This Instructor Really Knows How to Teach (5)
The Academy’s Special District. Despite the grandiose name, when the academy first opened its doors this place had been nothing but empty lots. It wasn’t that they lacked the funds to build—of course not. An institution wealthy enough to let students bathe in potions and use disposable magic tools in class would hardly be short on money. The vast open ground in the Special District had been prepared from the start as a reward for students with outstanding grades, and the system had proven remarkably effective.
Children from the most prestigious families, suddenly forced to live in tiny rooms without a single servant, were naturally overjoyed when offered a path out. Given the academy’s absurd scale—it even contained its own forest and lake—the Special District was enormous. Yet the bar for “outstanding grades” was set so high that even after more than a year, the number of buildings could hardly be called plentiful. It would probably take several more years before the barren emptiness visible from the windows finally disappeared.
Inside one of the mansions in the Special District—nicknamed the “Midas Company Academy Branch,” “Shadow Mansion,” or “Temporary Tongue-Sealing Zone” by her classmates—Fiore Midas sat on the sofa and pondered. Setting everything else aside, that last nickname had made her clutch her stomach the moment she heard it.
“…Mm.”
Fiore lifted the cup from the table, took a sip of the tea inside, and twitched her eyebrows. Not because it tasted bad—quite the opposite. The flavor was so superb that she felt a quiet sense of defeat.
“It’s incredible. Really delicious, Chepe.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
The reply was flat, almost coldly businesslike. They say people who spend a lot of time together grow alike, but Fiore didn’t think they needed to resemble each other in this particular way.
The silver-haired maid. Chepe had been Bern Midas’s most trusted confidante—perhaps even more than that—and now stayed with Chrome’s group. After the incident within the Midas family concluded, deciding what to do with her had become a headache in many respects. They couldn’t simply let her walk free; as the former head’s right hand, she possessed too much internal knowledge about the company. Yet keeping her employed by the Midas family invited strong opposition from the rest of the relatives.
The official stance was that the events during the succession ceremony had been carried out by an impostor mimicking Bern, not Bern himself. But those who had faced mortal danger weren’t about to accept that explanation so easily, and some argued that being used at all was unforgivable. The real Bern’s cold charisma had kept the family in check; the impostor’s various disgraceful acts had tarnished his image, and that backlash extended to Chepe, his close aide. If Theo, the new head, took her in, he would only share the blame. Inside the Midas family, opinion leaned toward either execution or permanent confinement to silence her.
Chrome, however, would never allow a warrior skilled enough to fight Ligret on even terms to be treated so poorly. For all his other traits, his brother’s greed for talented people was truly bottomless. The fact that servants were normally forbidden inside the academy but could be kept in limited numbers by students who owned mansions in the Special District had also helped. Otherwise the situation would have grown far more troublesome.
Chepe’s main duties were managing the mansion’s chores and guarding Fiore. Fiore was grateful for her Oraboni’s kind heart in wanting to protect her after the previous incident, but honestly, when it came to rushing into dangerous places, wasn’t Chrome far worse? Strategically, it made more sense to increase the number of guards around Chrome, who had a habit of stepping on traps to remove them. She was also secretly curious how the original “guard” lady would react when a new bodyguard appeared. If she showed jealousy or a competitive streak, that would be quite entertaining.
“Got something to say?”
Fiore gave a vague smile at the brown-haired guard who reacted like a ghost to even the tiniest glance—barely a fraction of a second.
“No, I was just thinking your hair looks especially glossy today, Ligret, even though you don’t seem to take special care of it.”
“You were thinking something weird again, weren’t you?”
“What a baseless accusation. I’m wronged.”
Caught. The brown-haired girl, usually indifferent to her surroundings yet possessing absurdly sharp intuition, gave her a suspicious look. But apparently interrogating her was too much trouble; Ligret returned to maintaining her weapons.
The series of motions—sharpening, oiling, wiping—looked impeccably precise even to Fiore, who knew nothing about such things. It was truly fascinating how Ligret treated the blades with such care every time, yet would wield them with enough violence to shatter them completely when the situation called for it.
After the massive greatsword she carried on her back came a dagger. From tip to pommel, it was covered in dense red vein-like patterns.
The Wedge of Gluttony. Fiore recalled that simply holding it drained the user’s energy and stamina at a frightening rate. It really would be difficult to maintain, she thought, then voiced a sudden idea.
“If the problem is having to grip it directly, couldn’t you modify it by adding a handle wrap or attaching it to a long pole? It would be much easier to use, wouldn’t it?”
“If I did that, it would throw an even bigger tantrum. It’s already not exactly obedient. If it went completely berserk, I wouldn’t even be able to maintain it like this.”
