The Mock Exam

With the mock exam scheduled for tomorrow, today marked our final round of skill assessment.

Marie had asked a second-year student she knew to get her last year's mock exam papers, and they were fairly challenging.

“Phew….”

Having somehow managed to fill in every answer, I leaned back against my chair and let out an involuntary sigh.

“You're done, right? Hand it over.”

“Yeah.”

Marie took my completed exam paper and graded it.

Before long, she finished marking, shot me a sour look, and gave a grudging nod.

“Hmph. Well, it's not bad for a Class E student.”

“Good to hear.”

After four days together, I'd grown reasonably accustomed to her way of speaking.

Which made it easy to pick up on the meaning tucked inside her words—that this was good enough to earn a top ranking.

So I was in the safe zone now, then.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, the knot of tension in my chest came undone, and I slumped back into my chair like a puppet with its strings cut.

Apparently, Marie couldn't stand watching me relax even for a moment.

Her eyes flared at once, and she raised her index finger and began lecturing me.

“Don't get comfortable yet. There's no telling what questions will be on the exam tomorrow.”

“I'm just trying to find a little peace of mind here. Do you really have to be so harsh about it?”

“Hmph.”

Honestly, this girl was anything but cute.

Still, I was grateful for how hard she'd worked to teach me over the past four days.

I should reassess her.

I found myself forced to rebuild my evaluation of Marie from the ground up.

I'd assumed she was a nasty-tempered, airheaded tsundere—turns out she was just a nasty-tempered tsundere.

Her occasional snippiness certainly got on my nerves, unlike with Elisha, but in every other respect her teaching was close to flawless.

Even Elisha, for all her brilliance, would sometimes have to consult the textbook again mid-explanation when it came to theory.

Or occasionally, she'd get confused herself, go look the material back up, and explain it to me properly the next day.

Marie had none of that.

She answered every question I threw at her on the spot, like a walking encyclopedia, without once needing to flip through a textbook or reference book.

At this level, when it came to theory, I doubted most Class A students could even hold a candle to her.

“Anyway, thank you for these past four days, Marie.”

As the past four days of lessons flashed through my mind like a lantern show.

I suddenly felt the need to express my gratitude to her, and held out my hand.

Of course, maybe she'd worked so hard out of guilt for her own mistake, as a form of penance.

But that was one thing—and the fact that I'd benefited from it and drawn a step closer to my goal was another, one I felt deserved its own thanks.

Evidently, though, the gesture embarrassed her. She scooted to the very edge of her chair and flailed in protest.

“Wh-what's with the sudden formality? It's creeping me out.”

Ugh, seriously.

Was it so much to ask that we part on good terms, smiling, at least on the last day?

With this tsundere, the moment I finished a single sentence, it was as if thorns sprouted from her mouth.

Or was she simply incapable of letting anything pass without getting a jab in?

“Come on, I go out of my way to thank you and this is the reaction I get?”

“If that's how you feel, you should've saved your thanks for when I ran those bread errands for you!”

“That was just part of my job as your errand boy.”

“Grr, you're so annoying!”

And so, true to form, it looked like we'd end the day red-faced and bickering again.

Then again, maybe this was simply what fit the two of us.

Sheepishly scratching my cheek, I tucked my writing tools back into my pen case.

I'd better make myself scarce before I made her any angrier.

For four days straight, we'd had a habit of parting without even a proper goodbye.

So once again, as was tradition, I quietly grabbed my bag and started to rise from my seat—

“W-wait a moment!”

“Hm?”

Marie grabbed my sleeve with surprising urgency.

When I turned back to her, still standing, she looked up at me with hesitant eyes.

Looking closer, I noticed she was clutching something between both hands, repeatedly trying to hide it from view.

Could it be—had she bought bread in advance because she was worried I'd go hungry?

If so, I'd have no choice but to praise her.

“Um… here. This.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠“What is it?”

What Marie cautiously held out was a pen.

Black in body, with gilded ornamentation engraved along its length—quite an elegant piece, all told.

It looked like it cost dozens of times more than the Class E lunch set I'd had at the academy cafeteria that afternoon.

