Lamieli Academy Entrance Ceremony (6)
'That girl's... the heroine...? No, it's too soon to jump to conclusions.'
The moment Zeke heard her name, it had struck him like a bolt, but he refused to make hasty judgments.
'No matter how you slice it, am I really the kind of thick-headed bastard who'd forget a name like that...?'
He resented his own memory for not letting him declare with confidence that it wasn't her.
No. I'm a certified genius instructor endorsed by Lady Serena herself.
Just a bit rusty on the recall. But a man who can do it if he tries!
So, keep all possibilities open.
There could easily be some hidden-talented ordinary girl as the protagonist besides her.
"Could you tell me about some other students, by chance?"
"Well, sure..."
"Hm. Focus on the girls."
Zeke added the condition.
'No way it's BL.'
He nodded silently at the staffer.
'What? A poor but talented commoner girl with no power?'
The staffer's gaze shifted to one that beheld human trash.
What the hell, man.
*
The entrance ceremony amounted to little more: precautions for academy life, explanations of the rules.
After that, it droned on like indoctrination at an army boot camp, warning recruits against "interest soldiers"—endless parrot-like repetition to remember discrimination and class differences.
Afterward, the kids would mingle lightly, eating and drinking to get acquainted, apparently.
Surprisingly loose schedule for commoners.
Before the afterparty kicked off, the assistant instructor finished the planned events and approached Zeke.
"Swordsmanship Instructor. Now that you've graced the ceremony, we should introduce you. Shall I?"
"Nah. I'll handle it myself."
Zeke stepped forward, rethinking his approach.
The original speech he'd planned was out.
Soy Spoon was here, along with a horde of potential heroines.
But who among them would pick swordsmanship? No telling.
Best to reel in as many as possible.
These were commoners before him.
Tailor the intro accordingly.
He recalled the common sense and knowledge Serena had drilled into him about this world, choosing his words.
To draw the maximum into swordsmanship...
Zeke infused mana into his voice.
How many speeches had he given before crowds as a dark fantasy hero?
He was confident speaking to people.
They were so damn ungrateful, chucking eggshells at me when even whole eggs were too precious... those backstabbing shits.
Recalling those days, Zeke opened his mouth.
"I am Zeke Clayman, swordsmanship instructor of the Knight Faculty at Lamieli Academy."
A heavy resonance and pressure stabbed into their ears.
The hall fell utterly silent save for his voice—like a morgue.
"By Lamieli Academy rules, you choose one major faculty upon entry, and a minor from the rest. I've come here to claim your precious chance at mine."
Confusion filled their eyes.
An instructor hustling on foot to recruit? Bound to seem odd.
"Why learn the sword."
Zeke picked words to provoke them.
Even those with no thoughts on it—he'd give their backs a nudge to consider.
"Truth be told, the best is not to learn it at all. A blade shines brightest rotting in its sheath."
He meant it sincerely.
Zeke hated both dark fantasy worlds and this romance one.
No matter how sweet the love and drama,
in a world of swords, blood, war, and monsters, you'd swing steel eventually.
"Yet the world decides that, not you."
Yes, the world had already decided.
It forced how to live on this land, your very attitude.
Just as Zeke had suddenly dropped into this romance world.
"In a peaceful world without violence, you'd have no need for the sword."
How the hell did I end up a sword instructor?
"But monsters lurk here, so you'll face them. Alleyways hide thugs, mountains bandits stripping gold and life. And beyond, life's injustices will hound you."
This wasn't the dark fantasy world.
Even so, commoner life here was hardly stable.
Bandits, thieves, underworld shadows, monsters.
Too many for the Empire to shield fully; infrastructure and safety fell short.
"When that time comes, the only thing you can rely on is your own power."
The one lesson from the dark fantasy world:
In the end, only your own strength endured.
"I'll ask again. Why learn the sword. Why seek power."
A few eyes began shifting already.
Soy Spoon's fists clenched tight.
Zeke smacked his lips.
More mana into the voice.
