Leave Me Alone for a Week
A week. That was how long it took for his body to fully recover.
'Feels slower than I expected, but they say this is fast, right?'
Even the saintess had said someone in that state might lie bedridden for life. Recovering completely in just a week could be considered quick by any measure.
"Student Dante."
"Ah, yes?"
"...Are you listening?"
"I am."
And so, he was currently facing the church's cardinal in the dean's office.
"Once again, allow me to express our gratitude for your hard work and dedication."
"No, it was only natural."
"...We also apologize for the rudeness from our church's side."
Cardinal Benedict, was it? He vaguely remembered the man appearing as part of the pope's faction in the game. Used to smashing heads with a mace at the sight of enemies... Who would've thought he was this composed in person.
"Given the nature of the incident, we can't award you a medal publicly—our apologies."
The appearance of a demon was no trivial matter. Those in the know understood that, but public knowledge would only cause panic. A century ago, he'd have gotten a medal, but now, even open thanks were impossible.
Well, he'd known that already, so no surprise. Still, a medal would've helped with future job hunting—regrettable, sure.
"...This is compensation for your dedication."
"Huh?"
Cardinal Benedict pulled a small gold coin from his robes and held it out.
"Is it okay to give something like this...?"
"His Holiness the Pope mentioned it himself. Does it not please you?"
Like hell he'd refuse. This wasn't just any coin—it bore the pope's divinity and blessing. In the game, only the saintess had one. Who knew he'd get his hands on it.
"I'll gratefully accept it."
"Haha, no need. More importantly, the empire's future looks bright indeed. Dean."
"...A hopeful matter."
The cardinal and dean glanced at him with smiles. They knew he was only 4th Circle yet praised him so highly. Capturing a demon really carried that much weight.
'Wonder when Lilia's coming back.'
Quite some time had passed already. Her mana hadn't fully recovered, sure... but her absence left a strange emptiness.
"Student Dante."
"Yes?"
"We look forward to your future."
Arcadia Academy held two festivals a year.
The Closing Night Festival at the end of the second semester finals, wrapping up the year.
And the Opening Night Festival after first-semester midterms.
Unlike the more laid-back Closing Festival, the Opening one involved a lot more hustle.
'Professors and clubs promoting themselves to hook the freshmen, basically.'
New students still adjusting to school life—clubs and classes needed to reel them in to survive the year, unless they were already popular.
"Dante."
"What?"
"Which club are you joining?"
Luel, hefting her training spear beside the bench, asked casually.
Clubs... Yeah, with clubs mandatory at the academy, he had to pick one.
"Thinking swordsmanship club."
Swordsmanship club... Come to think of it, in the game, Luel usually went for swordsmanship or magic clubs. Standard for her to pick one suiting her knight path.
"Clubs, huh... Well, I'm leaning toward starting a Combat Intensive Club."
"Combat Intensive? That exists?"
"Nah. I'm making it."
This world wasn't limited like the game. Reality offered infinite choices.
'Club president perks are insanely good.'
With clubs required, the academy poured support into them: clubrooms, funding, benefits galore. But controlling club activities himself was the real prize.
"Can a first-year even start one?"
".........Oh."
Right—eligibility started from second year. As a first-year, it was technically impossible.
'There goes my carefully laid plan...'
His head rang for a moment. Wait, no—Hinisila had said she'd help within reason. A student who'd caught a demon asking to start a club? No way they'd refuse.
"I'll make it happen. Probably."
"Combat Intensive Club, right?"
"Not set in stone yet. Anyway."
"You'll train us personally if we join?"
Probably. That was the club's core vibe.
'Practical combat training, tested in real scenarios...'
A bit risky, but manageable if he set boundaries.
"Gotta. I'm the president."
"Ooh... Me! Me, I'll join!"
"Huh?"
Luel's eyes sparkled as she set down her spear. Joining his new club, not some established one? Luel?
Not a bad deal. Knight department top student and all.
'Magic department top and knight top in one club? Name value off the charts.'
Just their presence was free promo. Plus, she'd fill one of the required four spots.
But...
"You sure?"
"I'm training with you anyway. What's the diff?"
"No... I won't stop you, but no guarantees it'll help."
"It's fine. I know your training better than anyone."
If she insisted that much, no reason to refuse. Why turn away a volunteer recruit?
"Alright. Welcome to the Combat Intensive Club."
"Yesss!!!"
"But who's letting you slack off like this?"
"...Heh, hehe."
"Next set. Now."
"Ack, nooo!!!"
Good. His life, always veering negatively from expectations, was finally swerving positive for once.
Long story short, the Combat Intensive Club got approved.
'They hesitated midway, but dean's personal stamp seals it.'
A club endorsed by the dean, boasting first-year magic and knight department tops? He figured it'd draw crowds.
'Nope... Might not even hit five members.'
No supervising prof or seniors bothering them? Or just the lack of hype? Despite minimal promo, zero interest.
He'd expected instant joiners.
"We need to promo at the festival too?"
"Yeah... Or we'll disband before first semester ends."
He'd planned casual wandering; total fail. No choice—time to hustle. Minimum four members required.
"Headache. Gotta do something..."
But nothing long-term; story-wise, festival lasted two days.
'Short-term draw needs prizes...'
Stoke competition to keep 'em coming? Solid.
"How about that one?"
Luel spoke up amid his pondering.
"That one what?"
"We're both tops."
"Yeah?"
"Beat the Tops?"
"Oho."
Basically that. Plain spars? No one beats him or Luel, so no takers. Add handicaps or light events for average students, prize for winners.
'Not bad.'
Other clubs did it, sure—but irrelevant. Key was their first-year top status. Instant crowd-puller.
"Love it. Prizes?"
"Best one's obvious."
Everyone bites at this.
"Money. Thoughts?"
"How much?"
"Half my scholarship."
"...You good?"
"Doesn't matter."
Big sum for students. Plus his black market cash; loss irrelevant.
'And I won't lose anyway.'
He never lost. First vow after breaking the curse.
"Heh... Cocky."
"Naturally. It's me, Dante."
"Hot stuff, prez."
He smiled warmly at Luel's grin, then turned slowly.
"Student Dante?"
Oh right—class time. Lost in thought, tuned out completely.
"...Sorry, Professor."
"I won't fault lovers chatting, but focus."
Huh? Lovers?
"Got it..."
Couldn't argue with the prof, so he nodded. But why'd Luel next to him feel feverish? Imagination?