An Ironic Entrance Ceremony (2)
A heavy silence hung over the plaza.
All I could see was that girl's back.
Even so, I could easily picture what kind of expression she was wearing.
"Hey! Are you deaf or what!"
"Haaaaah—"
An utterly frigid blankness.
"Eric."
"Oh, you know me? As expected, once you witness yours truly—"
"Eric Denis. What exactly are you?"
Cold contempt drove straight into him.
"A reject who barely scraped by even in the Magic Engineering department — a place that isn't even the actual Magic department."
"A-a reject?"
"Hiding your strength, maybe? Or sitting on some secret fortune? Surely you're not coasting purely on your father being a judge. What exactly do you think you have that makes you act like that?"
"Eeek! You—!"
"What, angry? Care to challenge me to a duel? Sorry — I never turn down a 'fight' that walks itself right up to me. Judging by your level it would turn into one-sided bullying, but would that be alright with you?"
"...J-just you wait!"
With his pride trampled beyond recognition, Eric spat out a line straight out of third-rate delinquent theater and fled.
Before long, the girl finished having her say and turned to leave the plaza as well.
"Hey. Yo-ho. Miss Salvia."
"......"
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Charlotte — then bored hard into me. She immediately swiveled away and started off down another path, so the words slipped out of me before I could think.
"It's Arpanyang."
"...What?"
"Nyang."
"Ha."
'Oh — did it get through?'
An awkward laugh. Her blank expression cracked — but only for a breath before that frigid contempt welled up again.
"What exactly are you playing at right now?"
"I-I was thinking we could have lunch together—"
Zap.
"Eeeeek...!"
Charlotte scrambled to hide behind my back.
"What, does she look like she has potential?"
"No."
There's no 'potential' in someone who subdues you with a single look.
"The worst."
"Agreed."
The girl drew close. Close enough that I could feel her breath.
"Hold still."
Near my heart — she jabbed her index finger hard into my chest.
"I am the one who's going to break 'that.'"
"Is that so."
A brazen death threat delivered in broad daylight. Her expression stayed rigidly frozen, and I smiled.
She brushed past Charlotte and me. Charlotte poked her head out and muttered, barely audible.
"...C-couldn't we still have lunch, though?"
As if.
So my lunch date with the girl fell through — but as the saying goes, when you can't catch a pheasant, a chicken will do. I found myself a brand-new lunch buddy instead.
"Hm? My father? As if that damned old codger would bother showing his face!"
No — forget chicken. We went from phoenix to chick here. To an egg, even.
"Anyway — Charlotte, and... Arpa...nyang? Well, fine. I shall permit you two the honor of gracing my table."
As Eric puffed himself up like a peacock, Charlotte leaned in and whispered into my ear.
'Sis, is that seriously your type?'
Thwack.
"Ow!"
Leaving Charlotte to clutch her forehead, I slipped my arm through Eric's.
"I'd like to know more about you. In detail."
"Hm?! S-sure! As much as you like!"
Right — consent, definitively obtained. And with Charlotte present, I could restrain myself. For now.
He kept trying to work his arm free, so I clamped down on Eric's arm all the harder, 'so he couldn't escape.'
"Sis!"
Charlotte seized me from behind and peeled me off him.
"What?"
"That was, um. A little too close...?"
"You think so?"
'He did look like he was about to bolt, honestly.'
I let go of his arm and instead lightly took hold of the end of Eric's sleeve. Somehow, Charlotte's expression grew even more conflicted.
And so the three of us stepped into the student cafeteria. It worked by kiosk-style magical device: pull your meal ticket, then collect your food.
Yeah. I can't operate those.
"Could I trouble you?"
At my words, Eric looked puzzled — but Charlotte nodded without hesitation.
After all, she'd been a live witness to the 'Double Microwave Explosion Show' at Afternoon Lasagna.
"What will you be ordering?"
I traced Charlotte's hand down the kiosk menu.
