A Deepening Bond
The next day, following Marie's advice, I went straight off to find Elisha.
When I first stopped by Class A to look for her, one of the male cadets waved me off with a bored expression, muttering that she'd probably be at the Training Grounds by now. So that was where I headed.
Then again, one would think a person might take a break in the classroom during self-study period. Truly befitting the most diligent girl in the original novel, I suppose.
Though to be honest, watching her whip herself onward not out of diligence but under the crushing pressure of having to surpass her older sister was a little heartbreaking to see.
Clang! Ka-shing!
By the time I arrived at Sparring Hall 3, thick with onlookers, the sharp ring of colliding metal was already echoing out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a clear view of the interior.
At its center stood Elisha, blonde and graceful, gauging the distance with the epee in her hand as she toyed effortlessly with her opponent — a female cadet whose face I didn't recognize.
Looks like she dragged the girl in from somewhere to use as a sparring partner. Another Class A student, perhaps?
Shaak!
Barely had my question formed before Elisha stepped forward with her right foot as if to thrust, then dropped her hips and went for her opponent's lower body instead.
CRANG!
"Ghk!"
To her credit, the other girl had some skill and reacted more or less in time — but that half-beat of delay cost her. Fumbling to correct her stance, she lost her balance and went down on her rear, having done no more than barely deflect the blade.
Moments later, Elisha's sword hovered directly before the face of her opponent, sprawled flat on the floor.
"I-I yield."
"Good work out there."
Before the referee could even call the match, a declaration of surrender spilled from the girl's mouth. Elisha smiled warmly, stepped forward, and offered her hand first, helping her opponent to her feet.
A world of difference from a certain someone who does nothing but hold her nose in the air just because she's a noble.
I hadn't watched the earlier rounds, but judging from the gap in movement just now, she had likely pressed the attack one-sidedly and seized her victory with ease. The murmurs of awe rippling through the crowd around the hall certainly seemed to confirm it.
"And this is within the same Class A? That big a difference?"
"Well, Lady Croshel is that woman's successor. What's there to ask?"
"Talent really does make all the difference, I guess."
That successor nonsense never fails to disgust me.
I'd heard it often enough back in my old world, after all. A world-famous athlete has a child, the child follows exactly in the parent's footsteps — and instead of evaluating that child's effort, people just brush it aside. Well, of course, they're that person's kid.
Not that I think it's entirely wrong. There's undeniably a realm of talent — bloodline, in other words — and inheriting it from your parents can't hurt.
But somehow, people refuse to see the years of hard work that person put in to get there, and that's why I've never much liked the phrase.
I was lost in these idle musings about cheap values when the onlookers, satisfied that the match was over, began scattering in every direction.
Hm, unexpected. They'd all been gawking like fans at an idol concert, so I figured at least a few of them would stick around hoping Elisha would come out.
Maybe they see her as a flower blooming on a sheer cliff face, and don't dare approach.
Well, fair enough — she does hold an absurdly lofty status, even if I happen to treat her with strange ease.
Why do I feel oddly embarrassed?
Standing alone in the suddenly deserted corridor waiting for her, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was playing at being a boyfriend. Shaking off the thought, I checked the clock on the wall.
She'd be sweaty from the match, so she'd shower first. This would take a while.
No idea what the average shower time for women is, but twenty minutes should just about cover it, right?
Click.
"Hm?"
Barely had I finished the thought before the door to the sparring hall swung open and the very person I'd been waiting for stepped out.
Elisha, whose hair and skin looked so freshly dry that you'd never guess she'd just finished a duel.
She came out humming a light tune, apparently not noticing me at first — her head turned left, then her gaze caught on me and stopped. She blinked at me, dazed.
Then, after a moment:
"D-Dinauer nim!?"
"...Nim?"
Her cheeks flushed as she fumbled over the strange honorific.
What's gotten into her this time?
This academy is remarkably flexible in all the most useless ways.
During nominal self-study time — which was effectively free time — students were permitted to go anywhere on campus. In other words, rather than a place for honing one's abilities like a classroom or the Training Grounds, you could just as easily take a leisurely stroll and catch your breath wherever you liked.
Thanks to that generous policy, I was able to find a seat at a café and sit down for a talk with Elisha.
Not exactly the ending I'd been hoping for.
I was planning to wrap this up quickly and sneak in a nap, honestly.
If you asked me whether this was serious enough business to warrant sitting down at a café, I honestly couldn't say. Cafés on academy grounds weren't exactly cheap — and factoring in the money I'd be spending on top of everything else, this was the last place I wanted to be.
"I'll pay."
Just as I finished ordering and reached for my wallet, Elisha blocked my hand and produced her own.
Really, there's being kind and then there's this. At this rate she'll be getting called a pushover.
Isn't it supposed to be the one making the request who pays in situations like this?
"There's really no need to—"
"You only agreed to talk because I brought you here. So it's only right that I cover this one."
Elisha's signature gentle smile firmed up, as if to say she wouldn't entertain any further objections.
Hm. A strange sort of logic — it sounds like sophistry and yet somehow doesn't.
So: I'm the one asking the favor, but she's the one who proposed the café, therefore she pays.
It's not that I cling to rigid ideas like bills must always be split, or that a man ought to mooch his way through life. But this time, accepting the free meal felt genuinely uncomfortable.
Then again, I doubted I could talk her out of it either.
"...Tch. Then next one's on me."
"Fufu. I'll look forward to it."
Winking one eye, Elisha settled the bill and led the way to an empty table, taking a seat beside me.
