My Childhood Friend Proposed to Me
The commotion in the annex auditorium had yet to fully die down as I walked through a quiet hallway of the academy. The Magic Tower Master strode across the marble floor with his usual chilly, irritated expression. To any onlooker, he was simply an arrogant genius returning after finishing one of his bothersome duties. Yet the moment his footsteps rounded the corner—
"Excuse me, but what was that just now?"
The Magic Tower Master's brow furrowed at the elegant voice. Duchess Valenti. A woman who wasn't even a mage, yet annoyingly sharp. He stopped walking and fixed her with his characteristically fierce gaze.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to, Duchess."
"Don't play innocent. You wouldn't throw yourself into something trivial."
"It was merely a common magical accident that nearly occurred. A very minor and commonplace incident caused by an untalented art department student failing to control their mana. I only moved out of unnecessary worry."
The Magic Tower Master's voice remained utterly indifferent, as dry as if he'd simply helped a child who had tripped over a stone while passing by. But Duchess Valenti narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue.
"Tsk. As if that could possibly be true."
"......"
"Are you trying to deceive your own mentor?"
"Just how long are you going to keep milking that one-semester mentor business—"
"Be quiet and listen. You, the Magic Tower Master with that infamous temper of yours, personally hurled yourself above the grand auditorium to stop a mere common magical accident? And not even by deploying magic, but by physically kicking it away?"
Duchess Valenti took one step closer.
"Above all, your palm and abdomen don't look well, Magic Tower Master."
"...You're mistaken."
"Shall we see whether it's a mistake or not?"
With a bold hand, the duchess yanked open the outer robe the Magic Tower Master wore.
"Oh my."
The previously calm brow of the Magic Tower Master twitched faintly. The abdomen of his pure white uniform and the right palm that had directly struck away Ian Ashy's mana were both soaked in spreading red blood.
The Magic Tower Master looked down at his blood-stained hand and spoke with simple indifference.
"This much is nothing."
The duchess let out a small sigh as she observed the strange heat burning in the Magic Tower Master's eyes even while he bled.
"Well, if you insist, I'll take it as such. Your stubbornness hasn't changed one bit. I'll send a competent healer from my side, so be sure to receive treatment."
Releasing his clothing, the duchess offered a meaningful smile.
"Ian Ashy."
She pronounced the name clearly, as though speaking of a valuable research subject.
"My eyes weren't wrong. It's talent, isn't it?"
The Magic Tower Master gave no answer. He simply clenched his bloodied hand and walked past Duchess Valenti. She knew perfectly well that his silence was the most complete affirmation possible.
"Ugh......"
A pure white ceiling. The stinging smell of disinfectant pricking my nose. Every joint in my body felt like it was screaming, but fortunately nothing seemed broken or severed. Was this the infirmary?
"Haa."
I'm alive. After confirming that fact first, I slowly sat up. A sharp sting immediately shot through my solar plexus.
"Fuck."
Why does this hurt so much? When I placed a hand on my stomach, I found it tightly wrapped in bandages. My palms were bandaged too, and every part of my body throbbed as if it had been politely stomped on by a giant horse's hoof.
That insane Magic Tower Master bastard. How is that guy a mage? He's a goddamn soccer player.
As I checked my physical condition piece by piece, I heard soft breathing from the neighboring bed.
"...Lena?"
Disheveled copper-colored hair spilled across the pillow. Breaths that came with visible effort. Honestly, I thought it was someone else at first. It didn't look like the usual Lena Youngstern who would energetically beat people up, snap at them, and deliver brutal facts. She just looked like a sick kid.
"...Why is she lying here with me?"
Recalling the memories, Lena had exhausted herself after smashing Adam. I'd thrown two bean-sized attacks in front of the crown prince only to get kicked by the Magic Tower Master. In summary, the childhood friends had passed out prettily side by side.
Student chatter drifted in from the window.
"They say His Highness the Crown Prince was seriously amazing."
"Whoa. If I were the Saintess, I would've fallen for him, no question."
"Saintess or not, I want to become Lady Judith's dog."
"This guy's actually crazy. Heh heh."
My head nodded on its own. Good. Both the crown prince and the saintess had properly stepped up and fought. The romance flags seemed to have been planted correctly.
A sigh escaped me naturally.
"At least that side's taken care of for now......"
The problem was this side. Lena Youngstern, who had pulled the pure white sheet all the way up to her chin and was groaning in pain.
"Nooo...... Women...... are monsters...... They'll pick your bones clean......"
As I drew closer, Lena was muttering nonsense while breaking out in cold sweat. What kind of dream makes her talk like that? Is she having a nightmare about debt collectors?
