10. The Only Good Festival Is a Dead Festival
10. The Only Good Festival Is a Dead Festival
Was it because she had been marked by that sword once before? Or because her future self had been killed by it?
The sinister presence of the Dark Sword that the disguised Rus had carried was seared deep into Chloe's memory.
Every time it came to mind, her whole body broke out in goosebumps—it was that unnerving.
So why was a trace of that same malevolent mana—faint, minuscule—lingering around that female student?
'Could she be in the same situation as me?'
Adult Chloe had explained it. Those who were killed by the Dark Sword, just as Chloe had been, would be tormented by inexplicable flashbacks and dreams.
Through that contact with the Dark Sword, Chloe had met her future self.
Had that student undergone the same ordeal? Killed by the Dark Sword in the future, then connected to her own future self by touching it?
She thought it was a plausible theory.
'No, that's not it.'
'What? How can you be so sure? For all you know, that Rus bastard could have pulled something on her to change the future.'
'Sure, but her case is different. Just take note of it and move on.'
'Does that make any sense? She's clearly connected to the Dark Sword, and you're telling me to ignore it?'
'Honestly, with where you are right now, those people are the last ones you want to get tangled up with. More importantly...'
A thin, quiet laugh escaped Adult Chloe—almost a smirk.
Chloe had spoken with her countless times over the past month, but this was the first time she'd seen the faintest hint of a smile.
It wasn't a warm smile. It was derisive, almost mocking.
But for some reason,
that smirk carried
'Right now, those bastards are probably the most miserable souls on the entire continent.'
—a thrill of pure, vindictive satisfaction.
*
I made it back to the dorm early for once and immediately collapsed into unconsciousness.
It was the first time in ages I'd fallen asleep without cracking a business management textbook first. Honestly, it felt like I'd just shut my eyes for a second—so why was it already time to go to work?
In any case, as of now, there was exactly one day left until the festival. Even here, in my dorm on a back alley at the edge of campus, I could hear students chattering excitedly and the clamor of construction work.
'Time to get to the office...'
I sighed, got ready, and stepped out of the dorm.
Normally, I'd head directly to my office, but today I had a different destination. I had to meet someone.
To be precise, a certain damned junior of mine had been dodging every message I sent, so I was forced to go in person.
'Dragging a simple reply out for an entire month.'
Grandis Academy has its fair share of colossal buildings, but the one I was heading to was the tallest and largest of them all.
For the record, it wasn't originally built that way. My damned junior expanded it on a whim after seizing the Student Council presidency.
At the time, I'd only just been hired by the academy—I wasn't Finance Director yet—so I couldn't stop it. Damn it.
Worse, the whole expansion was completed in a single week, so tearing it down now isn't an option. If construction had still been in progress, I'd have shut it down without hesitation.
Swallowing the irritation and sighs that rose up for no reason, I walked through the entrance of the enormous building.
"Move those over there! They're for the Astronomy Club!"
"Hey, what the hell is this allocation for our festival zone?! We proved our track record!"
"Track records are relative, not absolute. And if you had complaints, perhaps you should have voiced them earlier instead of the day before the festival?"
"You Flame Magic Appreciation Club bastards! Why do you always hog the biggest space every festival?!"
"Would you prefer we start flinging fire magic in a tight space?"
"...Has the thought of maybe not flinging fire magic at all ever crossed your minds?"
The inside of the building was as chaotic as any faculty office wing. Arguments broke out, various tasks were being processed, and people rushed about in a frenzy.
The only difference was that every single one of them was a student, not a staff member.
This building was where all of Grandis Academy's student clubs were headquartered.
Of course, individual clubs were allocated additional spaces and buildings, but their core hubs, their nerve centers, were all here.
And on the topmost floor was—
"I need to go to the Student Council office."
"Um, I see from your badge that you're staff, sir? Even staff aren't permitted into the Student Council office without prior authorization..."
"I should have introduced myself sooner. I'm Adam Caines, Finance Director."
"Oh, a department head! Then you're exempt. I'll contact the Council President right away—please, go on up!"
The Student Council.
The student was right. Without an advance appointment, even faculty members couldn't walk into the Student Council office. Department heads were the sole exception.
