After Many Twists and Turns, the New Semester Begins (1)
But among the sisters, Rho—who possessed the most calculating nature—had never once faltered since the day she was born. Her master, Vincent, was the one who had given her everything that made her who she was. Even though she knew that a single mistake could mean the end of all she had… how could she possibly crumble here?
If she were the type to break so easily, she would never have killed that cute, pitiful Parasa in the first place. The virtue of a proper wife was to avoid creating unnecessary noise with the others and falling out of her husband’s favor. The love she held was not so shallow that it could be exposed here. And so, she spoke.
“I was unable to enter the royal castle.”
“………I see.”
“Yes. Thanks to the recent invasion, their defenses were unbelievably strict. I thoroughly searched the western region as you commanded, Master, but every attempt to infiltrate the royal castle ended in failure.”
“………….”
She lied boldly, maintaining a strange, expressionless face as if the slightest upward twitch of her lips might prick her like a needle.
“…Ah, but I did see something. It doesn’t directly relate to this story, so I kept quiet about it until now, but I witnessed Gorgo wandering inside the royal castle.”
And that statement was, in itself, a calculated move. The fact that Gorgo was in the North was something she had only heard mentioned by Grespara. But Rho knew one thing clearly: whenever Master Vincent heard Gorgo’s name, his eyes turned blood-red and he would charge forward as if ready to kill.
Parasa’s disappearance was certainly an important matter in its own right. However, to Vincent—who lived and died by her—it carried just as much weight. Therefore, simply stating this truth might be enough to cloud the judgment of the master before her. Her calculations were perfectly sound.
“Gorgo….”
And judging by his reaction, the way Vincent’s brow furrowed showed that her words had taken root exactly as intended. After all, if it was an event they had not witnessed, even a lie, when spoken as smoothly as flowing water without hesitation, would become the truth. At least here, it would.
“…I wondered where she had gone. So she was there. Very well. As for the matter concerning Grespara—I will look into it again myself.”
‘Phew… Somehow, I managed to get through today.’
At Vincent’s deferral, Rho finally let out a breath of relief, stroking her chest.
But at that moment, the third sister—who had remained silent, quietly observing the situation—opened her mouth. Unlike the frivolous Baranta or the emotionless Regolan, she spoke with nothing but cold, rational intellect.
“I see. No wonder I thought I sensed something of Gorgo coming from Rho.”
“…What?”
Rho’s expression hardened instantly. A tiny crack might have even appeared on that perfectly calculated, never-once-disturbed mask.
“…What did you say?”
She asked the woman with the strange name, but quickly restrained herself. Showing excessive defensiveness if she crossed the line any further would be too obvious.
“I said I can feel Gorgo’s weight on you, Rho.”
Yet Zubenelshamali simply smiled faintly, dangling the scales she always carried on her finger.
“It’s very faint and subtle, but unmistakable. The old northern aura… that intense weight mixed with frozen snowflakes. It bears her exact trace.”
Rho bit her lip hard.
‘…What? Did I make some kind of mistake?’
In the end, it was because she had absorbed the power of Grespara, who had become a double subordinate. But how could she have known that? Rho herself hadn’t even noticed the change.
However, Zubenelshamali—the satellite of Libra—was a monster of senses capable of detecting even such minute shifts.
“You seem to be hiding something, Rho.”
As she spoke, her red bobbed hair swaying, Vincent slowly turned his gaze toward Rho.
But… but…
“……Enough, Zubenel.”
“Yes, Master.”
“A child with senses as sharp as yours would not speak nonsense. Still, suspecting your own sister could become a problem.”
Rather than harsh rebuke or pressure, Vincent gently caressed Rho’s cheek with the warm touch of a star. Then, as if to reassure her, he said,
“It is only natural that she would carry that woman’s scent if she encountered Gorgo. I do not believe for a moment that my little Rho would do anything to disappoint my expectations.”
