I Don't Want to Work (1)
"If Luid used to be seen as mysterious, now he's practically being worshipped. Everywhere I go, it's nothing but talk about you."
When she finished, Hershey beamed with pride, as if she were the one being praised.
"Is that so."
Ugh. Luid sighed inwardly.
Amelia was honest to a fault. With a personality like hers, he hadn't expected her to claim credit for the black mage incident—but he certainly hadn't expected her to hand over all of it.
Amelia's a fool.
He'd deliberately left a share of the accomplishment behind so she could rake in the bonus points, after all. She didn't even know how to use what she was given. Luid genuinely worried about her. If she stayed that much of a pushover, how was she supposed to get through life? The moment she started dating, she'd give everything away—her wallet, her liver, all of it, guaranteed. And then marriage, someday…
Marriage?
No. Absolutely not. Just picturing Amelia marrying some faceless scoundrel made his skin crawl. Marriage was forbidden. From this very moment until the day he died, Amelia was not allowed to marry.
"…By the way, did Lady Amelia not mention any of it to you?"
"Amelia won't even touch the subject of that incident."
Hershey gave a faint smile. "You two really are close. She must be worried about you."
"She's overprotective."
Hershey covered her mouth and chuckled at his flat response. "Still, I'm jealous."
"…Jealous of being grounded for a month?"
"It's a sign of affection. If she didn't care, she wouldn't bother. My father, for instance—"
Hershey clamped her mouth shut. It looked like there were some complicated circumstances behind it.
"Ah—anyway, it's a blessing to have a family that's close. That's extremely rare among noble houses, especially ones as high-ranking as Windsor."
Hershey smiled awkwardly, steering the conversation away on purpose.
"…So are you never coming back to the Academy, Luid?"
"No."
Luid had no intention of chaining himself to anything. "I'll go if I feel like it, and I won't if I don't."
Because he pursued freedom, obviously. If he wanted to sleep at Delin's Lake, he'd sleep there. If a villain of the century showed up and he couldn't be bothered, he simply wouldn't go—he'd just grab Hershey and Amelia and run.
You never know how life turns out. I might end up Headmaster of the Academy someday.
The very thought was so absurd that Luid snorted at himself.
Humans have three great desires: sleep, food, and, last of all, lust.
Luid, however, was still young—so in place of lust, he needed entertainment. And after an entire week cooped up in the manor doing nothing but sleep, boredom had set in. That was the whole reason he was here.
"S-Should I go find you a cushion or something?"
The Swordsmanship Club captain's office. Amelia—known far and wide as the Ice Empress, cold by default—was pacing back and forth, restless in a way utterly unlike herself.
Only one thing in this world could reduce her to this state.
Luid.
There's no way he'd actually come…
When she'd grounded Luid, Amelia had attached one condition: he was not to leave without her. In other words, as long as he stayed by her side, he could go out whenever he pleased. It was a fairly transparent piece of self-interest, but she hadn't truly expected anything to come of it. Even back at Windsor Castle, Luid had always been brilliant at entertaining himself—playing with dirt clods, poking slimes, that sort of thing.
"I'm fine, I have a pillow."
"Th-Then maybe a floor cushion? A blanket?"
"I don't use blankets when I sleep outside."
He planned to make blankets when a truly bitter winter arrived, but it was only autumn now—the crisp, cool air felt wonderful.
It's the Emperor's personal treasury, so there should be blanket materials in there, right?
He clearly remembered earning a one-time pass to the treasury over the Damon affair. Come winter, it would come in very handy.
"Then…"
"Sis."
Luid gave Amelia a bleary look. "I'm fine, so just do your work."
"But—"
"No buts. Work."
"Mm… okay."
Amelia sat down and picked up a document with stiff, awkward hands. Before lifting her pen, she glanced at Luid one more time. "If anything gets uncomfortable, or you think of something you want to do—"
"Work."
"…Okay."
