I Can't Choose Between These Two

I ended up with a nickname.

"Di, darling. Come over here and try some of these cookies."

"I'd love to!"

Arcadia.

The young lady of the Florence Kingdom seemed to have taken quite a liking to me, personally christening me with a pet name and inviting me to tea and snacks every single day.

The sheer poise of a powerful family's heiress radiated from her ability to procure rare, high-end confectionery in the brief window of time she met with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her academy sponsor.

"Lady Arcadia, why do you call me Di?"

To be completely honest, it rubbed me the wrong way.

It sounded too much like getting a D grade, which totally killed the vibe.

Because the Academy was structured far more like a university than a high ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠school, grades were constantly on my mind.

"Attaching the word 'orc' to the name of such a precious child... it breaks my heart to think people might overlook your sheer adorableness just because of that."

"Ah. I see."

"Did you... dislike being called Di?"

When someone looked at you with eyes brimming with utter sorrow like that, how was anyone supposed to say no?

Sigh, seriously, she's way too cute.

"N-No, I don't dislike it."

"Di~! Oh, how can you be so darling even when you're shy?"

She lunged forward, sweeping me into a tight hug and nuzzling her cheek against mine like I was a plush doll. Between the overwhelming physical affection and her sweet scent, my brain was short-circuiting.

"Come on now. It's hot. Please let go."

"Gasp. To think Di would reject me..."

She feigned heartbreak, letting out theatrical little sobs, but it was all an act. The fleeting glances she threw in my direction were practically begging me to fluster over her.

Well, when an NPC set up an obvious prompt like that, fulfilling it was basic human decency.

"Big sister, are you crying? You aren't really crying, right?"

"My heart aches so dearly because Di pushed my hands away... sniff, sob..."

Behind her, Isabelle stared at us with an expression that plainly read: Look at this ridiculous spectacle.

As expected of an adventurer, Isabelle was sharp as a tack. She saw right through my sly little act.

"Lady Arcadia. Orknodi is using this distraction to shovel cookies into her mouth."

"Ah! Why'd you have to go and rat me out?!"

A folding fan promptly struck the back of my hand just as I was stuffing my cheeks full like a squirrel.

"Ouch!"

"Orknodi. Have I not taught you that cramming food into your cheeks at a tea table is dreadfully unbecoming?"

Being treated to unlimited rare snacks was fantastic, but when it came to etiquette, the eclectic Arcadia was remarkably strict.

Her tastes were completely rootless, throwing together trends from the east, west, south, and north like a giant bowl of mismatched stew, yet that very quirk stemmed from her deep-seated desire for external validation. Arcadia took manners deadly seriously precisely to prevent nobles from other nations from looking down on her as a crude, uncultured aristocrat.

Though... does noble etiquette really permit grabbing your tea partner and rubbing your cheeks against theirs?

Pretty sure it didn't.

Still, if I didn't stay on her good side at every opportunity, I might miss out on future snack invitations, so I decided to turn a blind eye.

During the seven-day waiting period before the entrance ceremony, my earnest efforts at tea-table socializing had borne fruit.

In exchange for a fan-shaped welt on the back of my hand, I earned codex entries and a full stomach.

Witness the almighty power of social climbing!

You think I discarded my veteran gamer pride to act like an innocent little darling for nothing? Absolutely not!

Around the time I finished sipping my tea and letting the snacks settle, Isabelle broached a new topic.

"Lady Arcadia. While we appreciate how fondly you treat Orknodi, I wish you would devote a little more attention to the Western Nobles Alliance."

"Ah. You mean the Group B Central Imperial freshmen?"

"Yes. Ever since the Central nobles moved into the Group B dormitories, tensions between our groups have been steadily escalating."

The week leading up to the entrance ceremony was designated as an orientation and preparation period.

Across the Freshmen Dormitory, dining halls, training grounds, gardens, and walking trails, friction was already beginning to spark between Group A's frontier students and Group B's Imperial newcomers.

In the original game, this was the exact omen foreshadowing a massive event.

The Empire holds an abundance of top-tier talent, I noted mentally.

On the flip side, an awful lot of them had completely discarded basic manners.

The frontier students generally lagged behind in performance tiers. Even Irene, the Northern Grand Duke's daughter who drew the most attention for her raw combat prowess, hovered around Tier 1 (ranks 11 to 15) in overall popularity polls, while Sing of the Eastern Empire sat at Tier 1.5 (ranks 16 to 20).

The absurd Tier 0 (ranks 1 to 5) and Tier 0.5 (ranks 6 to 10) powerhouses were almost entirely stacked within Group B's Imperial faction.

