Chapter 24 - Irina's Eyes Gleamed with the Light of Release, Her Potential Boundless
Irina's eyes shone with the brilliance of a beast set free, and her potential was outstanding. Just like before, as I kicked off the ground and lunged at her.
In that brief moment aloft, our gazes didn't miss each other—what? Considering she couldn't even manage that much before, this was a groundbreaking advance in such a short time.
...Now.
The moment that thought crossed my mind, Irina did exactly as I'd suggested: she didn't dodge the blade this time but met it head-on. Her movements were utterly reckless, as if she hadn't fully grasped how her body was extending itself... but what mattered here was her focus. The way she strained to track the tip of my sword dragged her lagging body forward almost unconsciously.
That must be her instinct at work.
There was no hesitation in Irina. She thrust her shoulder toward the end of my sword's arc.
"—!!"
And right after, she jabbed her blade toward my jaw.
Whoosh.
"...That's enough."
The instant arrived, and I immediately altered my trajectory, stepping back a pace from her.
However.
If I'd kept flying through the air like that, she knew better than anyone what the outcome would have been. My swing would have buried into her shoulder at best. But her thrust would have pierced my jaw and ended me.
Congratulations. It was just a test, but Irina had taken my head.
"...P-Professor!!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"I—I did it just like you said. I really succeeded...!"
"You worked hard. That was impressive, student."
"Heh, hehehe... hahaha...!"
It wasn't clean. It was perilously unsteady, beyond doubt.
But the mere fact that, under my tutelage, she'd reached me... that alone would fill her with a thrill that made her clench her fists tight.
In games or spars, that's when it starts getting fun: the moment you finally score a point after endless losses. Irina, having created that moment with her own hands, wasn't just pumping her fist—she was hopping in place with joy without realizing it.
"It's all thanks to you, Professor! Me, who never once held the upper hand in a duel against anyone, how could I...!"
"A duel is just a duel. If you get too thrilled, that could be its own problem."
"I know! But I'm just so happy...!"
Grin... I know. I get how much.
I gave a slight smile.
"That's it for today. We'll do more tomorrow. From here on, it'll be endless repetition. Focus on building familiarity step by step."
"Thank you, Sir Joseph. Hehe..."
With that, she took both my hands in hers. Those cool hands, befitting a grand duchess, might seem firm at first glance, but they felt surprisingly small and warm.
"—I'll repay this debt."
"It's only natural. No need to repay it. It's late—go get some rest."
"Yes, Professor."
Irina left the training ground looking utterly drained, but her steps were lighter than ever.
"..."
Chik, chik—.
I watched her go, quietly pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
She's got the direction now. If she keeps practicing like this until the rematch, it's not impossible for her to win.
But could I call myself a professor if I only looked after one side? That mad dog, rotting away in the detention center without even knowing how her reflection letter turned out—I had to take care of her too.
It was my plan from the start, and I'd made her a promise. Salary or not, I wouldn't abandon a single student.
"I'll treat you big, since you waited so long."
So before bed, I stopped by Market Street and picked up what I needed from a shop on the verge of closing.
Because what good is showing up empty-handed?
* * *
Entering the detention center, the dismal conditions hit me right away, wrinkling my nose.
Still a shithole, as always.
A security officer on duty—probably—spotted me lingering and hurried over with a start, greeting me warmly.
"—Sir Joseph! We've been expecting you."
"On duty again today?"
"Yes, sir."
He was the same soldier I'd run into last time when picking up Zigrinde's fourth reflection letter. He'd been overly friendly since then, which had me wondering, but apparently the entire Academy security team thought highly of me.
My gut feeling back when Zigrinde went berserk—that line about heads rolling like sausage links—hadn't been wrong. What should have been mass firings ended with just me getting a slap on the wrist.
"Anyway, I'm here for Zigrinde today. You already know."
"Yes, the headmaster filled us in. All the paperwork's done—right this way."
"Thanks."
Thus, we reached Zigrinde's cell. The moment she heard my footsteps, she peeked out from behind the bars, saw me coming, and quickly ducked back in.
"What the."
Was it the lingering impact from the punch I'd thrown last time? I'd hit her hard, factoring in her wild nature, but this reaction left me unsure if she was awkward or scared.
"Give us a minute alone. Thanks for the escort."
"We're the grateful ones. Take your time."
I sent the security away politely, took the key, and approached the cell. There sat Zigrinde on the bed, glaring at me sullenly like a sulky kid.
And the moment I saw her, I understood why she'd peeked and bolted.
...Yeah, that. She must have been dying to get out.
Like a daughter craning her neck for Daddy to show up.
"Changed into your uniform, huh."
"They gave it to me when they said I was getting out. ...P-Professor."
"Even cleaned up the cell nice. Folded the blanket perfectly..."
"Obviously. It's not mine anyway."
"Most don't bother. Anyway, sorry I'm late. You waited a while, right?"
Zigrinde averted her gaze slightly and muttered,
"...Yeah, pretty long wait, but if you were busy, nothing to be done."
Nothing to be done, my ass. She looked pissed as hell.
But honestly, she had every right, so I'd come prepared. After Irina's lesson yesterday, I'd swung by Market Street on a whim, right?
