Countless Requests for Handshakes
When I pushed open the sliding doors I'd opened every single morning, the usual classroom greeted me as if nothing had ever changed.
I'd only been gone a week at most, but having come back from what felt like the jaws of death, it seemed like an eternity since I'd last stood here.
"Huh?"
"Bell!"
I stood in the doorway, taking in the sweep of the classroom without a word, when a pair of voices — one male, one female — called out from over by the windows.
I turned my gaze belatedly to find two familiar faces waiting there: Arden and Tina, the closest things I had to friends in this class.
Having spotted me, the two of them widened their eyes into round saucers and started toward me.
An oddly warm feeling welled up in my chest, and before I knew it I was smiling, moving to meet them halfway.
That was the moment.
"Hey! The Fixer has arrived!"
A male student's voice suddenly rang out across the classroom, and every head in the room swiveled toward me.
Wait — the what? Since when am I a fixer?
"What, he's already back?"
"He really is! Whoa!"
And with that, classmates I'd barely exchanged two words with came surging toward me like a tide.
Over the crush of shoulders I caught sight of Arden and Tina, frozen stiff in place. When our eyes met, the two of them exchanged a snort, shrugged, and turned right back toward the window.
Seriously, you two.
When a man's drowning, you're supposed to throw him a rope, not just let him sink. Is that how it works?
What made it worse was that their expressions a second ago had practically screamed How tiresome, having a popular friend.
"Dinauer! Are you all right? Your body, I mean?"
"They said it was an insane battle. Are you sure you should be back at school already? Who were those people in the end?"
"The Class C kids came looking for our class. They told us to make sure they got word the moment you showed up."
Whether I wanted to hear it or not, the classmates who'd surrounded me in an instant started firing off questions from every direction.
Some asked after my health, some wanted the whole story in detail, and others dutifully relayed messages that the Class C students had left behind.
Swept up in this waterfall of attention, I instinctively took a step back.
Wait a second. This scene looks awfully familiar.
It was straight out of a manga I used to love — the one where the hero returns from saving a village and the villagers come rushing at him all at once.
A sudden dread gripped me at the thought that they might actually start hoisting me up on their shoulders, but mercifully, no such farce came to pass.
No, wait — why is she crying?
In the middle of it all, one of the female students was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and I stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to do — until she spoke up and cleared the mystery away.
"Thank you so much, Dinauer. Enya from Class C is actually my friend. She told everyone that we only survived because of you."
"Ah…."
A low groan escaped my lips as I finally understood why the tears were flowing.
Of all people, she turned out to be Enya's friend.
If that was the reason, it made perfect sense.
Never mind me — Enya herself had been in genuine danger after taking that spirit's attack.
That said, even granting that survived because of you came with generous embellishment, it was still a heavy burden to carry.
But when someone had gone this far out of their way to praise me, flatly denying it felt churlish. So I decided to accept the credit in moderation and trim away the fat they'd piled on top.
"If anything, it was Enya and Aldric who saved me. Defeating the enemy came down to pure luck, honestly."
If those two hadn't helped, Sirius's appearance might well have spelled the end for me and Rone.
Besides, they could have escaped at any moment with the Spirit King's Touch, and they'd stayed to help us to the very end anyway.
Viewed that way, the real heroes were the two of them — not me.
Screeech.
I was in the middle of answering the flood of questions one by one when the classroom's front door burst open, and the entire room fell silent in an instant.
"Quiet. Take your seats."
Professor Seras strode to the podium, the click of her heels echoing off the walls, and when she spoke in that characteristically frigid tone, the students crowding around me scattered back to their desks at once.
Phew. Saved by the bell — or rather, the professor.
Still, it was a bit early for morning roll call. Why had she come in ahead of schedule today, of all days?
Carrying that question with me, I headed to my seat by the window, set my bag down, and looked up — and somehow, I had the strange feeling that my eyes met Professor Seras's.
Is that just my imagination?
As I tilted my head and began laying out the things I needed on my desk, there came a cough.
"Ahem."
Professor Seras, who had been glancing down at her attendance ledger, cleared her throat, and a low voice slipped into my ear.
"Bell Dinauer. You've been through a lot."
It was only a single, brief remark, but somehow it seemed to carry a whole tangle of feelings — a homeroom professor's worry, and gratitude for the part I'd played in resolving the incident.
And of course, she looked away and pretended nothing had happened. Very Seras of her.
"Thank you, Professor."
As I returned the gratitude along with a smile that had slipped out unbidden, I could have sworn the faintest trace of warmth touched the corner of Professor Seras's mouth.
For all the drama of it, the Magician's Forest incident didn't seem to have sent all that many ripples through the Academy.
At least, not among the students.
The most likely reason was that the Academy had buried the Followers' existence entirely, writing the whole affair off as the work of mere brigands out to steal the Blessing of Astesia.
As far as I could tell, it was only a hot topic among Class C and Class E — the two classes that included the four of us who'd actually been at the scene.