In a game where popularity and in-game performance usually ran hand in hand, popularity rankings were nothing to scoff at.

Whenever a clash erupts, nine times out of ten the Empire completely tramples the frontier. At least, until that one incident triggers.

The real issue lay in the fact that said incident would drag the chapter boss, Hestia, straight into reputational ruin.

If I intervened so Hestia didn't get caught in the mess, the Imperial brats would run rampant; if I left it alone, it would trip the dangerous flag that accelerated Hestia's transformation into a chapter boss.

"We've actually been debating it continuously within the Western Nobles Alliance," Arcadia replied smoothly. "Discussing whether we, the Upper Class qualifiers, should take the lead in standing against the Empire."

"I take it the meetings haven't gone smoothly."

"Naturally. The Imperials wield formidable weapons that we simply do not possess."

She didn't mean literal bladed weapons.

Arms with excessive lethality hadn't even received possession permits yet. But the 'weapons' the Imperials possessed intimidated the frontier students far more than cold steel ever could.

"The Mana Body Refining Method and the Mana Cultivation Technique."

The Mana Body Refining Method, which tempered mana physically through the body.

The Mana Cultivation Technique, which cultivated mana mentally through the mind.

Armed with these two overpowered, advanced techniques, the Imperial nobility commanded immense volumes of high-density mana, acting as undisputed bullies in the early game. For students from the frontier, withstanding that competitive disparity was extraordinarily difficult.

Most were bound to drop out along the way.

For now, neither side ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠has a clear grasp of the other's true capabilities, so they're just sizing each other up.

Having retrieved a Stat Stone hidden near the guard post by the dorms, I was pondering whether Arcadia was handling things adequately when I noticed a dense crowd gathering outside the dining hall.

Shouts echoed from a distance, triggering my bad premonition. Sure enough, trouble had already started.

"If you've just finished training, you should change into proper school uniforms before coming here! Is it not blatantly problematic to use public facilities clad in such vulgar, barbaric attire that exposes so much bare skin?"

"Watch your mouth! We already cleared this with the instructors. Uniforms are recommended, not mandatory! Take back what you said. There's nothing vulgar about us!"

"An apology~? Walking around in revealing tank tops with your shoulders bared and dolphin shorts that leave your entire thighs exposed—if that isn't vulgar, then what on earth is?"

It was a fiery dispute between Group A freshmen attempting to grab a meal in casual workout wear and Group B freshmen who found the sight utterly offensive!

Side with Group A, and you gain favor with the frontier students.

Side with Group B, and you curry favor with the Imperial nobles.

Because a single choice could shift the affinity of hundreds or thousands of people at once, group events demanded extraordinary caution.

...Or so the game warned, but players almost universally sided with Group B.

Well, yeah. The Imperial students have way higher performance tiers.

According to popularity polls where performance and fan love aligned, a whopping ninety-six percent of players backed Group B's Empire. Out of every hundred players, ninety-six raised their hands for the Imperials.

Back when I played as a male character, I was no different.

Tiers aside, there was also a fundamental matter of aesthetic taste at play.

Only four percent supported the frontier's culture of casual skin exposure, with girls sporting tank tops, sleeveless shirts, dolphin shorts, or hot pants.

A staggering ninety-six percent backed the Imperial girls who shunned public skin exposure, adhering strictly to school uniforms over sheer pantyhose or full-body tights.

Honestly, even from my perspective, the ninety-six percent had a rock-solid case.

Pantyhose and full-body tights versus dolphin shorts and hot pants.

When evaluated purely on aesthetic appeal, the former won hands down. If a character lacked performance, they at least needed top-tier visual appeal, yet the Empire dominated both stats, popularity, and community fervor. Compared to that juggernaut, the meager dolphin shorts faction was a fragile speck of dust ready to blow away in the slightest breeze.

To most players, the frontier faction was essentially treated as post-game DLC content—something you only picked on subsequent playthroughs after exhausting everything the Empire had to offer.

And I was a veteran player.

One who had already completed every scrap of frontier content available.

Obviously, a proper female student's uniform requires pantyhose!

I had been busy trailing admiringly behind the backsides of Group B's Imperial girls, marveling at the profound wisdom of their modesty-enhancing legwear, when one of the loudly arguing students suddenly shouted in my direction.

"Orknodi! Help us out here!"

"Huh?"

It was the dolphin-shorts-wearing girls of Group A calling out to me.

Among their ranks stood Isabelle, fresh from her workout and trying to grab some food.

Aaaargh! Why must I face such a cruel trial?!

Dolphin shorts plus personal chef versus glorious pantyhose.

I had just run face-first into the greatest moral dilemma of my entire life.