Demonstration Lesson (1)
Serena didn't even pretend to acknowledge Zeke as she briskly slipped into her room.
Of course, clutching the box tightly to her chest.
Zeke returned to his own room, washed up roughly, and donned his usual military uniform.
I'll probably barely get any sleep anyway.
Wanting to sort out his thoughts with a slow walk, he headed straight out toward Lamieli Academy.
In the end, I'll be holding swordsmanship classes.
Zeke reaffirmed his original goal.
To teach swordsmanship to the female protagonist, Soy Spoon.
And beyond that, to foster bonds among the students training alongside her,
turning them into allies who could help her later on.
Roll around together long enough, and even enemies will end up friends.
That was why Zeke intended to conduct the assigned swordsmanship lessons properly.
I've confirmed Soy Spoon. Now it's time to properly face this body of mine too.
After going through various procedures, he was certain she was the female protagonist.
And his conclusion remained the same: she needed his help.
To pass on swordsmanship, help her build her own strength,
and ensure she could escape any danger that came her way.
That would significantly reduce the real threats heading her way in the future.
So first, I need to lure Soy Spoon into my classes...
Lost in thought about methods, he soon arrived at the training grounds.
The early morning grounds were still shrouded in a bluish twilight haze, the sun not yet risen.
In the center of those grounds,
a short-haired brown girl stood clutching a long baguette like a treasure, scraping at the dirt with her foot.
Her face showed exhaustion from a sleepless night after yesterday's events, but the academy uniform suited her perfectly.
A navy skirt paired with a crisp white blouse,
adorned with a red ribbon signifying her first-year status.
Thud.
Thud.
At the sound of Zeke's footsteps, she jumped in surprise.
"Eek? I-Instructor!?"
"You're early."
"You said to bring bread in the morning, but you didn't specify the time."
Soy Spoon shot him a slight glare.
Zeke saw this as the perfect chance to draw her into his classes.
"Walk with me a bit."
"Y-Yes! Sure!"
Ever since he'd rescued her mother yesterday,
her tone had shifted from their first meeting—now warm and friendly.
They walked silently around the training grounds for a moment.
What's her major, anyway?
Zeke suddenly grew curious.
"Soy."
"Yes!"
"What's your major?"
"Oh, I applied for accounting."
It made sense—for a commoner like Soy, it was the most straightforward path to a job after graduation.
Suddenly, she bowed her head deeply.
"Um, Instructor... Thank you so much for yesterday!!!! If it weren't for you, we would've been in big trouble!!!"
She fidgeted, as if there was more to say.
"And, um... if I take swordsmanship lessons from you, Instructor... can I make money?"
Perhaps embarrassed to ask again after rejecting it yesterday,
Soy avoided Zeke's gaze.
"That's a strange question."
"Huh?"
"It's not about earning money with a sword. You should ask if you can protect the money you earn."
"Ah..."
Soy nodded.
She'd gotten through yesterday, but who knew when those thugs might pressure her again.
In times like that, only her own strength could protect her.
She'd felt the truth of Zeke's entrance ceremony speech down to her bones after this incident.
"Ah, here—take this first."
The baguette she handed him was firm and hefty.
The handle end was thoughtfully wrapped in cloth, too.
Zeke inspected the bread in his hand with satisfaction.
But why does the instructor use bread as a weapon?
The question crossed her mind, but she didn't voice it.
Zeke pulled a single gold coin from his pocket and handed it to Soy.
"Good. Take it. Payment for the bread. Looking forward to more."
"Eh? N-No, that's too much!! Not just too much—who buys bread with a gold coin?!"
"Take it."
"I can't! I won't!"
She loved money, sure—but she wanted to earn it through her own efforts,
not pity.
"It's for your family."
"...F-Family?"
"Yes. Those loan shark bastards will probably come sniffing around again soon. They stopped by your shop and things went south, so of course they'll show up."
"Then right now—!"
Zeke stopped Soy as she whirled to run back.
"I caused quite the blaze yesterday, so the guards will be patrolling to assess. The thugs will lay low for a few days too."