The student apparently figured I was just some higher-up—a "Finance Director," huh, fancy title—and after a brief greeting, immediately threw himself back into his work.
It's strange that people like Risha, Beatrice, or Chloe know my face on sight. This—a student who couldn't care less who the Finance Director is—that was normal. Why would any random student recognize the Finance Director? The Dean of Student Affairs or the Head of Academic Affairs, maybe, but me?
The only ones who treat me with deference are people with social clout, like children of the great nobility or rising prodigies. Ordinary students treat me like just another staff member. A peculiar feeling.
All of that introspection was nothing but escapism.
Because the closer I got to the Student Council office, the more my stress spiked in inverse proportion. I was just trying to look the other way for as long as possible.
Clunk.
The moment the magic-powered lift platform reached the top, a massive, ornate door greeted me.
A truly damned door.
"Wait, I don't have any appointments today—who... oh? Senior Adam?"
"Allen, it's been a while. Is that punk inside?"
"The President? Yes, she's inside."
A familiar junior stood by the door. A male student named Allen.
The most well-adjusted junior I knew, and also the Student Council's treasurer.
Allen, who'd been hauling a stack of documents, took one look at my face, sighed as if he'd known this was coming, and bowed.
"First, I apologize."
"For what?"
"The President must've caused some kind of trouble again. Forcing you to come all the way here yourself, Senior—you must be swamped... haah."
"Tch. Allen, you've got a hard job yourself."
"It's nothing, really. More importantly, Senior, thank you for your help during the entrance ceremony. We were able to significantly supplement the budget thanks to you."
"We're just helping each other out."
The information that the phantom monster attack during the entrance ceremony had all been part of a test—I'd entrusted the distribution of that to the Student Council.
There was no way I could've efficiently sold information to over two thousand new students alone. More to the point, a staff member selling information to students would be crossing a line, but a senior selling "exam prep materials" to juniors—that, everyone conveniently overlooks.
The Student Council took their cut along the way, and I received the agreed payment. A good transaction for everyone.
Of course, this only worked because all the juniors I knew were in the Student Council. Once these kids graduate, those tricks won't fly anymore.
In any case, as I accepted Allen's thanks and pushed the door open—
[Silence]
Allen, ever quick on the uptake, hastily cast a soundproofing spell on the Student Council office.
"Hooo..."
I took a deep breath—
"KASSANDRA!! GET OUT HERE!!!!"
—and bellowed at the top of my lungs.
Rage, curses, stress, and frustration all mixed into one voice.
The Student Council office is big, sure, but it's still just a room. You open the door and the Student Council President should be right there, so why yell?
Because I absolutely had to, that's why.
"Yes, yes, yes!"
Whoosh!
Contrary to the image a "Student Council office" normally conjures, what greeted me the instant the door opened was a dense jungle of towering trees.
Something that, by any common-sense standard, had no business existing. A sky stretched endlessly above, trees spread in every direction, and the whole scene reeked of wrongness.
I didn't even flinch at the absurdity. The moment I finished shouting, a female student came flying out from among the trees.
No—flying. Literally.
"Aaaaaah—!!"
One hand gripping a vine, the other waving to and from her mouth as she howled.
And what she was wearing barely qualified as clothing—it was more a scrap of leather.
"Hah!"
She sailed through the air, executed a showy somersault, and landed right in front of me.
A blindfold over her eyes, she approached with a gleeful, beaming smile.
"Senior Adam! It's been far too long! How long has it been, thirty years?!"
"It's been a month, Kassandra."
"Huh? Senior Adam, you seem upset. Who in the world could have angered you this much?"
"You. You damned junior."
"Huh? Me?"
"I clearly said we needed to discuss Rus Spero joining the Student Council starting a month ago."
"Er..."
"A single reply. One word from you saying it's fine, and I would've handled everything immediately. Instead, you gave me nothing."
For the first week, I let it slide. She's the Student Council President, I figured, and the festival was coming up—of course she'd be busy.
The second week, thoroughly pissed off, I contacted the Student Council office directly, only to be told the entire Council had abruptly gone on a week-long self-declared vacation.