Amelia sulked and returned her eyes to the paperwork. [Re: The Resignation of Clifford, Chancellor of the Imperial Academy.]
…I'll deal with this later.
It wasn't something that could be solved on the spot anyway, and more than anything, she wanted to keep it from reaching Luid's ears. Amelia refused to give him a single thing to worry about.
Rustle, rustle. She'd flipped through a few pages, signing as she went, when—
Ziiiing.
"…"
The blatant, unhidden stare made her look up. Luid was gazing straight at her. She smiled awkwardly and looked back down at the documents. But no matter how she thought about it, this wouldn't do.
Amelia eyed the mountain of paperwork stacked in front of her. There's a mountain to process, but… maybe Gilbert could handle it?
Just for today, she decided, she would take the day off.
"Is there something you want to see? I'll give you a tour."
"I just came to watch you work, that's all."
Such was Luid, who firmly believed the most entertaining thing in the world was playing in front of someone else while they worked. It was also the unemployed man's single greatest virtue.
"…Watching me work?"
Amelia rested her chin on her hand and thought long and hard. What could she possibly do to hold Luid's interest? I honestly have no idea. Those drowsy eyes of his gave away nothing. She could tell he was sleepy, and that was it.
So she decided to just ask. "Is there something specific you'd like to watch me do?"
"Hmm."
Luid considered for a brief moment, then answered. "Falling over."
"…?"
"People falling over. You could fall over yourself, or you could make other people fall over. Either's fine."
"…Why on earth?"
"Because it's funny."
Amelia blinked, then looked back and forth between the documents in front of her and Luid. Now she finally understood. So that's why he kept telling me to work.
Amelia broke into a sweet smile. "I'm telling Mother."
"…That's my inheritance you're threatening."
Luid walked through the training grounds alongside Amelia. The Swordsmanship Department was a completely different world from the Magic Department. Unlike the youthful, baby-faced mages, everyone here looked imposing—whether from the higher average age or simply from years of training their bodies, it was hard to say. The men had shoulders broad as beams, and the women were, on the whole, tall with strong, toned figures.
"Huh. So you're actually on the short side, Sis."
"I'm far taller than you, so you have nothing to complain about."
Luid flinched, a shiver running through him. "…I'm going to grow taller."
"How tall?"
"Like… eighty inches, probably."
* Roughly 200 cm.
"Pfft."
"What's so funny??"
Luid ground his teeth. Height was his one and only complex. That alone—you could nerf me to the second strongest in the setting, just give me the height. …That was the level of desperation he'd reached.
"Sorry, sorry."
Amelia smiled warmly. Shouldn't have poked the height thing, Luid reflected, too late.
"This is the dueling arena. Well, you really are a Windsor through and through—so into swordsmanship."
It had been Luid's own request to come here. Come to think of it, he'd never once visited the swordsmanship facilities, and curiosity had gotten the better of him.
"Nobody's here."
"Classes are in session."
"Classes? The Swordsmanship Club holds classes?"
He'd assumed it was all self-directed training until now.
"…Of course it does? This is an Academy."
"Do you take classes too, Sis?"
"Mm. Only a few, though."
"I see."
Luid offered a brief impression. "Why's it so run-down?"
"…Sorry."
"I'm not insulting you, Sis."
"I'm just… ahem, not exactly talented at that sort of thing."
Amelia flushed with embarrassment. The only thing she was good at was the sword. Everything else was a total bust—especially anything that demanded an aesthetic touch.
"Besides, it's all broken."
The dueling arena was a square space floored with gray bricks, its boundary marked by a low fence-like barrier. Some distance away stood a perimeter wall—and that wall was shattered from end to end. Luid entered through the gate, though frankly there seemed little point in using one.
"…Well, the magic installations are all completely broken."
"Want me to fix them?"
Amelia nodded. "They said why bother repairing something that's just going to get smashed again."
"That's harsh."
"But… fair, I suppose."
