Second Place (1)
It took less than thirty minutes for the situation to settle.
Anywhere else, things might have spiraled. But this was Elprime Academy — the gathering place of the Empire's finest talent. Students and instructors alike recovered their composure with remarkable speed.
Not long after Creek's suicide, robed instructors rushed in, cast preservation magic over the corpse, and carted it away. An investigation team would no doubt dig into Creek's identity, but a cold body wouldn't yield much. At best, the testimonies would produce one hollow conclusion: he had been a spy for the Republic.
The students stayed in their seats. Not a single one bolted from the auditorium or dissolved into panic. The prevailing cool-headedness was contagious, and most of them simply waited in quiet order for the instructors' guidance.
While they waited, students clustered in small groups and buzzed about Creek's little spectacle. Between the slogans he had shouted and the way he had ended himself, everyone had already figured out he was a Republic spy. What no one could fathom was why he had come out wearing a jukebox instead of a bomb.
Carotin, standing beside Leon, was just as baffled.
"Say, Leon."
"Hmm?"
"Did you... know something about what just happened?"
True to form, Carotin didn't dance around the question — a refreshingly un-noble directness that Leon rather liked.
"No way. Why would you think that?"
"Because you were on edge long before that bastard came charging out. Of everyone in this hall, not a soul noticed — except you."
"Ah!"
Leon nodded as if Carotin had asked an excellent question. In truth, he had tipped his hand far too obviously earlier and had been scrambling for an excuse ever since.
"My 'instincts' were off."
"Instincts?"
The sheer confidence in Leon's delivery pulled Carotin right in. Leon began reciting a passage he remembered from the original novel, smooth as silk.
"Yeah. All of a sudden I got this bad feeling — like something was about to go down. You know that chill that runs up the back of your neck when someone's coming at you from behind with a knife?"
It was the exact description Billy had gotten right before stopping the terrorist attack in the original story.
"Ohh...!"
Carotin was a martial artist through and through — the type who held absolute faith in gut feelings and sixth senses. In this world, those things actually existed, so the belief was only natural.
"I know exactly what you mean! Your senses must be exceptional! Even the instructors didn't catch a thing!"
Moved, Carotin threw an arm around Leon's shoulder with a hearty laugh.
"That's my best friend for you!"
"Hahaha! Keep polishing my ego all you want — nothing's coming out of it!"
They had known each other for less than half a day, and already they were best friends. The two idiots left the auditorium arm in arm, shoulders locked together.
Miraculously, they were even assigned to the same class.
A little past noon, the freshmen gathered in their respective classes.
Five hundred students were split evenly — two hundred fifty into the Martial Arts Department, two hundred fifty into the Magic Department. Each department was further divided into ten classes of twenty-five, assigned at random. Leon had landed in Martial Arts Class A.
Leon and Carotin snickered their way through the door.
Rattle!
"..."
"..."
"..."
Two strapping young men walked in, and every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward them. Instinctive, appraising looks — the kind that sized up a potential rival. Apparently no one had recognized the young masters of the Crusif and Bastio houses yet. The stares drifted away just as quickly, and the whispering started up again among themselves.
Been a while since I've felt this fresh, green atmosphere.
Leon found himself smiling, struck by a sudden nostalgia for high school. Savoring that faintly electric feeling, he and Carotin claimed seats in the very back row.
Rattle!
They were still chatting when the front door of the classroom swung open with force.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
The measured strike of heels on the floor. Class A's students fell silent as one and turned toward the sound.
A woman with light blue hair, dressed in a crisp uniform. She carried herself like a well-trained soldier.
Snap!
She planted both hands on the podium, swept her gaze across the students once, and spoke.
"Pleasure to meet you, ladies and gentlemen."
Her eyes met Leon's for a brief instant.
"I am Instructor Cheren Asonia, and I will be in charge of Class A. Let us work well together."
Cheren Asonia?
Only upon hearing the name did Leon dredge up what he knew of her from the original novel.
"Hah...! The Ice Crystal Sword?!"
"Whoa, that's really the Ice Crystal Sword?"
The moniker Ice Crystal Sword — earned for freezing opponents in place as thoroughly as if she had locked them in ice. She came from the prestigious Asonia sword family, and Leon recalled she had broken through the Master barrier before even turning thirty. Given how many martial artists spent a lifetime swinging a weapon without ever setting foot on that threshold, the talent was extraordinary.
In fact, Leon couldn't even begin to gauge her skill right now.
"The Ice Crystal Sword, of all people. We're lucky."
Carotin clapped Leon on the shoulder, delighted. Being taught by an outstanding martial artist was always cause for celebration.
"..."
Leon ignored Carotin's fussing and sank deep into thought.
Ah, shit. What was it again?
There had been some unique setting detail about her — he was sure of it — but he couldn't dig it up for the life of him. Naturally, even Leon didn't remember every single scrap of the original novel line by line.
"I will now explain how our classes will proceed. Mornings will be devoted to theory..."
