The Headmaster's Gift
Three days had passed since my first day at the Academy.
Nothing particularly special had happened. I spent my time keeping an eye on Aleister—whose reasons for taking a professorship remained a complete mystery—and observing William, who kept dropping by Class A whenever he had a free moment, as if he had no friends of his own. Ordinary Academy days, in other words.
“Brat. You understood what I said, correct?”
And yet here I was, summoned to the headmaster’s office for a private talk in the middle of that perfectly ordinary life.
“You mean I shouldn’t cause any more trouble?”
“You little idiot. As expected of a Winchester—why is it that the moment anyone from your bloodline is around, incidents and accidents never stop…?”
Dark circles of exhaustion sat heavily under her eyes. The whole Hellhound affair with Elizabeth, Enri, and William must have worn her down badly.
I wasn’t entirely without guilt—my share of the blame was real—so I did feel a little sorry. Still, I had risked my life and squeezed out power I didn’t even have to resolve the mess. In the end the incident had been wrapped up far more lightly thanks to me. A little praise wouldn’t have hurt.
When I stayed silent, Erse Bathory, Headmaster of Hero Academy, sank her tiny frame deeper into the chair and let out a heavy sigh.
Erse Bathory stood only about a hundred and thirty centimeters tall. With those large eyes and delicate features, anyone who didn’t know better would have mistaken her for an elementary-school girl. If I hadn’t known the lore, I would have wondered what a cute little kid was doing running an Academy.
But this headmaster was a grandmother who had lived at least five hundred years. She ranked among the ten strongest beings in the entire Empire. A rare vampire, long-lived by racial nature, she had been around since the founding emperor’s time—an absurdly overpowered setting. Proof hung on the wall of her office: the gallery of past headmasters held only her portrait. No one else’s.
“Winchester brat. I’m begging you—if you’re a student, try living like one for a change.”
“……I’ll take that under advisement.”
I felt bad for her, but similar incidents were going to keep happening. The future had already shifted enough that I couldn’t pinpoint exact events, yet the nature of the cult Light of Dawn and the certainty of the Demon God’s resurrection meant the broad strokes would remain the same. If my read was right, Light of Dawn would continue targeting the Academy, and as the Demon God’s revival drew nearer the monsters would grow more active by the day. The Academy was no perfect safe zone. For someone who had to survive that chaos, there was no real choice.
Sorry, loli granny. It’s not like I want to live this way either.
I offered the apology only in my heart.
Knock, knock.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
“Enter.”
After a brief knock, a large man with short hair opened the door and stepped inside. On his chest gleamed the golden lion emblem of the Royal Knights, the Empire’s imperial guard.
What business does a Royal Knight have at the Academy?
“I have brought the item Countess Bathory requested.”
Erse glanced at the small box in the knight’s hands, then looked at me.
“Set it down in front of him.”
The knight carefully placed the box on the table.
“By your leave. I shall return to my duties.”
He vanished as swiftly as he had come, leaving only the object behind.
“What’s this?”
I eyed the small box now sitting before me.
“A gift.”
A gift?
I had never received anything from Erse in the game.
She must have read the doubt in my eyes, because she spoke again.
“Reward and punishment. Commit a crime and you are punished; render service and you are rewarded. Brat, what you did was wrong—but thanks to it, many children survived. So this is your gift.”
Compensation for resolving the incident, then. That was not good.
“If we’re talking about that matter, the one who actually solved it was the fellow with me—William Grants.”
The gift was tempting, but I had no desire to catch the eye of someone this high up so early.
“Look after the other three instead of me.”
I tried to pass the credit to the original protagonist. Erse listened in silence, as if daring me to dig deeper, then smirked once I finished.
“I’ve already heard the full account from the other children. I took care of them myself, so be a good little brat and gratefully accept a gift from an adult.”
At that, I simply took the gift. Nothing I said was going to change her mind. I hadn’t expected the others’ interviews to be finished already.
Tch. Of course I was last.
The game was already lost. Might as well grab the consolation prize and cut my losses.
“Open it.”
At her urging I lifted the lid. Inside lay a silver ring engraved with unfamiliar characters.
Trisha’s Grace.
As if linked to my thoughts, a familiar hologram bloomed before my eyes.
◈ A ring crafted by the Water Spirit Trisha as repayment to humanity.
◈ Once every 168 hours, when used near water, fully heals all wounds.
Same effect as in the game. The water requirement was a limitation, but a healing effect was a healing effect. I could think of it as one extra life in my pocket.
“You Winchester brats have a knack for getting tangled in incidents. This ring carries the Water Spirit’s blessing—use it only in true emergencies.”
So that was why a Royal Knight had come all the way to the Academy: to fetch something from the imperial treasury. As far as I knew, Trisha’s Grace was an item you received during imperial-related quests. It made sense.
“My thanks. I’ll put it to good use.”
“Good. Sorry for keeping you past dismissal. I have nothing further—you may go.”
Her clear dismissal. I seized the chance and left the room at once, half-afraid she might call me back.
“He looks better than the rumors suggested.”
Once Taylor Winchester was gone and the office fell quiet, Erse murmured to herself.
“Indeed. He certainly has potential.”
The reply came from a figure who suddenly appeared beside the door. A body that had been blurred into the wall grew steadily clearer until a man in black butler’s attire stood fully revealed.
“Alfred. What did you make of the Winchester brat?”
“He is stronger than the previous three I observed, at the very least. He noticed I was hiding.”
The man called Alfred reported that he had felt Taylor Winchester’s gaze fixed on him the entire time.
“And?”
“He still seems a little lacking, true—but there is no doubt he was the one who subdued the Hellhound.”
Alfred answered Erse’s question while well aware that several points remained puzzling. The Taylor Winchester known to the public was a mediocrity of a hero family, burdened with a D-rank talent—a hardworking failure who never grew. Without the Winchester name, Hero Academy would never have accepted him. Yet lately the most talked-about figure at the Academy was none other than Taylor Winchester. Tales of his self-sacrifice in saving freshmen from monsters and risking his life to hunt down the mastermind of the terrorist attack had already spread to every corner of the campus.
“I don’t know why the rumor of a D-rank talent spread, but judging by the mana I sensed, he is at least S-rank.”
“I share that assessment.”
“There is something we don’t know. Contact House Winchester and confirm whether the brat truly possesses only a D-rank talent.”
“Understood.”
Erse did not blindly trust rumors, yet the existence of a rumor meant there had been a process that produced it. She tapped the desk with a fingertip until her thoughts settled, then stopped and grew serious. Clear in her memory was the image of the hero Albans Winchester. The days she had fought beside that black-haired hero on the battlefield remained among the most vivid of her countless recollections. She had no wish to suspect the descendant of a comrade—of Albans Winchester—yet the times were too dangerous for sentiment.
“Alfred. This is an order. Thoroughly investigate Taylor Winchester and everyone around him.”
Strange movements among the monsters on the front lines. The once-quiet Light of Dawn stirring again. From the Academy terror to unsettling signs across the nation, something was building.
At Erse’s command Alfred dropped to one knee and placed his opposite hand over his heart. Then he answered his queen with the deepest reverence he could offer.
“Yes, my lord.”