10. The Only Good Festival Is a Dead Festival
10. The Only Good Festival Is a Dead Festival
Grandis Academy was vast enough to rival a small city, which meant on any given day countless events unfolded across campus. Some shop slashed prices, the Martial Arts Field staged a tournament, the Magic Department put on performances and demonstrations, and the Administration Department held an academic conference on the side. Children of great noble families gathered for private assemblies, and clubs showcased what they had prepared. Students and visitors who came to enjoy the festival scattered in every direction according to their interests.
But right now, a sea of people had formed in front of a single hastily assembled stall.
"Move it! Get to the front!"
"Is this the right line? You can seriously get your fortune told by the Student Council President?"
"It's probably nonsense, but she's a 6th Rank mage, right? How's anyone supposed to resist?"
"I asked if this is the bloody line. I can see a bastard cutting in right next to me—hey, you, get over here."
"Get in line, you morons!"
This spot, which had drawn a larger crowd than the events the students had labored over for hours or even the major scheduled spectacles, really was a stall thrown together at the last minute. The frame was cobbled together from scrap lumber that had been lying nearby and draped in black cloth with just an entrance cut into it. It looked so shabby it might collapse at any moment, and there seemed no reason for anyone to step inside. Yet a single sentence had been written across the front.
<The Great Prophetess Cassandra Will Tell Your Fortune.>
Nobody believed the words "Great Prophetess" or "fortune." The Student Council President's reputation—such as it was—had already spread far and wide. But Cassandra was a 6th Rank mage, a prodigy whose age and talent placed her among those expected to reach the 8th Rank one day. People wanted to build a connection with her, or simply wanted to get their fortune read by the self-proclaimed Great Prophetess, or were drawn purely by curiosity. The result was the chaos unfolding now.
One might ask why the person at the front didn't just walk into the fortune-telling booth. In fact, the students had tried to do exactly that.
They just hadn't been able to see, until they got close enough, the footnote written beneath the main headline.
<However, the first customer shall be exclusively a student of the same Rank as the Great Prophetess Cassandra.>
In practice, that was as good as naming a specific individual.
A 6th Rank could receive lavish treatment in any territory and was welcomed even by the royal family. Such a powerhouse should have no reason to attend a mere academy—yet Grandis Academy had two 6th Rank students, Cassandra included. Which meant:
"Somebody get Rus Spero here now!"
"We won't be able to go in until she gets her fortune read first!"
Those who had already shoved their heads inside without waiting for a first customer had long since collapsed, trapped in illusions. The students who had witnessed the brutal combat power of a 6th Rank reached a consensus: send Rus Spero in first, then have their fortunes told afterward.
Amid all that commotion—
"Everyone, would you kindly move aside?"
"Huh? You're... Princess Beatrice? And—!"
"This is the Rus Spero you've all been looking for. I've brought her myself."
"Hey! Clear the way! Princess Beatrice has brought Rus Spero!"
"Hurry!"
"Just send her in already!"
Tap-tap-tap.
The tangled mass of students parted, some stepping aside voluntarily, others simply swept along. As if by a miracle, a path opened, and Beatrice smiled in satisfaction as she ushered Rus Spero forward.
"Come, let's go!"
"......Yes."
Rus had been frozen for a moment, but she had already resolved to leave the academy. She answered evenly. This fortune-telling would be her last stop before she killed Kirke and fled the academy. If she could eliminate as many of the villains she had seen in the future as possible, then the future would surely improve in some way. After a month spent in despair and self-loathing, spiraling deeper into negativity, Rus stood before the makeshift booth with somewhat lifeless eyes.
'......Cassandra.'
The Rus of the past, naturally, had never met her. As the perennial dead-last student, she'd had no occasion to meet the Student Council President. But she'd certainly heard the rumors.
