A Genius in the Making

Sillon leaned his upper body toward Miz Bowler, wrapping both of his hands around hers. "But why?!"

Miz pulled her head back slightly, though her expression remained completely deadpan. Her muffled voice drifted through her mask. "Why? My thoughts exactly. Out of nowhere. Calling me Master. What does it mean?"

Right then, Aidrin slapped Sillon's hands away from Miz's. *Smack! Smack!* "Let go of her, you idiot! Have you lost your mind? How dare you touch a lady's hand so casually—"

Hearing this, Miz Bowler tilted her head slightly and spoke. "Embarrassed." Her face was still completely expressionless.

"See! See! She says she's embarrassed!"

"I had no choice! This is the moment I must convey my absolute sincerity!"

"Sincerity, my foot!" Aidrin shrieked, forcibly tearing Sillon's hands away.

"Sigh, dear me. At any rate, Miss Miz Bowler. Did my sincerity reach you? Ah, where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself. I am Sillon."

"Yes. It reached me."

"Really?!"

"Just now, the 'truth' that you are as weird as the rumors say reached me."

"Pardon? As the rumors say?"

"You don't know? All the applicants are talking about you. Trying to get a higher score than Lord Drin and Lady Kasha through underhanded means?" Miz gave Sillon a thumbs-up. "Impressive."

"Hahaha, my~ this is quite embarrassing."

"Why are you blushing? Not a compliment. Sarcasm. Don't you know?"

"Oh, is that so? My apologies. It was such a high-level sarcasm that I couldn't grasp it at once."

"I wondered what kind of lunatic would do something so ridiculous, but seeing you now, I get it. Understood. There's also a rumor that you got into a fight with Adela and Menhel and beat them up, but that's obviously a false rumor."

"How could you...!" Sillon staggered back, looking utterly devastated. "You're the type who easily believes bad rumors about others but never the good ones...!"

"You make me sound like trash. But looking at you, it fits."

"Is that rumor the reason you rejected my request?"

"Honestly, I don't care about that."

"Then why?!"

"Why? Dizzy." Miz rubbed the bridge of her nose, her face still blank. "Put yourself in my shoes. Think about it. Who would accept a request from a guy who calls them Master the very first time they meet? At least, not me."

"Then, how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about now, after we've had some time to get to know each other?"

"Hmm. I dislike you even more. Now I know you're way weirder than the rumors. Confirmed target of avoidance."

"But, Miss Miz. I am a man personally guaranteed by none other than Miss Aidrin Telne herself, you know?"

Miz looked at Aidrin as if asking if it was true. Aidrin shook her head violently in disgust. "You don't even hesitate to lie. A complete beast."

"Miss Aidrin, why...!"

"Don't talk to me. Weirdo."

"*Thud...!*" Sillon made a sound effect with his mouth as he slumped to the floor. Miz watched him quietly before muttering indifferently, "Beast."

"Hmm?"

"Why are you interested in Baurer's swordsmanship?"

"Well—ah, hold on. Let me think of the best way to phrase this to move your heart." *Hmm.* Sillon lay face down on the floor, pondering for a brief moment, before raising his index finger. "Because it looks easy to learn!"

"Hmm, my heart is definitely moving." Miz reached for the daggers hanging at her waist.

"Whoa, whoa, Miz Bowler—calm down!" As Aidrin frantically tried to intervene, Miz raised both hands as if nothing had happened and let out a laugh. "Ha. Ha." It was as flat as someone reading from a textbook. "Joke. But hearing that just now, wanting to stab you a few times was sincere."

"Ahahaha~ My, my apologies. I was just trying to think of a more impactful way to convey how well we'd get along."

"Excuse me—" Aidrin carefully spoke to Miz. "Are you okay...?"

Miz shrugged. "I'm used to this kind of treatment. Honestly, you look down on our Baurer's swordsmanship in your heart too, don't you? Calling it a rootless style based on assassination arts."

"No, that's—" Aidrin avoided her gaze. It was a natural reaction. No, it was more than just natural. Aidrin was actually being extremely polite compared to most. If it had been any other high noble family of Telne's caliber—especially a swordsmanship family—the moment they found out Miz was from the Bowler family, they wouldn't have even treated her like a human being. That was the world's general perception of the Bowler family.

Miz savored the bitter taste she had grown accustomed to and spoke to Sillon. "Well, whatever. I'd appreciate it if you stopped there. Even for a Bowler, having my family and swordsmanship insulted so openly makes me sad."

In other words, Miz had taken Sillon's attitude—calling her Master out of nowhere and claiming interest in Baurer's swordsmanship—as a mockery. Miz brought her fist to her eye and curled her fingers like a cat's paw. "Sniff."

"Hey! You idiot!" Aidrin glared at Sillon, her eyes wide as if asking if he really meant it that way. Sillon waved his hands frantically at Aidrin and quickly spoke to Miz. "Ahaha, Miss Miz. It seems there has been a misunderstanding?"

"Fine. Speak. Excuse. I'll listen."

"I am truly! Purely! Interested in the sword of the Bowler family. To the point where I am willing to pay any price if I can only learn it!"