"My answer: to survive."
Unlike at first, the kids now listened gravely.
"Power is the thorn that lets the small and weak beat or flee the mighty—the last bastion holding till the end. Remember that."
Nods rippled through.
Yes, they'd crave power. No one wants lurking peril and constant fear.
So how to gain it?
"Take my class. Stick it out to the end. You'll have that thorn."
By taking swordsmanship from dark fantasy's top instructor, me, Zeke Clayman. No dropouts.
"And one more promise: Lamieli Academy aspires to equality. In my class, noble or commoner—no discrimination, all treated equal."
And everyone rolls in the dirt the same.
The kids glanced at the staffers harping on class divides,
but Zeke invoked the academy's founding ideal of equality—they couldn't nitpick,
just fidget helplessly.
"So think well. Where to spend that last chance."
Kuh, solid wrap-up. Crowd's lit—lips greased right.
His weighty, persuasive words set their eyes ablaze.
Better reception than expected.
Why us? lingered, but
no one doubted the sword instructor's sincerity.
He had no need to come recruit commoners personally.
As Zeke finished, the kids stared blankly.
Clap... clap... clap...
Scattered claps swelled like waves,
soon the cramped space erupted in cheers and roars.
"Zeke!"
"Zeke!"
"Zeke!"
Power. Yes, that power.
Who here hadn't pondered it?
Swallowing injustice for lack of strength—every commoner's tale.
Yet that man, Zeke Clayman, came himself to help overcome it.
A Lamieli instructor, at that!
Enthusiastic cheers filled the commoners' ceremony, unrelenting.
Hey... shouldn't they quiet down now? Kids...? Ah, crap... overdid the mana pills...? No way— the mana in my voice!?
Still roaring.
Did I fuck up big?
Zeke panicked a touch.
No, sure, I aimed to pack 'em in, but why this hype? Wasn't like this in dark fantasy!!!
* * *
Meanwhile.
The nobles' ceremony—endless rites and speeches—finally wrapped,
and as the afterparty geared up,
Serena and Iriel approached the principal.
"Where's Zeke Clayman?"
The principal sighed long, as if to say it had to happen.
Not even on orders? Damn it, what the hell is with that guy!!
"Sir Zeke... said he was heading to the commoners' ceremony and left."
"Commoners' ceremony?"
"Why would he go there...?"
"I don't know either..."
Zeke, Zeke Clayman!!!
Clutching his sour gut, he cried the name inwardly for the umpteenth time.
Luckily, they asked location and bolted without pressing further.
Huh? But the Second Prince still hasn't shown...? Without them, it'll definitely... Aaaah— Zeke!!!
*
Serena and Iriel hurried toward the main building.
Suddenly, Iriel halted.
She called to Serena, striding ahead at a jog.
"Serena."
Serena turned.
"What."
"So, what's your deal with Zeke?"
"Why should I tell you? If you're so curious, spill first."
Iriel stared, utterly baffled.
How the hell'd she snag Zeke?
But Iriel had her ace. A sliver of truth wouldn't hurt—let Serena despair longer.
Zeke's "gift," perhaps. Though coming to her first would've been proper.
"Hah. Fine, no intent to share first. Alright, I'll tell you. Zeke's mine. Has been, long ago."
"Liar!"
"Dunno how he got tangled with you, but even that was probably for me. He can't defy me."
"Don't lie!"
Serena desperately wanted it untrue. Zeke wasn't above suspicion,
but mulling the ceremony, Iriel seemed to be hunting him too.
A faint hope: he hadn't approached on her orders.
Yet.
Stabbed at her doubts, Serena near-screeched.
"Instructor's not like that!"
"Ugh, shut it."
Iriel dug her pinky in her ear, blowing it out—poise be damned before her.
Then.
Iriel spotted approaching black hair afar.
A wicked smile curled her lips.
"Wanna bet, then?"
"Bet?"
"See if Zeke sides with you."
Iriel glanced around—no one.
She raised one hand high.