Entrance Exam — Magic Department (1)

Two days had passed since Ethan and Karaman had finished the swordsmanship department's entrance exam, and the two of us were once again preparing to head to Luminor Academy to take the academy's entrance exam of our own.

Of course, this wasn't about Ethan's swordsmanship exam, which was already done and dusted — this visit was for my magic department entrance exam.

For the record, it had rained all day yesterday, so we hadn't been able to leave the inn, which meant I'd ended up spending nearly the entire day holed up in one room with Ethan.

Resting in the same room, chatting, heading down to the first floor of the tavern together at mealtimes… come to think of it, our days probably wouldn't have looked all that different even without the rain.

We'd been living more or less in a state of half-cohabitation for the past three days anyway.

These days we'd even started sharing a table at mealtimes. "There's no need to stand on ceremony with each other outside, of all places," he'd said.

'Honestly, I suppose there's nothing bad about getting used to a routine like this.'

Ethan's admission to the swordsmanship department was all but confirmed, which meant my own entry into Luminor Academy was likewise a foregone conclusion.

The only question was whether I'd enter as a student of the same academy as Ethan, or fail the exam and go in as nothing more than his exclusive maid.

Either way, I'd already signed a preliminary contract with Harold securing my position as his personal maid, so our half-shared living arrangement was set in stone for as long as he attended the academy.

Granted, the noble dormitories at the academy had separate quarters for exclusive maids, so we presumably wouldn't be sharing a bed like we were now.

The real thing hanging on whether or not I got into the academy was… probably nothing more than whether Isabel would be coming along to Luminor Academy with me.

If — hypothetically — I flunked the magic department's entrance exam, then Isabel, who was slated to share my exclusive maid duties, would naturally never have cause to be called to the academy at all.

…From what I'd seen before, Isabel seemed to want to come to the academy too, so if only to avoid her resenting me later, I had to pass no matter what.

"Today's the magic department exam, right, Maid?"

"That's correct, young master."

"I'm rooting for you to pass. …No, wait — a maid of your caliber is bound to pass, so why not just aim for the top spot entirely?"

"Thank you for your support, young master."

"I think walking is our best bet again today. I noticed a line of carriages stretched out in front of our inn earlier. Waiting around forever for a turn in a coach would be a waste of time."

"I was thinking the same thing, young master."

And so, bolstered by Ethan's encouragement, the two of us left the inn and set off on foot toward Luminor Academy, dodging the procession of carriages lined up outside it.

Despite his rallying cry to go for the top score, I honestly wasn't holding out much hope of claiming first place in the entrance exam myself.

Because among this year's incoming class of the magic department, there were at least one — possibly two — characters with superior magical talent to mine, and their enrollment was a very real possibility.

One of them was 'Hellfire Agnes', whom I'd already crossed paths with once before.

The other, naturally, was the protagonist. Though in her case, admission to the magic department hadn't even been decided yet.

Either way, neither of the two was someone Lilith could beat on raw magical talent. Which meant that no matter how spectacularly I performed in the entrance exam, second place — right below Agnes — was my ceiling.

For reference, the protagonist was a character with such absurdly broken baseline aptitude that she could have enrolled in seven of the academy's eight departments. Naturally, whichever department she actually entered shaped which of her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠abilities got developed — that part couldn't be helped.

In that respect, I had to admit Luminor Academy really did nail the unique appeal of an academy-genre game.

Setting aside the theology department, which existed to train acolytes of the Aurelian faith, the protagonist was technically capable of entering every department the academy had to offer.

That said, even among those seven departments, certain routes were better for gameplay or better for pursuing a specific heroine, so in practice the departments players frequented did tend to settle into patterns.

'If I were my old self, I probably would've run the swordsmanship route.'

In fact, the swordsmanship department was the route I'd played most often in my previous life's runs of Luminor Academy.

There were two big reasons for that. The first was that joining the same department as 'Swiftblade Nathalie', my all-time favorite character, made her route dramatically easier to pursue.

The other was that running the swordsmanship route let me get tangled up with Lilith just a little bit sooner.

Now, through sheer dumb luck, I happened to be preparing for the magic department's exam instead — but originally, Lilith wasn't an academy student in Luminor Academy at all.

She was just a character who entered the academy as the Scumbag's sex slave… no, as his exclusive maid.

And not just any maid — a character treated so abysmally within the story that her suffering bordered on outright malice.

The later Lilith's first meeting with the protagonist happened, the deeper and more irreversible the Scumbag's "training" of her became, so past me — who wanted no part of that — had gravitated toward whichever routes let me meet her as early as possible.

If she'd already been ruined by that one Scumbag, fine, water under the bridge, nothing to be done about it. But watching her get passed around by his lackey gang, or violated by his dog on top of it all? That I could not stomach.

For someone who'd clawed through every possible attempt to find Lilith's virgin route, those details mattered a great deal to me.

…Of course, for the present me, things were precisely reversed — now I prayed with all my heart that the protagonist would not choose the swordsmanship department.

