A Child Who Cherishes Her Friends
Monday, second period.
The classroom for Professor Bronze’s Developing an Eye course was abuzz with activity.
“Seniors!”
“Can we ask you something?”
Having realized after the last lecture that their upperclassmen possessed an unexpected degree of competence, the freshmen swarmed them the moment they arrived.
“What’s all this?” Bigstone puffed out his chest. “Look at how well our lovely juniors take to us.”
“We heard from our academic advisor that you seniors might take care of the Giant King Crab that invaded the campus for us. Is that true?”
“Please, please kill the king crab in the first-floor lounge… We don’t have anywhere to sit and do our homework…”
Faced with the freshmen’s desperate pleas, cold sweat trickled down Bigstone’s neck.
“Huh? Uh, sure, I mean, if I got hungry enough, I’d hunt it, obviously. But I’m just not particularly hungry right now, you know?”
“Cut the crap,” Lizna chimed in bluntly. “You’ve been starving yourself since breakfast just to hoard your Points—”
“Gaaaah! Shut up, Lizna!”
Bigstone was desperate to show off before the juniors who had finally gathered around him, yet far too terrified to wage a mortal duel against a Giant King Crab. His fellow classmate, Moss, offered a cold voice of reason.
“Just admit you can’t do it before you embarrass yourself even further.”
“Moss! Don’t you have any desire to look good in front of the underclassmen? After spending an entire year enduring humiliation and disrespect, this is our one chance to stand above someone else with the glorious title of ‘senior’!”
“Bigstone,” Moss replied deadpan, “you look like absolute scum right now.”
Just as Moss noted, a wave of deep regret washed over the freshmen’s faces. Their eyes clearly said: No matter how desperate we are, we shouldn't rely on this guy. Why on earth did we talk to him first?
“Try to show off beyond your capabilities and you’ll get burned,” Lizna sighed. “These kids only came to vent because they’re at their wits’ end; they don’t actually expect miracles from you. Why not just be honest with them?”
Unlike Moss, who sullenly minded his own business and radiated obnoxious gloom, Lizna was a girl Bigstone harbored a secret crush on. She never made much effort with her appearance, but she was subtly pretty and always carried a lovely, clean scent on her clothes.
Hearing such heartfelt advice from her, Bigstone swallowed his petty pride and spoke the plain truth.
“Listen… a Giant King Crab is an absurdly powerful monster. Its massive front claws have immense physical damage resistance, and ordinary metal weapons will snap clean in half the instant they get caught in its pincer.”
“Eh? Does that mean you can’t beat it either, Senior?”
“Of course I can’t! Among the 2nd-Year Intermediates, only the Upper Class elites or a handful of ridiculously skilled individuals could ever take down one of those things! Maybe the Lower Class from the third year and above could manage it, but certainly not us.”
Though disappointed, the freshmen were finally able to grasp the cold, harsh reality of their situation.
If we mess around trying to turn that king crab into lunch, we’ll end up turning into its lunch instead!
“Now that you understand, don’t you dare dream of fighting it,” Bigstone warned sternly. “If you see it, run. No questions asked. Especially if there’s water nearby—it gets terrifyingly fast in moisture, so get on dry ground immediately.”
“Understood…”
Though he had seemed unreliable at first, Bigstone’s genuine advice and sincere words of caution earned him a look of surprise and gratitude from the younger students. It turned out talking to him hadn't been a mistake after all.
Bigstone’s chest swelled with pride.
They said sincerity moves mountains, and it was true. By giving honest advice as Lizna and Moss had suggested, he had actually earned the freshmen’s respect. Indeed, exceptional martial prowess wasn't strictly necessary. Sometimes, all you needed was an honest heart to get through to people!
Thud. Clack, rattle.
“Ugh, this thing is so heavy.”
Titocoga, who had been sitting among the crowd listening to Bigstone’s sage advice, leaped to her feet with a shriek.
“Orknodi?! Isn't that a Giant King Crab behind you?! How did you even hunt that?!”
“Oh, this?” Orknodi tilted her head innocently, dragging a colossal, twitching crustacean behind her. “The cheeky thing was blocking the corridor, so I smacked it. The cafeteria already caught a whole bunch alive and is trying to sell them, so I figured I wouldn't get a good price for it anyway. I was just thinking we could cook it up for dinner.”
“B-but I heard its physical resistance is off the charts…”
“Well, then you just flip it over.”
“Flip it…?”