That said, thinking about it now, Elisha has been strangely fond of me from the start.
At our first meeting she did harbor a bit of doubt about my acceptance into the academy, but she seemed to accept it quickly enough — and she's never paid the slightest mind to the rumors floating around.
Curious.
Being nice to me to this degree seems like more than simple level-headedness — more than just refusing to be swayed by gossip.
Being close to someone and not thinking badly of them are two entirely different things, after all.
Wondering if perhaps some fondness had quietly built up without my noticing, I combed through my memories — but nothing in particular came to mind.
"Shall we make small talk until the drinks arrive, then? Come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever really had a personal conversation with you, Dinauer."
"Is that so?"
From my perspective, I'd owed Elisha so many favors that I'd assumed we'd had plenty of chances to talk. But now that I think about it, most of our conversations happened when I came to her with some errand or other — so casual chat was probably rare.
Even back when she helped me in the library, I have no memory of discussing anything beyond studying. She did come visit me when I was injured afterward, but she left again almost right away.
Truly, I have some nerve, don't I?
Every memory I have with Elisha is one of me owing her something. And now here I am, unable even to wait, showing up to ask for another favor today.
I found myself doubting whether I'd always been this shameless a person.
"Your tea and coffee."
Our small talk so far had amounted to little more than a light interrogation of each other — hobbies, tastes, that sort of thing — when two cups were set before us.
Sip.
Without any particular rush, we each took a sip of our preferred drink, set down our cups, and settled into a brief silence.
Unlike the oppressive kind of quiet that hangs between awkward strangers, this felt like we were both simply savoring the moment.
"So — what is this favor of yours?"
She asks quickly, doesn't she?
If it were me, hating to sit on pins and needles, I'd have gotten straight to business before we even reached the café. I'd been the one dying of impatience waiting for that question.
"Nothing complicated. According to Marie, your family has a flower coming in called Nostalgia."
"Nostalgia, you say... Ah, do you mean that medicinal herb that grows in the Viscania Mountain Range?"
"That's the one. You see, Madame Pelerin assigned us a rather troublesome assignment."
Scratching my cheek sheepishly, I laid out the whole story of how this request had come about. Elisha nodded slowly in understanding and tipped her teacup.
"Mocher's Prank... I've heard the name of that elixir, but only ever the name. I had no idea it required Nostalgia."
"Really? I figured it was fairly well known, since Marie seemed to know it."
"Fufu, Marie has always been remarkably well-read. She may not know everything inside and out, but she has at least a passing knowledge of nearly every field."
Now that she mentions it, I can picture the type.
There were a few of them around me in my past life too — people who, upon hearing any piece of information once, could rattle off at least a surface-level grasp of every subject, even if never in great depth.
So that girl was that encyclopedic, huh.
In the original novel, Marie barely got any spotlight outside a few specific scenes, so this was a side of her I was learning for the first time.
"So Nostalgia is all you need, then?"
"It would seem so. Marie offered to secure a few of them herself."
I wondered what had gotten into her, offering a favor like this unprompted — but I'm not the type to refuse something freely given, so I decided to simply accept it. I could repay her later.
"What a relief. I'll contact my family, so you should be able to receive it by tomorrow at the earliest."
"Oh, thank you. I really do nothing but owe you."
"It's hardly anything, truly. The kind of favor a friend can easily grant."
Wearing her usual gentle smile as she took another sip of her tea, Elisha then gazed at me in silence.
Her eyes felt oddly burdensome, somehow.
How should I put it — she looked like she wanted something.
Knowing Elisha's character, she surely wasn't actually expecting repayment. Still, I'd have to settle this debt eventually, so perhaps I should just ask.
"A friend or not, debts are meant to be paid. Is there anything you want in return?"
"Oh my. There's really no need for that... but if it would ease your mind, Dinauer..."
"......"
Is it just my imagination, or was she waiting for me to say exactly that?
Well, I had genuinely been helped, so granting her one small request wouldn't be hard. As long as it wasn't something absurd, that is.
Hands folded neatly on the table, Elisha smiled as though everything had gone just as she'd hoped, and made her request.
It was such an anticlimactic request that a wave of emptiness washed over me.
"If you're willing... might I call you by your first name?"
"...Was that worth working up a whole request for? Just call me whatever you like."
"It would be my first time speaking a man's given name. Fufu."
Elisha offered a demure smile, her cheeks tinged faintly pink.
Come to think of it, she was like this in the original novel too. Even after she and Arden grew quite close, she kept fumbling over Arden's name — until Arden casually asked, aren't we close enough by now to drop the formalities? and Elisha replied that she'd never once spoken the name of a man outside her family.
She simply hasn't registered that we're as close as we are — in truth, she's a hothouse flower beyond all imagining.
"...Well, consider it a privilege I'm granting you. Use it as you please."
"Thank you, Vel."
Hearing Elisha call me by my name stirred a strangely ticklish feeling, and I averted my eyes without meaning to.
It was a completely different sensation from when Rone, Marie, or Tina said it. So this is what it means for someone to matter, is it?
"Ah — regarding the Nostalgia, as soon as it arrives tomorrow, I'll send it to you through my lady's maid. Where should I have it delivered?"
"Workshop Room 1-4. I've rented it out for the week."
"Understood."
With that settled, we both rose from our seats.
Elisha said there was plenty more she'd like to talk about, but that it still felt too early.
I had no idea what she meant by that, but I figured I'd understand when the time came — and with that thought, I set off on my way.
Thankfully, this assignment looks like it'll resolve itself without a hitch.