I soaked the towel beside the bed in water, wrung it out thoroughly, and carefully placed it on Lena's forehead. The feverish heat passed through the cloth.
"Mmm......"
When the towel touched her, Lena's brow relaxed slightly. I pulled up a chair and sat down beside her bed.
...How did a third-rate extra end up with a schedule this packed?
I have to escape my family's poverty, run the printing press to make money, survive the tyrannical crown prince's neck-chopping, and dodge the obsessive eyes of the Magic Tower Master. On top of that, for some reason the Saintess, the possessed person, and the villainess keep getting tangled up with me nonstop.
Is this really the life of a third-rate villain? Lately my schedule seems tighter than most protagonists.
Looking at her still face as she lay there made something heavy settle in my chest.
Huff, huff.
Still, when all was said and done, the person who had suffered and struggled the most in this first episode wasn't me. It was Lena Youngstern lying right before my eyes. In the original story, she would soon go berserk, shake the academy, and fulfill her role as the main villain. One of the triggers for that rampage had apparently been the news of a forced engagement with her unreliable childhood friend, 'Ian Ashy'.
I carefully wiped away the beads of sweat forming on Lena's forehead.
"Uh... uhh."
Lena tossed in her sleep, murmuring. To be honest...
I hoped Lena Youngstern would overcome this ordeal well. Not just for the sake of the original plot or my own survival.
This kid was the only friend who had never given up on me, whether out of a sense of duty or while grumbling about it. She always checked whether I was attending morning classes or causing weird incidents. Plus, she was my one and only absolutely trustworthy business partner keeping my ambitious erotic manga operation alive.
Lena collapsing mentally or physically wouldn't benefit me in the slightest. Yet for the sake of her growth, I couldn't stop her from being consumed like a villain in this situation.
"...Hang in there, Lena Youngstern."
The sincere words slipped out before I could stop them.
Lena's softly breathing face was flushed bright red, probably from the fever.
"No matter what happens, I'll always be on your side cheering you on."
I wet the towel once more and placed it on her forehead, silently wishing from the bottom of my heart that Lena would overcome the hardships of this damn romance fantasy world.
In her dizzying haze, Lena slowly regained consciousness. Her mind spun as though someone had violently stirred it, and her body felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton.
Ugh......
Having squeezed out her mana to its absolute limit, every blood vessel in her body throbbed. Still, the satisfying impact of blasting Adam away had been incredible. The experience of wringing out the last drop of mana while operating the printing press seemed to have helped more than she realized.
As she inwardly savored the aftertaste of the practice—
Rustle.
She felt someone carefully placing a cold, damp towel on her forehead. The touch was gentle, cautious, and full of care. A familiar scent tickled her nose—the same one she grumbled about every morning.
...Ian?
Lena almost opened her eyes wide but hurriedly squeezed them shut instead. She held her breath, pretending to still be asleep. Because her heart had suddenly begun pounding like crazy.
W-why is this guy taking care of me?
She had always been the one looking after him. Had she ever once received caregiving from Ian Ashy in her entire life? No. Absolutely never. He was the kind of guy who only knew himself and never looked back at others.
Yet here he was, wringing out a wet towel to place on her forehead? In a quiet infirmary with just the two of them?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heartbeat thundered inside her chest. Lena desperately tried to calm her racing heart and shook her head violently in her mind.
No! Don't misunderstand, Lena Youngstern! After everything I've done for him, isn't it only natural for any decent human to do at least this much out of conscience? Yeah, it's just loyalty between business partners!
Self-suggestion. Thorough brainwashing. Ian was just a reliable childhood friend. A pervert who tried to dress other girls in maid outfits and drew weird pictures. She was absolutely not seeing him in that way. Absolutely not!
She was desperately reinforcing those walls of rationalization when—
"...Hang in there, Lena Youngstern."
Ian's low, serious voice—one she had never heard before—quietly filled the infirmary. Lena's mind went completely blank.
The walls of rationalization crumbled like a sandcastle.
"......!"
She felt her face burning so hot it might explode. Lena knew better than anyone that the fever wasn't from mana exhaustion. Beneath the blanket, her fidgeting hand clenched the sheet tightly. Otherwise she felt like she might bolt upright at any second.
The fact that she'd woken up earlier and had been eavesdropping the whole time—she absolutely did not want him to find out.
The problem was that Ian's gentle voice delivered the finishing blow, tickling her ear once more.
"No matter what happens, I'll always be on your side cheering you on."
"......!!"
Th-this. Isn't this a complete proposal?