The self-proclaimed Great Prophetess, the fraud prophet, the monster who had risen from 4th Rank to 6th Rank in three years, a master of illusion and concretion magic. She was remembered as one of the academy's most famous students. But Rus's knowledge of Cassandra ended there. Despite being such a highly touted prospect and a 6th Rank mage, Cassandra had vanished without a trace right after the academy's collapse. While the world burned and the Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and the Kingdom crumbled, where had Cassandra been?
With that small puzzle lingering in her mind, Rus stepped into the fortune-telling booth.
Beatrice, as promised, moved to follow her inside.
"Ah-ah, nope. Not allowed. The Prophecy Bracelet is the most important part, you know!"
"......Huh?"
Pat.
At the sound of a clap from somewhere, Beatrice crumpled as if falling asleep. Rus instinctively moved to catch her, but Beatrice was already lying on a bed—why was there even a bed in here?—breathing evenly. Despite her chronic illness that supposedly prevented normal magic use, Beatrice had proven her strength in her second duel with Chloe. The person who had neutralized her with just a single clap—Cassandra—smiled as she tilted her eyepatch-clad face.
"Rus Spero, right?"
"......Student Council President."
If she was going to quit the academy anyway, there was no need to maintain honorifics. Besides, Rus needed to find out about Cassandra, whose movements had gone entirely unaccounted for. She sharpened her focus.
"First time meeting, isn't it? Come on in, Regressor!"
"......Excuse me?"
Just now.
What?
Rus's speech reflexively reverted to formal as she asked again, her face blank.
"I said Regressor. You came from the future to the present... ah, from your perspective, is it the past? Anyway, that's how you got here, right?"
"..............."
There was no mistaking it the second time. Cassandra had looked at Rus and called her a Regressor.
So Rus's hesitation was brief.
Shing!
"You."
"Hm?"
"What are you."
She hadn't brought a physical sword, but Rus had bound the Dark Sword to her soul by contract. If she willed it, she could summon the blade to her hand no matter how far away it was. She called the Dark Sword forth instantly and leveled it at Cassandra's throat. She'd intended to fully suppress Cassandra by using even more force if possible.
"Whoa, not shy about getting physical, are we?"
"......You're not blind?"
"This is just for show. When you wear an eyepatch, everyone assumes you're blind, right? I hardly need to explain why a blind Great Prophetess is more charming than a regular one."
"............."
Cassandra, having lightly evaded the swung blade, removed her eyepatch and grinned with eyes like the Milky Way.
Prophetess. Regressor. Eyepatch. Cassandra.
Rus's head was already tangled and overwhelmed.
"Did you."
"Why?"
"Did you... cause this regression?"
That was the closest guess Rus could manage. Common sense said no one should know about regression. Yet if Cassandra had so openly mentioned it, it meant she was aware of it in some way. If Cassandra was the one who had regressed Rus—the culprit behind it all—
"......Speak."
"About what?"
"Everything, all of it...!"
Then Rus wouldn't hold back. The hand gripping the Dark Sword was already trembling with rage and a tangle of other emotions. She'd been pushed to her limits over the past month. Now Cassandra had appeared out of nowhere, bringing up regression—she was the only lifeline and simultaneously the object of Rus's resentment.
She'd demanded to hear everything, but there was one thing she wanted to know most of all.
With bloodshot eyes, Rus shouted.
"Why was it me?!"
"............."
"There were so many others, countless remarkable people, but I'm just this much of a human being... Why?!"
It was the desperate cry and the bitterness of someone forced to shoulder the crushing burden of regression and the future. So many people surpassed Rus in skill, in mental fortitude, in power, in knowledge, in every conceivable way. So why had she been the one? It was a howl that vented every pent-up emotion, and to it, Cassandra responded:
"Hm, well, I don't know what you're asking me to tell you about."
"......What?"
"I'm a prophetess and an astrologer. Through them, I simply learned you were a Regressor. I don't know anything else."
"Nonsense...!"
"No, think about it. If I really were the one who regressed you, why would I deliberately reveal the fact that you've regressed at this particular moment? Wouldn't it be far wiser to know everything and pretend not to?"
