18. Your Voice
18. Your Voice
Is he insane?
No, insane was definitely the right word.
Milia scowled as Adam shouted at her, with fury in his voice. Who did it? Was he seriously asking that like he meant it? Had he always been this unhinged?
Then she spotted the dormitory supervisor behind the lunatic.
'Is he putting on an act because there's a witness?'
But if that were the case, why bring the supervisor along at all? More to the point, why had he been silent for four days only to suddenly show up at the dormitory again?
She'd spent those days holed up in a hideout she'd arranged, too busy treating her wounds to do anything else. She'd been about to contact the Order—if Adam really had regressed, there was nothing more to gain from the academy anyway.
...She'd put that on hold.
'If I withdraw from the academy now, my position weakens.'
Milia's standing within the Order rested entirely on her connection to the academy. Her value lay in being the sole figure who could communicate with the Finance Director and serve as a bridge to the Order.
That connection had earned her the title of youngest bishop and funneled scarce resources her way in an Order that had little to spare.
She couldn't afford to confuse her priorities. The Order supported Milia only because, with the Dark Sword missing, they wanted the academy's holy relic instead. Now that the Dark Sword was gone, there was no chance the Order would give up on a substitute.
And if Milia, their only link, were to step away? Without being able to explain that the Finance Director had regressed from the future just like her—without any plausible excuse or justification?
The people who'd been watching her meteoric rise with resentment would tear her apart. Even a crumbling Order still had its political infighting.
The Order's center of gravity wasn't the pontiff. It was the Dark Sword. With that center gone, the organization was already on the verge of collapse.
'I can't let the Order fall apart.'
To become Pope again, she needed a foundation. The Order was indispensable to Milia, and the relic in the Chairwoman's possession was even more critical.
It was that relic's power that had allowed a mere 3rd Rank mage like Milia to rise to the papal throne in the first place.
'That damned scabbard.'
Where in the world was it? She'd secretly checked the secret vault Adam had tipped her off about last time. She'd combed through the Chairwoman's office and every corner of the central building under the pretext of Finance Department work. Nothing.
It had to be in the Chairwoman's hands.
Before, she'd only stumbled across it by chance in the chaos of the academy's destruction. There was no way to pinpoint its location.
But none of that mattered right now.
The lunatic in front of her came first.
"...Adam, I don't know what you're thinking, but forget what happened last time. Let's reopen negotiations—"
"Adam? Student Milia, what are you talking about all of a sudden? More importantly, where exactly were you injured?"
"......?"
"Don't worry. Whether it was a one-sided assault or a mutual fight—as long as it's not a situation where you'd have to pay compensation, I'll help you out."
What was wrong with this bastard?
...No way?
"In the Delphia ruins..."
"Excuse me? Ruins, you say? What does Delphia have to do with that?"
"Re-regression."
"It seems you've hit your head as well. Dorm Supervisor, please bring some medicine from the infirmary."
"Yes, sir!"
The Adam in Milia's memories had been troublesome, irritating, and a persistent nuisance, but he'd never been this kind of man.
If anything, the Adam she'd met a few days ago had worn his hostility openly, not hidden it behind an act like this.
'And even if he tried, there's no way I wouldn't notice.'
Milia was more practiced at this kind of deception than anyone. There was no chance she'd miss the dissonance. Especially now, with the Eye the Archmage had given her.
Which meant...
'Did he actually go back?'
Hadn't that bastard Adam said it back then? That Chloe was waiting for him.
That he'd throw away the chance to change everything just to return to that pyromaniac's side?
Setting aside how he'd even do it, Milia couldn't fathom the decision. She allowed herself a moment of silent contempt for her foolish nemesis, then rearranged her expression and looked up at Adam Caines.
'This is actually better.'
The alternatives had been grim: either keep coexisting at the academy with a Finance Director who might try to kill her, or walk away and watch the Order crumble. The problem had solved itself.
The Adam Caines from the future might have been a problem. But the Adam Caines of now?
"...Actually, I just fell. After that, I spent a few days staying at a friend's dormitory."
"Is that what happened? So there's no need to extract settlement money or compensation from anyone?"
"No."
"That's a relief."
The way he immediately jumped to money and costs—yep, this was the original Finance Director bastard. Though "original" was a bit of a tricky word here.