Pork cutlet set, spaghetti, black pudding, Hawaiian pizza, toast sandwich, sardine pie, toothpaste cake, durian, surströmming...
Something felt off. The further down the list, the less the entries resembled anything edible.
"Just pick me something reasonable—"
Charlotte's hand was drifting toward the toothpaste, so I hurried to append.
"A sandwich with no toothpaste. No, wait — not the toast sandwich either. Just a plain, normal one."
What kind of dish is bread stuffed inside bread?
"Oh, there's pudding too? A black pudding? Like dark chocolate?"
Charlotte selected the black pudding.
'I don't think that's the pudding you're imagining.'
Ah, well. She picked it herself; she'd eat it and cope.
Eric, for his part, chose a perfectly respectable pork cutlet set.
The food arrived almost the instant our tickets were pulled.
I wondered whether this place used retort packs like the maid cafe did, but apparently not — they'd prepped everything in advance, expecting the entrance ceremony crowd. On a normal day it was nowhere near this fast.
Perhaps because of the outside visitors, the cafeteria was fairly packed. Still, luck was on our side: we spotted a table that had just emptied and pounced on it. My original plan was to sit beside Eric so he couldn't make a run for it, but Charlotte tugged my arm and insisted on seating me next to her instead.
Once seated, Charlotte investigated the true nature of the black pudding — and her expression turned delicate. She cut it with unexpected old-world formality, diced it fine, and slipped a piece into her mouth. Chewed. Chewed some more. Then made a face on the verge of tears.
"Siiis—"
"Eat it."
No. No swapping. No intention of swapping. It's yours; eat it. Reading my resolve in record time, Charlotte switched targets without missing a beat.
"U-um..."
"Mm?"
"Eric? This — trade — with me? Please?"
'Poor thing really, really didn't want to eat it.'
A torrent of silent agony flashed through Eric's eyes. Then, having completed some momentous inner decision, he opened his mouth with the utmost gravity.
"I-if you'll agree to d-date me—"
"Ugh."
'Wow. I think that's the first time I've ever seen her look genuinely disgusted.'
For a heartbeat, Charlotte radiated the exact same aura as my little sister.
"...It's that bad—?"
"Whew..."
Leaving Eric frozen solid in shock, Charlotte forced the black pudding down, gulp by miserable gulp.
I let out a short sigh and held my sandwich out in front of her.
Toothpaste cake I could understand refusing.
But black pudding wasn't exactly inedible. Honestly, it tasted pretty much like blood sausage.
"...Sis!"
"Just eat."
I was peeling Charlotte off my arm as she grabbed and shook it, all of us enjoying a pleasant little meal, when—
"Yo! Eric!"
'Wow. Actual thugs.'
Three fairly burly male students came swaggering toward our table.
"Who are you?"
At Charlotte's question, the boy in front answered.
"Huh? Us? Your seniors from Magic Engineering."
Oh, right. Looking closely, their nameplate colors were different. Green was this year's freshmen... and those guys were yellow and blue? So one second-year, one third-year?
Two of them slid into the seats flanking Eric as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Heh, our Eric's got real talent, huh? Already reeled in two girls."
"Academies sure have gotten comfy these days, eh? Us seniors work so hard coming out to greet you juniors, and here you are with a girl on each arm. Hm?"
The last one sat down beside me.
Enrolled barely a day and already chummy with seniors like these. I suppose this much is the entry requirement for being a genuine delinquent.
Charlotte (resident loner) beside me had no senior acquaintances — she didn't have a single friend, period. And given what she'd pulled today, the forecast said that wasn't changing anytime soon.
"The freshman next to you palling around with Eric — easy enough to guess her family's worth. And you — are you his maid?"
"Haah? What's that supposed to—"
I caught Charlotte's hand mid-growl and held it still.
'Sis?'
At the questioning look in Charlotte's eyes, I glanced sideways at Eric.
