10. The Only Good Festival Is a Dead Festival
10. The Only Good Festival Is a Dead Festival
"Chairwoman, what in the world is going on?"
"F-Finance Director!"
I rushed into the Chairwoman's office to find her practically hopping from foot to foot—then she bounded over to me.
What happened—no, first things first.
"Who else knows about this?"
"F-For now, only myself and the Finance Director. Plus a few professors from the magic department and Dean Villend."
"How did the professors find out?"
"There was an explosion in Professor Kirke's lab, and then the hair-loss inducer started leaking. Nearby magic professors noticed, reported it to the dean, and the dean informed me directly."
Dean Villend was one of the handful of people in on the Little Hair Plan. The scheme required Professor Kirke's lab to blow up and disperse the hair-loss inducer to shut the festival down, so naturally the magic department dean had to be in the loop.
To head off the chaos that would follow, we needed the dean—who commanded absolute trust from the magic professors—on our side.
Why resort to these methods to cancel the festival? The dean had been squeezed out of the Imperial Magic Tower by political infighting and, more recently, had his salary cut after Professor Kirke's public declaration of conscience, aging him further in the process. He asked no questions.
Smart people really are built different. After the Chairwoman, he was the most trustworthy person in this academy.
But more to the point.
"The execution date was supposed to be the second day of the festival. We still have a full day before it even starts. Why now?"
"I don't know either! That's why I called for you before heading to the scene."
"......Hm."
"F-Finance Director...? You're not thinking of just canceling the festival outright now that things have gone sideways, are you?"
Something in my silence must have unsettled her, because the Chairwoman fidgeted as she asked.
Honestly, that had crossed my mind the moment I heard the news. It was what I had originally proposed, after all.
But that was a month ago. Not now.
"We've already signed supply contracts with the trading companies. Canceling the festival mid-event is one thing, but trying to return goods before it even begins will provoke fierce backlash. And more importantly."
"Yes?"
"We did include a clause that allows refunds if the festival is suspended for unavoidable reasons—but that clause is specifically limited to 'during the festival.'"
In a way, this was my own karma. It was the verbal sleight-of-hand I'd pulled on that fourth son of the Raven Trading Company—whoever it was.
If I'm being honest, I'm not especially gifted at negotiation. Budget manipulation and creative bookkeeping, sure, but negotiation? My strategy was never high-level technique. It was wordplay.
A tactic that only worked because the academy was unambiguously in the position of power. That's how I'd managed to handle negotiations in my first year as Finance Director, but—
That same trick comes back to bite you at times like this.
The trading companies I'd played word games with had wised up. They started writing exact conditions and limitations into their contracts specifically to stop me from doing it again. Wordplay exploits gaps, so they simply closed all the gaps.
The companies that used to show flexibility for a VVIP client like Grandis Academy had turned strict because of me.
A bitter medicine was necessary, but it was still bitter medicine.
"If the festival gets shut down before it even begins, we won't be able to return the supplies. On top of that, we'd owe penalty fees and damages."
"......I see."
"My apologies, Chairwoman. This is entirely due to my lack of negotiation skill."
On this point, I bowed my head and apologized without excuse. I studied every day and worked hard to get better at this job, but I was no perfect superhuman—mistakes were inevitable.
Refusing to admit fault and throwing a tantrum is a privilege reserved for students. So long as I held the post of Finance Director, I had to take responsibility for my errors.
The Chairwoman gazed at my lowered head for a moment, then laid a hand on top of it.
"It's fine. You're still young, aren't you? And if we're talking about mistakes, the entire bankruptcy crisis was my mistake."
"But Chairwoman—"
"Enough. As for taking responsibility for this mistake, we'll call it settled once you see this through to the end. I'll be counting on your efforts."
"......Understood."
Framed like that, the Chairwoman really was a good leader. Although—did she just call me young? Usually people say "you're still young" in a different sense, don't they?
Then again, considering the Chairwoman's age, someone in his early twenties like me wasn't young—I was a child.
I was entertaining some mildly disloyal thoughts while looking at her when the Chairwoman narrowed her eyes.
"Finance Director, you aren't thinking something strange, are you?"
"Absolutely not. More importantly, let's head to the scene."
"Right! Let's go, quickly!"
As soon as we finished speaking, I shut my eyes. Right. I'd braced myself for this.
I think I've mentioned it before, but the professors' research buildings are a fair distance from the academy's central hub. The building housing the Chairwoman's office and mine is smack in the middle of the academy.
A considerable run under normal circumstances—that is, for someone like me at 1st Rank. Borrowing the Chairwoman's power changes the equation entirely.
With just one catch.
"We've arrived!"
"......Urgh."
"Finance Director, are you all right?"
"I am...... very much not all right."
When you move at 8th Rank speed, my delicate vestibular system is subjected to violent motion to the point of near-collapse. That's the only problem.
