The Stars' Orbits Have Gone Astray
"Everyone's gathered here, I see?"
When Hampton asked in his soft, gentle voice, the Mage Tower Master's and Duchess Valenti's brows furrowed simultaneously. Just moments ago, the two had been locked in a tense standoff over Ian Ashy.
But now, even that rivalry took a backseat. The inexplicable aura emanating from the professor before them was simply too unsettling.
And for good reason... Slitted eyes? The Mage Tower Master didn't buy into superstitious physiognomy, but human instinct was screaming warnings loud enough to heed.
"Professor Hampton. What exactly is your game, squeezing into a descending elevator like this?" the Mage Tower Master snapped coldly.
Duchess Valenti chimed in right after, as if their earlier spat had never happened. "You must've followed us the moment we left. If you're tailing us, the polite thing would be to explain why, don't you think?"
You were tailing me too, the Mage Tower Master shot her a glare before turning back to Hampton.
The two titans of the empire—who'd been growling over Ian just seconds ago—had instantly united to corner Hampton. It was the kind of overwhelming pressure that could crush anyone, yet Professor Hampton merely smiled amiably.
"Hahaha."
His relaxed laughter filled the elevator, followed by an eerie silence. The only sound was the heavy mechanical hum of the descending car, pressing down on the space. Hampton tilted his head, his slitted eyes widening slightly.
"Is that how it looks?"
"It absolutely does!!"
The Mage Tower Master and Duchess Valenti nearly forgot their dignity and shouted in unison. Well, the Tower Master had no such dignity to begin with, so he yelled alone.
That silky tone, the inscrutable smile, and the perfectly timed dim elevator lighting! Anyone would peg it as the final boss's line right before unleashing some grand conspiracy.
The duchess forced herself to stay composed. "Just answer honestly."
"Ahh."
At her firm demand, Professor Hampton scratched his head again. Then he pulled his lips into a long, creepy grin—very creepy.
"It's nothing much."
Guys who say 'it's nothing' are the most dangerous. The two powerhouses' shoulders twitched instinctively.
"All I need are Ian Ashy's fingers."
In that instant, the Mage Tower Master vanished from view, only to reappear with a slender wand pressed to Hampton's throat.
"Talk. Whose orders are you following to infiltrate the academy? Are you one of those cultists?"
"Huh? What's this all of a sudden?"
"What value do Ian Ashy's fingers hold? Some religious ritual? Or have you lot figured out his talent too?"
The Tower Master's voice dropped dangerously low. Hampton's eyes widened just a fraction.
"I'll explain. Could you calm down first?"
"No. Spill it now. What do you plan to do with Ian Ashy's fingers?"
Gulp.
"Well—"
Even the duchess swallowed hard, eyes locked on Hampton's mouth.
"His fingers can't get hurt if he's going to keep writing, right? Ian Ashy's literary talent is truly remarkable. As his supervising professor, I have to protect them."
"...Is that your answer?"
"Pardon?"
"You're not saying you're gonna sacrifice his fingers for some demon summoning ritual or whatever—that's all?"
"What does that even mean...? A writer's fingers are obviously crucial. Even if you two take an interest in him, I just meant to ask you to spare his fingers, at least."
Hampton's utterly baffled expression, complete with floating question marks, made crack—veins bulge on the foreheads of the overly tense Mage Tower Master and duchess.
"For god's sake, can't you open your eyes properly?"
"Stop squinting and saying scary shit about fingers!"
Their shouts overlapped perfectly.
"...Ahahaha."
Hampton felt wronged. What was he supposed to do about how he was born? All he could do was scratch his head.
Transmigrators tend to suffer from a certain mental illness. The condition? 'Is this the butterfly effect?' syndrome.
It refers to a nervous breakdown where even the tiniest deviation from the original story makes you fret that your minor actions might derail the plot. A form of paranoia, basically.
And yeah, I wasn't immune either. Hell, look at this.
By all rights, whether it was match 43 or 44, the crown prince and the saintess should've clashed swords and holy power on that stage, building their fated hate-love dynamic.
But out of nowhere, transmigrator powerhouse-in-hiding Kano Ameri gets matched with the saintess, and I get stuck against the world's strongest tyrant (real deal) crown prince?
"What the actual fuck?"
Hand on heart, racking my brain—nope, I hadn't done shit wrong.
What the hell did I even do to mess with the original story?
All I'd done was secretly draw and distribute some erotic doujinshi to pay off the family debts. And I kept my anonymity airtight—only my childhood friend Lena Youngston knew it was me.