Cheren's clear, ringing voice cut through Leon's musings.
Eh, whatever.
It would come back to him eventually. Probably nothing that important.
Leon pushed the nagging unease aside and focused on Instructor Cheren's briefing.
It was the first day, so after a brief orientation, classes let out early with nothing further scheduled. Formal lessons would begin tomorrow.
Leon and Carotin rode the tide of students flooding out of the building.
"Leon, aren't you hungry?"
"What do you want to eat?"
"Hmm... for lunch, nothing beats tearing into a good slab of meat—"
"Hold on."
Leon stopped dead. Carotin noticed the same glint in his eyes that had been there during the entrance ceremony.
"What is it! Did you sense something again?!"
"This feeling..."
Leon whipped his head toward one particular direction. His instincts were screaming that something entertaining was about to go down somewhere nearby. The line he had fed Carotin earlier had been pure bullshit — but this time, he genuinely felt something.
"Follow me."
"Right!"
Leon strode off as if drawn by a magnet. The farther he walked, the louder the murmuring crowd grew. Freshly dismissed students had packed themselves into a wide circle.
What was this about? As far as Leon knew, nothing like this happened on day one in the original novel.
"Make way."
"Uh — hey—"
Leon and Carotin, both solidly built, shoved their way through the throng. The displaced students took one look at the two of them — clearly not to be trifled with — and settled for frowning instead of complaining.
Reaching the front row, Leon finally saw what all the fuss was about.
"Well, well."
A grin spread across his face of its own accord. Standing there was a boy with looks that defied belief.
Golden hair falling in calm waves. Blue eyes like pieces of the ocean cut free and set in place. A perfect eight-head proportion, porcelain-white skin, features sharp as a blade. Every ingredient of male beauty, crammed into a single face.
Billy Kaintel had the strongest looks in the entire setting — as befit a protagonist.
...So that's why the girls flocked to him.
Seeing that face finally answered a long-standing question. Billy's personality was so blunt it bordered on sociopathic — and yet beautiful women clung to him like magnets. With a face like that, Leon was convinced the guy could sell manure door-to-door and still pull women.
Even now, the girls' squealing was drilling into his ears like a form of torture.
"Billy Kaintel!"
A young woman pushed through the students who had been admiring Billy's face.
"Oh..."
The silver ponytail was unmistakable — Princess Esabel, who had served as the temporary student representative just earlier. The appearance of a celebrity stoked the crowd's heat even higher.
She's even prettier up close. A heroine, through and through.
Leon kept staring, openly impressed. True to her role as a novel heroine, the princess's face looked as though a god had sculpted it with painstaking care.
"So you're Billy Kaintel?"
Esabel planted herself squarely in Billy's path, spine straight and proud. Only then did Billy's calm eyes turn toward her.
The two of them — a handsome man and a beautiful woman simply standing there — made such a striking picture that the girls started gushing all over again.
"Yes."
This — this absolute bastard. Look at him talking down to a princess.
Riding that face for all it was worth. A strange fury welled up in Leon — an emotion he had never once felt back when he used to read the novel as a reader, fully immersed in the protagonist's perspective.
Esabel, for her part, went even further.
"Speak casually. We're all just students here."
Well, well?
Heroine or not — was that kind of familiarity normal when you'd just met someone? Dumbfounded, Leon glanced around.
Every girl in the vicinity had her eyes locked on Billy. Against the lovestruck gazes of the female students, the male students' faces were rotting in real time.
"..."
Leon touched his own face and realized he was wearing the exact same expression.
Shit.
The memory of that morning — looking in the mirror and congratulating himself on being handsome — floated up unbidden, and his irritation climbed another notch.
Meanwhile, Billy and Esabel's conversation rolled on.
"You're currently the top-ranked student in the Swordsmanship Department, correct?"
"For now, yes."
"Hmm. In that case..."
Wait.
A powerful sense of déjà vu hit Leon from Esabel's line. Don't tell me...
The moment her hand drifted toward her chest, alarm bells screamed through Leon's skull.
They're fighting already?
The duel episode between Esabel and Billy. It was never supposed to happen on entrance day. He had no idea why the future had shifted, but he had to stop it. He couldn't let Billy start growing this early.
What had he contracted with Bergopf for, if not this?
And if that face turned out to be good with a sword on top of everything else, Leon was fairly certain the sheer resentment would kill him.
He frantically patted down his coat.
"Then, with the top seat on the line, you and I—"
"Your Highness!!!!"
Leon's bellow shattered the strangely sweet atmosphere into pieces.
"““.........?”””
The entire area froze as if someone had hit pause. Under the avalanche of stares, Leon's shoulder completed a full swing.
Whoosh! Slap!
Leon's handkerchief smacked dead-center into Esabel's fair face.
"What on earth is this—?!"
"I!!! Will be your opponent!!!"
"???"
Every mouth in the vicinity fell open in pure, vacant stupidity.