The Scholarship Home Visit
The scholarship review had been really touch-and-go. Who would've thought they'd show up that very evening after I floated the idea? Good thing I'd prepared in advance just in case—otherwise, it would've been a total disaster.
The Lupin Foundation office, hastily thrown together. In the cramped one-room space, there was nothing but a table and chairs. I hadn't even put up a nameplate yet, so the desk looked utterly barren. Rachel seemed pretty disappointed by the shabby setup, more than I'd expected, but the fact that she was sitting there quietly meant she was desperate enough to stick it out.
After a natural round of introductions, I took the lead in the conversation.
"So, what brings you here in person this evening, miss?"
"Ah, well... You mentioned you handle scholarships too, right?"
"Yes, that's correct."
Rachel hesitated, clearly embarrassed to bring it up herself.
"You'd like to apply for a scholarship, then."
"...Yeah. Something like that."
"Very well. If you could start by filling out this form?"
I handed her the pre-prepared application. The formal procedure seemed to convince her it wasn't a complete scam—at least, she relaxed a bit. Though she was still on guard, not fully letting it down.
The form asked for the bare basics: name, age, address, school, and so on. The usual stuff you'd expect on any application. In truth, it was all just for show. I was running the foundation solo, and I'd already decided to approve her without any real vetting—no questions asked.
"Done."
"Excellent."
I didn't bother reading it right in front of her. That would've just made her uncomfortable.
"We'll review your qualifications based on this information at the foundation."
"...How long will that take?"
"Not long at all. If you'd like, we can visit your home personally once the review is complete to deliver the results."
She flinched visibly at my suggestion, her panic plain as day.
"Uh, couldn't I just come here instead?"
"Our criteria include the applicant's family situation as well."
"Ah..."
Her expression darkened instantly. Was it really that serious? Anyway, this was my excuse to properly check on her sister's condition. The crystal ball hadn't shown any signs of hypnosis, but I needed to confirm it firsthand.
Rachel hesitated a moment before cautiously asking,
"So... you'd come to the house and give the results right then?"
"That's likely. No need to worry, though—it'll just be a quick check to make sure everything's in order."
The outcome was decided long ago, of course, but I couldn't exactly tell her that. Frustrating for both of us. I just hoped she wouldn't stress too much.
There wasn't much else to do today anyway.
"Thank you for applying to our foundation's scholarship. We'll be in touch."
"...Yeah. Thanks."
She looked like she had more to say, but in the end, she just bowed her head and trudged out of the office.
"Ugh... Did I blow it?"
Rachel sat on the sofa, gnawing her nails and jiggling her legs like crazy. It'd only been a day since applying, but her face already looked decades older, exhaustion etched deep.
She'd tried to stay positive at first, but as time dragged on, negative thoughts flooded her mind.
Objectively speaking, there were plenty of red flags. Her grades were the biggest issue—abysmal, thanks to her innate hatred of sitting still and studying. Her practical skills were solid, bolstered by naturally excellent mana control, but theory? Bottom of the barrel.
Practical exams ramped up closer to graduation, meaning theory still weighed heavier for a low-year high schooler like her.
And it wasn't just grades—every little flaw nagged at her. By then, it wasn't analysis anymore; it was straight-up self-sabotage.
But negativity had a way of snowballing once it started.
With a sigh, Rachel glanced at her sister beside her.
"Sis. What're you doing?"
"Knitting."
Leah, fully absorbed in her work, declared proudly,
"If I make a bunch and sell 'em, I'll earn more than working as a maid!"
"...You're gonna sell that?"
Rachel eyed the thing taking shape in her sister's hands. It looked like a rainbow blooming vibrantly after storm clouds parted—except chaotic, with uneven colors and sloppy edges. Impossible to tell if it was a scarf, sweater, or just a wooly mess.
"Think you could get a pound for it?"
"That's mean!"
No joke—it might actually cost money to offload. Watching her sister, Rachel sighed again. If the scholarship fell through, they might end up hawking those rainbow blobs on street corners.
Then—
Knock knock.
Slow, deliberate raps at the door. There was only one person who might visit their home right now.
Rachel shot up, cleared her throat, and yelled as naturally as she could,
"C-C-Coming!!"
Utterly unnatural, complete with a stammer and a pitchy squeak. Leah stomped her feet beside her, equally freaked.
"They're here already!? This soon!? I thought tomorrow or the day after!"
"I didn't expect it this fast either...! Ugh, whatever! Just open it!"
"Eek! W-Wait! Shouldn't I change clothes...?"
Rachel snapped like always at the frantic chatter,
"Quit it! It's not like we're on a blind date—what's with the outfit fuss?"
"Still... we gotta make a good impression."
"Forget it! Whatever happens, happens."
Her pent-up hotheadedness erupted as she stormed toward the door. But as the entrance loomed closer, her steps lost confidence, filling with hesitation and tremors.
Calm down, Rachel...!
Right. Maybe when she opened it, it'd just be the postman? No mail expected, but the Academy might send a family notice. Never happened that way before, but you never know.
Finally steadying herself, Rachel cracked the door and peeked out.
He's really here!
The middle-aged gentleman in a sharp black suit from yesterday stood waiting patiently. Their eyes met through the gap.
An awkward silence stretched, then Rachel managed,
"Ah, hello..."
"Sorry for the late hour. Mind if I come in to talk?"
"Sure. Come on in."
Okay, silver lining. Faster results meant quicker scholarship money if she passed—and they desperately needed it just to figure out tomorrow's dinner. Assuming she passed, that is.
Though that nagging dread of failing kept creeping in.
Arsene Lupin, he'd called himself—the foundation director. He scanned the house meticulously. No exaggeration: this was the most tense moment of her life.
"Have a seat and let's talk."
"Ah, yeah. Right here."
"Thank you."
As Rachel guided him to the living room sofa, she realized something: her sister, who'd been sitting there moments ago, had vanished.
Leah soon emerged from the kitchen.
"H-Hi there! Have some tea while you chat...!"
She approached with a tray of refreshments, but her legs wobbled from nerves. How was this a seasoned maid?
A vague unease built—then disaster struck.
"Eek!!"
Her foot caught, she tripped, and the whole tray flipped. Worst of all, the steaming hot tea splashed right onto Lupin's chest.
Splash!
"......"
A suffocating silence blanketed the house. Rachel felt dizziness hit, her vision darkening. Was it too much to interpret that as her impending doom?