I wanted absolutely nothing to do with getting dragged into the main storyline at this point, and above all, if Ethan ended up crossing paths with the protagonist, there was a real chance things would turn ugly for him.

'If the protagonist bumps into Ethan in the swordsmanship department and the story spirals into some grim original-game tragedy for no good reason…'

If Ethan were still the Scumbag he'd been in the original game, I couldn't have cared less — but the Ethan who was my master now was someone I genuinely needed.

Which was exactly why I wanted no part of a future where he and the protagonist came to blows.

For one thing, Ethan was the heir of the Blackwood main family, the very house that kept my noble status intact.

He was also my protector, seeing as how I had to enter the academy under the flimsy standing of a mere baronet's daughter.

And personally speaking, I had no desire to watch Ethan — who'd done nothing wrong in this world — or the Blackwood family meet a tragic, ruinous end. If the protagonist and Ethan ever ended up in a fight to the death in the swordsmanship department, there was no worse scenario imaginable for the me of right now.

I was still mulling all this over as I made my way toward the academy for the magic department's entrance exam when Ethan turned to me with a faintly worried expression.

"Something on your mind, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Maid?"

"Pardon?"

"You look awfully grim. Are you worried about the entrance exam?"

"…A little, I suppose."

Strictly speaking, it wasn't my exam I was worried about — it was the protagonist's.

"You'll be fine, Maid. Someone like you is bound to pass."

"Thank you, young master."

"…Also, if you do well on your exam, I'll grant you one wish."

"…I'm sorry?"

"You granted one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of mine the day before yesterday. This makes us even."

…I don't think there was any need to be quite so scrupulous about it.

That said, refusing a favor someone was determined to hand out would've been its own breach of etiquette, so I accepted Ethan's offer gladly.

"Very well, young master. In that case, I shall gratefully accept your generosity as well."

"Good. Good luck with the exam."

"There's really no need to worry. You've already seen exactly what my magic can do, haven't you?"

"…I have, but I still can't shake the feeling that you're about to cause some kind of disaster again out of nowhere."

"Pardon?"

"…Never mind. It's nothing."

I filed away Ethan's utterly unprompted remark for later ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and focused on completing the registration procedure for the magic department's entrance exam first.

…Honestly, an entrance exam like this was child's play for Lilith.

Unlike the swordsmanship department's exam, where each candidate fought a single practice duel against three other applicants, the magic department's exam was conducted on a fairly simple basis.

You used magic to hit targets placed beyond a minimum distance, and the score you racked up within your allotted number of casts determined whether you passed or failed against the cutoff.

Of course, it was a relative evaluation, not an absolute one — the magic department had a fixed enrollment quota at Luminor Academy — so hitting as many targets as possible was paramount.

Anyone who tried to sandbag their results and play the ordinary candidate was guaranteed to wash out.

The magic department in particular drew nobles of every stripe by its very nature, so the average aptitude of its applicants ran well above that of any other department.

"Your task is to destroy as many of the ten scarecrows before you as you can. You may cast magic up to five times, and should you destroy every target within those five casts, fewer total casts will earn you a higher score."

After sitting through the rest of the rules — distant targets scored more than close ones, moving targets and hardened targets scored more than static ones, and so on — I eyed the ten targets before me and started sketching out a rough strategy.

Ten targets, five casts.

One look made it obvious: this was a filter designed to separate applicants who could pull off multi-casting or area-of-effect spells from those who couldn't.

Given that the farthest target sat three hundred meters out, maximum effective range was probably factored into the evaluation as well.

The moving targets presumably tested how fast you could fire off an offensive spell, or how precisely you could time it to the moment you wanted.

The hardened targets were likely the yardstick for raw spell power itself.

It was a deceptively simple test — just breaking ten targets — but it had more than enough discriminatory power to sort the wheat from the chaff.

'If I can just land my Triple Casting, clearing everything is well within reach.'

Three shots per cast. And for the farthest one, I'd have to focus and fire it off solo.

After roughing out the plan in my head, I chanted a short incantation above my right hand, conjuring mana arrows through Triple Casting.

"Hooh…"

The proctor overseeing the entrance exam watched the three mana arrows materializing above my hand from a single incantation with evident intrigue in his eyes.

A perfectly reasonable reaction. Double Casting was one thing, but applicants capable of Triple Casting were probably few and far between.

At last, it was time for the magic skills I'd honed peeling potatoes in the kitchen at dawn to shine.

I swept my right hand forward, finished the chant, and three mana arrows went streaking ahead of me.

For the opening volley, I'd aimed at the three nearest targets to loosen up first.

Repeat this twice more and I'd have nine targets down without breaking a sweat —

Thud-thud-thud!

"……Hm?"

"……Wh-what?"

But contrary to the scene I'd painted in my head, every last one of the three mana arrows that left my hand traced a bizarre, wandering arc before flopping ignominiously into the dirt.

As I stood there flustered, still failing to process what had just happened, one hopeless stat from Lilith's character sheet flashed through my mind like a bolt of lightning.

Oh. Right.

This godforsaken accuracy stat.