4. It's Not an Attack, It's the Entrance Ceremony
4. It's Not an Attack, It's the Entrance Ceremony
A heavy atmosphere settled over the conference room.
Partly it was the Chairwoman radiating authority, but it also reflected the genuine mood inside the room.
Especially for Professor Alon.
"W-Wait, Madam Chairwoman? Forty percent of the investment proceeds...?"
"The Finance Director's demands remain exactly as he stated, of course. A thirty-year term, no need for percentage escalation, but the donation must be registered under Professor Alon's individual name."
"That isn't the issue! Forty percent of all investment returns—that's simply too...!!"
That's outright banditry.
Professor Alon barely swallowed the last words and looked at the Chairwoman with desperate eyes, as if begging her to announce that the whole thing had been a joke and that forty percent had never been the real figure.
But that wasn't going to happen. Even now, the Chairwoman was flashing me a V-sign under the table.
The Chairwoman had played her part. Now it was mine.
"Professor Alon, is there a problem?"
"F-Finance Director! Say something—"
"Forty percent is a bargain, Professor Alon."
"Finance Director!"
"The Chairwoman's time is, naturally, expensive. In particular, when she commits to intervening during the illusory monster attack at the entrance ceremony, that means she must sacrifice everything else she could be doing during that time."
"That's..."
"You know perfectly well who attends Grandis Academy's entrance ceremony. The Royal Minister of Education, the heads of other public academies, the masters of the great trading companies, the high nobles—and distinguished guests from the Empire and the neighboring kingdom besides. The Chairwoman is sacrificing that time to help you."
"..."
"Wasn't your proposal built on exactly that understanding? You wanted to showcase illusion magic before all those dignitaries."
A forty percent share may seem unreasonable. Someone might argue: how can the academy's Chairwoman take such a large cut of a faculty's investment proceeds?
I had, in fact, previously dissuaded the Chairwoman from personally leading Professor Kirke's hair-loss remedy negotiations. That had been to protect the Chairwoman's authority, and the present situation isn't fundamentally different—so why did I bring her to the front this time?
Simple. This time, the justification was on our side.
"Only one week remains until the entrance ceremony. All events are already in rehearsal, all procurement and preparations are complete, and the Finance Department is concentrating on final approvals. And now, Professor Alon, you come requesting an event for your own faculty—an event that would be the finale of the ceremony, no less: a so-called 'illusory monster attack' guaranteed to draw comment from every quarter."
"I-I knew all of that, which is precisely why I proposed twenty percent of the proceeds! I even discussed it with Academic Affairs and Planning first...!"
"And then you came to me after both of them shot you down. Worse, you never even discussed basic student safety with the First Guard Unit—the very people who would be most critical if such an event actually took place."
"I assumed that could wait until after approval..."
"What? Look here, if you're going to call yourself a professor, use your head! We're already run ragged as it is—what the hell?!"
"Chief of the First Guard Unit, please calm yourself."
"...Tch."
The Guard Unit Chief's anger was entirely natural. With high nobles and dignitaries arriving from all over the kingdom and even from foreign states, security was already demanding every ounce of attention. Dropping a large-scale event on top of that was bound to make him explode.
He'd have to redeploy manpower to manage confused new students, the risk of accidents would rise, and there wouldn't be nearly enough time to rehearse properly. From his perspective, Professor Alon must have looked like an utter fool.
But it couldn't be helped.
'Even a professor is ultimately just a specialist in his own field.'
Researching magic and planning an event are entirely different disciplines. We handle this every year, so we know the reality intimately, but professors are different from us. How many of them pay much attention to the entrance ceremony preparations in the first place?
Just as I was ignorant of Professor Kirke's research process and results, the faculty are likewise ignorant of our work. Different responsibilities breed different knowledge—only natural.
That's why the staff in Academic Affairs and Planning had fobbed off Professor Alon with vague directions to "go see the Finance Director." But Alon, undeterred, had come straight to my office and blown the matter wide open.
Was that because Professor Alon had the situational awareness of a brick?
'No way.'
A professor is still a professor. Someone appointed to a post at the kingdom's finest academy is no idiot.
He genuinely didn't grasp the logistics of planning and executing an event—that much was true. But after seeing the reactions from the Head of Academic Affairs and the Planning Department Head, he must have realized some time ago that this plan had serious practical problems.
Yet Professor Alon kept pushing forward. The reason was obvious.
'He's broke.'
Alon had argued—and correctly—that illusion magic was expected to grow increasingly useful in the future. But that was very much a future matter—and a matter for the Empire, the magic powerhouse, at that.
Present-day illusion magic originated from barbarian shamanism and still drew considerable contempt. That Grandis Academy was the only academy in the kingdom with an Illusion Magic Department said it all.
On top of that, the illusion magic faculty had produced no visible results whatsoever. With only three affiliated professors—the smallest count—mediocre papers, and performance metrics so low you'd have to count from the bottom...
