An Encounter
The first thing I did after returning to my quarters following my first class was take a nap.
Back when that old fossil of a Headmaster had dragged me to this place, I'd assumed being a professor would be some sort of monumental hassle. Now that I'd actually done it, it turned out to be far less than advertised. I babbled a few words in front of the students, spun that top student's jaw around once, and class was over.
Granted, that probably wasn't how it was supposed to go, but that was none of my concern. I'd never once asked to become a professor. The old man had dumped me here and told me to figure it out myself, so figure it out myself I would.
So I'd lain down on the bed and closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, the sunlight coming through the window had shifted noticeably.
"...Slept well."
I had no idea how long I'd been out, but my body felt refreshed. On the Frontline, even sleeping soundly in broad daylight like this had been a luxury. I'd lost count of the times I'd jolted awake at a horn blast and reached for my sword before anything else. Waking up somewhere that was utterly silent still felt faintly alien, even months after the war had ended.
Not that I felt like going back to sleep. I got up, gave my face a rough wash, and stepped out of my quarters. With nothing pressing to do, I figured I'd wander the Academy a bit longer.
I'd felt it when I first arrived, but the place was far too vast to be called an academy. There weren't just lecture buildings and training grounds—there were dormitories for students and staff, dining halls, shops, a blacksmith, even a hospital. The deeper in I walked, the more I saw, until eventually a tavern came into view. At this scale, it was less an academy and more an entire city unto itself.
Which meant there was plenty to look at. Since I didn't yet know what was where, I decided to get a feel for the layout and simply let my feet carry me wherever they pleased—and at some point, I found myself in a corner where people rarely passed through.
"Nothing to see here, huh."
A few warehouse-like buildings and a vacant lot overgrown with weeds from neglect—that was about the extent of it. Hardly any students around, either.
What a waste of a detour.
I was just turning to head back when it happened.
"Seriously, know your place already."
A voice drifted over from somewhere. At first I paid it no mind. Whether students wanted to squabble among themselves was not my business.
But as I moved to walk away, a familiar face caught my eye.
"Hm?"
It was a student I'd seen in class today. That strange girl who, while everyone else had looked at me like I was some kind of lunatic, had stared at me with sparkling eyes.
I didn't know her name. I hadn't taken attendance to begin with, and I'd never asked.
And right now, a handful of students had that girl surrounded. From the look of things, the atmosphere was anything but friendly.
"You came in on a scholarship as a commoner, so the least you could do is keep your head down."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop saying sorry and actually act sorry. And you smiled today, didn't you? When the top student got floored."
"Ah... it was a little funny."
"You crazy bitch."
Honest, at least.
No wonder she gets smacked around.
I hesitated for a moment. Should I just walk away? I had no intention of getting involved in every little squabble between students. At that age, I was already cutting throats on a battlefield—they were old enough to sort out this much on their own.
Then I saw one of the students shove the girl hard in the shoulder. She staggered backward, and her back slammed into the wall.
"......"
That, I'm not okay with.
I changed direction.
"Hey."
Every head turned at my voice. And the moment they recognized me, the aggressive expressions they'd all been wearing froze solid.
"...Professor."
"......Shit."
"Hey, let's go."
These were the ones who'd watched me firsthand at the training grounds this morning. One of them had been standing close enough to see the top student's jaw spin and her collapse unconscious onto the ground—no explanation of who I was required. They began edging backward before I'd even taken a step toward them.
"What do you think you were doing?"
"Nothing at all, sir. We'll be going now."
"Right. Go."
Their expressions brightened a touch. I pretended to let them pass, then spoke up just before they could brush past me.
"Before you do, though—hand over whatever money you've got."
Every footstep stopped at once.
"......Pardon?"
"Your money. Are you deaf?"
The students stared at me, dumbfounded.
"No, we heard you, but... why would we give the professor money...?"
"Don't want to? Then don't."
I jerked my chin toward the girl still leaning against the wall.
"Instead, we'll process exactly what you just did here, per school regulations."
Their faces stiffened again. Granted, I'd only just arrived and had no idea how many articles and clauses the school rules ran to, but a group of students cornering one girl in a deserted lot and shoving her around was not the kind of thing that slid by unchecked.
"Harassment, assault, whatever the charge—demerits at minimum. Disciplinary action if it's serious enough. And wouldn't a report go out to your families too?"
That landed fast. They were nobles' children, after all—apparently the prospect of the incident reaching their houses frightened them far more than the trouble itself.
"I'm perfectly willing to look the other way."
I held out my hand.
"So show me a little sincerity."
"You're extorting money from us right now?"
"Yep. Don't want to pay? Don't."
When I made a show of withdrawing my hand, the student at the front hastily began digging through his pockets.
"...How much do you need?"
"Whatever you have."
"That's not—"
"Keep talking and you'll earn yourself those demerits."
