Eileen Starrail
Hah... So this mad old man really came looking for me after all.
The second-round match was over, and I was on my way to Eustia and Elda when I found myself staring at a white-haired old man floating in utter stillness, an ocean of mana hidden away inside him.
The Imperial Magic Tower Master, Bahamut Wizardros — the Second Prince's greatest asset in everything but name, and a grand magician who would land in anyone's top three if asked to name the strongest people in the empire. I swallowed a silent note of admiration at how effortlessly he used the flight spell Levitation, as naturally as breathing.
He must be drowning in mana. Just how many children has he drained dry?
I locked eyes with the Magic Tower Master as he hung there, his face a blank mask, and the two of us held a long, silent staring contest. If I thought about it, of course someone would come looking for me. I had put on far too conspicuous a display in the match. I had expected Gawain to come sniffing after my identity — I just hadn't expected the Magic Tower Master himself.
One thing was certain: he had already seen through who I was. There were only a handful of people in the empire who could sense mana as faint as what I had leaked a moment ago. Weighing every factor, he would inevitably conclude it was me.
What now...
Even with how far my realm had risen, disposing of a century-old grand magician in an instant would not be easy. And of all places, I was close to Eustia and Elda right now. If a fight broke out here, there was a real chance they would be caught in it.
While I was sunk in thought, Bahamut slowly opened his mouth.
"What brings Your Grace the Grand Duke to a place like this?"
"...Grand Duke? What are you talking about? And who are you supposed to be, following people around like that? It's unpleasant."
"Heh heh. Spare me the act. I know full well that Your Grace entered the Sword and Magic Festival under that ridiculous name, Licht. You noticed the trace of mana I leaked just now, did you not? That was something no ordinary contestant could have perceived."
"No, I'm not the Grand Duke. I think you have the wrong person."
"......"
For a moment, the Magic Tower Master was at a loss for words. It was the kind of performance the usual Behirith would never have put on, and that seemed to be exactly what made him hesitate.
"How very strange. The strength you displayed in the match, the ability to sense that mana just now — it could only be Your Grace."
"I am fairly strong, yes. But pinning this on a complete stranger is a bit much. Anyway, may I go now?"
Abandoning every shred of a Grand Duke's dignity, I poured my soul into the act in front of the bewildered Magic Tower Master. While he hesitated, thrown by the performance, I casually turned, angling to slip away.
Just let me pass, you old geezer.
Eustia and Elda were waiting for me in their room right now.
The instant I started to walk, the Magic Tower Master reached a hand toward me.
"A moment. If you truly are not the Grand Duke, then take off the mask."
"......"
This damn old man. Relentless to a fault. There was no point playing dumb any longer.
I turned to face him squarely and spoke.
"Hoh."
Surprise rippled across his deeply wrinkled face. Then he stroked his long beard and nodded.
"I see. So Your Grace entered in person after all."
"That's right. Are we done here, then?"
"A moment, if you would. I hear you have taken the Imperial Princess's side. To go so far as to compete in the festival just to protect her — the two of you must be quite close."
The Magic Tower Master prattled on, apparently having heard as much from Albireo. Fortunately, he seemed to believe I had entered solely to protect Eustia, and knew nothing of the work I had set my subordinates to. In that case, the smart move here was to feed him a story he could easily swallow.
I deliberately sharpened my tone.
"Listen, Magic Tower Master. If you so much as lay a finger on Her Highness Eustia, I won't let it stand. You'd do well to choose carefully — unless you feel like dying over a favor for your disciple."
"Heh heh. Such spirit — truly befitting the Grand Duke. But I fear you underestimate this old man a little. Even if Your Grace reached the realm of Sword Master three years ago, killing me will not come easily."
"Well. I wouldn't be so sure."
Taking a provocative stance so he wouldn't suspect I was hiding something, I released an aura calibrated precisely to the level I had possessed before awakening my trait.
Fwoooosh—!
Densely concentrated mana flooded the corridor in a single breath. A heartbeat later, blood-red aura seeped from my entire body, coiling upward in lazy, menacing wisps.
"If you'd like, we can settle this right here."
"Heh heh. Do calm yourself. Her Highness's chambers should be nearby — I doubt you want her caught up in this."