Okay, sure, I did squeeze Her Highness the princess like a mana-ink cartridge #2 for the printing press. But she begged me to, so what choice did I have?
How the hell does that connect to this Comprehensive Practical Training bracket?
It's not like the princess went crying to her brother, "That jerk used me as a battery—avenge me, oppa!"
Ah.
One possibility flashed through my mind.
The Mage Tower Master. That white-haired lunatic who'd recently started obsessing over me as a 'counterexample to his theories.'
Did that freak tamper with it?
But no, I shook it off. The Tower Master never meddles in academic admin or first-year busywork. He's the ultra-arrogant, perpetually busy type fixated solely on his research and recruiting disciples. No way he'd crash a faculty meeting just to tweak a tournament bracket.
So, conclusion: one option left.
I'd lived minimizing original plot interference. Not a butterfly—more like a gnat. I swear, even if a gnat flapped its wings, it wouldn't brew a hurricane across the Atlantic.
Earth would've ended eons ago otherwise, right?
Thus, third-rate gnat Ian Ashy is innocent.
Which leaves exactly one culprit for twisting the original plot.
Kano Ameri, it has to be you.
The transmigrator who knows the original inside out, hiding her sword genius under a "power-concealed" gimmick. Bet she clumsily poked something behind the scenes to maintain her concept, screwing up the bracket algorithm.
Just as I nailed down the perp and my rage target...
"Um, Cadet Ian Ashy..."
In the corner of the auditorium, a familiar faded-orange head bobbed through the crowd.
Kano Ameri. Spotting me, she flinched, shoulders trembling, then glanced around furtively before bowing her head and shuffling up.
Her eyes behind those huge glasses shook like there was an earthquake.
She whispered in a mosquito-like voice, "C-can we... talk?"
The culprit walked right into my hands.
Kano Ameri had been in a serious dilemma these past few days. Her dorm wall was plastered with original-plot tracking notes. Smack in the center: Ian Ashy, slashed with thick red lines.
He's definitely the black curtain behind it all.
Entanglements with Saintess Arina Saint, villainess Judith La Roche, even the princess and the Mage Tower Master. Textbook eye of the storm for this world's butterfly effect.
But a few days ago, Kano completely scrapped that theory.
Ian Ashy isn't the black curtain.
Simple reason: He was hanging out with Lena Youngston so naturally, right on track with the original novel's flow.
Lena was the main boss of volume 1. If Ian were some shadowy manipulator or wildcard, why risk tangling with the soon-to-rampage Lena?
Bottom line: Ian Ashy was probably just a "real extra" getting bounced around by rotten luck.
Which means...
Kano tore at her hair. "Aaaargh! Then who's the damn black curtain?!"
Her prophecy notes (original knowledge) kept veering off. Someone was deliberately warping the timeline, but with the prime suspect cleared, it was maddening.
Today, deep in those woes, the Comprehensive Practical Training brackets dropped in the grand hall.
Kano Ameri VS Arina Saint!
Huh? Kano's thoughts froze, staring blankly at the floating magic screen.
Saintess Arina? Why am I up against the original female lead? She was supposed to face the crown prince in match 44 for their fateful showdown.
Panicking, Kano's eyes darted wildly.
N-no way... did I screw it up?
Did I hide my skills too hard during entrance exams and break the balance measurement system? Did that glitch the algorithm and pair me with the saintess?
Brackets were final per academy rules—no changes post-announcement.
One option left: minimize impact.
I have to lose to the saintess. Make it look natural, send her to the next round. And lose to whoever faces the crown prince too. That way, saintess vs. prince happens, and volume 1 doesn't collapse!
Meaning, rig the next bracket so the crown prince's opponent loses no matter who it is.
Kano prayed for an easy mark on the board.
But then.
Leonhardt Bell VS Ian Ashy!
"Goddammit...!"
Of all the damn extras, Ian Ashy? You're cursed with shit luck too, huh. Nah, not the time to pity him.
"Ha... this is tricky."
She'd met Ian before, and he wasn't easy. Inscrutable third-rate villain type.
"...No. Gotta protect the original."
Kano clenched her fist. Had to find Ian now, convince him to throw the match. She still had her "prophet" card—strong leverage. Bluff a bit, and he'd fold.
Resolved, she tracked him down, approached with her most solemn, mystical face, and dragged him to an empty lecture hall.
"......The stars' orbits have gone astray."
Empty classroom. Kano leaned on the windowsill, gazing at the bright midday sky (no stars in sight) for dramatic effect. She snuck a glance at Ian.
He stood arms crossed, eyeing her with a skeptical smirk.
"What bullshit is that? In broad daylight."
Damn. Not biting.