“Crabs can’t right themselves on land under their own power once you turn them on their backs,” Orknodi explained cheerfully, as if stating the most obvious game mechanic in the world. “And unlike the carapace or the claws, the belly flap takes blade strikes super well and breaks easily.”
How do you even do that in the first place?!
Seeing the freshmen’s utterly bewildered expressions, Orknodi offered a brisk demonstration.
“Heave-ho!”
Step one: Grab the Giant King Crab by its hind legs.
Step two: Hoist it clean off the floor and slam it upside down.
Step three: Drive a dagger straight through its belly plate, and you’re done!
“See? Easy, right?”
How in the world does someone just flip a multi-ton beast like that?!
And how did you even get close enough to grab its legs?!
Surrounded by students frozen in sheer disbelief, Bigstone quietly slumped into his chair and buried his face in his arms.
“I can borrow a giant steamer and heavy-duty kitchen shears!” Isabelle offered enthusiastically, the veins on her forearms bulging with chef-like zeal. “I’ve borrowed cooking equipment from the mess hall plenty of times!”
“Whoa! Orknodi is incredible!”
“Isabelle is definitely going to become the greatest chef in the world! We’ll be rooting for you!”
“Wait, no, I’m going to be an expedition leader…” Isabelle stammered, flustered.
“When break comes, you have to visit our family estate! I’ll show you the sacred culinary broadsword reserved only for three-star master chefs!”
In the blink of an eye, the first-years completely hijacked the limelight Bigstone had worked so hard to cultivate.
Lizna offered a consoling pat on her crestfallen classmate’s shoulder. “Hang in there. They’re the genius Upper Class elites, after all.”
“Sob… I’m gonna get stronger,” Bigstone choked out through his tears. “I’ll train like crazy and get way stronger than those filthy prodigies!”
“Ah,” Orknodi called out brightly, glancing toward them. “Would you seniors like to join us for dinner tonight? It’s so huge, I don’t think we can finish it all on our own.”
“Sorry,” Lizna answered for him with an apologetic wave. “Bigstone’s pride took a bit of an emotional hit just now, so he probably—”
“I’M COMING!” Bigstone bellowed, shooting upright.
“…Bigstone?” Lizna blinked.
“…A man needs a full stomach if he’s gonna get stronger!”
Before the majesty of free food and an empty belly, pride didn't stand a chance.
The third lecture of Developing an Eye began with the entire room fixated on the Giant King Crab, everyone silently counting down the minutes until dinner.
Yet soon enough, the students’ attention drifted away from their impending feast, and even away from their professor, the former chivalrous phantom thief endowed with a remarkably generous bosom of justice.
SWOOOOOSH—ROOOOAAAR!!
The downpour outside was raging so violently that one could hardly tell whether they were inside Gift Academy or sitting in a themed cafe featuring simulated monsoon storms. The deafening roar of rain battered the glass, utterly mesmerizing everyone with dread over how on earth they were going to get back to their dorms.
To be completely honest, even I was feeling a little spooked.
Veteran gamer or not, if you get swept away in a flash flood like that, you’ll drown in three seconds flat!
Taking the distracted atmosphere into account, the professor shifted the curriculum from intense practical evaluation to standard academic theory.
“Additionally, during the next assignment period, we will conduct a lecture aimed at cultivating your eye for asset evaluation—a topic our noble students should find particularly delightful. You are expected to research the relevant literature or official public records in advance.”
“Professor,” a student called out. “Where can we obtain those books and documents?”
“Books may be found in the library, and official records can be acquired at the academy’s administrative office. As a rule, borrowing or removing such materials for outside study is strictly restricted, but presenting proof that you are enrolled in my course should grant you temporary clearance.”
For an academy student, naturally learning how to navigate the library, approach the administration bureau, and request institutional cooperation was an invaluable exercise. Although Professor Bronze was notorious for testing her students with bizarre, eccentric assignments, her coursework quietly incorporated subtle considerations designed to help them adapt to life at Gift Academy.
“Of course, simply telling you to do it might not provide sufficient motivation. Therefore, I shall offer extra credit.”
Naturally, no instructor at Gift Academy could ever be purely benevolent. That would disqualify them from being faculty altogether.
A wicked smirk curved across Professor Bronze’s lips.
“In our next session, I intend to award bonus points to the top three students in each category who bring forth the most pertinent reference texts and public documents. I suggest you put your backs into it.”
Click, flick!