Perfect, honestly.
I'd worried I might be drowning in attention the way I had when I first walked into the classroom, but that was just my own paranoia running wild. The mood around me moved on without a second glance.
Besides, now that the Followers had seen my face, I had no desire whatsoever to become the subject of idle gossip.
That was the very reason Arden had lived as quietly as possible in the original story, keeping her strength hidden.
In that spirit, my ideal outcome was to be remembered as nothing more than "one of the group that resolved the incident" — a footnote, quickly forgotten.
"Haha, the kids were glued to you all day long."
It was Arden who tossed out that remark while I was slurping down soup at the Academy cafeteria, the first time I'd set foot there in over a week.
As always, her face was carved into a grin so relentless it bordered on excessive.
Doesn't it get exhausting, wearing that saint-of-a-guy smile every single day?
His past was plenty dark too, and yet somehow he could keep that smile plastered on at all times. Genuinely impressive.
Any ordinary girl would probably feel her affection soaring on the spot — but from where I sat, watching someone with a face like a grizzled old bachelor grin like that did nothing for my mood.
And somehow his features look even finer than they did in the original story.
Anyway, having spent the entire morning answering questions like a broken machine, my temper was already at a rolling boil, and I snapped at him.
"None of your business. Buzz off, will you."
"Ahaha… S-sorry."
His grin promptly curdled into a wry smile, and he offered a short apology.
Only now did I feel properly avenged, and I was just settling back into my meal when something jabbed me squarely in the side.
"Aw, come on. Didn't it feel at least a little good, having all those kids pay attention to you?"
"Drop it."
It was Tina, of course, prodding my waist with a mischievous lilt in her voice.
I drew the line with firm finality, tore off a piece of bread, and dunked it into my soup.
Watching it soak, I found myself missing the hospital, of all places.
Maybe it was the Academy's way of showing consideration, but the portions there had actually been more generous.
Come to think of it, the Academy said they wanted to formally thank me, didn't they?
I'd heard it in passing from Professor Seras while lying in the hospital bed, and it had slipped clean out of my mind since.
Whatever this "thanks" was supposed to be, I hoped it came in the form of money — or at least more food.
"Cadet Bell Dinauer?"
"…Yes?"
A stranger's voice came from behind me just as I was scraping the last dregs from my bowl and debating whether to go for a second helping.
First Phorion, now this — why was everyone so incapable of letting a man eat in peace? Shaking my head, I turned around.
Standing there was a woman with dark khaki hair swept back into a neat knot, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.
The face tickled my memory, and after digging through it for a moment, I successfully placed her.
"You're Professor Vanessa, aren't you?"
She had visited me briefly in the hospital, acting on behalf of the Chancellor.
That ruthlessly meticulous look of hers had been seared deep into my memory.
If Professor Seras came across as cold, this one gave off the impression of someone who would tolerate not a single loose thread.
"It's been quite some time since I last stood at a podium, so please, just call me Vanessa."
"Ah — yes, ma'am."
Apparently my read had been right on the mark: Vanessa went so far as to correct even the smallest detail of address, then nudged her slipping glasses back into place with one finger.
"Have you finished your meal?"
"Yes, as you can see…."
"What a shame. The Chancellor was hoping to invite you to join him."
So the Chancellor had come looking for me personally, sending his secretary all this way to fetch me.
Watching Vanessa eye my empty bowl with what looked like genuine regret, I found myself glad I'd eaten quickly.
A meal with the Chancellor of the Academy — the very thought was dreadful.
No matter how lavish the spread, a dinner where I couldn't tell whether the food was supposed to go in through my nose or my mouth was one I could politely decline.
"In any case, if you have nothing urgent after this, could I ask you to come along for a moment?"
"If the Chancellor is calling, then I hardly have a choice, do I."
Not that it mattered — even if I had claimed some urgent business, she would surely have rattled off a dozen reasons why it could wait and dragged me along anyway.
If I had to guess why Olberus was seeking me out, there couldn't possibly be a matter more pressing than the one I had in mind.
We were talking about the Followers, after all.
"Bell, go on ahead. I'll clear your tray."
"What are you, my errand boy? It's fine."
Arden made the kind offer as I reached for my dishes, but I turned it down flat, picked up my tray, and rose from my seat.
The person in a hurry here was them, not me.
Clearing one measly tray wasn't going to eat up much of my time.
So I set my tray down on the return rack, dusted off my hands lightly, and was just about to head off when Vanessa, standing beside me, spoke up with an oddly pleased little smile.
"You clean up after yourself? How admirable."
"No, it's hardly anything worth—"
Getting praised for something like this when I wasn't a toddler anymore left me embarrassed; I scratched my cheek and looked away.
Still, it stung a little that I hadn't managed that second helping after all.
If things felt awkward afterward, I'd just have to stop by the campus shop on my way back from talking with the Chancellor.
Skipping one class couldn't hurt, right?