I'd read the Magic Division's detailed budget allocation report before the meeting, and naturally the Illusion Magic Department's budget was a pitiful sight. Frankly, it was at a level where being shut down tomorrow wouldn't surprise anyone in the slightest.
So no—Professor Alon wasn't clueless or stupid.
He was simply desperate. Desperate to somehow sear illusion magic into the minds of the dignitaries and new students.
'Probably even more desperate than I am.'
The academy as a whole had three years until bankruptcy, but the Illusion Magic Department might not survive until next year.
In the end, Professor Alon staked his department's future on a reckless gamble,
and the Chairwoman and I simply named our price for letting him play.
"Professor Alon."
"...Madam Chairwoman."
"If this truly troubles you, you are free to withdraw your proposal even now."
"..."
"But I see you have no such intention."
The Chairwoman was genuinely devoted to the students and their education, and she treated the departments and faculty accordingly—but that did not mean unconditional indulgence.
On the contrary, from long before I arrived, she had mercilessly cut professors or whole departments that failed to produce proper results or earned low lecture evaluations several years running. Her absolute authority at the academy rested on those forceful measures.
A student could be incapable. They could learn from here onward.
But an educator must never be incapable. That was the Chairwoman's conviction.
"I agreed to commit my time to accommodate Professor Alon's unreasonable request. I convened a directors' meeting, and despite objections from the other directors, I was prepared to approve it—provided the conditions were met."
"..."
"That is what forty percent represents, Professor Alon. Do you still consider it an unreasonable figure?"
It was the ultimatum.
The Head of Academic Affairs, the Planning Department Head, and the First Guard Unit Chief still watched Professor Alon with clear displeasure. For them, if his proposal passed, it meant extra work added to an already crushing load.
I, for my part, was neutral. Set everything else aside and look at it purely in financial terms: the gains outweighed the losses. If the proposal passed, I planned to go meet Risha and the other bribe-offerers immediately afterward.
And the Chairwoman... her eyes were as cold as ever.
Head bowed, Professor Alon wrestled with himself.
"...Forty percent, thirty-year term, donation in my name."
"..."
"All of it... I accept."
He raised the white flag. Or rather, since his own proposal had passed, shouldn't he be raising both hands in surrender?
Forty percent was unquestionably a painful cut, but in exchange, the Illusion Magic Department had secured an opportunity no other department could claim—an opportunity that might, if all went well, attract enormous investment.
A merchant would be dancing with joy, but he was a scholar. Perhaps that was why the forty percent on the contract had him looking so miserable.
If it were me, I'd bow in gratitude, then throw every last coin I had into preparing the greatest illusion ever seen.
Was that too Finance-Director of me?
"Finance Director, thank you for your efforts in the meeting!"
"Ah, Planning Department Head."
"I never actually thought my polite brush-off would send him all the way to your office... My apologies."
As the meeting ended and everyone rose, the narrow-eyed Planning Department Head approached me first.
The Planning Department Head, was it.
"By way of apology, perhaps I could treat you to dinner one of these—"
"Your department budget for this year remains unchanged, regardless."
"...Cheh."
"Planning Department Head?"
"Haha, nothing at all! You really are a blade when it comes to work!"
So that's the kind of man he was.
Still, everything he did was for his own department, so I didn't feel especially offended.
"Planning Department Head, you're troubling the Finance Director."
"Head of Academic Affairs... sir. Well..."
"And even if you share the rank of Director, the Finance Department answers directly to the Chairwoman. Address him properly."
"...Understood. Finance Director, my apologies."
"Don't let it trouble you. You may go on ahead."
"Yes."
The Planning Department Head departed with a faint grumble,
and I found myself facing the solemn Head of Academic Affairs.
"Finance Director, be mindful going forward. The Chairwoman's honor rides on your conduct."
"I'll keep it firmly in mind, Head of Academic Affairs."
"As her closest aides, we must both strive to work hard. Compared to you, these young people nowadays... tsk, tsk."
"I am the youngest of us all."
"You are a talent handpicked by the Chairwoman herself—naturally you are nothing like the youth of today. And your results have already proven as much."
"Thank you."
"Still, this business, too, surely proceeded from the Chairwoman's sagacious insight. Continue to devote yourself accordingly."
"Understood."
The Head of Academic Affairs—nicknamed among the staff "the Chairwoman's Zealot."
He had served the longest aside from the Chairwoman herself and wielded great authority, but he was also a textbook old-guard fossil.
When I first became Finance Director, a good forty percent of my stress came from this gentleman. The memory remains remarkably vivid.
Just you wait until the department budget allocation meeting.
After the Head of Academic Affairs left, my eyes met the First Guard Unit Chief's, but...
"Hmph."
He turned his head away with exquisite primness and stalked out. I swear, one of these days I'm going to yank that helmet off his head.
Is it reasonable to be this prickly just because a student once caught a glimpse of the face inside?
Good thing I'm a generous man. In my mental ledger, I added another black mark against the First Guard Unit Chief. One more incident like that and his budget gets slashed, just you watch.