"Ah...!"
"Use this money to repair the walls in the meantime. When they show up asking about their comrades, say you saw nothing. If they try hiking the interest, put up a token resistance, then give in."
Of course, he planned to step in soon anyway—but these precautions eased his mind.
So don't forget me when the bus leaves later, got it?
Soy accepted the gold coin with trembling hands at the mention of her family.
Then she asked Zeke,
"Why... why are you doing this much for me...?"
"I want you to take swordsmanship as your minor."
"Why? Why me?"
Because you're the heroine.
Zeke halted and met Soy Spoon's eyes.
The sun began to rise slowly.
Her pale silver eyes sparkled.
"Just... I hope you do."
She bit her lip hard and bowed her head.
Then blurted out rapidly,
"O-Oh, uh, I-I gotta go now. I'll bring bread every morning and, um, I'll think positively about the minor!"
Soy Spoon bolted from the training grounds.
Through gaps in her hair, her face burned apple-red.
Hmm. Bribing with money is always the best. I learned that the hard way from Serena.
Students trickled into the academy one by one, their chatter filling the air.
Zeke stashed the bread in his labeled storage box for now, then visited the principal's office.
The principal sighed deeply upon seeing him.
"How's your body holding up?"
"Yes, fully recovered."
"Good. I've passed the rough details to the Yohayden lady's side—did you hear?"
"Yes, I understand there's a demonstration week starting today, classes for one week."
The principal ran a hand through his white hair.
Then removed his glasses, setting them on the desk, and said,
"Do you smoke?"
"Haven't since arriving here."
"Then let's step out."
Zeke followed the principal to the rooftop of the main building.
It was well-maintained, with neat grass and scattered flowers.
From the highest point, the open sky and panoramic view stretched out.
Lamieli Academy lay visible at a glance.
"I rather like this place."
"Not bad."
"Care for one?"
"I'll pass."
A wrinkle formed on the principal's forehead at Zeke's words.
"You light it."
"Yes."
He handed Zeke an elegant box containing tobacco leaves and papers.
Not expecting much flavor, but it's been a while.
Since it had been ages, Zeke packed the leaf in tight enough to nearly burst the paper.
He handed one to the principal and put one in his own mouth.
Staring blankly at the principal like that,
another wrinkle creased the principal's brow.
"Light it too. Use the matches in the box."
"Yes."
Fsssh. Click.
Sip—huff—
The principal coughed harshly after inhaling as usual.
"Cough. Cough. Damn it. You suck at rolling smokes too."
"Not bad. Where can I get these?"
"...Cough! You're impossible to talk to. Cough!"
This bastard!
He'd been wary of Zeke's my-way-or-the-highway attitude from the start,
yet here he was, dragged in again.
Hard to maintain any dignity around this guy.
Ahem. Ahem. The principal cleared his throat to steady his breathing.
"Phew. Don't do this stuff. Word's spreading among the kids."
After a few more puffs and exhales, the principal spoke again.
"Why did you apply to the academy?"
"..."
Uh, well... body? Why'd you even think of this crap? You little shit.
As Zeke offered no reply, the principal nodded and continued.
"Well, fair enough. You've got your reasons. I didn't think you applied out of pure passion anyway. Parachute hires from above are always like that."
Huh? I'm a parachute? So who's my backer?
"Lamieli pays decently, but you catch endless flak from high nobles. Not exactly a dream job. Most faculty get hounded for connections. The students' relationships here are a microcosm of the empire's politics."
The principal watched Zeke's face as he spoke. But no reaction.
"Yet you seem utterly uninterested. And you donated all your military retirement funds before coming here, right?"
Well, yeah.
If this body just wanted to teach kids, there were plenty of other schools in the empire.
The only reason was that Lamieli gathered the empire's most influential heirs.
"Whatever orders you got from above, meddling won't help."
Twitch.
Recalling the entrance ceremony, heat rose to the principal's head.
The second prince showed up late to the banquet,
and he sweated bullets excusing the absence of two ducal ladies who'd enrolled with him.