Was she perhaps showing off, the way nobles liked to flaunt how expensive their pens were?

I just blinked blankly at her, as if to say, what am I supposed to do with this?

Whereupon she, cheeks flushing red, forced the pen down onto my palm like she was dumping contraband on me.

“J-just take it! What are you doing, making this so awkward!”

“Uh… right. But where'd this pen come from all of a sudden?”

Examining the pen up and down, I asked her why she was giving it to me.

At that, Marie exhaled and gave me a sidelong look, as if to say, do I really have to spell it out?

“Your old pen was so worn out that I felt sorry for you, so it's a gift. And it's also to wish you luck on tomorrow's exam.”

“Well, I'll be. I never thought I'd see the day I received a present from you.”

“If you're going to say things like that, give it back! After I went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the trouble of…!”

I sidestepped Marie's outstretched hand as she lunged at me in anger, weaving out of reach.

Like hell I'm giving back something you already gave me.

Besides, this was my first time using a pen that looked this expensive, so I was genuinely a little excited.

I'd heard pens like this usually had superb nibs and an excellent feel when writing.

“Anyway, I'll put it to good use. Thanks, Marie.”

“S-save the gratitude and just get going already. And if you don't place in the top rankings tomorrow, you'd better be prepared to die.”

If anyone's going to be miserable over missing the top rankings, it'll be me. Why was she the one throwing a fit?

She'd spent four days teaching me earnestly—was she perhaps invested in my results herself?

For all I knew, this was her way of cheering me on.

Well, with encouragement this passionate, I'd just have to rise to the occasion.

“Alright. I'll do my best, and I'll report back with the results. See you tomorrow.”

"…."

For some reason, Marie whipped her head toward the sunset-lit window without so much as glancing my way.

Honestly, prickly to the very end.

Thanks to her, though, my nerves did feel a little loosened.

“…Heh.”

I'd been about to slip Marie's pen into my case when a laugh slipped out instead, and I walked out of the library still holding it in my hand.

Elisha would be floored if she heard about this.

* * * *

Two days later.

The results of the mock exam—the five subjects I'd taken the day before—were finally released.

Hearing that the score sheets had been posted in the corridor, Elisha left her classroom and headed toward the gathered crowd.

It didn't mean much, really, but wasn't it simply human nature to grow curious about your score once an exam was over?

She was no exception.

Unlike the official exams, rankings were tallied class by class, so the results of other classes couldn't be checked.

At the top of Class A stood Elisha.

In a way, the result may have been only natural.

She was an honors student who had mastered the curricula of both the Combat and Magic Departments, regardless of her chosen major.

Other students, by contrast, inevitably showed at least some small weakness in one subject or another.

“As expected of Lady Elisha, taking first place….”

“She was outstanding in practical training, but first in theory too…?”

“I'm starting to feel a little inadequate about myself. You too, right?”

She could sense the crowd murmuring around her as they checked the score sheet, but Elisha ignored it and kept walking.

Her goals lay far too high up for her to be swayed one way or the other by the results of a mere mock exam.

I wonder how Marie did.

Without any particular delight, nor any dissatisfaction either.

With a placid expression, she set off first to find her friend.

By the time she reached the Class B classroom, the eyes around her had all converged on her.

Quite apart from belonging to Class A, Elisha was a student whose name was widely known because of her family.

To say nothing of her beauty, which needed no introduction at all.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠“Pardon me, but could you step aside for a moment?”

“Oh—yes. My apologies.”

A male student who had been staring at her, entranced, belatedly came to his senses at the sound of her voice and cleared a path.

And the moment she stepped forward through the crowd parting before her like the Red Sea—

“Elisha!”

From the far end of the corridor, Marie came bounding over cheerfully, her pink hair swaying.

“Ah, Marie. How did your exam go?”

“I got first place, obviously! And you?”

“I also placed first.”

The two of them, having boldly claimed first place in Class B and Class A respectively, smiled at each other.

It was only a mock exam, nothing of real consequence—but still, taking the top spot felt good.

“Oh, right. That guy also got first place. Did you happen to know?”