In any case, Milia smiled inwardly.
"Then we should move on to the next topic, shouldn't we?"
"Excuse me?"
"If you were staying at a friend's dormitory, that means you haven't been coming to work at the Finance Department, doesn't it?"
"Ah."
"If you'd filed for sick leave due to injury, that would be one thing. But you simply went AWOL."
Adam smiled. It was a smile Milia knew all too well.
Then, and then again before that.
Every time that devil of a man smiled like that—
"What are you standing around for?"
"Huh? Sorry?"
"Shouldn't you get to work immediately? You're still a student, so let's make it a light disciplinary measure: overnight shifts for twice the number of days you were absent without leave. You're 3rd Rank—eight days should be nothing to you, right?"
"....................."
Just a little. The slightest bit.
Milia found herself thinking that the future Adam might actually have been preferable...
*
Shhhh.
Under the warm spray of water, the Chairwoman was meticulously washing her body.
She'd been at it for over thirty minutes already, but the Chairwoman refused to tolerate even a speck of grime.
'Two more washes for my hair. Clean under the fingernails and toenails. Lather up one more time.'
Realistically, an 8th Rank martial artist could maintain perfect bodily cleanliness with Rigid Energy at all times. But that wasn't the point here, was it?
The Finance Director himself had confessed his love first. The least she could do was prepare as thoroughly as possible.
A quick sweep outside with Rigid Energy told her he was gone—he was probably just pacing around, too embarrassed to stand still.
That was exactly why she'd brought the ring artifact. A little pulse of vibration, and she could signal him.
Her anticipation for this first-ever experience—in over a hundred years of life—lasted only a moment.
As the memory of the dwarf city surfaced, the Chairwoman paused her washing.
'The leg of the Furnace has vanished, they said.'
The Furnace used to rebuild the dwarf city was an artifact of absurd power, capable of melting down other artifacts to recreate the city itself.
A masterpiece crafted, refined, and modified over dozens of generations of Great Dwarves.
So precious that when the monster wave destroyed the city fifty years ago, the dwarves had fought desperately to protect the Furnace alone.
But now the Furnace's leg was lost.
That was why Acting Market-chief Tir had requested the Chairwoman's help.
—Just stand in for it until we can forge a new leg. I beg of you.
—That much is simple enough. But why did the leg break? As I understand it, the thing was made from dragon bone.
—Correct. We used the bones of the Last Dragon remaining on the continent to forge the leg. However, the leg...
—Surely you're not keeping secrets from me?
—...Strictly speaking, it didn't break. It simply vanished, all of a sudden.
—Vanished?
—Yes. Specifically, only the part made from the dragon's bone suddenly disappeared... We've been in a terrible bind.
But that wasn't what bothered the Chairwoman.
The Last Dragon remaining on the continent.
That being—no, she—was a dragon the Chairwoman knew well.
'She's definitely dead. She died, but...'
That letter during the last festival, too.
Why were traces of her surfacing everywhere?
'...Should I go check?'
The grave she, Gregory, and Julius had built with their own hands.
They'd made it in her homeland, the western wasteland of the Empire. Should she really go back there?
A dark foreboding rose, but she shook her head sharply. It couldn't be.
'We built it far out in the outskirts. That place should be fine.'
A strange phenomenon unique to the western wasteland of the Empire.
The reason why, across the entire vast continent, 8th Rank monsters gathered only there.
A secret known only to a handful—the Emperor, Aken Delminos, the Chairwoman.
Out there, at the heart of that wasteland...
'You wouldn't be consumed by that monster... would you?'
Something exists there.
Something that surpasses even the 8th Rank, something that casually slew even the continent's Last Dragon.
Something that even the martial artist once called the Mad Dragon, the Human Butcher, had been too terrified to challenge.
Visiting the grave didn't mean she'd encounter that something. But that something's mere existence radiated a massive influence over its surroundings.
The Chairwoman clenched her teeth for a moment, then let out a sigh.
Pointless thoughts. She didn't want to wash anymore.
'No, this is enough.'
She'd stop the gloomy thoughts here. If she was going to visit anyway, worrying was meaningless. She could just confirm it with her own eyes.
Right now, she should focus on the present.
The Chairwoman stepped out of the bath, got dressed, and picked up the communication magic tool.