To melt the anticipation of a daughter waiting for Daddy? Nothing beats spice-fried chicken shrink-wrapped tight with rubber bands.
"Here."
"What's... this......"
Instead, I handed her the tofu I'd prepared. In this romance-fantasy world, even the edge of Market Street had shops stocking this mysterious Eastern delicacy. Take the applause.
"You're free now, so eat this tofu and start fresh with a clean slate."
"—Ugh, annoying. Buying useless crap pisses me off enough, but thinking you went all the way to Market Street just to give me this? Even more pissed."
"That hurts, Professor-wise..."
"Don't talk nonsense. You don't even know how I was waiting for you here...?"
As expected, tofu didn't go over well with Zigrinde. She scowled genuinely, looking at me with outright disdain.
I don't have a hobby of taking glares like that.
"Who'd joke around with something this scary-looking?"
But I grinned and pulled out the real gift.
Just kidding.
"—Uwek."
Zigrinde startled once at my high-level prank closing the distance between us.
"Professor?!"
And once more at the item I'd bought.
"They probably fed you dogshit slop, so I figured your blood sugar was crashing. Picked these macarons special. Don't like the set?"
But even as I said it, I was confident. Who in this world could refuse Market Street's ultra-premium, insanely delicious macaron set?
I could give this to our Sion and get a killer reaction, but thanks to my original-story knowledge, I knew for sure with Zigrinde. Giving her these cute little sweets?
It was damn near a perfect score.
This girl loves stuff like this, looks notwithstanding.
"—Wh-why would you think I like this kinda thing?!"
Of course, hating how it clashed with her image and behavior, she tried to play it off super obviously.
But after eyeing that plump figure, she couldn't hide the drool pooling at the corner of her mouth.
"Don't want it? I'll eat 'em all."
"Wh-when did I say I didn't! Gimme. Hurry. Can I really eat it?"
"Of course."
"Heh..."
Munch munch—.
She snatched it from my hand in a rush, shoving them in her mouth before even savoring.
Whoa. Look at that face. Girl was starving for sugar.
"Ah, fucking delicious..."
"Good to see you enjoying it. Cream all over your mouth."
"Th-this is what I saved for later, okay."
Aw. Sure it is.
In the end, Zigrinde devoured all twelve macarons right there on the spot, then sprawled out on the bed like her blood sugar had spiked hard.
"Haa... yeah, this is life."
The malice drained from her face, so it had clearly worked wonders.
I told her,
"Anyway, your reflection letter did the trick."
"The one you took? Ah. Seeing me walk out scot-free, guess the grand duchess checked it properly..."
"Yep. Just as you guessed. Irina accepted the apology."
"Heh."
Then Zigrinde's relaxed expression softened further. She looked away and murmured softly,
"...Hmph, good for her then. But without you, Teacher, it wouldn't have gone down like that."
"Thanks for the high praise. But why's that?"
"Why? I'm getting out of this hole because you went and convinced the headmaster or whoever."
"Is that so? Even then, without Irina forgiving you, nothing could be done."
"Don't care."
Fine. But this was one thing she should care about?
"...Zigrinde, you're overlooking something. The grand duchess's release testimony came with one condition."
"What."
"A rematch."
At that, Zigrinde's eyes widened like acorns.
"Heh? That weakling, against me?"
"Yes. She says she'll beat you somehow this time. If you don't like it, stay in here and take the punishment."
"—Kuh, kuheheh... No choice anyway, but no reason to refuse either? This'll be fun. Coming back for another ass-kicking after the first thrashing..."
"You good with that?"
"Hell yeah. She started the beef, and I only wrote that letter 'cause of you. Legally pounding that shitty stupid grand duchess again? Pumped."
I figured she'd say that. Wild dog's wild, after all.
But I had words for her too.
"Still, the Irina you'll face again... won't be as weak as you think."
"Worm can wriggle all it wants."
"No. Don't get arrogant. To beat you, she's been training rigorously under me."
With that explanation, Zigrinde's pumpkin-orange eyes sharpened into me.
"—Training?"
"Yes."
"Just you two?"
"Yes."
"Unfair...!"
But that wasn't what she meant to say—she clapped a hand over her mouth to stuff the words back in.
Too late. Words don't work that way.
Utterly embarrassed, all flustered Zigrinde could do was pretend nothing happened and stick right to me, growling.
"You're only teaching Demon King Slayer stuff to her? Why. Teach me too. I can handle it. I'm pretty good at it, y'know? I can focus... Ah, fuck! Why am I so antsy, Zigrinde?!"
"C'mon, what more do I have to teach? You'd win ninety-nine out of a hundred against Irina."
"—Tchiiit... Teacher, seriously...!"
"But this way, it wouldn't be fun for you anymore..."
"Obviously!"
"Being a professor is tough... Surrounded by students, forced to walk the middle path."
Inwardly cursing Aristotle a bit, I parted my lips slightly and said,
"How about this, then."
"—Wh-what."
"If Zigrinde gives it her all, I'll grant you one wish."
Best I could come up with.
"Professor."
"Yes."
"For real?"
"Why not."
"Can I say it now?"
Seemed like the right answer—her eyes lit up completely.
Hopefully it'd end with more top-tier macarons like this, but probably not.
Wonder what she'd ask for.
"Then, if I win......"