The Magic Tower Master let out a hearty laugh, standing right in front of me. That composure told me he hadn't fully grasped my current realm — thanks to the fact that I had held back. I clicked my tongue, as if conceding that he had a point.
"Tsk. Fine. Have it your way."
"I did not come here to duel Your Grace. I only wished to uncover the identity of the swordsman called Licht."
"Satisfied, then? Let me say this while I'm at it. Things will not go the way you people want."
"That remains to be seen. In any case, I have achieved my purpose, so I shall take my leave."
The Magic Tower Master sneered with a face that made the skin crawl. Then he turned his back. The noise of the arena rushed back in, and in the same instant, he vanished.
"......"
My ears felt stuffed. I swallowed once, and they cleared. Damn old man. He'd been using a spatial isolation spell. No wonder the space had felt off.
Hah. At least I managed to keep the plan hidden.
I had somehow gotten through the Magic Tower Master's sudden visit in one piece. Part of me wanted to eliminate Albireo's greatest asset right then and there — but I had seen, all too clearly, in the original story, what became of everything around that old man when he went berserk. I couldn't risk it.
"Bahamut Wizardros..."
A magician who drifted through the air, laying bare a vast world of mana. I stood in the corridor as people began to pass through again, murmuring the Magic Tower Master's name to myself.
He had never once lost that composure. Fine. Laugh all you want. When the time comes for you to pay for your sins, you won't be laughing anymore.
"Mm. This isn't the time. If I want to see Luke's match, I need to get moving."
The Boy of the Stars would be taking the stage for his next match soon. He would win without much trouble, no doubt — but I still ought to cheer him on. If he won this one, we would meet in the semifinals. He was probably looking forward to that himself.
Anticipating the gorgeous spray of stars that would unfold across the arena stage, I let a faint curve touch the corner of my mouth.
In a contestant's chamber somewhere in the arena, a boy with light brown hair sat running his hands over his sword, the starlight caught in his eyes shining softly.
"The match is coming up soon..."
The Boy of the Stars, Luke Stareil. A fierce competitive fire burned on his face as he waited for the second-round match of the Sword and Magic Festival. He gazed for a moment at his own reflection in the blade, then sheathed the sword and stood.
If I win this match, I'll face him in the semifinals. I have to win.
Complacency had never even crossed his mind. Aside from himself and Her Highness the Imperial Princess, every other Academy representative had already been eliminated in the second round. He would win, no matter what — and in the semifinals, crossing blades with that man, he wanted to show how much he had grown.
"Hmm. Why does my chest feel a little bigger, though?"
A faint bewilderment crossed Luke's face as he stood before the wardrobe, preparing for the match. When he looked down, what met his eyes was the symbol of motherhood, bound and hidden beneath compression bandages.
A few months ago they had been a little smaller than this. Compared to before she entered the Academy, her chest seemed to keep growing. She had already come of age — and still they wouldn't stop? If they got any bigger, swinging a sword was going to become a problem.
This kind of thing... growing now doesn't even mean anything anymore.
The Boy of the Stars stared blankly at her own breasts and let out a quiet sigh.
One day, after her older brother — the real Luke Stareil — had fallen into a vegetative state, taking his name and enrolling in the Academy for the sake of the Starrail family, a prestigious house of the sword stretching back through the generations, had been a fate she could not escape. Even if it was not a fate she had ever wanted. Yes. It had been unavoidable. There had been no other way.
"Eileen... Starrail..."
Lost in recollection, the Boy of the Stars moved her lips. Eileen. The name she had been called before she took on her brother's role. And now, an old name that no one spoke anymore.
It was a strange thing. She had thought she'd let go of all lingering attachment — and yet today, of all days, she found herself speaking that name again. Did some part of her still hunger for a life as a woman?
"Enough. At least right now, this isn't the time to dwell on that."
Eileen scolded herself. The match was only moments away. This was the hour to give everything she had, to reach the man she so deeply respected. When she stepped onto the arena stage, she would have to pour the stars wholly into her sword and swing.
Please watch over me, Your Grace.
Eileen pressed a fist over her heart in a silent vow, and the breasts hidden beneath the compression bandages yielded under the pressure. Then she dressed, took up her sword, and set out.
Not as the Boy of the Stars.
As the Girl of the Stars, she took a firm step toward her own star.