Announcement of the Final Grades (1)
"What do you think?"
Herion was staring at the screen for Group 17 with a grave expression. To be precise, he was watching the movements of Sillon—the boy Sinia referred to as "our Number 348."
"Pardon? Ah—" Herion looked back and forth between Sillon's recording and Sinia as if finally snapping out of his daze. Then, his face hardening once more, he asked, "What on earth is this?"
"What does it look like to you?" Sinia asked, leaning in close. Her long, pastel-pink bangs hung down far enough to cover her eyes, but through the soft strands, her gentle gaze locked onto Herion.
"This... no matter how I look at it, isn't this the movement of an assassin?"
"And?" Even though Herion questioned her with the stern air of an interrogator, Sinia remained perfectly nonchalant. She threw the question back with her usual benevolent smile, instantly deflating his momentum. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Herion continued.
"It is unmistakably the movement of an assassin... yet it isn't actual Assassination Arts."
"Meaning?"
"There is no consistent form or style. It is as if he is brute-forcing it with sheer, raw talent. In swordsmanship terms, it would be like someone swinging a blade with nothing but ignorant, monstrous strength."
"To summarize?"
"..." Her attitude was like an instructor coaxing an answer out of a cadet. Though displeased, Herion answered honestly.
"I see the movements of an assassin. I see the talent of an assassin. However, he does not seem to be utilizing formal Assassination Arts."
"As expected of Instructor Herion. You caught on immediately."
"Is he... Harashin?" Herion spoke the name with extreme caution, as if uttering a word that should never be spoken aloud. The Harashin was an ancient, secret assassination guild whispered of since antiquity, yet its true nature had never been revealed to the public. They were the very origin of all Assassination Arts.
Sinia shook her head. "He's not Harashin. You saw it too, didn't you, Herion?"
"I say this precisely because I saw it. How can you be so sure? He could be intentionally hiding his mastery of the Assassination Arts—" Herion cut himself off, rewinding the footage to analyze Sillon's movements several more times. Finally, he let out a low groan filled with complex emotions. "Yes. As you say, he is certainly not Harashin."
"Oh? What made you change your mind?"
"If he had been formally initiated into the Assassination Arts by the Harashin... such movements would be impossible." Both swordsmanship and Assassination Arts belonged to the realm of physical techniques. These were skills engraved into the body as much as the mind. Even if one consciously tried to suppress them, muscle memory and deep-seated habits would inevitably leak out.
"However..." At that moment, the absolute worst-case scenario crossed Herion's mind.
"However?"
"What if... an assassin who has reached a realm where they can freely manipulate even their muscle memory and physical habits is hiding their identity...?" Herion suggested this terrifying possibility with a deeply serious look.
"Pfft...!" "..." But his solemnity didn't last even a second. Sinia burst into laughter, and Herion turned his head away, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
"Yes, I know. That would be impossible."
"No, no, Instructor Herion. Don't be so embarrassed. It's not entirely plausible—well, actually, it's not plausible at all, but the possibility isn't strictly zero. But think about it. If there really were a Harashin assassin capable of such an absurd feat..." Sinia shrugged. "Why on earth would they be playing house with these little chicks in the Academy entrance exam?"
"Infiltrating the Academy...?"
"Hahaha! Instructor Herion, that is your problem. Your imagination is far too rigid. Would a Harashin assassin of that caliber really pretend to be a fresh-faced student just to infiltrate the Academy? If they wanted to get in, they'd do something like this—" Sinia made a gesture as if peeling open her own skull from both sides. "They'd skin an academy instructor like me and pop out of my corpse when no one's looking."
"How gruesome. Let us leave it at that."
"Right. Let's drop the talk of mythical, impossible assassins..." Sinia stared at Sillon on the screen. "And return to our Number 348."
"Sigh..." Only now did Herion realize the sheer complexity of the situation he had been dragged into. He let out a heavy sigh. "So that's why you covered up the records of the second exam, and why you paired Sillon and Miz Bowler in the same group for the third exam."
"Wait!" Sinia quickly raised a hand, cutting Herion off.
"What is it?"
"Putting our Number 348 and the young lady of the Bowler family together was indeed to give Number 348 some inspiration! But!"
"...But?"
"Hahaha! I had no idea he would blow things up so spectacularly!" Sinia clutched her stomach, doubling over with laughter. Herion stared at her with a freezing gaze.
"No, seriously, Herion! Listen to me! When I covered up the incident during the second exam, I explicitly told him: 'If your assassin's talent is exposed during the Academy exams, things will get very troublesome, so behave yourself.'"