Fiore tilted her head at Ligret’s words. She spoke as if the dagger possessed its own will. Fiore was about to ask what she meant when the bell rang from the first-floor entrance.
“Shall I check?”
“Let’s go together.”
Accompanied by Chepe, Fiore opened the door to find a woman with hair like blazing flames. The princess who carried grand titles yet traveled without a single attendant looked at Fiore and greeted her first.
“I’m sorry for coming without notice. Would it be all right if I stayed here for a short while?”
“If you’re looking for Oraboni, he’s not here right now.”
At the mention that Chrome was absent, Lyla’s face darkened slightly. She’s become quite expressive, Fiore thought with quiet admiration. The princess who had once shown only the flawless mask of a beautiful doll was now visibly affected by a single man’s whereabouts. Oraboni’s sins were truly heavy.
Fiore watched the girl’s charmingly youthful reaction with silent amusement. Lyla seemed to realize her slip and cleared her throat.
“It doesn’t matter. I simply need a place to escape to for a while.”
Fiore swallowed the teasing remark You look quite bothered, though? With Lyla’s fiery temperament, provocation and mockery had to be kept at a moderate level or things could turn troublesome.
Lyla looked momentarily puzzled at the unfamiliar Chepe, but the maid’s attire seemed to satisfy her curiosity and she asked no questions.
And so they moved to the second floor.
“……”
Silence fell between the brown and crimson gazes that met. The brown one spoke first.
“Hey.”
A curt greeting. It was easy to see why Chrome had instructed her to “just nod vaguely when meeting important people.” The attitude could easily be called rude, but Lyla had apparently grown used to it and showed no particular reaction.
“Hello, Ligret. You look a little pale—is something wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s good to hear. If you ever need help, just tell me.”
“Looks like you’re the one who needs help right now. If sulking alone is your hobby, that’s fine, but…”
“……”
Lyla stopped speaking. She was probably trying to decide whether to take that as provocation or concern. Their ambiguously friendly—or unfriendly—conversation was always an interesting spectacle, but Fiore had something else she wanted to know.
“So what brings you here, Lady Lyla?”
“…Sigh. It’s nothing too serious. I just got tired of dealing with people and came to rest.”
Tired of dealing with people.
“Ah, it must be because of the joint classes with the first-years. Is the Prince of Morian bothering you?”
When Fiore casually voiced her guess, Lyla blinked.
“Have rumors already spread?”
“A woman’s intuition.”
In truth, she had reached the conclusion after several layers of inference, but there was no need to explain all that. Just as during the entrance exam, revealing every card you held wasn’t always wise.
Seeing Lyla hesitate as if unsure whether to speak, Fiore gently pushed her forward.
“Even so, it must be difficult for you. People who don’t know your situation keep saying you two are close or that you make a perfect couple.”
“…I hadn’t heard that rumor at all?”
“Well, it’s politically sensitive, so no one would say it openly. It’s just whispered behind backs. Unless you’re as well-informed as Oraboni or me, you usually wouldn’t know.”
The decisive blow seemed to be the mention that even Chrome had heard the rumors. Lyla began to explain with strong denial.
During the joint class with first-years, she had ended up teaching Kian, the prince of Morian. She kept strict boundaries against private meetings, but he approached her in ways that barely stayed within official duties, making it exhausting to respond. She tried to shake him off by paying attention to the other first-years on her team, but they kept pushing her toward Kian instead. There was no escape.
As Lyla continued what sounded like both complaint and lament, Ligret spoke up.
“If you don’t like him coming close, just beat him.”
“I can’t use violence on someone who hasn’t committed any crime.”
So that’s how it is. Fiore had assumed it was political calculation that kept her from acting freely, but the unexpectedly sincere reason impressed her.
“Wait, weren’t you the one who bombarded people with explosions during the assignment? What’s with the sudden change?”
“A contest of skill and personal punishment aren’t the same thing.”
“It’s funny hearing that in a place where the professors actively encourage beating students who don’t listen.”
“The fact that both of us accept that so naturally is exactly why this academy is becoming stranger and stranger.”
As conversations tended to do, what began on a single topic soon scattered in every direction. The absurdity of academy education. Controversy over the outcome of the previous assignment. Why hadn’t she been called during the incident at the main house? Why complain to her instead of Chrome? Wouldn’t it be better to receive a knighthood instead of continuing as a mercenary—she would help with that. Formalities were suffocating and she hated them. And so on.
Then—
“By the way, where did Chrome go?” Lyla asked.
“Said he had an appointment with a junior,” Ligret answered.
“Actually, I heard he’s on a date with a female junior?” Fiore added with a bright, blooming smile as she dropped the bomb.