Chapter 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: A Teacher in Uniform?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A Class.
The place where all the major characters and side characters gathered.
The characters who could be called heroines were highly likely to be assigned here.
Sometimes an extra would slip into A Class by breaking through insane random odds, but the main storyline's broad strokes wouldn't change.
If it changed too much, it'd give the developers a headache when plotting the story.
Teachers in black suits began guiding us.
'...9th place, huh.'
The order of class assignments followed the internal evaluation rankings exactly.
Being called 9th meant I'd placed 9th in the entrance evaluation.
Considering A Class usually had between 10 and 20 students, that put me just a bit below the middle.
I picked a seat in a spot that wouldn't draw much attention.
'No point getting tangled up early with the major characters.'
If I built up too much familiarity and triggered a forced event, I'd end up dying like an ant—since I wasn't the protagonist.
Especially dangerous during field trips outside.
How was I supposed to kill monsters without a single combat ability?
I'd play dead quiet until all the farming was done.
While building some rapport with the protagonist in advance, if possible.
'Wonder who made their face...'
The community often turned the protagonist into a girl, but would an otaku seeking vicarious thrills really do that...?
When I created that character, I projected myself onto them thoroughly.
Basically, a total rip-off of me.
That way, when the protagonist went around dating and adventuring, it felt like I was the one doing it.
Obviously.
The other guys don't do it like that? That I'm weird? Bullshit. Why else would they play visual novels?
Open world? Great 3D models? Solid story? All excuses.
Just admit you started because the girls are hot.
Hell, if the heroines were ugly fat black chicks, you wouldn't even glance at the game.
'Self-loathing ends here. Time to think about the plan.'
First, bide my time and casually chat up my character when it feels right.
Don't raise affinity too high.
Stay as far from events and storylines as possible.
When dangerous or unavoidable situations pop up, quickly stick to the protagonist.
And ogle the other heroines' faces while I'm at it.
Changing room access too, probably.
Phew.
I took a deep breath.
After a short wait, the A Class homeroom teacher made her appearance.
'Teachers are random too... Who'll it be?'
Ideally a homeroom teacher with high combat ability, but odds were low.
Ah, damn it.
A woman stepped up to the front of the teacher's desk.
Black bobbed hair, red eyes. Petite height and slim build that could pass for a middle schooler.
She looked utterly out of place as a teacher.
Stockings up to her knees, ridiculously short skirt, white shirt with a loosely tied red necktie, and a long trench coat.
And a cigarette in her mouth, no less...
"Nice to meet you all. I'm the teacher in charge from now on. Damn, what's up with this mic?"
She tapped the microphone on the desk a few times and frowned.
Cigarette smoke wafted through the classroom.
"Better get used to it now. On the front lines, guys who don't smoke are rare."
She grinned.
Naturally, the cadets' faces were all stiff.
She stepped forward to the desk and leaned one arm casually on top.
Standing at a slant.
"Mic's busted... Well, classroom's this small anyway. Won't matter much."
A few were still eyeing her suspiciously.
Wondering if she was really a teacher.
'Normally, ability users who take academy teacher jobs are all elite retirees from the front lines. Hard to find ones as young and unscathed as her.'
The suspicion was understandable.
But the reason she'd been selected as an academy teacher came down entirely to her ability.
About time.
"Anyway, name's Irene Rock. Nice to work with ya?"
To me, a big-boobs guy, Irene Rock had zero appeal.
Hated her, even!
Especially because of that creepy ability of hers.
"My ability's Chekhov's Gun. What's yours?"
No one answered.
Then the protagonist raised his hand.
"You. Disqualified."
"...Pardon?"
My character, Ja-an, voiced his doubt in a super cool tone.
Worth the two hours spent picking that voice.
"I haven't explained what my ability does at all. Just named it. And it hasn't been confirmed I'm really your homeroom teacher. So right now, I'm some shady unidentified person."
Forced logic.
"...That's forced logic."
"Why? Got proof?"
"If you weren't the homeroom teacher, you couldn't reach A Class at the academy without anyone noticing."
"Why not?"
"If you snuck here undetected, it means your ability isn't combat-oriented. Infiltration or stealth, probably."
