First Place or Death!
Carlos Cloud harbors doubts about you.
First, I slipped naturally into character.
My acting direction: doubt.
This was a connection I absolutely could not afford to make at this point in time. Butterfly effects existed in this world—that much I could say with certainty. If I so much as pretended to know him and the snowball grew into an avalanche, my married-man escape plan would collapse. My regression would be exposed. And I would spend eternity as a yandere attachment doll.
That was not happening.
"I don't know the details, Professor."
"Is that so?"
"I have no personal acquaintances or academic ties, either."
"That can't be right. Your name is clearly written right here."
Carlos tilted his head and held out a document. My name was, in fact, listed on it—but things like this were never to be judged hastily. It could be a namesake. Or he could simply have the wrong person entirely.
I shrugged at him with deliberate nonchalance.
"A name is just a name. Dig through any registry and you'll find things that simply can't be explained."
"True enough. Mikhail is a common name."
"Yes. Names are everywhere. And they don't fade easily."
"Fine. When the professor in question arrives, I'll ask for confirmation myself."
Well then. That was everything I needed to say.
"It would be best if you took your leave now."
"Hm? Why's that?"
"Other students might get the wrong idea. Favoritism, for instance—or, as you put it, some kind of personal connection."
I was from a family that had plotted treason. He was an Academy professor and Commander of the Imperial Execution Bureau. A single misunderstanding would cost both of us dearly.
"Ah. Sorry about that. Didn't mean to put you in a tough spot."
Scratching the back of his head, Carlos vanished with a faintly sulky look. Good. The less time he wasted, the better—I needed room to think.
A deranged virgin yandere housewife was already swishing her tail, determined to get a taste of me.
"That girl showing up as a professor? Impossible. The Archmage hadn't even developed regression magic yet."
Even assuming a joint regression, she should have been an ordinary student at this point—a first-year at the Academy. The greenest of greenhorns. Bullied, restricted in her activities. A professorship made even less sense. Decades of accumulated talent blooming overnight would land her squarely in the qi deviation every martial artist warned about.
Besides, she was the family cold-shoulder case. Would they ever support her becoming a professor?
No. I shook my head. She was a concubine's child. The family head was a lunatic. If anything, they'd have been itching for an excuse to kill her.
So I hypnotized myself into believing nothing was wrong. From every angle, the assumption simply didn't hold water.
"It's probably just that bastard Carlos messing around. Or Arlea set this up."
I leaned toward the latter. She might be testing me.
"Mikhail. What are you thinking so hard about? You look like you've got a lot on your mind."
Something slipped through my arm and linked elbows with me. Arlea. So much for covering my eyes—I was still in the Buddha's palm.
Crafty woman!
Spreading false rumors just to cook this married man Kim Mikhail and eat him whole. She was certifiably insane. Father had always stressed it: never associate with the mad.
"I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. Proper meditation posture is fundamental for a knight."
"My. Don't tell me you were thinking about me?"
As if I'd waste a thought on you, Arlea.
"I was drawing out my aura. It's buried deep. Why do you ask?"
"I was wondering if you meditate like that to pass the time once I fall asleep."
I stood guard every night, but I never closed my eyes. I couldn't afford the ending titled Phantom Thief Arlea, Righteous Chastity Robber. Even now, drool marks from a restless night still clung to her cheek.
"You sleep in every day and read scripts all night. I know everything. Your cheek, for instance."
"Th-this is—!"
Arlea flushed and scrubbed at her face like a cat. …So she had a cute side after all.
"Everyone, attention!"
Clank—.
While we were chatting, a cylindrical structure shot up from the center of the training grounds.
"Looks like everyone's here!"
Standing atop it was Carlos Cloud, the same man I'd just been speaking with.
"Welcome, students. I am Carlos Cloud, Professor of the Swordsmanship Department. It is a great pleasure to educate the finest talents of the Empire."
I narrowed my eyes. Pleasure, my ass. His eyelids were already drooping from the urge to clock out. But I kept that to myself. I needed to forge new connections and put them to use in my escape plan. Catching someone off guard required preparation and patience—no different from war.
Besides, swordsmanship like his isn't easy to come by.
The Sword Fiend. The slaughterer of the rebel faction. Even in my previous life, with protagonist-level buffs, I'd only managed to fight him to a draw. He had to be at least on par with the Third Sword of the Continent. Or one of the Ten Swords of the East. Either way, even a blank sheet of paper is better when two people lift it. Even a toddler's hands can help.
