Four Unremarkable Wins
The day of the Mock Battle passed with four such unremarkable wins. Whether the Mock Battle granted any stat bonuses remained unclear. Without a way to quantify one’s own status, it was only a vague sense that something might have improved.
Life at the Academy after the Mock Battle proved far more dull and peaceful than expected. In the end, Academy life was simply school life by modern standards. Events like unidentified assailants seizing the school for ransom or a revolt of illegally modified monsters from a hidden underground laboratory—those kinds of obviously absurd incidents—simply did not occur.
Boring.
Commute, class, meal, class, return home. Trapped in a cycle of suffering that would repeat endlessly for three years, the only thing turning was the hamster wheel. As expected, none of the lessons actually entered the ears. If a name had been heard somewhere before, at least a “So that’s how it is” reaction might have been possible. But when ridiculous names and events like “The Blood-Tears Grunwald’s Defense of the Jurtan Gorge” or “The Third Negotiation of the False-Tongued Ijurda” appeared, there was simply no way to force them into memory. They weren’t even Native American names.
Still, everything except history class had been tolerable—especially pharmacology. Since potions had replaced most forms of medicine, the subject taught which plants and mushrooms produced which effects and which potions they were used in.
“Right now is the season when End-roll Grass grows abundantly outside the city, isn’t it?”
While listening to the pharmacology lecture in a daze, a familiar name drifted into the ears. Lifting a half-lowered head slightly, the gaze moved toward the front of the classroom. The teacher continued the explanation while looking evenly over the students.
“It can simply be crushed and used like a wound salve, and when finely ground and boiled, it shows excellent effects in helping incompatible ingredients blend together.”
End-roll Grass—the name that could never be forgotten. The memory of wandering the mountains just to gather a few stalks still made the blood run cold.
I’d rather have hunted twenty boars instead.
Even while recalling unpleasant memories, the lesson continued in its dry tone. Because demand for End-roll Grass was high, some nobles set up greenhouses on their surplus estate land and cultivated it for a tidy profit… Though, the teacher added as a personal remark, herbs grown in greenhouses never matched the potency of those grown in the wild.
After roughly ten more minutes of subjective commentary, a low, eerie cry suddenly echoed from the hourglass resting on the lectern.
“The materials for potions are extremely broad and varied. Plants, mushrooms, parts of animal bodies—while common ingredients can be obtained even inside the city, rarer or more precious materials are often requested through the guild…”
“Kueeeek—”
The teacher, who had been explaining at length, stopped at the sound of the alarm and spoke again.
“Has it already gotten this late…? I’ll continue the explanation next time.”
The pharmacology teacher soon gathered belongings and left the classroom. Could that alarm not have been set to a more ordinary sound? Once the teacher disappeared, the classroom became entirely the students’ domain. The space that had echoed only with the teacher’s voice in silence quickly grew noisy.
“Would you care to visit the garden together after the meal?”
“I’m always welcome.”
“Our estate greenhouse also grows End-roll Grass. Do you as well?”
“No, our house doesn’t have that much extra space… Then, would it be all right if we purchased a little from your side? I think I heard recently that you were short on supply.”
“Well, we have regular trading partners… I’ll ask my father if there’s any surplus.”
During breaks between classes, students usually gathered in same-gender groups. Their conversations ranged from simple small talk to complex business proposals involving purchases and trading partners. Whether they were truly mature or merely trying to appear so, the way they minded their family’s reputation and their own image showed they had received a good education from a young age. Even their friendly interactions were extensions of social maneuvering. Those who hesitated to reveal their family background or failed to actively join the conversation were naturally denied any chance to speak. The habit of subtly weighing personal gain in relationships was, strangely enough, rather appreciated.
“Alone again today.”
“Shut up.”
Kair, who had been chatting amicably with several students, approached and spoke in a casual tone, perhaps out of pity. Feeling oddly irritated by what seemed like deliberate consideration, a sharp reply came out.
“Why not make a few people to talk to?”
The boy continued without minding, as though already accustomed to such responses. A thoroughly realistic piece of advice followed—suggesting it would be better to have at least a few people to converse with—but…
“I’m tired.”