"And you call that behaving himself? Or do I perhaps have a flawed understanding of the word 'behave'?"
"That's why I'm so baffled too! I mean, why is our Number 348 suddenly acting out like this?! But when I gave it some deep thought... well, his actions aren't entirely incomprehensible."
Herion nodded, recalling the rumors surrounding Sillon. "According to you, Instructor Sinia, Sillon achieved an incredible score in the second exam, surpassing even Drin and Kasha. Yet, at the proctor's urging, he gave up those results. That alone would be enough to breed deep resentment..."
"Exactly. And our spiteful little noble chicks weren't about to let him sit in peace, either."
"He plummeted from being the candidate who deserved the most positive attention to the one receiving the worst kind of notoriety. At his age, children are highly conscious of how others perceive them and crave validation. Moreover, this is the Academy entrance exam—something of paramount importance to a commoner candidate like Sillon. Did you really not foresee him rebelling like this?"
Herion looked at Sinia with an icy glare. His expression practically screamed, Of course you didn't. Classic you. Sinia scratched her cheek and looked away.
"Well~ of course I expected it! I just didn't think our Number 348 was the type to dwell on such things~ Haha, maybe I just lacked empathy?"
"At least you are self-aware. You are probably the only person on this continent shameless enough to walk around with a straight face after being put in a situation like that."
Thus, although Herion had slightly misinterpreted Sillon's character, he had nonetheless come to fully understand him in his own way. He understood the psychology behind his actions. He understood his rebellion. He understood his existence. In the eyes of Instructor Herion, the anomalous existence known as Sillon had transformed into a proper cadet—one who constantly drew his attention and concern.
Watching Herion closely, Sinia broke the silence with a soft, "So..." "Herion?"
"What is it? I have a terrible feeling about this."
"Could you take responsibility and look after our Number 348?"
"..." Slap. Herion lowered his head and covered his face with his palm. "Is this it? Is this the penalty for losing our bet?"
"Haha~ A penalty? Don't say it like that! You make our Number 348 sound like some troublesome burden~"
"Then why don't you take responsibility for Candidate Sillon yourself instead of dumping him on me?"
"No, Herion, think about it." Sinia bent her waist and raised an index finger, explaining as if to a small child. "If you were another instructor, and I suddenly stepped forward to sponsor Number 348's identity, what would you think?"
"I would think Sinia Iron is plotting something again. And Sillon would only look even more suspicious."
"See! Exactly! It's a bit sad to admit it myself, but my reputation within the Academy isn't exactly stellar. Honestly, it's so unfair I could die!"
"Unfair...?"
"Anyway! On the other hand, Herion, everyone in the Academy hangs on your every word! Even if you suddenly pinched a female instructor's rear, she'd probably just wink back at you!"
"Would you care to repeat that insane statement in front of my fiancée?"
"An~y~way~~~" Sinia sweated slightly and quickly changed the subject. "If you sponsor our Number 348, who would dare object?"
"..." It was undeniable. If Herion sponsored Number 348's identity, and Sinia added her support, no one in the Academy would be able to raise an objection to Sillon's presence—except, perhaps, the Headmaster. But... Herion lifted his face from his palm and looked at her with a weary expression.
"Are you certain about this?"
"About what?"
"Is it truly right to accept someone with the talent of an assassin into the Academy?"
"Heavens... then what should we do? Kick him out? If we expel our Number 348, where do you think he'll go?"
The answer was obvious. With talent of that caliber, he would catch the eye of the Harashin in no time. He would be taken in by them, eventually growing into an uncontrollable monster. If so—
"..."
"Uh-oh~ Herion~ You were just thinking of something wicked, weren't you?!"
Startled, Herion shook his head. What on earth was I just thinking of doing to a mere boy? With a face worn down by self-reproach and exhaustion, he spoke.
"With that level of talent, the Harashin will undoubtedly take an interest in him."
"Which is exactly why we, as adults, need to keep him close and protect him, don't you think?"
"The Harashin will not give up just because he is under the Academy's protection." As he spoke, Herion's eyes widened. A sudden realization struck him. "Don't tell me..."
"Yes?"
"Are you planning to use Sillon as bait to draw out the Harashin?"
Herion knew. He knew that Sinia had been tracking the Harashin for years for some deeply personal reason.
"..."
Unfazed by Herion's sharp deduction, Sinia replied, "N-N-No way~ I would never think of such a thing~..."
But it was clearly a lie. She was so flustered it showed on her face. Sinia awkwardly averted her gaze, hiding her trembling eyes behind the long bangs that fell past her brow.