Speaking of which—why was this woman so desperate to glue herself to me?
"Your Highness. Forgive me, but would you mind putting a little distance between us? It's interfering with my security detail."
"No. Absolutely not. I'm not letting go."
Still linked arm-in-arm, Arlea leaned her head against my shoulder even harder. She inhaled and exhaled in a slow rhythm, as if filling some private craving. I tried to peel her off. She wouldn't budge.
"People are watching. It would be better to maintain some dignity."
"And? Focus on what's in front of you. You were just going to stand there anyway."
Arlea twisted her body and burrowed deeper into my arms. While I was locked in this bizarre battle of wills with her, Carlos's explanation was winding down.
"A swordsman's fundamental virtue is stamina! A martial artist without stamina is no martial artist—just a freeloader! Today's first-period exam will serve as class placement, and it goes as follows."
The moment he finished speaking, Carlos wove a formula in midair.
"Rise."
Summoning magic. And the mana-channeling sigils were unmistakably mixed with necromancy.
Creeeak—
Wooden dolls emerged from the floor of the training grounds under the magic's influence, looking like marionettes with their strings cut. The dolls used for this exam.
Arlea beside me made a show of panic.
"Mikhail. I'm scared."
Playing the delicate flower, she trembled in my arms. Get lost, you little witch. No amount of coquetry was going to work on me.
…Though Junior Mikhail might have other opinions.
I strained not to let it show. Fragile creatures triggered protective instincts—and reproductive ones right alongside them. Arlea was a specialist in that particular psychological warfare.
Gritting my teeth, I tried to put some space between us.
"It's fine, Your Highness. They're training dolls. Nothing will happen."
"R-really?"
"Yes. There's no need to cling so tightly. I will protect you no matter what—whatever the sacrifice."
"…"
That line had come out a little strange, but flipping the board came first. Build stamina. Raise my stats. I had to get out of this hell crawling with deranged rapists by any means necessary.
Carlos's explanation resumed. He paced the platform restlessly.
"I want to see your stamina, students! Survive as long as you can. I need to know how long you'll last."
That man Carlos was grinning the same way my father did when he snuck off to buy model kits.
The king of freeloaders with his balls in a lioness's mouth is standing right next to you… and you dare smile?
Oh, look at this guy. Want me to introduce you to a perfectly matched, obsessively clingy sister-in-law? That'd accelerate his destruction real fast.
Arlea, who had been listening carefully to Carlos's explanation, rolled her shoulders loose.
"Carlos. This man could do it if he wanted—he just doesn't. He's famous across the Empire."
She clasped her hands behind her back with the lofty air of an immortal sage. I knew. A swordsmanship instructor who always skipped class and only assigned self-study. This was basically the elite-prep-tutor model—the kind that forced you to trust them completely. Or a con artist.
"Could do it but doesn't?"
"Because it's a hassle. He teaches commoners, then collects several times the fee in a single day. Well—once I heard Mikhail was taking the class, I asked him for a favor."
Hey. That's called pulling strings.
"I'm royalty. Is that a problem?"
"Ah."
I let out a small sound and tipped my head. Right. She was a direct descendant of the Emperor. Even as the Third Imperial Princess, she had walked every elite track imaginable—and she had regressed on top of that. Put simply: Celestial Dragon-tier. Favor-trading like this was second nature to her.
Carlos must have had a weakness she grabbed hold of.
This woman was the type who found leverage and twisted it. Give her a pretext and there was nothing she couldn't do. Sitting still and doing nothing would get me nowhere. If I didn't want to end up like a dog that chased a chicken and lost it, I had to give this everything I had.
"This should do it."
I gripped the wooden sword's hilt and poured power into it. At my current level, this much would be enough…
"There."
Shhhhhh——
Just enough for a faint Aura Blade to shimmer into being. In the past, Arlea had dismissed my Aura Blade outright. Not anymore. This was the Absolute Sword, carrying every ounce of the Empire's greatest swordsman's capacity. Even if every student here except Arlea charged me at once—could they so much as scratch me?
"Hoh."
Carlos eyed my Aura Blade sidelong and split his mouth into a long grin.
"In addition to class placement, today's stamina rankings will determine your standing within the department."
Hoo—.
"First place will receive the post of personal guard to His Majesty the Emperor."
A quest has arrived!
This one, I had to clear. No matter what.