It Might Not Be a Loss
“If I win, take me as your disciple.”
“Huh?”
What the hell? After agonizing over it for so long, that's all she wants—a disciple spot? Hell, isn't she already my student? I've been trying my damnedest to teach her properly, but maybe it never got through. Feels like my heart's been rejected. Kinda hurts a little.
“You've been my disciple for a while now.”
“No, not like that!”
But Zigrinde's words carried a bit more weight than I'd expected—something different from what I imagined.
“I want to be a disciple in a different sense from just being at the Academy under a tenured professor...”
“Uh, well...”
“Not as a student of Professor Joseph, but as a disciple of the Silent Sword Emperor. That's what I want.”
Ah, damn it. That nickname again!
“D-don't use that title...! I personally hate it.”
“Why? It's badass.”
“Of course it is. That's because it's a nickname they made up in the capital to mock me. Before Duke Raval took me in, I was just some lowborn nobody with no background...”
But then Zigrinde's eyes curved into crescents, and she grinned ear to ear.
“That's exactly why it's badass.”
“Huh?”
“A total nobody from the rock bottom claws their way up and survives to become the Demon King Slayer? That nickname's basically the ultimate praise for a human being.”
“......”
“So even if it started as a joke, now it's something you could proudly introduce yourself with, right?”
“Uh...”
“Am I wrong?”
...Hmph. Is that how it is? She's got some cute ideas in that head of hers. Kinda like her. And since I'd never thought of it that way, it was pretty intriguing too. Does this girl actually get me more than I thought?
And then, what she said next was even more killer.
“From what I know, Professor, you use a unique sword style based on the Lagrange family's techniques—one that doesn't allow left-hand gauntlets... You haven't taught it to anyone, have you?”
Well, yeah. It's not something I'd pass on from start to finish to just anyone. My retirement's been too long, and I've spent even longer alone.
But what's this? Is she my secret fan? How does she know all this...
“So, if I utterly crush Irina, take me as your first official disciple. I won't disappoint you.”
If she puts it like that, how can I not seriously consider it?
...Zigrinde's portrayed as a total mad dog throughout the original story, so I've been trying to keep her in check during my time as a professor. But if she's walking right into my fold on her own, no real reason to refuse, is there?
So, I just nodded.
“Fine.”
“Hehe. Score!”
“But that's all assuming you win. I want you to give it your all, so I'll train Irina hard too.”
“Obviously. ...Bring it on, then.”
With that, I dragged Zigrinde out of the Detention Center. After dropping her off at the girls' dormitory, my morning duties finally wrapped up. The rematch wasn't far off, but I'd put out all the immediate fires. From here on, just focus on what needs doing.
A little time passed after that, and morning arrived on the day of the rematch.
“......”
It wasn't about the duelists themselves or the sole witness, Joseph... but Sion Lagrange ended up waking earlier than usual.
She wasn't much of a morning person anyway, but today was especially bad.
The reason was obvious: today was the day to see the fruits of her uncle's daily lessons with Irina.
Of course, she felt a twinge of jealousy that the attention she'd been getting had shifted there. But for Sion, proving her revered uncle's prestige to the imperial dogs took precedence.
Yeah. If her uncle—who was essentially family to the Lagrange house—earned a stellar professor evaluation in her stead... their noses wouldn't just be flattened; they'd be ground into mincemeat.
Damn right.
'Proxy satisfaction is fine. Seeing them like that would be quite amusing.'
Ever since becoming a duke in name only, Sion had endured all sorts of subtle disdain. Holding this grudge felt perfectly natural.
So, honestly, for Sion...
Whether Irina's improved skills impressed or not, whether Zigrinde showed her madness again or not—it didn't matter. The real thrill was her uncle, the only professor witness, earning acclaim in front of everyone.
But then.
“—So, about that duel today.”
“Ah, the one with the Silent Sword Emperor and those other two.”
As Sion, up early and studying for exams in the reading room, overheard voices from around the corner in the Academy's main building hallway.
“The headmaster, Adelheit, approved it, so the duel itself can't be helped. But I still can't accept the witness thing. We need to revisit it.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Think about it. A guy who's been here less than a month, sole witness to the grand duchess's duel? No precedent for that.”
Hearing that, 'Oh ho, these filthy mongrels.'
Sion silenced her steps. She habitually pulled out her fan to cover her mouth, but she held her breath entirely, eavesdropping stealthily from behind the wall.
Who they were was obvious without looking. This was near the professors' offices, and at this early hour, it had to be them. Especially that low voice—it had to be the glasses-wearing prick who'd dumped the Mist Flower class on her uncle his first day and acted all high and mighty.
“By the rules, official duels at earl rank or above require a tenured professor with three years' experience as witness. Even if the headmaster gave special permission, that doesn't waive the qualifications.”
“Oh, going by the book, are we...”
“If not now, when? In this Academy under His Majesty's rule, letting an unqualified professor witness the grand duchess's duel... How would that look from the outside?”
A snicker.
“Pretty ugly.”
