A Sweet Weekend #2
Any personal gathering outside the academy's official calendar required permission. The reasoning was straightforward enough: wherever students clustered together, alcohol inevitably followed, and unsupervised drinking was a reliable recipe for someone doing something spectacularly stupid.
The process itself was hardly onerous. All they needed was the consent of two professors from their year.
So my classmates promptly stampeded to the faculty office to plead their case. Today was the day Lucian of the Literary Division had defeated the Martial Division, they declared. A party was not optional. It was mandatory.
One of the professors they approached was Staffen, who taught basic swordsmanship to the Literary Division. The other was Raven, the newly appointed instructor for introductory magic.
"Is that true? Haha! Well now, it seems I finally have something worth boasting about. I'm quite delighted."
A Literary Division student had beaten the Martial Division — and not with rhetoric or any of the Literary Division's usual strengths, but with a sword. This was absolutely something worth celebrating, Staffen announced, and he signed the consent form on the spot.
Raven, whom they visited next, was equally unable to hide his astonishment. He seemed genuinely impressed that I — a notorious disaster in practical combat — had defeated a Martial Division student, and a second-year senior at that. He even went so far as to add, with something that bordered on hopeful torment, that perhaps this meant I might finally start showing promise in magic as well.
"This is remarkable. Congratulations are absolutely in order! Of course you'll need a party of your own. Say, would it be all right if I tagged along? Hahaha!"
"..."
"..."
Uh. Hang on a second, Professor Raven. That last remark was a little dangerous.
He'd clearly meant it as a joke. But to the students, even a joke like that could sound terrifyingly sincere. Staffen, who had been listening from the side, even stepped in with the full dignity of a senior colleague.
"Whoa, whoa — that's not happening, Professor Raven. Even as a joke, you really shouldn't say things like..."
"Come on, everyone! I was only kidding! Don't look at me like that!"
Raven protested as though he'd been deeply wronged, but the line had already been crossed. Staffen, who had been staring at him in a daze, even offered a quiet piece of advice: don't say things like that even in jest. A professor inviting himself to a student party? Really?
Anyway. We had permission from both professors, and we had a perfectly legitimate reason to celebrate. My classmates, buzzing with excitement, began gathering one by one in the main hall of the first-year building.
It had originally been a gathering just for the Literary Division, so Rie had tried to quietly slip away. Raoul caught her in a flash and launched into an earnest campaign of persuasion, insisting he'd be hurt if she left. This wasn't a party exclusively for the Literary Division, he argued. And more importantly, the person who had trained me was Rie herself — Martial Division or not, she had every reason to celebrate with us.
In the end, Rie seemed to cave. She nodded and said all right.
Meanwhile, the dining hall staff, having caught wind of the first-year Literary Division's celebration, sent over drinks and simple snacks. And so a small but splendid party began.
"To Lucian — the man who restored the honor of both the Literary Division and the entire first year! This night is yours!"
"To our magnificent friend who defended the pride of the first-year Literary Division!!"
"You could do this all along? Why did you keep losing, then?!"
That wasn't something I could help, guys. Until Rie started training me with chocolate, this body hadn't even felt like mine. I never imagined I'd be conditioned like a dog with food.
I couldn't say any of that out loud, of course. I just laughed and downed the wine in my glass.
They said it had honey mixed in, and it showed — the usual bitter bite of alcohol was almost entirely drowned out by sweetness. Wine that tasted like this barely registered as liquor at all. I could drink a dangerous amount without noticing. I'd mixed drinks like this before and gotten wrecked in no time.
"You did well, Lucian."
Raoul raised his glass and tapped it lightly against mine. He was genuinely celebrating me, and I was grateful. At the same time, a small worry crept in.
Raoul had been just as hopeless at swordsmanship as I was. Now that I'd grown, it wouldn't have been strange if he felt like he'd been left behind on his own. I was afraid he might look anxious or unsettled.
But as if to tell me my worries were unfounded, Raoul kept clapping me on the back like he was bursting with pride.
"You okay?"
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean, Lucian?"
"I mean, I was even worse than you. And then all of a sudden..."
"You shot up overnight and now I'm the undisputed dead last?"
I nodded carefully at his question. Unlike Locke, Raoul was the son of a noble house. He might not have had the typical aristocratic arrogance, but that didn't mean he had no pride at all.
"Honestly? Yeah, I'm a little worried. But that's not your problem to worry about. That's on me, Lucian. My friend worked that hard and grew this much — I can't just sit still. If anything, I should thank you. It's been a hell of a wake-up call. If you could do it, I figure I can too."
"...That's a relief, then."
"Which is why I was thinking — maybe I should ask Lady Rie for some private training too?"
"Hold on. You're not being this chill just because you've got your eye on that, are you?"
"I can't exactly say no."
I looked at Raoul's shameless grin and let out a disbelieving laugh. Then a thought occurred to me, and I jabbed him in the side.
"Hey, Raoul. Do you like Rie?"
"Huh?"
"Your reaction's been weird, man. You're always saying her name, always talking about wanting to do stuff with her."
"Well, yeah, I like her?"
Ah. Wait. I did not like where this was going. The kind of story where two close friends slowly fall apart over the same girl, until they become bitter enemies locked in a desperate fight over her...