They're about to explain everything with their own mouths. Why on earth would I stop them?
"I'm not."
"Oh? Eric's personal maid, then? Even better."
A hand came to rest, all casual, on my shoulder.
'Hm.'
Well — not a crime yet. They're just kids, after all. An arm around the shoulder sits within the acceptable range.
"But your name's Arpa...nyang? Pfft—! That name is cracked. How is anyone actually named Arpanyang?"
'Ooh. Now that's crossing a line.'
The mutt beside me had pushed things a bit far. But for the moment, I focused harder on the exchange between the two boys across the table and Eric.
"So — the 'item' is properly prepped, yes?"
"C'mon, you're underestimating our Eric. Obviously he's finished everything — why else would he be out here playing with girls, right? Isn't that so?"
Eric could do nothing but tremble, wordless.
"Eeeeric?"
"There's been a teeny, tiny little problem..."
"HUH?"
"J-just a little more time—"
Thud.
"Aha. Did we look like pushovers to you?"
"It's been days past the agreed handover date and you're still whining for time? So where's the goods, huh?!"
Nothing left worth hearing, really.
As good as confirmed, wasn't it.
"How about it, his maid — care to come over to our side instead? We'll show you a far better time than a guy like Eric ever could."
I turned my head and gave the mutt seated beside me the faintest of smiles. The mutt met my eyes — and licked its lips with its tongue.
Ah, right. Feed me, it says.
"Do you like black pudding?"
"Huh?"
KRAK—!
Reaching out a hand, though — that crossed the line.
"Thomas! Hey — yo! You okay?!"
"Eric! Can't you keep your maid in check?!"
A shattered plate. Blood flowing freely.
Well — when you think about it, black pudding is made from congealed pig's blood anyway. Call it even: however much she ate, she bled.
I gave the unconscious mutt a light shove.
THUD.
The heavy body rolled limply off the chair and onto the floor.
Murmurs rippled up from around us.
'Lunch is a lost cause now.'
I rose from my seat and took a moment to straighten my clothes. The boys who'd been sitting beside Eric likewise scrambled up after me.
First things first — clear up the misunderstanding.
"One: I am not a house maid, but a dispatched maid from an establishment called Afternoon Lasagna."
The boys, who'd looked ready to lunge at any second, froze mid-motion.
'That ridiculously overpriced place with the garbage food?'
'The one with that unhinged pink brat?'
'Hey — watch your mouth. That place is taboo.'
The murmuring died down fast. For some reason, everyone seemed to feel that, coming from a maid of that shop, it somehow made sense.
...I quietly raised my internal estimate of the manager's danger level by one more notch.
"Two: Arpanyang is not a name you get to laugh at."
What's wrong with Arpanyang, huh?
After that, the seniors fled screaming "just you wait!"
I couldn't say for certain, but apparently the shop where Miss Arpanyang worked was, in a great many senses, an incredible place. Either way, having confirmed that a maid from such an incredible place was on my side, the seniors wouldn't dare lay a careless hand on me again.
First, I saw my classmate Charlotte off to the dormitory. She kept shooting me deeply unsettling looks along the way, but with Miss Arpanyang standing in front of her, she couldn't manage a single word.
And then Miss Arpanyang and I were left alone. The instant it was just the two of us, she hooked her arm through mine again. Pressed flush against me, her side brushed mine.
The faint warmth I could feel radiating from her face. The sound of her breathing, enough to melt my brain outright.
Miss Arpanyang whispered into my ear.
"There's a place I would very, very much like you to come with me to."
"Hmph. I-is that so. Understood."
Led along by her, we arrived before a certain dilapidated old cathedral, and—
CRUNCH.
My memory cut to black.
…
…
…
"As expected, Lady Alpinia has everything. Even the plan for destruction!"
"Drop the 'Lady.' I have never destroyed anything."
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying sprawled any which way on the cold stone floor, trussed up in rope.