In the end, the student placed a small money pouch in my palm. It had a decent weight to it. I immediately looked at the one beside him.
"You?"
"Me too, sir?"
"What, did you not take part in bullying her?"
"......"
The pouches piled up one by one. When even the last of them had coughed up his share, I gave the handful of pouches a rough shake. Heavier than I'd expected—nobles' children, apparently, carried different pocket money than your average student.
"Good. Get lost."
The students stared at me in bewilderment.
"What. Want demerits on top of it?"
The words had barely left my mouth before they scattered.
I watched their backs retreat at a brisk pace, then opened one of the pouches to check inside.
"Little punks are loaded."
How many rounds of drinks would this buy? An unexpected windfall.
I was pocketing the money in good spirits and starting back along my original path when a voice came from behind me.
"Excuse me, Professor."
"What."
I turned to find the girl who'd been getting bullied a moment ago looking up at me. Up close, she really did give off the impression of a mongrel dog that had rolled up out of the countryside. Not ugly, mind you. Her face alone was actually rather cute—but her hair was half-tidied at best, and the gear she carried wasn't the fine quality the other students had, and above all, her eyes held a strange, almost unsettling lack of distance when she looked at a person.
"What about me?"
"What about what?"
"My share. Of the money you just took."
"...Why would I give that to you?"
The girl pointed at my pocket.
"You earned that because of me."
"......"
I stared at her in silence for a moment.
What on earth is she talking about.
"Do you not remember me saving you just now?"
"I remember. That's that, and money is money. If I hadn't been there, you wouldn't have gotten anything out of them either, Professor."
It wasn't wrong, exactly, but something about it was off. Normally, someone who'd just been rescued from a beating would offer thanks—or at the very least slink away in silence. Begging for a cut of the spoils had not been on my list of possibilities.
"How much do you want?"
"Half."
"Are you insane?"
"Then thirty percent?"
"Cut the crap."
"Forty?"
"No."
Her face fell into a bit of a sulk. Watching it, I couldn't help feeling oddly like the villain, even though I hadn't stolen a single coin from a child.
I clicked my tongue, tossed the pouch up, and caught it again.
"I'd rather not give you the money. How about I buy you a meal instead?"
"Yes!"
The answer came far too quickly. The sulkiness vanished from her face in an instant.
"...Was the food the plan all along?"
"No. I'd prefer the money, but food's good too."
"Is that so."
"Yes."
Unbelievable. What kind of girl even is this.
Still, I'd already offered, so there was nothing to be done.
"Come on."
"Yes!"
As I set off, the girl fell into step beside me without a hint of hesitation. A few paces in, a question occurred to me.
"What's your name, anyway?"
"Sienna."
"Sienna?"
"Yes, Sienna. You didn't ask anyone's name in class today, so it makes sense you wouldn't know."
"There's how many students, and you expect me to ask each one individually?"
"Don't professors usually take attendance?"
"Am I supposed to do that too?"
Sienna stared at me for a long moment with a strange look in her eyes.
"......You are a professor, right?"
"That's what I've been told."
"You really don't know anything."
"I taught my first class today. What would I know?"
At that, Sienna seemed on the verge of saying something more, then gave up with a sigh.
I turned the name over in my head a couple of times. Sienna. This time I intended to remember it. I figured I ought to at least know the name of a student I'd bought a meal for.
The dining hall wasn't far. We picked a reasonably crowded spot and settled into our seats, and Sienna spent a long while poring over the menu.
"Order whatever you want."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Just keep it reasonable."
The moment permission was granted, she went about choosing her meal with surprising earnestness. I understood why once the food arrived.
She ate well.
She ate remarkably well.
She didn't stop once, to the point where I genuinely wondered where in that slight little frame it was all going. After focusing on nothing but meat for a good while, Sienna suddenly set down her fork and looked at me.
"You said you use the Arang Style, Professor? Then how do I get that strong?"
A bit out of nowhere.
"During your sparring match with the top student today. You knocked her flat without even drawing a sword. I'm learning the Arang Style too—could I ever do that?"
Only then did I begin to understand why she'd spent the entire class staring at me with those shining eyes.
"Who taught you?"
"My dad. He used to be a mercenary."
The Arang Style wasn't exactly the kind of swordsmanship knights or nobles bothered to learn. It was mostly picked up by mercenaries and adventurers without the coin for proper training—people who studied it simply to stay alive. Nothing strange there.
"Why'd he teach it to you, though?"
"Out in the countryside, you can't wait around for a knight to show up when monsters attack. He said you should at least know how to survive."
I gave a small nod.
"You learned it right, then."
"...Sorry?"
Sienna's eyes went round.
"Everyone kept saying the Arang Style was nothing special."
"It is jack shit. It's just good for staying alive."
