Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Second Meeting (5)
"Top students, to the stage!"
No matter how many times I experience it, I can’t get used to the feeling of thousands of eyes piercing into my back.
In front of the stairs leading to the stage—
the top student of the Knight Department and the top student of the Magic Department were already ascending with imposing presence.
At the host’s urging, I moved to stand as well—
when I heard a chair scrape beside me.
It was Sylvia.
With the bump on her forehead held upright, she stood up and followed me.
"Miss Sylvia, doesn’t the second rank not need to go up?"
"Article 3, Clause 14 of the Academy Regulations. In the case where the Arts Department top student is a commoner, the second rank may accompany them to assist with noble etiquette. This is a rational choice for efficient stage composition. Report complete."
I wasn’t sure such a clause even existed, but her eyes clearly said, I want to go too.
It was easier to agree than to question it.
The stairs to the stage were quite high.
The Knight Department representative climbed with a sharp metallic rhythm.
The Magic Department representative followed, scattering mysterious violet mana.
Then it was my turn.
I stepped forward, hearing Sylvia’s footsteps behind me.
Let’s just read it quickly and get down.
Yuki is watching, so I shouldn’t be too careless.
Just as I stepped onto the third stair—
"Uh...? Sudden backward shift in center of gravity. Loss of ground friction. Probability of falling: 99%—!"
Sylvia’s peculiar cry came from behind.
I turned.
She had stepped on a curtain hem and was stumbling backward.
Even then, she clutched the bundle of pamphlets in her arms, refusing to let them go.
...She’s high maintenance.
I instinctively reached out, grabbing her waist.
With my other hand, I caught the pamphlets she had been holding.
"Are you alright? You should watch where you’re going."
Her body fell into my arms.
The cold pine scent brushed past.
"Survival confirmed. Heart rate increased to 120 bpm. This is purely a defensive reaction to life-threatening conditions. No other emotional factors present. Analysis complete."
Sylvia rambled, her face turning bright red.
She snatched the pamphlets back from me with trembling hands.
As we reached the stage, cheers erupted from the entire academy.
The Knight Department top student drew her sword and declared loudly,
"I swear to become a proud knight of the empire and protect the weak!"
Next, the Magic Department top student drew a dazzling magic circle and pledged to pursue knowledge.
Finally, it was our turn.
I unfolded the paper Sylvia handed me.
[Today’s Special: Premium Butter Steak 20% Discount]
...?
Instead of the oath, the page read [Top 5 Restaurants Near the Academy] in large letters.
It seemed Sylvia had mixed up the oath with an advertisement pamphlet.
As I hesitated, the audience grew confused.
At that moment, Sylvia peeked at my paper and turned pale.
...Well, whatever.
Art is open to interpretation anyway.
"On behalf of the new students of the Arts Department..."
I began to recite, twisting the pamphlet’s contents into my own words.
"We vow to capture every scent of the world upon our canvas."
Sylvia trembled beside me but chimed in.
"Y-yes! Additional explanation: visualizing scent is the pinnacle of synesthetic art and logically valid!"
I continued, glancing at the phrase “fresh ingredients.”
"We will depict only the raw essence, like life freshly harvested."
"A-agreed! Exploring the essence of vitality is the fundamental duty of an artist!"
My improvised words and Sylvia’s strange phrasing blended together.
The audience seemed to interpret it as profound philosophy.
"For our final vow, we will protect values that cannot be assigned a price."
Looking at the 20% discount.
"Conclusion: the value of art is infinite and cannot be discounted!"
With Sylvia’s final declaration, we both bowed.
Thunderous applause erupted.
"Wow—!"
"So philosophical! Artists really are different!"
I don’t care about any of that.
I just want to get down quickly.
As we descended, Sylvia muttered in distress,
"...Situation analysis complete. Oath and commercial leaflet cross-contamination occurred. Greatest illogical error of my life recorded. Considering self-destruction."
"Don’t self-destruct. We got applause, didn’t we?"
I casually patted her shoulder and walked past.
What’s done is done.
At least it ended well.
As soon as the ceremony ended, the hall filled with students checking class assignments.
"Are you not coming?"
When I turned, Sylvia was frozen in place, muttering, "...body temperature rising abnormally... is this a mechanical error or..."
I should go first.
I left her there and headed to the Arts building.
This must be it.
The main building of the Arts Department. The Hall of Muses.
With its massive dome ceiling and marble pillars carved with intricate sculptures, it felt more like a museum.
As I walked through the central lobby, countless gazes stuck to my back.
Curiosity and wariness toward someone who was both “top student” and “commoner.”
Those mixed lines prickled against my skin.
Well, starting off by delivering an oath with a steak discount probably didn’t help.
Steak restaurant. I should visit it later.
More importantly—
There it is.
The class assignment board stood prominently.
I checked the top line.
[Arts Department, Year 1, Class A: Ian]
My name was engraved in the most prominent golden frame.
The meaning was clear.
The top class.
The elite.
A gathering of heirs from prestigious artistic families.
Class A.
I sighed.
I should’ve drawn a few crooked lines.
Too late now.
I followed the ornate corridor toward Class A.
Just as I reached for the door—
a familiar pine scent approached behind me.
"...Tracking successful. Target location reached through analysis of top student’s movement path."
Sylvia.
"You’re in Class A too?"
"Naturally. It would be statistically inconsistent for the second rank not to be assigned to Class A. Report complete."
She now had a large heart-shaped bandage on her forehead.
...That doesn’t suit her at all.
"Is that… your preference?"
"Negative. It was forcibly applied by the infirmary teacher, citing an illogical claim that cute objects stimulate pain relief hormones. Credibility is low, but I lacked the energy to refuse."
Her hands trembled slightly as she held her clothes.
She’s embarrassed.
Serves her right.
She opened the classroom door.
All eyes turned toward us.
The classroom was structured like a theater, filled with students adorned in silk and jewels.
Their gazes were sharp—pride and curiosity intertwined.
I searched for a corner seat.
Blending into the background is the only way for a commoner to survive here.
But reality wasn’t kind.
Whispers followed every step.
"So that’s the top student?"
"He’s a commoner? He looks… blank."
"Did you hear his oath? Something about fresh life… maybe he’s an avant-garde artist?"
Avant-garde?
I’m just hungry.
I found a window seat.
Perfect sunlight.
Perfect for sleeping.
But Sylvia sat right next to me.
"This is the optimal observation point. Suitable for real-time monitoring of the top student."
"Can’t you just attend class normally?"
"Comfort leads to artistic decline. Maintaining tension."
She began lining up rulers, compasses, and dozens of pencils with perfect precision.
Even my seat is ruined.
"Is everyone here?"
Professor Beatrice entered.
"A-Class. Do not bring the word ‘effort’ here. That belongs to B or C classes. Here, only genius and results matter."
The room froze.
The nobles tensed.
I stared outside.
Should I have beef rice or apple pie for lunch?
At that moment—
Smack!
Sylvia suddenly stood up.