"But when I say I like her, I don't mean like that. The feeling I have for Lady Rie is more like... admiration? Respect? Something in that neighborhood."
"...You really are my friend, Raoul. A thoroughly trustworthy friend."
"What the hell? Why are you talking like that all of a sudden? And what's with that creepy face?"
Hey. Don't do that. I want to punch you.
Even after Raoul's deeply friendly scolding, I figured I could let it slide today. I'd given that delinquent the humiliation he deserved, my friendship was intact, and most of all — I could finally stand tall in front of the girl who had believed in me and helped me all this time.
With that thought, I brought Raoul back toward the center of the main hall. Rie was there, surrounded by classmates, chatting about this and that.
"May I ask you just one thing, Lady Rie?"
"Go ahead. Though I may not be able to answer if it's too awkward, so keep that in mind."
"Well... why did you suddenly decide to help Lucian? I feel a bit bad saying this, but Lucian never really stood out in swordsmanship. Not to us, and not to the professors either."
"So I've heard. And when I actually checked, he really was terrible."
"But you trained him anyway, and you played a decisive role in him beating a second-year Martial Division senior. Right?"
Rie thought for a moment, then nodded — though not without adding that it would have been impossible without my own effort. Then she looked steadily at the classmate who had asked, as if to say: why are you asking, and what exactly are you hoping to hear?
"So what we want to know is why you helped Lucian."
"...Why I helped him. Does there need to be a reason?"
"Was it just pity, then? It didn't look like that from where we were standing."
My classmates were starting to dig. Rie had been visibly thrilled when I won. She'd tried to hide it, but she hadn't done a particularly good job. It wouldn't have been strange for anyone watching to conclude that something was going on.
I considered stepping in to help. But jumping in now would only invite more suspicion, so I stayed quiet. Right now, what mattered was that Rie herself draw an appropriate veil over our relationship.
"...Do you want me to tell you the truth?"
The moment Rie, who had been silent, finally spoke, my classmates let out an excited murmur and their eyes lit up. They were clearly hoping for the kind of answer they wanted to hear. But neither Rie nor I were the type to enjoy being the center of that kind of attention — especially not when it came to something as momentous as romance.
"I was curious how far he could grow. He's already a rival I compete with fiercely, and I suddenly wondered what would happen if that talent of his spread to swordsmanship as well. I thought he might become the best possible motivation for me."
"Ah, so that's... wait. What did you just say? Rival?"
"No way! Rie! Don't tell me the rival you said you desperately wanted to beat at the start of the term was..."
As she said it, Rie looked directly at me. Ordinarily, she couldn't even meet my eyes when we shared a look like this. The fact that she was forcing herself to hold it together in front of everyone else was genuinely impressive.
"Some of you are probably thinking — a rival? Him? He's mediocre with a sword and he can't even use magic. But if you look at everything else, that argument falls apart, doesn't it?"
"...Now that you mention it, yeah. Lucian's only a disaster in practical combat..."
"Right. He wrote that paper on monster behavior or whatever. I heard from the professors that with that level of work, he could apply for a faculty position the moment he graduates."
So these guys were finally grasping how impressive I actually was. Until now they'd just pitied me as the poor soul stuck in a cursed body. The second Rie called me her rival, their entire perception flipped one hundred and eighty degrees.
"And even setting that aside, I didn't judge Lucian based solely on who he is right now. I saw the potential for him to grow beyond that — and I believed he would become the competitor I needed to make myself stronger. Not someone who only brings out the worst in each other, but the kind of opponent who forces you to compete, who gives you a reason to push yourself even harder."
"..."
"..."
"Ah, and I did receive some help from Lucian as well. You can't just take from a rival without giving anything back, can you? So I helped him a little. Very. Harshly."
The moment she said harshly, everyone who knew the intensity of Rie's training shuddered. I had to shudder too — the words let's train, with chocolate as hostage were still a nightmare to me.
"Whoa... next week's going to be chaos."
"The academy genius's rival was Lucian all along..."
What's that supposed to mean? I'm pretty impressive in my own right, you know. Hearing it put that way felt weird. I was thoroughly indignant, but it was also true that I hadn't exactly escaped the "disaster in practical combat" category. Being Rie's rival was apparently going to be even harder than I'd thought.
As time passed, the drinks kept flowing. Everyone knew the rule against drinking enough to cause trouble, of course. So before the night grew too late, our little party came to an end, and everyone headed back to their rooms in a pleasantly warm mood.
The rooms, for the record, were strictly single occupancy, spaced far enough apart to guarantee a minimum of privacy. Most of the students were children of noble houses, and they had little interest in sharing a room — or in letting anyone else see their private lives.
"Ugh, my head..."
I'd had more to drink than I realized. The honeyed wine had gone down far too easily. And with Rie there, I'd clearly gotten carried away by the atmosphere and overdone it.
I need to wash up and sleep, I thought, stumbling toward my room. Then I heard a strange sound from somewhere.
At first I couldn't place it. Then I realized it wasn't coming from the door — it was coming from the window. Which only made it more confusing. Why was someone knocking on my window from outside?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"This is the third floor..."
What on earth? I thought, and carefully pushed the window open.
A rush of air swept in. The bitter scent of alcohol hit me first — and then a sweet fragrance washed over me, wrapping around my entire body.