Under normal conditions, the sonic boom alone should tear my body apart, but the Chairwoman protects me with her Rigid Energy. What she can't do is protect my insides, which means this mode of travel comes with severe dizziness, inverted vision, motion sickness, and dry heaving.
For more leisurely matters like the uninhabited island, the Chairwoman moderates her speed. But in an urgent situation like this, there's no helping it.
While I steadied my stomach off to the side, the Chairwoman, her expression now cold and composed, approached the gathered cluster of professors.
At their head stood Dean Villend, his face set grim.
"Chairwoman, you've arrived."
"Dean Villend. What is the situation?"
The dean and the Chairwoman both knew the plan, of course. But they couldn't show that in front of the other professors, so she asked the question for form's sake.
The dean, quick on the uptake, gave a brisk summary of only what the Chairwoman would genuinely want to know.
"Two minutes ago, there was an explosive sound from Professor Kirke's laboratory. However, the building walls did not breach and the windows did not shatter, so we suspect the explosion occurred underground."
"......Underground?"
"All magic-department research buildings contain separate subterranean laboratories for experimenting with substances too hazardous to expose to the outside. Fortunately, because the explosion occurred there, the building's structure appears intact. As a result, the hair-loss inducer has not yet leaked outside the building."
"Then what of Professor Kirke?"
"After the sound, students and faculty passing nearby searched the area, but only the graduate students fled. Professor Kirke was not among them. She appears to still be in the underground laboratory, likely unconscious from the explosion's impact."
If Kirke was unconscious, this wasn't a case of her going rogue or acting independently. From her perspective, she was desperate to recover even a fraction of her salary—she had no reason to sabotage the plan.
So it really was just an unlucky accident?
Having more or less settled my stomach, I walked up to Dean Villend.
"Dean, were there any warning signs beforehand? Something Professor Kirke might have said, for instance."
"Nothing in particular. As you know, Finance Director, Professor Kirke has been wholly absorbed in her hair-loss research and rarely leaves her lab outside of lectures. Besides, explosions themselves are hardly uncommon, so......"
He trailed off awkwardly, apparently aware that discussing the repair costs from those explosions in front of the Finance Director who handled them wasn't the wisest move. I let it slide—dwelling on it would only add to my stress.
No warning signs either, then...... Wait.
"You mentioned a student just now. You meant a graduate student, correct?"
"No. A magic-department student."
"Excuse me?"
No, hold on.
This leak incident had to stay under wraps. If the resolution failed and we needed to evacuate the students, that'd be one thing, but the hair-loss inducer hadn't yet seeped out of the building. If we could handle it cleanly right here, that was enough.
The professors could be silenced by the dean and the Chairwoman.
A student?
"Which student?"
The Chairwoman, having grasped the problem, asked urgently.
But Dean Villend answered in an unconcerned tone.
"You needn't worry overmuch. I stake my honor on her trustworthiness."
"Dean, how can you be so certain?"
"Because—"
"I am personally acquainted with Dean Villend."
Professor Kirke's laboratory, blanketed in a hazy vapor from the hair-loss inducer leak.
The doors and windows had been sealed shut for now, and magic professors were erecting barriers to prevent any further release.
And among those professors, lending a hand, was a female student.
Chloe Pisti stepped forward, looking tense.
......Wait, what are you doing here?
"The dean might not be thrilled to admit it, but he and I are both from the Empire's Magic Tower."
"Pisti."
"Dean, the barrier is complete now."
"Thank you. When I was at the Tower, I would have been glad to have a junior like you."
"Didn't you dislike those days?"
"That I did. But I still hold the Tower Master in the highest respect. And so you, as her disciple, receive my goodwill as well. Had it been anyone else, I would have ignored them."
Dean Villend's time at the Magic Tower predated Chloe's birth.
Naturally, they hadn't been senior and junior there, but the moment Chloe arrived at a foreign academy, the dean would have approached her first.
Chloe was still the disciple of the Archmage whom the dean revered. Coming to a foreign country, to the same academy—of course he'd want to look after her.
So fine, they know each other, whatever.
Again: what are you doing here?
"Student Chloe? How did you come to be here?"
"I was on my way to have tea with Dean Villend when I happened to hear the explosion. I immediately began helping with the cleanup and barrier construction."
......Well, if it's Chloe, I suppose it's fine.
She had the social standing of the Archmage's disciple, and from what I gathered when I asked for her help before, she was a decent kid—aside from that intense inferiority complex toward Beatrice.
She doesn't know the full picture anyway, so if we asked her to keep it secret to avoid canceling the festival, she'd comply. The dean had his reasons for trusting her.
Anyway.
"Then we'll need to enter the laboratory immediately."
"That is true, but......"