“Exactly. So we're gathering colleagues today to submit a petition to the headmaster. Join the signature. Get Joseph replaced—either swap the witness or form a judging panel.”
Replaced. Let Joseph do all the work, then steal the honor as witnesses.
As those words flew, the smile faded from Sion's lips. But her eyes sharpened instead.
'Just as I thought.'
Reading this kind of vibe was like breathing for Sion Lagrange, who'd faced daily bullying since becoming duchess.
Invites to balls missing or late. Subtly erased from conversations at social events. Ignoring greetings as if unheard.
All the same structure. Looked like nothing happened to outsiders, but the victim knew exactly.
'I can take it. But now they're targeting my uncle?'
Ungrateful bastards. Clueless about whose hands brought this world's peace.
Snap.
At that moment, Sion finally folded her fan.
And turned from the reading room.
Clack, clack, clack.
Her heels echoed down the hall, reaching the professors.
They shut up, eyes blinking in shock.
“Duchess Lagrange?”
“Good morning, Professor Lorrie.”
Sion greeted them with a perfect smile. But the chill beneath made the glasses-wearing Lorrie clear his throat casually.
“What brings you here so early?”
“I was out for a morning stroll and heard your voices. Thought I'd say hello.”
“I-is that so.”
“My steps are a bit slow, unfortunately, so I overheard quite a lot. Sorry about that.”
The air grew frigid.
“You were talking about the witness qualifications—for our professor, right?”
Poison seeped into the atmosphere.
Sion could've played dumb, of course. Spot the scheme, smile it off—that's the unspoken rule here. Pretend you didn't hear or see, and they move on.
Otherwise, they make an example of the loudmouth next.
But Sion Lagrange couldn't let this slide.
Not when it involved her uncle, the pride of House Lagrange.
“Changing the witness? Good idea.”
“W-we never said—”
“I heard you, so I can't pretend otherwise. I'll inform House Pernov of what you just said.”
“—It's not finalized. Just professors discussing. Miss Sion.”
“Ah, discussions? Then it's an agenda I'll raise with House Pernov first.”
The professors fell silent.
Yeah, no way they'd done it. They'd rush the change today, then swap documents to exclude Joseph from the start before notifying the grand duchy.
If questioned, deny it all.
“Oh ho, cat got your tongue? You haven't, have you?”
“No, it's...”
“So, you're trying to change the witness for Princess Irina's duel—without her knowledge—and without formal approval from the grand duchy? Just professors acting on their own?”
Good thing I woke up early. Would've hated seeing my uncle's face fall.
“Altering conditions of an official duel involving the grand duchess's honor without their consent—isn't that an insult to House Pernov, kin to the imperial family? I won't stand for it.”
She framed it as protecting Pernov, but everyone would know it was for Joseph.
Still, it was enough to piss off the grand duchy. A mere professor daring to ignore their daughter's will...
The moment they found out, beings of incomparable weight would intervene. Could the faculty handle that? Of course not.
Sweat beaded on Lorrie's forehead, but Sion had no fan to cool him. One more thing to say.
“And one more.”
“What is it, Miss Sion...!”
“My father, Lord Raval Lagrange...”
“......”
“Holds the titles of Imperial Military Advisor and Honorary Field Marshal of the Imperial Army.”
“Y-yes, I know.”
“Good. Then you know he's never once exercised those powers.”
Sion spoke deliberately slow, nailing their coffins shut word by word.
“The Imperial Military Advisor role goes beyond education into military counsel... As you professors know, this Academy is a military institution. Not somewhere his authority doesn't apply.”
“...So?”
“Father's mild and unambitious, so he's never spoken up. But that's not because he can't—it's just that he hasn't.”
Whoosh.
Then Sion opened her fan, her purple eyes—deep as an abyss—gleaming.
“But know this: touching Lord Joseph might just give him the trigger to start.”
…….
….
….
“I'm quite serious. Think carefully.”
Long silence. Lorrie glanced at his colleague, coughed awkwardly. No further response possible.
This much made it clear Sion wouldn't back down.
That was enough.
“Then, until tonight's duel, have a pleasant day. Goodbye, professors.”
Sion nodded impeccably and turned away.
But the moment she rounded the corner, out of sight.
Thud.
She leaned against the wall and sighed.
“...Hoo.”
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Using her father's name as a shield was viable, but lecturing them on unreported changes while skipping her own report to him? Pure hubris.
If Lord Raval found out, he'd worry sick.
Yeah. In other words...
This was Sion's one and only bluff.
But it was fine.
'It's okay. They don't have the guts to check.'
Dead or alive, they couldn't tell bluff from truth.
...Normally, she wouldn't dream of it.
But for the uncle who'd made her a duchess, devoted his life to House Lagrange, and seemed to cherish her more than expected—what couldn't she do?
Even a duchess scorned by all had a card to play for her own people.
And this was her one true sincerity, however meager.
With that in mind, Sion murmured to herself.
“I've set the stage. You two young ladies fight it out properly... Feels like I just took all the heat for nothing. What a loss.”
Yet her heart filled with satisfaction and relief. Why was that?
...Sion decided to ponder it slowly.