Lotto's Reasonable Suspicion

The students who had barely survived Professor Plato's borderline abusive training still looked ghostly pale, even after three full hours of rest that included their lunch break.

Some were drained because their stamina had yet to recover, while others were simply shivering in dread at the lecture awaiting them.

"Just how brutal do you think the Headmaster's class will be?"

"He's the lunatic who rounded up all these unhinged professors in the first place, so it's bound to be the worst of them all."

"I heard Oaknodi took his class during second period and walked out completely fine."

"...I knew it. That child has to be half-orc. There's no other way to explain that monstrous endurance."

"I'd call that a racial slur... but honestly, with stamina like that, she practically earns the name."

"Right? Lotto, what do you think?"

"Huh?! Uh, I-I'm not really sure..."

Lotto had answered unthinkingly to the former friends who hadn't spoken to her in ages, only to see their faces instantly contort into panicked regret. Inwardly, she unleashed a torrent of curses.

They had only spoken to her out of pure habit because she happened to be standing nearby.

If you're going to regret it, don't talk to me in the first place! And if you do open your mouths, at least have the decency to control your expressions!

Ever since her disastrous duel against Oaknodi, her plummet to rock bottom had become painfully, viscerally real.

"W-Well, we're going over there. Haha."

"Ah, that spot looks nice. Doesn't it?"

Murmuring awkward pleasantries, the girls scurried away. Even though they lowered their voices as soon as they put some distance between them, they spoke at that infuriating volume where every word remained crystal clear if she strained her ears, immediately censuring the girl who had addressed her.

"Idiot! Lotto isn't in our circle anymore."

"Why did you even talk to her?"

"Sorry. We just naturally fell into our old formation, and it slipped out."

"What if we get blacklisted alongside her?"

"Exactly. Princess Mesgaki despises Lotto for tarnishing the honor of the imperial nobility, and Oaknodi can't possibly harbor any fond feelings toward her either. We cannot be seen near Lotto."

"I know, I know..."

If I'd known it would turn out like this, I never would have picked a fight with Oaknodi.

While Lotto was drowning in bitter regret, the clique known as the Oaknodi Gang gathered and took their seats on one side of the lecture hall. As an aspirant of the Knight Department, Lotto shared a few overlapping courses with Son Ocheon and recalled seeing him in passing. Even if he wasn't quite on Oaknodi's absurd level, he was still an intimidating anomaly in his own right.

The Mana Cultivation Technique.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mana Body Refining Method.

Without either of the two esoteric arts that expanded mana capacity or refined one's physical constitution, he was an uncouth barbarian who bulldozed through every trial using sheer, unadulterated brute force, dense bones, and rugged endurance. He was a monkey beastman so infuriatingly strong that he proved, by his very existence, that those blessed with an iron frame had no need for rigorous discipline or secret techniques.

"Look over there. It's the top student of Group B."

"How does she wear the exact same uniform as us yet look so stylish?"

"One of them is the Hero chosen by God, and the other is the Saintess handpicked by one of the Twelve Prime Gods. When you're loved by divinity, of course your charm exists on an entirely different plane from ordinary mortals like us."

Compared to unpolished diamonds like Oaknodi or Son Ocheon, Lotto—who had merely stockpiled mana and refined her body slightly ahead of her peers through expensive private tutoring—had already exposed the bottom of her shallow reserves. With mediocre skill and a precarious standing, she wasn't subjected to overt hostility, but she had been reduced to a pathetic outcast without a single comrade to exchange a warm greeting with.

Cast out by Group B, yet far too proud to cozy up to Group A—and risking even harsher retaliation if she dared—she was utterly, terribly alone. It was profoundly miserable. Having to listen in on Group A's chatter just to drown out the former friends of Group B badmouthing her, trapped in a lonely void where she belonged nowhere.

—I HAVE ARRIVED!

"Eek!"

"Aaargh!"

"It's really the Headmaster!"

Over the theatrical shrieks of students carrying on as if a demon lord had manifested, a colossal dragon's head materialized atop the podium. A furious gust of breath superheated the air, rolling over the entire lecture hall like a furnace blast and violently whipping unbuttoned uniform jackets and pleated skirts into chaos.

—The title of this lecture is 'The Headmaster's Teachings.' Today, I shall impart upon you the bitter taste of the academy.

The dragon's massive maw twisted into a sinister, predatory smirk.

—Form groups of five immediately. Every single grade in this course will be evaluated through group projects!

Lotto almost burst into tears on the spot.

A group project on the very first day? What is an outcast like me supposed to do? Is this the academy's way of telling social pariahs to drop out?!

"Headmaster! What happens to groups that cannot reach five members due to uneven numbers?"

The dragon boomed without missing a beat.

—Point deduction.

Desperate, frantic glances flashed across the lecture hall.

Lotto wanted to cry even harder. If she flunked out and crawled back home weighed down by penalty points just months after enrolling in the world-renowned Gift Academy with her family's generous sponsorship... How ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would her parents look at her? How thoroughly would her sisters sneer at her as an utterly worthless failure?

The neighboring aristocratic houses would mock her as an incompetent disgrace, and their own children currently attending the academy would send letters home, gleefully gossiping about how she had failed solely because she was an outcast with zero friends.

And what awaited her back at the family estate?

"I'll arrange a groom for you," or "Marry this man, or spend the remainder of your miserable days locked inside a convent."