“V-Vincent-nim—!”
“All of you are my proud satellites. In this world where even living while loving one another is not enough, please do not suspect or fight among yourselves.”
Though an arm naturally bends inward… it was precisely this unconditional trust that made Vincent worthy of the love his satellites gave him without lacking.
“…Showing me the sight of you fighting each other is what would truly anger me.”
It was an expression completely different from the persona he showed to humans. But that was simply who he was. Whether his current appearance helped or not… it was probably closer to the latter.
It had been a truly long time since I last came to the academy. The field training had gone to hell, Professor Sayer—who I tried to save in exchange for the cartridge—had been fired, and the chairman had caused everyone endless frustration with his incompetence before being replaced. Everything had finally returned to normal, but the impression from our trip to the North had been so strong that I had almost forgotten where we even belonged.
Even though we were in a tense situation with Vincent openly targeting us, as long as we belonged to the academy, the regular semester schedule had to proceed properly.
What surprised me upon returning was that Nonedon had settled into the chairman position far more smoothly than expected, without any adverse reactions. To what extent? The graffiti that had been scrawled on the school wall—
Changing the chairman now—what good would that do?
That thug of a chairman.
We protest.
Can someone who follows power even have convictions?!
—had been painted over in white, and now it read—
Chairman’s great, screw that protest bullshit
To the point that such a joke had been added. When I looked into why, it turned out everything came down to the logic of money and sincerity.
“The chairman personally covered all the funeral expenses for the students who died during the training and even attended the memorial mass.”
“He wrote each student’s personal information by hand, one stroke at a time, and sent letters of apology to their families.”
“He took full responsibility for full scholarships and admission for the surviving siblings of the deceased and sent enormous condolence payments.”
Unlike Montgomery and the Sabra faction—who had only tried to gloss over it as an “accident” based on their privileged backgrounds—Nonedon, despite being a former thug, clearly understood courtesy, character, and basic human duty far better. Everyone seemed to view the way he had handled things favorably. On top of that, he had even managed to restart the semester that the students had longed for so much. It was the perfect finishing touch.
And so, in this season where the summer sun poured down in abundance, the faces of the students—who were experiencing the beginning of the semester once again as latecomers—were filled with bright smiles.
When I headed to the classroom after so long, the joy that made it impossible to contain was plain to see. Some students had even brought tea to sip during lectures, chatting amiably as they passed by. At this point, I truly felt like I had returned to everyday life.
And what completed that feeling was none other than the class assignments.
One might wonder why class assignments suddenly mattered, but if we recall the original purpose of the field training—it was to experience autonomous lectures in the first semester, then, after directly experiencing real combat, to be grouped into the same class with those we had shared our hearts with for the remaining time.
Of course, everything had gone to ruin thanks to that damnable Crown Prince and the idiot now living inside my body… but apparently, during the school closure, the professors had repeatedly reviewed the video memory cartridges that recorded the incident.
Even amid such chaos, teamwork that blossomed anywhere was bound to appear. It was the professors’ miserly spirit that refused to discard anything—their sense of responsibility combined with their determination not to destroy the curriculum that had been built up until now.
Rustle, rustle—
And because the class assignments were not delivered individually but announced through a massive analog bulletin board placed in the center of Sigmund Square, it was no surprise that a large crowd of students had gathered in front of it.
“Kyaa, don’t push—.”
“Wait a second, I can’t see!”
“Ugh, I can’t breathe—.”
Well, the shorter students were clearly struggling. But unlike them, I was quite tall, so I could see the results without much effort.
Swish—
“Oh my, thank you—!”
“It’s nothing.”
“Wait, isn’t that Sir Yohan…?!”
I even had enough leeway to help the shorter students. But I had no intention of acknowledging the gazes, so I quickly avoided them and checked the spot where my name was written.
And then… I slowly smiled.
‘As expected, the bribe worked.’
The result was exactly what I had wanted.