Irene Rock listened to Ja-an's explanation with a blank face.
Perfectly logical.
As expected of Intelligence stat A...
Great stat allocation. Good job, past me!
Ja-an spoke again.
"If your ability is infiltration or stealth, we cadets could subdue you right here."
"......"
"Am I wrong?"
"No, you're not. But it's better not to tell allies about your ability either."
"Why?"
"Monsters corrupting you, drug addictions, that sort of thing. No point creating weaknesses."
Ja-an looked uncomfortable.
Irene Rock smirked.
"Take back the 'disqualified'."
Standing at the desk again, she continued.
"My ability, Chekhov's Gun, draws conclusions once enough clues pile up. Deduction without the process."
This was exactly why I hated her.
If anyone could uncover my regression, it'd be her.
Chekhov's Gun.
The literary device proposed by Russian writer Anton Chekhov.
If you hang a pistol on stage in Act 1, it must fire by the finale. Otherwise, don't hang it up.
'In other words, conditional, piecemeal future foresight or prediction.'
Ja-an raised his hand again.
"What does that mean?"
"Standard-issue cadet uniform, but you've had the sleeves and pant legs tailored, and added a red cape to the shoulders."
I designed it myself.
Heh heh. Nice, she noticed.
"Fingers—index and middle—calluses only on the inner palms. Marks of regular sword training. Back of the hands? Smooth, no scars. Never done rough labor or real life-or-death combat? Or if you have, it was so overwhelming you didn't get a single scratch?"
Ja-an stayed silent.
"Putting it together, you're a straight-laced student raised without a wrinkle, thinking the world's all sunshine. Prediction: out of this bunch, you'll be the first to die... or the last one standing. End."
"A meaningful death?"
Irene Rock fell silent for a moment.
Then spoke again.
"Dunno. Told ya, my ability needs clues to produce results."
"Then fine. Won't worry about it."
Yeah. That's the protagonist's personality.
If one death could save multiple others, that'd be enough.
Someone who genuinely believed that.
That's why he captivated, drew in, and united those around him.
Irene Rock looked uncomfortable.
"Cheeky with the teacher..."
"Put out the cigarette first."
Ugh.
Irene Rock clicked her tongue and stubbed out the cigarette with her fingers.
"Happy now? Edgy brat. Anyway, first class—shall we start?"
The cadets glanced at each other.
Truth be told, almost no one wanted class.
We all knew, right?
First lectures were just chit-chat with the prof before wrapping up casually.
Even at top universities, it was similar. Humans gonna human.
Anyway, skipping the first class at Heart Soul Academy? 100% chance. Simple reason.
'Gotta do ability measurements.'
Status checks were mandatory.
Had to provide the government with your ability, strengths, weaknesses.
Refuse? Government labels you a subversive ability user and eliminates you.
Once as a baby, once as a teen, once as an adult, and once after academy enrollment. Total of four obligations.
Came about after one ability user escaped the academy and pulled off a massive terrorist attack.
Irene Rock spoke up again.
"Alright. Looks like no one wants class. Measurements first. Sound good?"
...Making a show of doing what we had to anyway.
Like there was gonna be real class today!
.
.
.
Following Irene Rock's guidance to the measurement room, we finally faced the crystal orb.
First time seeing it for real...
Saw it tons in the game, but reality felt different somehow.
"Measurements in order."
Ja-an stepped forward first.
He placed his hand on the orb for a moment, then furrowed his brow slightly.
Unimpressed with the results, probably.
Stats only grew postnatally with drugs, experience tomes, or mana accumulation anyway.
Training alone would take insane amounts.
Disappointing now, sure, but once cadets hit field practice, they'd grow naturally.
I put work into sculpting that character... Of course they'd reach world-top-tier.
That's the minimum. Right?
Lost in stray thoughts and spacing out, my turn came up soon enough.
"Next, Ivy Lane. Internal Evaluation 9th Place."
"Yes."
I slowly placed my hand on the orb as guided.
'Not a main character, so no big expectations, but max random stats would be nice...'
With faint hopes, I checked the status that appeared in the orb.
"Ah."
Damn it.