"............."
"And I exposed your secret for exactly one reason."
"......Which is?"
"Because you're about to join the Student Council! Exposing a new member's embarrassing secret through my prophecies and astrology is a Student Council tradition!"
......Rus couldn't follow her words at all.
Even while confused, she didn't lower the blade she had leveled. Perhaps because she felt a twisted resentment toward Cassandra, who looked as if all of this was nothing but a game. Cassandra glanced down at the Dark Sword aimed at her throat for a moment.
"Still, since you're a new member and my Prophecy Bracelet partner, I'll tell you one extra thing as a special favor."
"What is...."
"You asked, didn't you? Why it had to be you. Why you were the one who had to regress."
The girl wearing the decorative eyepatch smiled.
Unlike the playful grin she'd worn until now, it was a smile brimming with unfathomable depth, and something like compassion.
"The answer is already something you know yourself."
"What...?"
"Anyway! With this, the new-member initiation is over! Congratulations on joining the Student Council, Rus Spero!"
"......."
In the end, it had been nothing but a farce. Rus made up her mind to that effect and coolly stared down at Cassandra, who was now offering a handshake as if proposing a truce. The fact remained that Cassandra knew Rus was a Regressor. The thought of what influence that might have on the future was terrifying to imagine.
'I'll kill her here.'
She had already resolved to kill Kirke. For the future, for the world, and... for the Finance Director she had once so deeply admired. Rus's hardened gaze fixed on Cassandra.
"From now on, you're the Student Council Vice President!"
"......?"
"And with the Vice President's authority—"
──access to view various confidential documents.
──the right to request an audience with academy department-head-level personnel at any time.
"............."
"How's that?"
......She'd intended to see Adam's face. Since she planned to drop out after today anyway, she had been prepared to force her way into his office regardless. But if she could do it more gently—without earning Adam's dislike or irritation—and if she could learn even a fraction of the academy's information, the thing she most desperately wanted...
In the end, unable to resist the temptation in her heart, Rus slowly lowered her sword.
It signaled acceptance.
*
"Goddammit."
I had the sudden urge to swear. It absolutely was not because I'd worked six straight days without being able to go home. Absolutely not. At times like this, the bathroom and bedroom installed in my office were fairly useful. The facilities were better than the dorm I stayed in, too. Not that that meant I enjoyed sleeping and washing at work. Not at all.
'Come to think of it, is there a leak somewhere?'
Washing was one thing, but whenever I caught a quick catnap and woke up, the area around my nape or my lips was sometimes damp. Reminded me of the uninhabited island. There was no way the Chairwoman had come in and pranked me with seawater, so it had to be a leak in the ceiling. Those Carpenters' Guild bastards, I ought to find an excuse and squeeze some repair work out of them this time.
Today my pinky was damp, so I hurriedly washed up and, as I had for the past five days, re-reviewed and organized the documents and submitted them to the Chairwoman.
And with that... well, it was over for now.
Naturally, that didn't mean it was really over.
"Hoo... Finance Director."
"I know. Now I have to handle the backlogged regular work I couldn't do because I was re-reviewing and re-approving everything, and the Magic Fireworks event tomorrow. It's the festival's biggest spectacle, so I expect the workload won't be light."
"It's not tomorrow. It's today."
"......Really?"
"Really. Finance Director, you seem to be losing track of time lately."
After repeating the cycle—working like mad, snatching short naps, washing hastily, grabbing quick meals—the sense of time really had gone fuzzy. So it hadn't been six days, but seven. The fact that it was already the festival's final day drew a hollow laugh out of me.
"But Chairwoman, if it's truly today, shouldn't I have already been processing the Magic Fireworks event report?"
"I handled all of that. In return, you processed the remaining work."
"Why did you go out of your way to do that?"
"......I'm capable of going a week without eating or sleeping without any problem. Honestly, working while just barely breathing like this is a little hard even on me, but this makes up for it."