Even against the parent-like concern, a short three-word rebuttal was given before slumping over the long desk. “Tired” was not an excuse; it was fact. Conversations with people of status always left one drained afterward. The formalities that had to be observed, the tension that naturally arose. The gap between main-building and annex students went without saying, but even among main-building students—who appeared equal at a glance—there existed a clear hierarchy. There were nobles whose names everyone recognized, and nobles who barely clung to the line between nobility and commoners. In noble society, two such beings could never be considered equals simply because they wore the same uniform. In other words, for someone completely ignorant of these nuances, the correct answer was to never initiate relationships. Never speak first, and only respond with minimal courtesy when spoken to. Kair, who knew all too well how troublesome conversations between nobles could be, scratched the back of his head.
“Well, it’s not that I don’t understand…”
“If you understand, then leave it alone.”
The curt reply came again to Kair, whose words trailed off as though he did not fully comprehend. It was far better than drawing unnecessary attention by poking around and having people wonder, “Who is that guy?” or “Is he even a noble?” Besides…
Moving alone makes it easier to obtain various things at the Academy.
Living a life packed with schedules meant that obtainable items could be missed in an instant. Forming more connections with others only added forced schedules, further reducing opportunities. Having to spend three years in a place with poor growth efficiency meant every possible gain had to be scraped together.
“I’d like to leave it alone too, but recently when I was talking with the others, some people asked what kind of person you are.”
“Why me?”
Just as that resolve had been made, the few words heard over the crown of the head made the expression stiffen. What was that supposed to mean? If they wanted to talk among themselves, fine, but why bring up talk about me? Lifting the head slightly and showing a bewildered expression, Kair folded his arms as though it were obvious and continued.
“Why else? Because you’re always hanging around with me.”
The tone carried the implication that “Of course people would notice if you’re with me.” In short, the only son of a well-known household frequently associating with some unheard-of nobody naturally sparked curiosity about the latter’s identity. Being noticed just by staying close was absurd.
Resting elbows on the desk in resignation and propping up the chin, a listless question followed.
“…So, what did you say?”
“I told them you were a friend I exercise with. Not far from the truth.”
Kair seemed to have glossed things over with those around him somehow. Since the excuse he gave was not far from reality, a shrug was given in reply.
“That’s good enough, then…”
“Anyway, you should practice conversation enough.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
After letting the protagonist’s serious advice go in one ear and out the other, lunchtime arrived without incident. The rapid meal—swallowing without much chewing—was a basic survival skill from outdoor life. Based on the formula that the end of breakfast equaled the departure time of the carriage, the already fast eating speed within the family had been further honed… Today as well, the first to finish lunch and empty the plate.
The break between lunch and the next class lasted nearly an hour. Normally, heading to the training ground would have been the correct choice for the sake of stats, but…
Wednesday. On Wednesday lunch breaks, the garden had to be visited. A place filled with nothing but female students no matter where one looked—an area close to being off-limits to men. If the training ground was a place female students avoided of their own accord, then conversely, the garden existed for men. Even while receiving uncomfortable glances, steps were taken deeper inside, where shrubs were more abundant than flowers.
There he is.
As expected, an elderly man with white hair, wearing work clothes and squatting down to trim shrub branches, was there. At the sudden presence, he stopped the snipping sound of the shears and turned his head this way, beard covering most of his face. Upon seeing the uniform-clad figure, the old man’s eyes widened and he hurriedly moved.
“Oh dear, I’ll clean this up right away.”
“No, you can keep doing what you were doing…”
“Ah, is that so? Then I won’t refuse…”
The kind-looking grandfather treated this much younger student with utmost respect. He was the Academy’s gardener, and the item he gave would be of great help later on. While the effects of most equipment obtained during adventures had long been forgotten, Academy-related growth had been repeated so many times that it remained fairly clear in memory. The gloves he gave had the effect of improving the quality of most gathered materials. The condition for obtaining them was simply answering three plant-related questions correctly.
Since the spot was not left, the old man spoke.
“Student, do you like plants or flowers?”
It’s here!
That was the question signaling the start of the quest. Fearing to miss the opportunity right in front of the eyes, an immediate affirmative answer was given.
“Ah, yes!”
“Is that so? Then let me ask a few questions for fun.”
The old gardener smiled gently. He soon began the first question.
“Do you know the name of the flower that, when it withers, bursts its own buds to spread its seeds?”
Wait, I’m screwed.
After hearing the entire question, a long silence stretched between them. Only then did the sense of wrongness register, sending a chill down the spine.
Right. The question bank—hadn’t been brought. Besides, weren’t these questions originally multiple choice?