Titocoga pressed the switch on her bedside lamp-turned-focusing-device, unleashing a burst of radiant white light.
“Professor! Question!”
“You’re giving me a headache. Turn that damn thing off before you speak.”
“Ah, yes ma’am!”
Switching off the light stand, Titocoga asked timidly, “There are three second-year seniors attending this class. If you only select three students per category, wouldn't the freshmen be at an extreme disadvantage in the competition for extra credit?”
“I suppose so,” the professor conceded effortlessly.
“And so?”
“Pardon?”
“Since the second-years hold the upper hand, you’re asking me to show consideration for the first-years by expanding the extra credit quota exclusively for you freshmen? Is that it?”
A table of organization, or quota. In everyday life, the term was frequently used to describe opening up vacancies, expanding team rosters, or adding recruitment slots. Here, she meant expanding the designated opportunities to earn bonus score points.
Ah… that’s a terrible idea.
A cruel smile bloomed across Professor Bronze’s face.
“Very well. I shall open three additional slots reserved exclusively for first-year students.”
“Whoa!”
“Thank you, Titocoga!”
“Thanks to Titocoga, we actually have a shot at getting extra credit!”
“Professor!” another freshman shouted excitedly. “If multiple students prepare the exact same reference material, do we all receive the bonus points together?”
“I shall allow it. If you have conducted precisely the same standard of preparation, you all deserve praise.”
Was Titocoga—who had been nothing more than the weakest, trembling crybaby during fifth period’s Adventurer’s Night Maneuvers—now suddenly an honored, respected prodigy basking in the gratitude of her peers during second period’s Developing an Eye?
That fleeting, otherworldly fantasy was instantly shattered by the professor’s very next sentence.
“However, in accordance with Gift Academy’s academic regulations on grade administration, any volume of bonus points awarded beyond the standard baseline must be matched by an equivalent allocation of penalty points.”
The professor rested her chin on her hand, her eyes glittering with malice.
“Therefore, we shall handle it like this: the bottom three students whose preparations are deemed the most deficient shall receive penalty points identical in value to the bonus points granted to the top three.”
The classroom went dead, arctic silent.
The professor’s verbal savagery did not pause for a second.
“And naturally, since shared bonus points exist, shared penalties must exist as well. Every student who fails to prepare any materials whatsoever shall receive collective penalty points. I suggest you ensure you have a generous reserve of Points in your accounts.”
“Titocoga, you absolute piece of trash!”
“Are you even human?!”
“You villain!”
“The professor’s henchman!”
“You harbinger of doom, you summoned the penalty point demon upon us!”
“Someone like you doesn't deserve a single bite of Orknodi’s Giant King Crab meat!”
Just moments ago, students had been looking at her flashing lamp and murmuring things like, Isn't she kind of cute? or She reminds me of my little sister back home. Now, in a heartbeat, Titocoga had been branded a traitor of the highest order.
“I-it’s a misunderstanding! Please don’t look at me like that! I only wanted to help everyone…”
Her desperate excuses were drowned out by an unrelenting barrage of condemnation.
“Wasting all those years of your life!”
“You idiot running around carrying a toy!”
When the insults escalated to personal attacks against her light stand—which had only recently risen as her premier charming trait—large, fat tears welled up in Titocoga’s eyes.
“Uwaaaang!”
Bursting into tears, Titocoga bolted out of the lecture hall at full speed.
“Oh dear,” someone muttered. “That’s rough.”
“Sigh,” I sighed aloud, shaking my head. “I knew she was sticking her neck out too far. Professor, I’m just going to go comfort Titocoga for a minute.”
“Ah, Student Orknodi. Have you made up your mind regarding our conversation from last time?”
“Titocoga needs me right now, so I’ll give you my answer later!”
Orknodi was, above all else, a child who deeply cherished her friends.
Comforting a weeping companion was infinitely more important than answering the professor’s persistent invitation to become her prized disciple and indentured graduate student!
It was definitely, totally not an excuse to dodge the horrors of graduate school and run for my life!
“Wait, h-hold on! Orknodi!” Isabelle cried out in a panic from behind me. “If you just take off on your own, how on earth am I supposed to haul this Giant King Crab by myself?!”
Orknodi was, truly, a child who deeply cherished her friends.
Comforting a crying friend took total priority over groaning and straining to haul a massive Giant King Crab back to the dorms for dinner!
It was definitely, absolutely not because the crab was way heavier than I expected and I wanted someone else to carry it!