Dean Villend looked uncomfortable. That expression was understandable.
What I was saying was: we had to go inside a laboratory saturated with hair-loss inducer, rescue Professor Kirke, seal the source of the leak, and handle all the cleanup.
Of course, there was a reason the professors weren't volunteering.
"Is there anyone here familiar with the layout of Professor Kirke's laboratory?"
"................"
"............."
"..................."
I'd noticed it the last time I came to meet the dean and Kirke—the professorial research labs are all mazelike nightmares of tangled corridors.
The buildings get wrecked so often that extra walls and rooms get tacked on during repairs, and sometimes magic distorts the space itself.
To put it bluntly, unless you've memorized the building's blueprints, even professors struggle to navigate another professor's lab.
Which meant I had to go in.
"Then I will enter."
"F-Finance Director!? Why you!"
"Because I am the only one here who has memorized the blueprints."
"......You've memorized them?"
"That is a basic requirement of my position as Finance Director."
That was a lie. I memorized them because I wanted to know the building's layout in case Kirke tried to bolt when I came down on her.
But a working professional knows how to dress things up with a little white lie at times like this. The Chairwoman already took things in stride, but Dean Villend, the other professors, even Chloe—the way they looked at me shifted slightly.
Of course, the professors were all high-level mages. Layout or no layout, they could've just gone in and mapped it with magic.
"The rest of you professors, please devote your efforts to maintaining the barriers. Chairwoman, I ask you to manage things out here."
"Finance Director, in case something happens, let me accompany—"
"If graduate students or other professors catch wind of this and swarm the area, things will get messy. For the sake of the festival, this needs to be resolved here, as quickly as possible."
"......Finance Director."
"And should an emergency arise, only you can rapidly take control of the scene."
"Even so."
"You said you would count on my efforts, didn't you? This is the effort I can make."
I didn't want to go in either. Who'd want to enter a labyrinthine building filled with hair-loss inducer?
But Dean Villend and the magic professors had to maintain the barriers to prevent any external leak. If the Chairwoman went in my place and other professors or graduate students flocked here, there'd be no controlling the situation.
Besides, I knew the layout, so I could reach the underground lab via the shortest route. More than anything, if I didn't do this, there was nothing else I could contribute. If we failed to resolve this quickly and rumors spread, the festival was finished. We'd be on the hook for damages and penalties.
The Chairwoman was looking at me—specifically, I felt, at my hair.
Obviously, I wasn't going in unprepared.
"First, I need every protective and defensive spell you can place on me. Everything from blocking the hair-loss inducer to—just every defensive spell you know, please."
"Y-Yes, understood. Everyone, aid the Finance Director!"
""""Yes!!!""""
Relieved they didn't have to go in themselves, the magic professors poured defensive magic over me with frantic energy. Some glanced at me with renewed respect, others clapped me on the shoulder as they passed.
Blocking the hair-loss inducer alone wouldn't normally warrant this much, but the building could suffer secondary collapse.
And we can't rule out the possibility that this is some scheme of Kirke's.
Even for Kirke, with her degraded Rank, penetrating layered defensive magic cast by 7th Rank and 6th Rank mages would be impossible.
And where do you all think you're going?
"I'll also need one person to accompany me."
"A-Accompany you?"
"I am 1st Rank, as you know. I know the layout, so I can reach the underground lab quickly, but simultaneously rescuing Professor Kirke and sealing the leak will be impossible. I need one skilled mage."
"................"
Look at that. Dead silence. The danger wasn't to their lives, but their hair was at risk, so every single professor was dodging my gaze.
If they trusted their own defensive magic, they could just close their eyes and go in. Were they really that spooked by the vague possibility and the ominous feel of it?
Feeling a bit twisted, I was just about to grab some suitable professor and drag them along—
"I-I'll go!"
"Student Chloe? It's fine. We have professors here for that."
"Wouldn't it be better to have even one more professor helping maintain the barriers? I have the lowest Rank here, so sending me in makes the most sense."
"Pisti, that's—"
"Dean Villend, I trust my magic."
".........Hm."
"A-Ahem."
Chloe's last line pricked the consciences of every professor who lacked faith in their own defensive spells to brave the hair-loss inducer. That none stepped forward even after that was comedy.
Chloe, tense but carrying an air of confidence, moved to stand beside me.
"W-Well then, let's go! Finance Director!"
"If that is Student Chloe's wish, then very well."
Honestly, Chloe was easier to manage than some professor whose face I barely knew anyway.
Under the Chairwoman's worried gaze and the professors' murmurs of admiration,
Chloe and I stepped through a gap in the barrier and entered.
"Let's move."
"Yes!"
For whatever reason, Kirke had wrecked the plan.
If it was deliberate, I'd catch her and crush her.
If it was a mistake, I'd catch her and crush her.
Just you wait, you bitch.