Rustle.
The Chairwoman pulled something from a desk drawer and handed it over with a slightly tired smile. It was a small map of the academy, and a particular location on it had been circled.
"What's this?"
"The Magic Fireworks event starts tonight at ten. And this is a spot I've had my eye on in particular. I'm confident no one else in the academy knows about it."
Magic Fireworks—in simple terms, a fireworks display—was the highlight and the finale of the Grandis Academy festival. The bursts were large enough in the sky that you could see them from the Chairwoman's office, obviously. But the Chairwoman seemed to want to watch from a different location. She'd presided over the festival for decades, so she was bound to know a couple of true prime spots. So she'd pushed herself a little to cling to the work on purpose.
"What time is it now?"
"Six p.m."
"Then you, Finance Director, should leave first. You did finish today's work with the report you just submitted, didn't you? Watch from this prime spot."
"......Chairwoman, couldn't we just leave together at seven? Why go separately?"
"Th-this sort of thing is all about mood! And I have my own preparations to make, so just wait there!"
"Under...stood."
Preparations? Mood? The somewhat odd phrasing caught me off guard, but I agreed for now and quietly accepted the map. More importantly—I was off the clock, right? Right?
"In that case, Chairwoman, I'll head over first. I'll see you at the promised spot."
"Yes!"
Office-worker instinct says you should politely decline even when the boss tells you to go home, but anyone who doesn't tell you to go home after a week of overnight shifts is a crazy bastard. In my experience, when the Chairwoman said I could leave, it genuinely meant I could leave with zero problems, so I said my goodbyes and stepped out of the office.
Crrrack.
'Ngh.'
As I stretched my body for the first time in ages, an ominous sound rang out from my lower back. Come to think of it, maybe the only reason I wasn't hurting was the military-grade stimulant I'd burned through earlier. When I met the Chairwoman later, I'd have to ask her to fix me up with ki.
I had nothing to pack. Just as I was, I left the building, returning greetings from staff members as I walked toward the exact prime spot the Chairwoman had emphasized.
'Guess I'll just sit for a while.'
I wasn't in the mood for dinner, and since I'd be meeting her in an hour, going back to the dorm to sleep was awkward. If I was somehow late I'd be in trouble, so coming early and waiting put my mind at ease in a lot of ways.
But was a "prime spot" supposed to be on top of a building roof?
'Well, the view is good.'
I climbed up using a nearby ladder and sat down on the edge. The surrounding scenery spread out before my eyes in a way that certainly justified calling this a prime spot. Watching fireworks from here would be quite the spectacle. Work was done, and I waited with a faint sense of anticipation.
"......Finance Director?"
"Chairwoman, you're already—huh?"
Hang on.
What.
"Student Chloe?"
"F-Finance Director."
Why were you coming from there...?
More to the point, we were on a rooftop. Wouldn't I have been invisible from below? And hadn't the Chairwoman said this was a spot no one else in the academy knew about? It wasn't the sort of place a person just happened to climb onto a building roof during a festival, so it felt like she had definitely known about it from the start.
'What do you mean, a prime spot nobody knows about?'
If even a first-year like Chloe knew about it, it was probably already famous among the students. As I let out a hollow laugh, Chloe, looking a little hesitant, stepped backward.
"......I'll, I'll head back down."
"Student Chloe?"
"Goodbye!"
"Student, what's this about? I never even properly thanked you after the hair-loss-inducer incident. Come here and sit."
"......Are you sure?"
"Didn't you tell me back then? That from now on, I should lean on you."
So let me lean on you a little. This rooftop was slightly too high anyway, and it spooked me. And either way, three of us watching together would probably be more enjoyable than just the Chairwoman and me.
"Come on."
"......Okay."
But, um.
Normally, when someone sat down, didn't they leave at least a little space? Was I the strange one here? Why was she sitting so close?
Was I really that much of an old man...?