The following week, I went in person. Every single time, she wasn't there.
The week after that, I was drowning in work, pulling overtime every day, barely able to go home—I couldn't make it.
And so a full month passed before I could finally confront this damned junior in person.
"One answer. A job that takes minutes at most, and you dragged it out for a whole month."
"Whoa! Could this be a case of time magic at work?!"
"Then I assume your time magic will excuse me from giving you any time to explain?"
"Uh, well, that is... I'm sorry, Senior Adam."
"Does apologizing fix things in academy life? A self-declared vacation, constant absence—what the hell were you even doing?"
"Isn't it obvious? You've probably guessed, haven't you, Senior?"
Plop.
Before I knew it, a luxurious table and plush leather chairs had materialized in the middle of the jungle. Kassandra took a seat first, and I followed suit.
A teapot had appeared in her hands in the span of a blink. When I turned my head, a teacup had materialized beside me as well.
No—scratch that.
The whole jungle, the stifling heat and humidity and all, had reverted to a perfectly normal room.
And Kassandra, who'd been wearing nothing but a scrap of leather, was now clad in a refined, old-fashioned ensemble.
"Just a moment! I've just been doing a little fortune-telling!"
"That again?"
"You look awfully skeptical, Senior. But once you hear what the divination revealed, even you might be stunned."
"Spit it out."
"Shockingly! There are not one, but two Regressors near you, Senior! And on top of that, one is genuine, while the other is a bit more ambiguous—a sort of roundabout regression! Well? Isn't that incredible?"
Regressors. Two people who came from the future to the past, right here beside me.
At this shocking revelation, I—
"That it?"
"Huh?"
"Is that the end of your excuse? Can I hit you now?"
"S-Senior! Aren't you surprised?! I said Regressor!"
"Regressor my ass."
Did you think I'd fall for that again?
There's a reason I always call Kassandra "that punk of a junior," "that damned junior." Because the moment this girl became my underclassman, my life at the academy switched to hardcore mode.
"Do you remember? Back when you were a first-year?"
"You were a second-year then, Senior. Ah, I miss those days."
"The very first time we met, you told me this: 'I'm actually a prophet who can see the future through divination, and soon, during the entrance ceremony, an earthquake will strike and everyone will be in grave danger. But nobody will believe a new student—so please, Senior, I'm begging you to do something.'"
Back then, I took it seriously. I even felt a sense of mission, like, Ah, so this is the reason I was brought into the world of Dark Kingdom.
I was already known as an honor student, so I threw myself into convincing all the professors that it was for everyone's safety—and got the entrance ceremony postponed by a day.
...Nothing happened.
The looks the professors—the ones who'd thought, "Well, maybe?"—shot me that day.
I still haven't lived down that humiliation.
"Was that the only time? I believed you plenty of times after that, too. A terrorist group was going to attack during midterms. A monster was going to rampage during outdoor training. The food supplies delivered today were poisoned and we had to do something."
"Erm, well..."
"I believed every single one. I acted on every single one. And every single one was a lie. Hell, what did you say when you read my future? Tell me yourself."
"...You are destined to destroy the world, Senior. You will plunge countless souls into grief, lead them to their deaths, and set the world ablaze."
"You've got to be kidding me."
It took being played by this damned junior several times over before I finally learned that she was a complete fraud of a prophet.
Even that Regressor business she just spouted—I've heard that same repertoire before. Before, it was a Possessor. Before that, a Reincarnator, wasn't it? I still have painful memories of searching high and low for a Regressor I didn't actually believe in, just because she said so.
Ah, that's right—sometimes one of her "prophecies" would actually come true. Every time it did, Kassandra would get unbearably smug, so I remember.
But let's be reasonable here. If you churn out ten of those goddamn prophecies a day, isn't it basically guaranteed that at least one will hit?
The reason I've kept up this relationship, even though damn near all my most humiliating memories originate from this junior, is that apart from her crackpot divinations, she's fundamentally a good kid.
More than anything—
"Senior, calm down! Please, calm down!"
"...Haah."
[Heart of Steel]
—it's because Kassandra is a 6th Rank mage capable of using both illusion magic and mental stabilization magic. Yes, that's why I gritted my teeth, swallowed my pride, and stayed close to her: to maintain a useful connection after graduation.