Her expression twisted into something odd for a heartbeat before settling back to normal.
"So how do I get strong like you, Professor?"
"Fight a lot."
"How much is a lot?"
"I spent eleven years rolling through a war."
The fork in Sienna's hand froze midair.
"...I don't think I can do that."
"Then find another way."
"You could just tell me one, Professor."
"Why would I?"
"Because you're the professor."
"......"
Come to think of it, I am a professor, aren't I.
I deflected, dodging the bothersome question.
"Why'd you come to the Academy anyway?"
"Because it's free."
"What's free?"
"Tuition. If a commoner clears the entrance exam cutoff, it's a full scholarship."
That was news to me.
"Why?"
When I asked, Sienna tilted her head.
"Because I'm an unlearned commoner who cleared a cutoff built around nobles—people fed well and trained under good masters from the cradle. Isn't that worth betting on?"
"......"
I thought about it for a moment. When she put it that way, it made sense. The nobles would have had money poured into their swordsmanship or magic since childhood, and even their food would have been in a different league from a commoner's. If you cleared the exact same exam on the exact same passing line as those people, then from the Academy's perspective, you were talent worth investing in.
"Huh. When you put it that way."
Sienna smirked.
"You really don't know anything, Professor."
"I got here yesterday. How would I know that?"
"Because you're the professor."
"I don't even know why I'm a professor."
At that, Sienna finally burst out laughing.
I picked at my food and looked at her across the table. Thinking about it, it was genuinely impressive. No fine sword, no proper master—just the Arang Style her father had taught her, and she'd fought her way through the same exam as the nobility to get here.
"Still, your father must be remarkable. Letting his daughter come to a place like this all alone—I'd bet he worried himself sick."
Sienna's fork stopped for a moment.
"Ah... Dad passed away two years ago."
I shut my mouth. Whether she noticed or not, Sienna kept going.
"I don't have a mom either. She died giving birth to me, apparently."
Well. Didn't expect her to be an orphan by circumstance.
On the battlefield, I'd watched countless people die and listened to plenty of dying men's last words—but somehow, in a situation like this, I still had no idea what to say.
Shouldn't have asked.
Not knowing what else to do, my mouth flapped open and shut until I finally blurted out the first thing that surfaced in my head.
"I don't have any either."
"Sorry?"
"Parents. I was abandoned the moment I was born. Never even seen their faces."
"Ah......"
This time it was Sienna who found herself at a loss for words.
A strange little silence settled over the table. Then Sienna tilted her head.
"Then we're kind of the same, aren't we?"
"How do you figure?"
"Well, neither of us has parents now."
"...You calculate it like that?"
"Am I wrong?"
I tried to come up with a rebuttal and came up empty.
"No."
"Then I'm right."
Sienna went back to her meat without missing a beat. I watched her for a while and decided not to press any further. She didn't seem to be forcing a smile just because she'd mentioned her father, but she didn't look like she was pretending to be fine, either. She just seemed like someone who had already made her peace with it, somewhere inside herself.
Near the end of the meal, Sienna popped the last remaining piece of meat into her mouth.
"Thanks for the food. Buy me dinner again sometime."
"Why would there be a next time?"
"You made money off me today. I'd say I hold a stake in it until you've spent it all."
"You don't."
I answered flatly and got to my feet.
By the time I'd settled the bill and stepped outside, the sun had begun its slow descent. I set off toward my quarters, but no matter how far I walked, the footsteps behind me never stopped.
Eventually, I turned around.
"Why do you keep following me?"
"I told you, didn't I? Teach me how to get strong like you."
"I'll teach it in class."
"Same as everyone else?"
"What, you want private lessons?"
"Yes."
"No."
Sienna's lips jutted into a pout. I kept walking. The footsteps kept following.
"...You're really going to keep at this?"
"Yes."
"Ugh."
I sighed and scratched the back of my head. And then it occurred to me—what she'd said about learning the Arang Style from her father. A girl who'd made it here on nothing but that style, without a single proper teacher, was no slouch of a talent. Above all, I finally understood why she alone had watched me with those sparkling eyes, in a room full of people who sneered at the Arang Style as no swordsmanship at all.
"Show up a little early before the next class. I'll take a look at your skills."
Sienna's eyes went wide in an instant.
"Really? What time should I come? An hour early? Two?"
"Just show up at a reasonable time."
"What time is reasonable?"
"Figure it out."
"But when you say figure it out—"
I walked on, ignoring the chatter trailing behind me.
One meal and she's latched on like a stray dog, huh.
And yet, somehow, it didn't bother me. Compared to the days after the war ended—no place to go, nothing to do, draining one bottle after another just to let time slip by—teaching someone the sword didn't seem like a bad way to live. At least for the time being.
And on this very day, I got summoned by the Headmaster and chewed out.
This, from the man who'd told me to at least keep my class hours.