The Clown of the Entrance Ceremony (3)
Rattle-rattle!
A carriage tore down a rough dirt road at a reckless pace.
"Young master, I am truly sorry…!"
The coachman driving up front kept hurling apologies into the cabin.
"I'm fine. Calm yourself."
A flat, even reply came from within. It was a voice so devoid of feeling that just hearing it seemed enough to settle anyone's nerves.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"I said it's fine."
Having soothed the coachman, Billy Kaintel — eldest son of House Kaintel — sank deep into his seat.
Today was the entrance ceremony of Elprime Academy. As the top scorer on the entrance exam, Billy was on his way there. The only problem was that the coachman had already taken the wrong road to the warp gate three times. For a man of his years to get lost this badly… the odds of missing the ceremony were climbing by the minute.
Yet Billy felt neither anger nor anxiety. These things happened in life.
I'll be a little late.
That brief observation was all that crossed his mind. He folded his arms, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.
Thirty minutes later, Billy finally reached the warp gate — only for fresh bad news to arrive.
"Y-young master. There's a problem with the gate's magical formula right now. It looks like it'll take a little time to fix."
"…Hmm."
"Probably about an hour…"
The mage delivered the report while cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Billy simply nodded without a word. If it was broken, what could he do? He was a purebred swordsman, a complete outsider when it came to magic. There was nothing for him but to wait.
I'll be very late.
The night before the entrance ceremony.
Under a bright, full moon in the dead of night, a figure in all-black stealth gear scaled the wall of Elprime Academy's Dormitory Building Two.
Swish.
His movements were as silent and agile as a cat's. The patrolling guards never once sensed his presence. Behind the mask, the only feature visible — a pair of crimson pupils — scanned each dormitory window as he passed.
Room 301… 302…
His destination was Room 306. The midnight intruder — Leon — continued gliding along the wall with uncanny grace.
Here.
Arriving at 306, Leon gave the window a gentle tug.
Clack.
Locked, just as expected. But a lock of this caliber was no obstacle to him. Six months of slipping in and out of the ducal castle every dawn had paid off. Did people think escaping a ducal castle was easy? Lockpicking and stealth were two things Leon was thoroughly confident in.
Click.
The double-bolted latch gave way under his fingers as if it had never been locked at all. Leon grinned and slipped inside.
Without making a sound, he took a moment to survey the room. A bed, a wardrobe, a table, and a bathroom. Being a commoner's room in Building One, it was far smaller than his own — though still twice as spacious as the miserable Seoul studio he'd lived in during his previous life.
Snnnrrrk.
On the bed, Jake — no, Creek — was deep in sleep, utterly unaware of the intruder. The sleeping powder Leon had slipped into his dinner was doing its work. In that state, even a few knife wounds wouldn't wake him.
"Let's see, let's see~."
Leon hummed softly as he ransacked the room. Before long, he found a suspicious box hidden under the bed. Instinct told him this was it. He pulled the box free.
A thirty-by-twenty-centimeter iron case, humming with a flow of mana. A magically sealed lock — but that, too, was no problem. Leon pulled out a scroll, rubbed it against the box a few times, and the container surrendered without resistance.
Creak.
Opening the lid, Leon smiled in satisfaction at what he'd come for. Six densely packed, dark-blue spheres, each ten centimeters across. Objects known as mana bombs.
No ordinary commoner could ever get their hands on these. But Creek was a spy, and the Republic had supplied him directly.
"Pretty spicy."
Given the model and quantity, the payload would reduce everything within a thirty-meter radius to ash. If these went off during an entrance ceremony packed with every incoming freshman…
It would be a massacre.
The skilled professors and instructors might survive, but the fledgling cadets and ordinary guests wouldn't stand a chance.
So what had happened in the original story? Naturally, their protagonist Billy had handled it — reacting faster than anyone else the instant before detonation, subduing the culprit in a performance so absurd it defied belief. A pure overpowered solution. It was also the incident that first put Billy firmly in the spotlight.
But this time, things wouldn't go that way.
I've got a much more entertaining idea.
Leon pulled out a spatial pouch and got to work. He left only the outer shells of the bombs intact and swapped out the contents. After practicing on countless mana bombs from Hevilon's black market, the job was trivial.
Thirty minutes later, Leon slipped out. Every object and every lock was restored exactly as before. As if nothing had ever happened.
Snnnrrrk!
In the empty room, only Creek's snoring continued in its steady rhythm.
Thump-thump! Thump-clap-clap!
The music showed no sign of stopping, blaring on in all its awkward glory.
"Why?! Why!! Whyyyyy?!"
"Heh heh heh heh."
Watching Creek spiral into full-blown panic, Leon finally burst out laughing.
From childhood, the man had likely carved bone from flesh training for admission to Elprime Academy, all while enduring the Republic's brutal education. A spy who had lived for this single moment alone. Watching a lifetime of planning collapse for a reason this absurd was more than even a trained agent could bear.
Having thoroughly ruined another man's life, Leon felt a fierce rush of pleasure. Creek must have left that morning burning with purpose. How nervous had he been as the ceremony began? What had he felt when music started pouring out of his bombs? Imagining the despair Creek was drowning in — the free fall into absolute ruin — sent a second wave of satisfaction through him.
This was a terrorist who'd planned to slaughter hundreds. Satisfaction was the only reasonable response. Guilt had no place here.
Thump-clap, thump-clap!
"Oh my, what's with that guy?"
"Is he an attention whore?"
"Hahahahahaha!"
The crowd was beginning to realize the situation wasn't actually dangerous. Some people were openly laughing at Creek as he stood there spewing music and light like a circus clown. Creek's face grew redder by the second.
Still, the Republic-flavored slogan he'd shouted moments earlier kept everyone on edge. Instructors were already closing in.
"Subdue him first!"
High-level martial artists and mages pushed through the cadets from every direction, charging toward him.
"Urrrgh!"
At this rate, capture was inevitable. Blood welled from Creek's lips as he bit down hard.
Leon licked his lips, watching with keen interest.
Well then. What's it going to be?
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!"
With less than three seconds before the instructors reached him, Creek swept the area with bloodshot eyes and spat curses.
"Damn it! Seal his mana fir—!"
One of the instructors shouted urgently — and in that instant:
Bang!
With a sound like a firecracker, half of Creek's left chest exploded outward.
"Kyaaaaah!"
Shattered bone, flesh, and blood sprayed across the nearby cadets, drawing screams. It was a technique spies learned — detonating one's own heart with mana to commit suicide.
"Hmm."
Leon nodded slowly. Better than being captured and tortured. In the original story, Creek had ended himself the same way. But just moments ago, his plan had collapsed in the most humiliating fashion imaginable, and his mind had shattered. He'd even been made a laughingstock in front of a massive crowd. That he still chose death — that will alone was worth a measure of respect.
Or…
Had he simply died of sheer embarrassment? Or had the Republic's conditioning been that thorough? Honestly, Leon didn't care either way.
It had been fun.
Due to the unfortunate "incident" at the entrance ceremony, the Academy decided to fill the vacant seat. The replacement would naturally be the highest-scoring applicant among the waitlisted candidates.
"Hmm… here we are. Magic Department — Aria."
"She missed it by exactly one point."
Two days later, Aria's letter of admission arrived. She had been waiting in Elaim — the city surrounding Elprime Academy — since the night before.
Whoosh!
A postal envelope, tracking her mana signature, fluttered down to her as she sat drinking tea on the terrace.
Aria's lips curved into a long, bright smile as she confirmed the admission notice. Without thinking, she tenderly stroked the choker around her neck.
"Of course."
Just as Master said.