A soft click.
"It's me."
[Ah, Madam Chairwoman! What can I do for you?]
"For the next three hours—no, make it six—don't let anyone up to the top floor except the Finance Director. No matter what happens, contact me first before sending anyone up after that."
[Understood!]
She could trust the Head of Academic Affairs with this. He'd make absolutely sure no one came up to the top floor.
Six hours would be enough, right? This was her first time, so she couldn't even begin to guess how long it would take.
'Th-the Finance Director is 1st Rank, so as the older party, I should take the lead... but...'
A sudden, strange thought struck the Chairwoman, and she froze.
...There was no way the Rank difference would make... that sort of thing impossible, would it?
Even she recognized it was a moronic thought, but once it surfaced, it blossomed into a genuinely serious concern.
An 8th Rank's physical capabilities were so far beyond superhuman that calling them superhuman was an embarrassment in itself. Normally, she dealt with the Finance Director by maintaining extreme strength control, so it was fine, but...
'If, in the middle of... that sort of activity, I get carried away and lose control of my strength.'
There was a very high chance the Finance Director would end up literally split into Finance and Director. Given the physical disparity between 1st Rank and 8th Rank, that wasn't even a joke.
But she couldn't just call the whole thing off. The Finance Director had, for once, mustered the courage to confess first—she couldn't possibly refuse him now.
The Chairwoman had just steeled her resolve with a deep breath when—
"......?"
Whoosh.
She sensed something. In less than a second, the Chairwoman had moved to the Finance Director's office—practically teleportation—and swept the room with a razor-sharp gaze.
The office looked exactly as it had before she'd gone to wash. The neatly arranged books and documents, the stacks of approval files near the desk, and...
"...One is missing."
A few papers on the desk that had been scattered messily when the Finance Director had woken up flustered.
One of them was gone. She could tell because her hyper-acute senses could distinguish anything the Finance Director had touched.
The window had been open to begin with. Had the wind simply blown it away?
'It wasn't an important document.'
The important documents had already been processed and stacked. Besides, for security reasons, no single sheet ever contained a complete set of information.
Meaning, a single missing page wasn't something to worry about. In fact, papers did occasionally blow out the window.
But something felt off.
The Chairwoman's senses were quietly sounding an alarm.
'Someone was here...? An intruder capable of slipping past my senses and perimeter barriers?'
Among those who'd been at the academy recently, only three were capable of that.
But she'd confirmed the Archmage's departure earlier.
The Margrave had left long ago, right after the Charity Ball.
And Julius had left ages ago, taking the First Prince with him.
Then who in the world could have done it?
"....................."
The Chairwoman's eyes and Rigid Energy swept beyond the window, across the entire building, and then over the whole academy. She sensed nothing amiss. If there had truly been an intruder, escaping her perception should have been impossible.
Had she overreacted?
Maybe what she'd heard in the dwarf city, combined with nerves about what was to come, had left her restless and jumpy. The Chairwoman sighed and closed the office window.
And then—
"H-he's coming...!!"
She felt the ring drawing closer. Naturally, that meant the other ring's owner—the Finance Director—was on his way back.
Dwarf cities. Intruders. Whatever. In an instant, the Chairwoman's expression transformed as she sprang into action, deploying a contingency she'd prepared long ago for exactly this sort of occasion.
Clunk!
The Chairwoman touched a section of the wall, and a hidden compartment revealed itself.
She'd locked every other door. The Finance Director would have no choice but to enter through here.
The Chairwoman lay down on the secret bed inside the hidden space, kicked her feet playfully, and settled into a pose, her face flushed.
'O-okay.'
Now was the time to use the special technique she'd heard about in the past.
Hearing the footsteps approach, the Chairwoman made her decision and slowly moved her hand.
The door swung open.
"Fi-Finance Director! This... is my answer...?"
The one reacting to the Chairwoman's "response," her fingers forming a heart, was—
"Uh... um."
The Finance Director she'd been waiting and waiting for.
"...I'll pretend I didn't see anything."
"Don't pretend, don't see. Go to work."
"Yes, ma'am..."
And Milia, wearing a thoroughly discomfited expression.
Until Milia turned, closed the door, and walked away—
"....................."
"....................."
Those were a deeply awkward few seconds.