Amelia scratched her head. Luid shot her an incredulous look. "Want me to fix it, then?"
"Can you?"
"Easy."
Restoring the collapsed bricks themselves was beyond him, but repairing a broken magic circle was well within his power. Luid fished out his staff and, scratching his shaggy hair, walked over to the ruined wall. He studied the structure of the array.
A fairly intricate spellform. It's… a bigger mess than I expected. This would cost him a bit of mental effort. Should've just walked past with my eyes half-closed. But it was too late now. Having volunteered to help Amelia, backing out would be too embarrassing.
Luid closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. What kind of idiot built this?? The Magic Department was right next door, yet the craftsmanship was dire. To put it in coding terms: something that needed a single line was sprawled across ten. That meant massive mana consumption, which directly translated into degraded performance.
Luid pressed his staff against the wall and began recomposing the spellform. …The optimization's idiotic, but the idea itself is good. Normally, a protective spell on a wall like this would generate a faint barrier around it. This one, however, worked like a powerful magnet—each brick pulling on its neighbor's elemental essence to raise the wall's structural strength itself.
No wonder they'd embedded mana stones all over the bricks. Usually the medium sat underground; here, the stones had been set at precise intervals. Whoever had designed this, the idea alone was brilliant.
Fun thought, though.
Since he was rebuilding it anyway, Luid decided to upgrade it too. Family service, after all. Activation cycle: once every five seconds. Normally, the wall exists at its base strength. Weave the spellform that way, and something genuinely entertaining would happen. Strike the wall, and it would shatter like ordinary brick—but five seconds later, it would flow back into its original shape as if time itself had rewound. In a word: smash it as many times as you liked, and within a minute it would restore itself, as if by magic. In other words, a wall with absolutely top-tier hit feedback.
Spellform restructured, Luid lowered his staff. "Whew."
He made a show of wiping sweat with his sleeve. Unfortunately, not a single drop had fallen. He was laying it on thick about how hard he'd worked. Surely this shaved a week or so off the house arrest, right?
Luid turned back to Amelia. And then—
"Whoa…"
"So that's a mage."
"No, that's Windsor. Those bookworms couldn't do that."
"What is it?? Oh—don't tell me, he fixed the wall?"
At some point, a crowd of students had gathered. Apparently class had ended. Only then did Luid register how much time had passed while he was absorbed in his work.
Amelia ruffled his hair. "You worked hard, didn't you? Impressive, Luid."
She said it with mature composure, well aware the students were watching. At that moment, one girl shouted out:
"Please marry me!"
"Who was that just now?"
At Amelia's sharp glare, the entire Swordsmanship Department burst out laughing.
"…Well then, let's see it run."
With an awkward expression, Luid gave the wall a light tap with his staff. A stray thought flickered—what if it failed in front of all these people? Absurd, of course. The spellform was flawless.
Exactly as predicted.
Crack—
The bricks flooded with blue light, the very signature of Luid himself. The glow raced along the intricate magic circuits, spreading endlessly left and right, until the entire wall was linked in fine, delicate lines. Not decorative inscriptions, no—pure mana circuitry, and those lines looked like nothing less than a work of art.
Will it work?
Luid's eyes were fixed on the rubble of bricks. In theory, they should return to their original form.
Rumble, groan—
There it is. Luid smiled quietly. The fallen debris rose from the ground and flew safely back into place.
"…!"
At the impossible sight, the Swordsmanship members stood frozen, jaws hanging open. No one had imagined it would be this spectacular.
"…Good heavens."
Someone murmured under their breath. The impossible had happened before their eyes. No one knew how to react, and a long silence stretched on.
Clap, clap, clap—
Light applause rang out. Every head turned toward it.
"As expected, my nephew is competent to the point of excess."
The Emperor, Lucius, walked over with a delighted face, hands clasped behind his back. With a wink of one eye, he signaled—don't let on that I'm the Emperor.