Miz's expressionless eyes stared into Sillon's squinted eyes. "..." It was amazing. Even though he was walking on eggshells, he still seemed to be smiling brightly. "How irritating."

It was annoying, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she could tell he wasn't just spouting nonsense to smooth things over. Miz had faced all kinds of blatant contempt and subtle discrimination as a Bowler since childhood. Because of that, she was highly sensitive to malice, and she could tell. This man definitely had no ill intentions. That made her curious. "Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you interested in our family's sword?" Miz glanced at Aidrin as she spoke. "Even that nice-looking lady over there wouldn't call it a good sword, even as a lie. It's considered a vulgar style."

"Gasp...! Miss Aidrin, is that true...?! Were you looking at Miss Miz with those eyes...?!"

"N-No...! Ah—ugh... S-Sorry..."

"Don't apologize. For a lady of her status, she is extremely polite."

"Ah, then what about me?!"

"You're just a weirdo."

"How could you...!"

Right then, a voice echoed through the waiting room.

Before they knew it, they were standing in a dark passage. A dungeon refers to a closed space among the magical realms corrupted by the influence of the otherworld. "It's a textbook dungeon," Aidrin's voice echoed through the passage. The dungeon where the exam was taking place was a subterranean prison, a classic and textbook example of a dungeon.

A voice echoed through the subterranean prison.

"Black magic?" "Shh!" As Sillon muttered unconsciously, Aidrin, who was focusing on the voice, put a finger to her lips and hushed him.

The voice faded.

*Tap.* Miz was the first to move. *Tap, tap.* She turned around and knocked on the wall blocking their path behind them. "A warlock's hideout that kindly tells us where to go. Ha. Ha. Delightful."

*Inhale, exhale.* Aidrin took a deep breath, slapped her own cheeks, and looked at the two of them. "Alright, the three of us. Since we ended up in the same group, let's do our best. Got it?" Miz nodded. Sillon nodded too. Then he looked at Miz. Miz nodded back at Sillon. Sillon then spoke. "So, will you teach me Baurer's swordsmanship?" "Ah, annoying." "Seriously, you idiot." Accusations flew from both sides simultaneously.

"No, everyone! Calm down and listen! If I learn Baurer's swordsmanship from Miss Miz, we can achieve an incredible score in this exam! A score that will surpass Adela and Menhel!" Aidrin, who had been looking at Sillon with pity, flinched at those words. "Ahem. Miz, should we at least hear this idiot out?" "Seriously? You believe that nonsense?" "Of course I want to ignore it, that kind of garbage. But...!" *Exhale.* *Grit.* Aidrin exhaled a hot breath and clenched her fists with all her might. "Adela, Menhel. Those scumbags. No matter what, I absolutely cannot lose to those two!"

Aidrin was desperate. For a high noble of Telne's standing, prestige was an incredibly important value. Adela and Menhel had dared to damage ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her reputation in front of others. Right now, she was willing to do anything if it meant avenging that humiliation. Even if it meant listening to this idiot's absurd plan! Aidrin grabbed Miz's hands. "I might be popular today." "Miz, I beg of you. Please listen to Sillon's story seriously! If this works out and our group beats those two, Adela and Menhel...!" "If we beat them?" "I swear on my name, I will definitely repay this favor!" "Oh..." A flicker of interest seemed to appear on Miz's expressionless face. An opportunity to have someone of Aidrin Telne's stature owe her a favor. It was an extremely attractive offer. Moreover, Miz actually quite liked this situation. Someone showing such positive interest in Baurer's swordsmanship and herself was something that had almost never happened before.

But— Miz scratched the back of her head. "The offer is indeed attractive. But there is one major problem." "A major problem?" "Hmm?" Miz looked at Sillon and said, "Hey, idiot." "Did you know that Miss Aidrin calling me an idiot is actually a term of endearment? It carries the meaning of me being the most precious person she must cherish and protect." "Gross. Hey, Sillon." "W-W-What are you saying?! Hey—stop talking nonsense!" "Anyway, Sillon, you said you wanted to learn Baurer's swordsmanship, right?" "Indeed." "As I said, there's a major problem with that. Look." Miz suddenly walked forward. In an extremely ordinary posture.

"Oh..." A gasp escaped Aidrin's lips. Miz was just walking normally, but her stride, direction, and speed fluctuated constantly. It was an irregular movement, like a snake slithering. "This is the footwork that serves as the absolute foundation of Baurer's swordsmanship. Molt Drawing. To master Baurer's sword, you must first master this Molt Drawing—" To master this Molt Drawing, one had to understand the profound principles embedded in Baurer's swordsmanship. And those principles were extremely complex, created by stripping away the core heretical elements of assassination arts and combining them with swordsmanship. Therefore, even if she taught him Baurer's swordsmanship, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would be absolutely impossible for him to learn it and immediately apply it in real combat. Miz, who was in the middle of explaining this to convey that message, suddenly stopped talking.

"Is it done like this?" Sillon said, and without warning, he began to walk— "Huh...?!" A gasp burst from Aidrin's mouth. Sillon was executing the footwork, Molt Drawing. "?????" Miz tilted her head. Countless question marks seemed to float above her expressionless face.