Common Class (3)

Before the dungeon exploration practical, I had to recruit a party.

The first person to bring in was obvious. Lucy. She was my only friend at the moment, and once you put her in a party she pulled the weight of two or three people as a rock-solid priest. More than that, if a hidden piece turned up in the middle of the run and Lucy was on the same team, I could hand it over as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

We'd have searched for it together. She wouldn't refuse too hard.

If I dug the hidden piece up alone and tried to give it to her, Lucy's personality made a refusal likely. She was stubborn as they came, and talking her around would be a headache. Rather than slog through all that, it was better to party with her and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠find the thing together.

"Lucy, if you're all right with it, want to party with m—"

"Of course I do! After class, let's go turn in the application together!"

"R-right."

I'd been worrying she might turn me down. Apparently that worry had been for nothing. Lucy agreed without a second's hesitation, and we even set a plan to meet every evening and drill our positions.

Now I just recruit that one, and I'm done.

The person who had infiltrated the Academy wasn't only a dark mage. A hitman from the Church of the Heavenly God was stationed here as well, and she would be running two jobs at once: hunting the spy, and hunting the saintess. I meant to bring that hitman onto our team. It would patch the hole in our combat power, and it would tie the Church to Lucy in a way that looked perfectly natural.

The problem is how to recruit her...

The trouble started the moment I tried to make the offer. She was a Church hitman. She spent most of her hours on covert work, and no matter what I did in the meantime, I couldn't find her. Hard to recruit someone you can't even meet.

Not that there's no way.

I'd bought the strategy guide for Surviving the Academy and read the thing. I knew a hidden method a newbie could die and come back a hundred times without ever figuring out. Namely, I knew the café she liked to stop by before a mission.

Guess I should go.

I had no idea when she'd show, but the odds she'd drop in sometime soon were high. The Academy's first off-campus class was about to run. No chance the Church's hitman would sit on her hands and spectate. She'd have been assigned a mission for certain, and she'd order a drink to burn off the stress.

...I kind of feel like a stalker.

I took the train and reached the café. Sitting in that cozy little place, staring out the window, the reality of it hit me all at once. Tracking down a café a woman frequented, then camping there until she walked in. The picture was a little off, wasn't it.

Fate of a transmigrator, I guess.

But that was the nature of the thing. You couldn't exactly ask other people to understand. A transmigrator had a clean answer sheet called knowledge of the original work. Everyone else didn't. So no matter what you did, it was bound to look like baseless insanity.

How you get through that part is what matters most.

Pull it off, and you land on the misunderstood-overpowered route. Fail and run, and the world goes to hell while the heroines' bad endings start rolling. Bad endings aren't the worst thing in the world. Personally, though, I liked the misunderstood OP route better.

There she is.

Anyway. Had about an hour passed like that? Through the window, I saw her coming into the café.

Heroine privilege, I guess. She stands out even from a distance.

A beauty with a cold cast to her face, ink-black hair falling long down her back, skin pale as paper. Her name was Chiara Santone. A heroine of Surviving the Academy, and an Executioner of the Heresy Inquisition.

And of course she comes this way.

Chiara ordered at the counter, then headed toward me. I was in the second seat by the window. The corner window seat directly behind me was her designated spot, which meant I could sip my drink and watch her at my leisure.

Start of the semester, and she's already buried.

Heavy dark circles sat under Chiara's eyes, and her whole body was putting off an aura of exhaustion. In truth she had missions coming down from the Church of the Heavenly God on top of coursework for the Faculty of Theology. Two bodies wouldn't have been enough, and she was doing all of it with one. Of course she was worn out.

Which is why she's drinking... that.

I stole a glance at the coffee in front of her. Caramel syrup pumped in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ten times, a mountain of whipped cream on top, chocolate and marshmallows piled on after that. Just looking at it felt like a blood-sugar spike waiting to happen. Chiara was a superhuman, so a little of that wasn't going to wreck her health. Even so, I was a bit worried. That much was true.

A woman her age ought to be more careful.

The thought nearly made me laugh out loud. I swallowed it, remembering the business with Sylvia, but I was already laughing on the inside.

Whoever wrote this character, they cooked.

Overwork wasn't her only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠defining trait. There was another, and it mattered just as much: she was a late enrollee. The age limit for Academy admission capped out at twenty-five. Chiara, even by the way years were counted here, was twenty-six. Which meant she had shaved a full six years off her age to get in.

Judging by the diary, the reality crash was something else.

Partway through Surviving the Academy, I'd gotten a chance to peek at Chiara's diary. What I found there went roughly like this.

Honestly, remembering that diary pricked my conscience. I was younger than Chiara, sure, but I was still three years older than my classmates. Even so, funny was funny. I bit down on the laugh as the diary came back to me, and fortunately Chiara couldn't read what I was thinking.

I should make the offer soon.

The moment that coffee was gone, Chiara would be out of her seat. I had to speak to her before then. The problem was that no approach came to mind. Something natural. Something that wouldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trip the suspicions of a woman who suspected everything...

"Haah... This is bad. Seriously. Who am I supposed to party with? Haley and Rone already formed one. If I'd known it'd be like this, I would've made more friends..."

"..."

Right while I was turning it over, Chiara's mutter reached me. From the sound of it, she was having trouble finding a party of her own. She could probably still join the class without one. The professors would gather whoever was left and throw a party together for them. But that would stick her with some teammate who had a screw loose, and for someone carefully managing her grades, that was a problem.

"Excuse me. Are you having trouble finding a party?"

"What? Just like that?"

And that, for me, was the perfect opening. The moment I heard her, I walked over and spoke. She looked at me, this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, with open suspicion, and at the same time with something like hope. Can I actually get a party out of this?

"We happen to be short one member. If you don't mind my asking, what's your class and your role?"

"B-Class. Warrior."

"Same class, and the role fits perfectly."

I was a swordsman, but for the time being I meant to pass myself off as a ranged rogue. Lucy was a priest with no combat ability to speak of. That gave us one ranged dealer and one healer. Bring Chiara the swordswoman into the party, and the golden-balance comp was complete.

"Party with us. If you're still unsure, just sit in on a few practices."

"..."

At that, Chiara stroked her chin and thought it over. I was already certain she was ninety percent of the way to yes. The corners of her mouth, which had been sagging, had flipped clean upward.

"All right. Let's form a party."

"Good. I'm Philip, and my other member is Lucy. May I ask your name?"

"Chiara is fine."

We traded calling cards as we said it. Partly to fill in the pieces of an introduction we hadn't managed, and more than that because if we wanted to reach each other, a letter was the only way. Every Academy student carried one of these cards.

Magic Tower. Magic Tower, hurry up and mass-produce those crystal orbs.

Writing a letter every single time was a pain. For now, though, there was no other way. In the game the feature didn't unlock until second year, so reality probably wouldn't open it until around then either.

"I'll be counting on you."

"Likewise. Please take care of me too."

We said our goodbyes, and I left the café for the dormitory. The moment I got in, I dropped straight onto the bed. I stared blankly at the ceiling for a little while. Then a short laugh slipped out of me, and I got up and started getting ready to leave.

"This episode, I'm prepping until it hurts."

Things had come apart this easily. No matter how I turned it over, something was wrong. I knew exactly what kind of bastard the developer was. Trust him without a shred of suspicion, and you'd pay for it dearly. I needed more strength, enough to handle whatever came.

With that thought, I slung on my bag of duplicate swords and set out for the training hall.