry instead of terrorists. Soap suds flew in place of blood, and I spent the day drenched in water instead of sweat. Before I knew it, sunset had painted the horizon red.
Buried in the thick walls of the maintenance annex, the laundry noise, and chit-chat with Anna, I had no clue.
That the ancient dragon was tearing her hair out at the academy, Kyle was sobbing in the underground prison, Pistia was yelling my name while dashing everywhere, and a full-blown "Commoner Cadet Missing Crisis" had gripped the entire place.
It was a peaceful evening.
"Talk! Spill it!"
"Gaaahhh!! I don't know! I said I don't know!!!"
Screams tore through the dank air of the underground prison. But the trainee inquisitors didn't even twitch an eyebrow.
"This guy's still not getting it!"
A red-hot poker touched Kyle's thigh, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh and his death throes. He convulsed wildly before slumping forward.
Sizzle—!!
"Euuugh!! Guhkk!!"
"He's out. I'll heal with holy power."
Golden aurora poured from Lucius's fingertips, sweeping over Kyle's body. The fresh burns vanished like a lie, replaced by smooth skin. Erasing the pain's traces only to prepare for more—a mercy that mocked his very humanity.
"Another bucket of water."
Splash! Cold water hit Kyle's face, and he gasped awake.
"Pwah! Huhk, heuk... Where the hell... Oh, right. This is a dream. A shitty nightmare..."
"Oh dear. Still denying reality? Cadet Kyle von Leonhardt. I did say we'd let you go if you confessed your sins."
Lucius's voice snapped Kyle back.
"I already told you everything!!! The unauthorized hunt, messing with innocent girls. I confessed it all!"
Under imperial law, poaching magical beasts was a serious crime. Mess it up, and you could disrupt the ecosystem, triggering a monster wave. Kyle was convinced that's why the cardinal had locked him up, so he'd spilled every last secret.
"Heh heh..."
The cardinal smiled kindly.
But Lucius just smiled indulgently at the words. Then, suddenly, he flashed a savage predator's grimace visible only to Kyle from an impossible angle.
"This isn't a joke. If I can't save the gun—no, the lamb—because of you, who do you think God will punish?" he whispered in Kyle's ear.
"Where'd you hide Flint? Is he even alive?"
"What the hell are you even talking about!!!"
"Sigh. No reasoning with you."
Then, a hooded trainee inquisitor rushed up and knelt.
"We found him! Cadet Flint—spotted near the academy's main gate!"
Lucius's eyes widened.
"Oh...! How's the cadet? Any mental damage? Disabilities?"
"Well..."
The trainee hesitated awkwardly.
"Don't tell me something major happened."
Lucius's eyes narrowed. If there was even a scratch, he'd smash Kyle's skull with his mace right then.
"No, sir! He's too fine. Asked about his whereabouts—he said he ran into a childhood friend at the maintenance annex by chance and helped with chores all day."
"...Pardon?"
Lucius's smile froze.
Come to think of it, he'd told the search teams to focus on classrooms, training grounds, and faculty buildings. Who'd have thought the kid was holed up in the servants' area doing laundry.
Amateur mistake.
Lucius clicked his tongue at his own oversight but sighed in relief that the future heretic inquisitor and weapons developer was safe.
Then, the cadets watching from behind began whispering in terror.
"Uh... so what about us?"
"W-we helped torture a ducal heir. Won't he come after us later?"
The cadets trembled like leaves. Lucius finally smiled softly, satisfied.
"Everyone. Was today's lesson enlightening?"
"Y-yes? Uh..."
As the cadets froze, Lucius elegantly spread his arms.
"Now! Applaud Cadet Kyle von Leonhardt, who so generously served as our teaching aid!"
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The cardinal's dry applause kicked it off, exploding into thunderous cheers and claps.
"As expected of House Leonhardt! Embodying noblesse oblige!"
"Wow! What amazing acting!"
The naive cadets fell for Lucius's incitement, praising Kyle as they filed out one by one.
Only Kyle remained, bound and drenched in spit and tears amid the fading cheers.
With the students gone, just Lucius and Kyle were left in the prison.
"You know what happens if today's events get out?"
"Damn it, damn it!! I'll file a formal complaint with the Holy See. Locking up and torturing an innocent man? You crazy bastard!"
"Innocent?"
Lucius's eyes went wide in genuine disbelief. Kyle's skin crawled at the innocent reaction.
"Poaching banned beasts and harassing women—how's that innocent? You confessed it all yourself."
"Wha...? W-wait..."
"Your charges: illegal hunting and sexual crimes. Judgment rendered."
"Hold on! That's...!"
"You'll be under Holy See intensive surveillance for three years. And no lifting the 'Chastity Preservation Blessing' until academy graduation."
Priests emerged from the shadows, grabbing Kyle's limbs as Lucius finished. He chanted something ominous, and a heavy, cold, blocked sensation bloomed in Kyle's groin.
"No appeals. It's the Lord's will."
"What is this?! Stop!! Make it stop! STOOOOP!!!!!!!!!!"
"Amen."
The Holy See's mad dog mercifully crossed himself.
Thus, the empire's top knight prospect, Kyle, was forced into sexual purity until graduation.
The next day, at the academy's lake park.
The rippling water swayed peacefully in the breeze, but Kyle's eyes glaring at it were bloodshot.
Memories of yesterday's hellish torture, the Holy See surveillance shadowing him, and the creepy 'chastity' pressure in his groin had him on the brink of madness.
Then, far off, a detestable silhouette strolled casually into view.
Flint. The root of all evil who'd flushed his life down the toilet.
"...I'll kill him."
Kyle's eyes flashed. He roughly gripped the unfamiliar eastern scabbard at his waist. No greatsword heft, but the cold touch against his palm fueled his bloodlust.
Kyle moved silently. He'd catch the bastard off-guard and sever his head in one iaijutsu draw.