Once everyone had departed, I deliberately remained seated and waited.
"Finance Director! Were you waiting long?"
"I was exchanging words with the other directors. It's fine."
Because I had arranged beforehand to meet the Chairwoman again after she'd left first.
The directors couldn't possibly have walked out before she did, so she'd departed in silence earlier. She'd probably loitered for a bit, then circled right back to the conference room.
Gone was the cool composure she'd worn during the meeting; now the Chairwoman was beaming.
"This will help the finances quite a bit, won't it?"
"That depends on the Illusion Magic Department attracting genuine investment, but... even in a worst-case scenario, it should be a substantial sum. More to the point, Madam Chairwoman—are you all right? The time you normally spend with the distinguished guests..."
"Ah, those young pups? It's fine. They all grovel when they're in front of me anyway."
Right. Minister, merchant guild master, whatever—the Chairwoman was the eldest of them all, wasn't she?
Aging halts at the 8th Rank, so it didn't show, but the Chairwoman's age ran well into triple digits. Was it even correct to call her the same species as the rest of us?
Last year I'd been too green to realize it, but it seemed that no matter how great the guest, before the Chairwoman they were nothing special.
"I'm more worried about the students' safety."
"Pardon? Weren't you going to handle that personally?"
"Physical safety, of course I can guarantee. But even an illusion—a manticore could cause psychological shock, couldn't it? Perhaps I should speak with the Church..."
True enough. If a monster the size of a building suddenly attacked, some students would be shaken.
But as for that part... well, nothing to be done...
No.
Wait.
"Madam Chairwoman."
"Hm? Finance Director! That expression—right there!"
"Pardon?"
"Whenever the Finance Director thinks of a good plan, he always gets that wicked look! I knew it—with the Finance Director, there's always a scheme, isn't there?"
"..."
A little offensive, but nevertheless.
"I have an excellent idea."
If psychological shock was the problem,
then we just had to make sure nobody got surprised by a manticore attack. Simple enough, right?
*
"—and so, as proud incoming students of Grandis Academy, with the self-respect that entails..."
Grandis Academy's entrance ceremony.
One female student admitted to the Martial Arts Division stood in the middle of the assembly, breathing deeply with barely restrained excitement.
'Oh my god, I really got into Grandis Academy!'
Back home they'd called her a genius, but she'd had no idea if she'd actually pass.
Grandis Academy—the kingdom's most prestigious institution, spoken of in the same breath as the Empire's Imperial Academy.
It had been close, but she'd made it, and the girl—Mina—couldn't keep the grin off her face.
'Right! This is exactly when you...!'
"Hey there. Us sitting next to each other feels like fate—want to exchange names? I'm Mina!"
"...Rus Spero."
"Rus, huh! So you're in the Martial Arts Division too, right? Since we're in the same seats?"
"Yeah."
"Then we're classmates! Pleased to meet you! Hope we end up in the same lectures!"
"...We probably will."
"Huh? Rus?"
"It's nothing."
The boy was a little brusque, yet there was an oddly gentle air about him.
Buoyed by the intuition that she'd already made a good friend on the very first day, Mina glanced around, then leaned close and whispered.
"More to the point—did you get the intel?"
"...Intel?"
"You don't know? This is genuine top-secret stuff! To commemorate our first friendship, I'll give you a special tip!"
Ultra-classified intelligence, purchased with fully half the allowance her parents had sent from home.
Mina faced Rus with something approaching a sense of mission.
"At the very end of the entrance ceremony, something enormous is going to happen! And how you respond to it is all part of the evaluation, so you're not supposed to be surprised!"
"..."
"I'm telling you this as a special favor... huh?"
Rrrrrrrrrumble.
Mina, who'd been excitedly passing on the secret, lifted her head at the vibration she suddenly felt.
The tremor swelled, until it seemed the whole hall was shaking.
As if something was about to announce itself.
"Rus—don't tell me—"
KRA-KOOOOOOOM!!!
An instant later, one wall of the auditorium exploded inward. Something colossal emerged from the smoke.
A lion's head, bat-like wings, a scorpion's tail.
A manticore—a monster so vast it seemed it could fill the hall all by itself.
But Mina wasn't startled or panicked in the least. She'd had the top-secret intel.
'So this is the "something enormous"!'
Obviously it couldn't be real—they'd have rigged something. And if she showed everyone she could face a sudden manticore attack without flinching and fight back, she was sure to be graded highly.
Resolve firm, Mina rose boldly from her seat.
"Finally!"
"Just as the intel said!"
"That was worth the price! ...Huh?"
"Wh-What? Why is everyone else standing up too...?"
For some reason—
save for a tiny handful of exceptions, every single new student in the ceremony had risen without a trace of panic to face the manticore.
"...Huh?"
Mina couldn't make sense of the situation at all.
The other students who'd stood up were also staring at one another in confusion.
"...Adam."
Only Rus Spero
quietly murmured someone's name.