Her career as a martial artist would be extinguished before it could even begin, leaving her bound to the inescapable fate of a political marriage just to salvage her lingering worth as a 'noble daughter.' She would either marry into an influential house to an outwardly respectable man who beat his wives or kept a harem of mistresses, or be shipped off to a backwater family to marry an ugly, pot-bellied degenerate who eyed her with filthy lust—a man she would have to desperately deceive herself into believing was "kind at heart."

A wretched future. A severed vocation. A life stripped of all freedom, reduced to existing solely as someone's wife and someone's mother.

The tragic finale of a devalued noblewoman unrolled in her mind like a melodramatic opera. She refused to become someone's wife, a mother, or a cloistered nun. Absolutely not. She would never resign herself to such a horrific demise.

"U-Um! W-Would you like to team up...?"

Though she tried to speak up with a bold posture, Lotto shrank into herself almost immediately. Her former friends exchanged fleeting glances and shook their heads.

"We're terribly sorry. We'd prefer to coordinate with people we're already comfortable with. You understand, don't you?"

A clean cut. Armed with practiced, razor-sharp social smiles, every imperial noble in the vicinity was screaming at her with their eyes:

Don't cling to us.

Don't talk to us.

Are you begging to be publicly humiliated?

Lotto's blood boiled at how cowardly they were, turning their backs on her after they were the very ones who had egged her on to pick that fight in the first place.

"Princess Mesgaki! You know we only follow you, right?"

"Haah~ Well, if you adore me that much, I suppose I have no choice. Shall I grace you with my presence for a little while~?"

That was the 2nd Imperial Princess Mesgaki Faction.

"Hero. The rumors don't do half of your skill justice. If you are willing, would you care to join forces with us?"

"I'd be glad to."

That was the Hero's faction, rallying around the top student of Group B.

"Shall the heirs of prestigious houses join hands to navigate this crisis known as a group project?"

"I refuse. As if I would ever lower myself to join hands with a fledgling brat from House Horner Fried Chicken."

"I treated you with respect as a fellow Founding Family, yet you don't know your place, you fledgeling from House Potato Pizza! The moment a team duel takes place, your group will be the first one we eliminate!"

Those were two of the Holy Central Empire's Three Founding Families: the Chicken Faction and the Pizza Faction, bickering over ancestral pride.

Amidst the cutthroat scramble, Lotto resolutely looked away. If all of Group B had cast her aside, she had no business clinging to them either. If she hesitated out of foolish pride and ended up flunking out, destroying her individual life and freedom, no disgrace on earth could be greater. If necessary, she would even endure cooperating with commoners!

"Y-You there! If you desire, Lady Lotto here could grace you with her profound insight into the martial arts and become your comrade."

To the frontier nobles belonging to Group A, an offer from an imperial noble like her ought to be an irresistible honor. Even Arcadia, the ducal daughter leading Group A's female students, was supposedly fascinated by foreign cultures. If an authentic imperial noble offered an alliance, they would surely welcome her with open arms!

"Haaah? Do you have no shame whatsoever? As if we would ever accept someone who dared insult our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠adorable little Di."

Her supposedly foolproof plan crumbled in an instant.

Arcadia, the spiritual anchor of Group A's girls, was not the only one glaring at her with open hostility. Andersen, the eldest son of Grand Duke Andersen and the pillar of Group A's boys, chimed in with a haughty, contemptuous scoff.

"Oaknodi is the most treasured student within our Western Aristocrat Alliance. Do you truly believe anyone in Group A would join hands with someone who made an enemy out of her?"

"Why the fuck are you talking like you own the place? Since when is everybody in Group A your little errand boy?"

"Jigoku. You again? Why don't you try learning what cooperation means for once in your life?"

"Huh? You asking for a bullet?"

"...I was a fool to expect cooperation from a pirate."

Just when Lotto believed she was doomed to fail without securing a single teammate, someone stepped forward. He was a boy instead of a girl, hailed from Group A instead of Group B, and was far from normal—a trigger-happy maniac with a few screws loose—but she had a teammate nonetheless!

"...I'll join you too."

"Hestia! B-But I said such awful things to you... You're still willing to be my teammate?"

"It's not like I'm doing this because I like you. I just didn't have anywhere else to go..."

Lotto panicked at Hestia's blunt confession and whipped her head around to scan the room. Sure enough, out of the forty-four Upper Class students, almost everyone had already found partners and huddled together in tight-knit groups of five. Even the enigmatic Group C, ostracized by both Groups A and B, had banded together into their own five-man unit.

"Oh, what do we have here? Are we the leftover squad? Then who's our final sucker?"

At Jigoku's boisterous question, a small hand unexpectedly tugged at Lotto's sleeve.

"Me!"

"Huh? Oaknodi?!"

One of the most sought-after teammates in the entire hall had just casually strolled into the leftover squad of four.

"???"

"Yay!"

Oaknodi was beaming brightly, wearing an innocent smile that looked as if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she had anticipated this exact outcome all along. Staring down at that cheerful, cherubic face, Lotto suddenly remembered: during their previous duel, the backing behind this child had possessed enough terrifying authority to intentionally trigger a blackout across the academy's official training grounds.

Could it be... she knew in advance that we'd get extra points?!

Otherwise, why on earth would she palm off her usual entourage to some random ranger kid and the lackey trailing behind her, only to volunteer herself for the leftover squad all alone?

A profoundly reasonable suspicion took firm root in Lotto's mind.