“That guy? …Who do you mean?”

Since there were hardly any students the two of them would both know, Elisha tilted her head.

Then Marie, after a brief hesitation, finally let the name pass her lips.

“Bell Dinauer. I'm talking about him!”

“Ah, so Dinauer took first place as well? Impressive.”

At the thoroughly unexpected news, Elisha's eyes went wide.

Not that she thought poorly of Bell—but she had believed placing in the upper ranks of this mock exam would be that difficult.

After all, the single greatest reason commoner-born students struggled to adapt at the Academy was the theoretical coursework.

Noble-born students generally grew up with the means to pore over every book their families owned, whereas commoners often struggled just to afford a single volume.

So while talented commoners did occasionally distinguish themselves in practical training, it usually took considerable time before they produced excellent results in theory.

Viewed in that light, even granting that he was only first in Class E, Bell's result deserved high praise.

Elisha was just thinking she ought to offer him her congratulations later, when—

She suddenly realized something, and a mischievous smile curled across her lips.

“By the way, you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seem awfully invested in Dinauer's exam results, Marie.”

“Huh? Wh-what's that supposed to mean?”

Marie feigned ignorance, her eyes going round and wide.

But she couldn't escape Elisha's gaze.

If this was also why she'd been breathing so hard a moment ago, it all made sense.

“Well, to learn what was just announced that quickly, you'd have had no choice but to run straight over to Class E the instant the results came out, wouldn't you?”

“What—?! N-no, that's not it! I only…!”

Marie opened her mouth to protest, then stopped mid-sentence as she realized she'd played right into her own checkmate.

The problem was that, having rushed over the moment she saw the score sheet, she'd reported it to Elisha all excited, as if it were her own achievement.

She could have at least spaced it out, letting on that she'd heard about it later.

Marie racked her brain desperately for an excuse—but there was one thing she didn't know.

The fact that Elisha still held another card in her hand.

“Come to think of it, I ran into Dinauer briefly this morning. He mentioned you gave him a lovely gift the day before the exam?”

“A g-gift?”

At Elisha's casual probe, Marie practically jumped out of her skin.

“Yes. From what I hear, it's a truly magnificent pen. He even said you cheered him on, telling him to do his best.”

“N-no! It wasn't cheering! I just gave him a pen, that's all… ah.”

Marie flailed in denial, startled—but mid-protest, she belatedly realized she'd walked straight into Elisha's trap.

Her trembling eyes met Elisha's turquoise ones.

And then Elisha's lips and eyes curved into graceful arcs, deep amusement carved into her smile.

“Fufu. So the pen gift was true, I see.”

“Ugh… that absolute idiot!”

She'd told him not to go around telling people she'd given it to him—it was too embarrassing.

And now this insolent man had gone and broken that promise in two days flat. Marie's indignation came pouring out.

“It sounds like you two have gotten quite close. I'm glad.”

“Close?! If—if we're counting that, then why were you so quick to offer to help him with his studies, Elisha?!”

“My, my. Trying to drag someone else down the moment you're cornered yourself isn't very becoming, Marie.”

Marie had thought it a rather clever counterattack as she lashed out—but sadly, it didn't land on Elisha at all.

Besides, it hardly amounted to anything worth telling others about.

What a shame, really.

Watching Marie, who had grown close to Bell without her even noticing, Elisha consoled herself inwardly.

Ideally, she would have liked to grow closer to him herself through tutoring him, and find out whether he truly was connected to the Sword Saint.

Not that she hadn't also helped him partly because his diligent efforts had been rather endearing.

It was then that a question suddenly occurred to Elisha.

Come to think of it—why did Dinauer throw everything he had into the mock exam like that?

The reward for the upper ranks amounted to nothing more than a Study Tour Pass.

She wasn't sure that privilege was worth that much effort.

Could there have been some reason he absolutely had to obtain it?

For now, nothing came to mind.

I'll find out in due time.

Even if not, an opportunity to ask him directly was bound to come up eventually, she told herself—and turned her attention to soothing her friend, who was still busy shouting herself hoarse.