What the hell was Zeke thinking, ditching a prince and two ladies?
At first I thought Yustia or Yohayden, but apparently not...
Sip—huff—
"But one request. Treat the students as students."
"...Yes."
This time, Zeke answered.
His concern for the students seemed genuine, at least.
"Fine. Water under the bridge. Oh, and I'm assigning someone to assist you from now on. You skipped the month-long faculty training before the ceremony."
"Yes, understood."
The principal said it casually, but Zeke was certain this was the main point.
Surveillance, obviously.
Zeke had come as an instructor clueless about everything,
but from this talk and the principal probing his reactions,
he could infer a few things.
First, his placement here came from pressure higher than the principal.
The principal didn't know who, exactly.
So he was planting his own man to handle any fallout.
Suits me fine.
He'd gotten a general rundown of the world from Serena,
but specifics of academy life were beyond her—she hadn't even enrolled.
For Zeke, it was welcome.
Plus, sticking with a watcher might draw a reaction from my 'backer' too.
Zeke wasn't the type to ignore the itch at the back of his neck.
Could it be... Iriel Yustia?
He recalled the redhead from the entrance ceremony, staring with betrayal
and fleeing in tragic heroine tears.
"Greetings. I'm Eric Esta, your new assistant. I'll be supporting you from here on, Zeke."
Green-tinged hair, green eyes, gold-rimmed glasses.
Eric introduced himself stiffly, looking every bit the competent sort.
Though he dragged one foot—likely an old leg injury.
"Mm. Looking forward to it."
Both wore blank expressions, oddly similar.
Zeke and Eric sat facing each other in the main building lounge, tea cups before them.
"I heard you haven't been briefed on academy procedures—is that right?"
"Heard the basics. But I'd appreciate a rundown."
Eric nodded.
"First, today and tomorrow, swordsmanship majors split in half, alternating between your class and Dios's. Then they choose their preferred instructor."
"So today's for majors."
"Yes. You'll teach from 2 to 6 PM—four hours."
Listening, Zeke sensed something off.
What bullshit is this? Serena said major classes were 12 hours.
"Four hours? I thought 12."
"Yes, 12 total. Three sessions a week, four hours each."
"..."
"But this week only, classes every day. Majors today and tomorrow, then non-majors for the remaining five days."
Zeke furrowed his brow.
No— not 12 hours a day, but 12 a week? Do they think swordplay's a joke?
From Zeke's perspective, misunderstanding Serena was natural.
Even daily 12-hour grinds only added up to four years.
Four hours a day? Three days a week?
For sword majors?
Non-majors aside.
Swordsmanship majors!
So when the hell do they slay dragons or lop off the Demon King's head!?
Habitually benchmarking against dark fantasy standards, Zeke caught himself.
Shit. Right—this is romance fantasy.
Sure, if kids were dating, juggling lovers, and flirting,
plenty of free time made sense.
But still!
In a slightly panicked tone, Zeke asked Eric,
"Then what do they do mornings without major classes?"
"General classes. Liberal arts, history, philosophy, and such."
Ah, that? A month of hardcore drilling could cover it.
Not how it was back in my day! Back in my day!
Zeke's head was filled with schedules of 12-hour daily grinds.
Angelic instructor, inhaling dust and exhaling groans—
an exhilarating training plan!
Already feeling it skimpy, Eric's words hit like lightning from a clear sky.
No training was one thing.
But he'd psyched himself up, even reeled in Soy Spoon this morning.
When he said "training,"
he'd calibrated to fake bosses and real pros over ten years—
"half-assed" and "training" had never coexisted in his mind.
Zeke quickly cooled his racing thoughts.
Uh, right... romance fantasy. Go easy. Easy... enough so Soy can turn the tables on an assassin, maybe.
Overlooking that romance fantasies might feature assassins—and his standards for them were dark fantasy caliber.
Seeing Zeke's grave expression, Eric said,
"Any issues?"
"Mornings, training grounds empty?"
"Yes."
"I'll check it out."
Zeke stood.
Need to gauge how hard to train these kids based on this body.