But then I got a real job. And not just any job—Finance Director. And forget a 6th Rank mage—I've got an 8th Rank Chairwoman backing me now.
So now I'm free to treat this junior like the nuisance she is. The only reason I still cut her some slack is that two years of butting heads breeds a certain grudging fondness even in mutual irritation.
Anyway.
Smack!
"Ow! That hurts, Senior..."
"Don't exaggerate. My hand hurts worse than your head."
"You really are pathetically fragile, Senior."
"Shut up."
I'd been so pissed about the month-long stall that I smacked her on the forehead. But no matter how much of a mage she is, once someone hits around 6th Rank, their physical body is far superior to mine, a mere 1st Rank. My hand was stinging.
She might say it hurts, but to her, it probably felt like a mosquito bite. If only I weren't stuck at 1st Rank, I swear I'd—
In any case, I'd landed the hit, and thanks to the mental stabilization spell, my stress had eased a bit.
"So, Rus Spero is joining the Student Council. Assign her whatever position you want."
"Rus Spero—that's the 6th Rank new student, right? It was such a commotion back when I enrolled too. Ah, memories!"
"When you enrolled, you were 4th Rank, you moron."
Still, jumping from 4th Rank to 6th Rank in three years was its own kind of chaos. She's only a half-baked 6th Rank, though.
Even so, alongside that protagonist bastard, she was undeniably one of the academy's strongest students, so it was largely glossed over. No point in my mouth getting sore over it now.
"Anyway, I've delivered Senior's request! Leave that Rus whatever-her-name-is to me!"
I'm actually leaving you to the protagonist bastard.
If I said that out loud, she'd just wail about how cold I am and launch into another one of her theatrics. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.
"I'm heading out now."
"Ehh, already? Stay and play a little longer, Senior! Wasn't my Jungle Princess roleplay just now pretty good?"
"That's exactly why I'm leaving. For the love of everything, stop with that nonsense."
"Why? It's from the idea notebook you wrote yourself, Senior!"
"It wasn't an idea notebook, you lunatic. It was my graduation thesis."
I wrote my Administration Department graduation thesis on "A Study on Histories and Fictions Constructible Within a Fictional World Devoid of Mana." The instant I got my Rank back, I burned every copy in existence—so where the hell did she even find it?
It was basically just me rehashing Earth's history and a few novels I'd read, dressed up with some half-baked academic framing. The review said it had zero scholarly value but praised its highly imaginative creativity.
A world without mana, from this world's perspective, is equivalent to a fictional world without air. So it was judged the same way we on Earth might view a sci-fi novel: "Ah, what a vivid imagination."
At the time, I thought it was a solid topic. Why does it feel so mortifying now?
"I'm seriously leaving. Next time, answer my messages properly and quickly."
"Ah—Senior!"
"What now?"
"Remember! You are destined to set the world on fire! Woosh! Kaboom!"
I'm losing my mind.
How do I shut that mouth of hers?
"Hey, if I'm really destined to destroy the world and set it on fire, shouldn't you be trying to stop me right here? Huh?"
"Oh, that's fine!"
"Why?"
"I divined my own future! And even in the world you destroy, Senior, I'm perfectly alive and well! As long as I'm safe, that's all that matters!"
"Allen, did you hear that? I'm running. You educate this damned junior of mine properly."
"Just tell me to kill myself instead, Senior. More importantly, a message came for you, Senior."
"A message? For me? Why do you have it?"
"It seems the Chairwoman knew you were here and sent it. She said I was to hand it to you immediately without opening it first, so..."
An urgent message from the Chairwoman? I was about to head directly to my office anyway; what was the rush?
Puzzled, I accepted the well-sealed letter from Allen.
<Finance Director, just one thing.>
<The plan's gone sideways. The Hair-Loss Inducer is leaking from Professor Kirke's lab right now!>
"...What?"
Wait, hold on. The Hair-Loss Inducer—right now?
That was supposed to be unleashed on the second day of the festival.
But now? The day before the festival even starts?
'Son of a bitch.'
What the hell happened...?