Scum (3)
"Just because you're some country bumpkin. Don't think you can keep strutting around like that forever. This is the royal capital!"
"Right. Looks like you've been riding that Geren guy's weapons for a while, but how long do you think that'll last?"
"Being from the sticks, you clearly don't know how things work. Come on, let's go. He'll figure out his place soon enough anyway."
Roy dug a finger in his ear as if the whole thing bored him to tears.
"My place? What's yours, then? Class is about to start. You don't belong here. This is the A-class classroom. Kids like you have no business hanging around."
"You little—! I've had just about enough of you!"
"What? Wanna go at it? Since I'm just a country boy who doesn't know any better, let me ask—don't people usually challenge someone to a duel at times like this? If you want a fight, why not do it properly?"
They had watched Roy's swordsmanship—and his magic. That was why none of them stepped forward. The recent rumors about him being some kind of mutant only made it worse; even the children of viscount houses, born with natural mana advantages, couldn't help feeling a chill. If they lost to a baron's son, the gossip in high society would be the least of their worries. Their own families would explode first.
"Forget it. Let's go. The professor will be here any minute."
"Tch. Just you wait, Greenhilt."
"Oh, by all means. I'm free whenever."
Roy watched them leave the classroom and thought to himself.
There's no way the marquis's daughter put them up to this herself. That would be a little inconvenient.
Surely not. They hadn't so much as exchanged a single word. Why would she suddenly decide he was an enemy and send those idiots after him? What did a marquis's daughter have to gain? He hadn't done a single thing to earn her dislike. There was no reason for anyone to attack him.
It's obvious.
Those fools were just freelancing, trying to one-up each other in some stupid loyalty contest.
"Roy!"
A clean, bright voice cut through his foul mood and lifted it at once.
"Oh? Chloe? It's been a while. Hard to see your face unless it's a magic class."
"...Yeah, you're so great. Sorry I'm only A-class in magic theory and practice."
Roy didn't answer. He just smiled.
"Can you stop making that face? It looks like you're mocking me."
Caught out, Roy hurriedly wiped the smile away and tried to cover.
"No, it's not like that."
"Sure it isn't. You look totally flustered. Hmph! Anyway—I'm thinking of coming to your place this weekend. That okay?"
"Weekend... Fine by me. You're always welcome."
Chloe suddenly leaned in close, her face right in front of his. That distinctive silver hair swayed just under his nose.
"W-what are you doing all of a sudden?"
"Lean your ear closer."
She pressed her lips near his ear and whispered. Once he heard the content, Roy straightened from his instinctive flinch.
"Hey. Can you show me how to make those amulets?"
"...?"
"You don't want to?"
Roy hesitated a moment. If he wanted the next Dragon's Breath, he needed to get closer to this girl.
Well, unlike enchantment magic, teaching protective amulet crafting wouldn't put my life at risk even if it got out. Maybe I can just teach her the basics?
He was already stretched thin handling the military contracts on his own. He desperately needed an assistant. Mana solution production was something he could safely accept help with—unlike enchantment magic. He had been trying to recruit alchemists, but it wasn't going well. The skilled ones were already making good money brewing potions; Roy didn't have enough bait to lure them away. He could have tempted them with his own techniques, but handing those over to complete strangers felt wrong.
If I'm going to teach anyone, better to raise Chloe.
Count Bacon's elixir was one thing, but she was also a candidate for his future party. It wouldn't hurt to test her potential starting now. Magic-wise, at least, her skill was solid. And she had inherited a massive mana pool from her father. With a little guidance—especially from Roy himself—she would be producing mana solutions in no time.
"Showing you wouldn't be hard. Not between us."
"...Between us? What are we, exactly?"
"Classmates?"
"......"
"Closer than that. You're the only one I've ever invited to my house."
"Hmph..."
Chloe made a vaguely dissatisfied, hard-to-read face. Roy had no idea why. But the initiative was his. He had no intention of being led around.
"If you don't want to, forget it. It's not a technique I hand out lightly."
"N-no! Please. This weekend—promise!"
Roy stared blankly at the pinky finger Chloe thrust toward him.
"What are you waiting for? We have to pinky-promise. Or are you planning to invite me and then stand me up like last time?"
"It's not that, but this is a little..."
"A little what?"
Roy repeated to himself, Endure it. Just endure... This girl is the guide who will lead me to the Dragon's Breath.
He had no choice. He hooked his pinky around hers.
The problem was the timing. Right then, the marquis family's young lady walked into the classroom.
Roy Greenhilt's and Grace Rosemond's eyes met for a brief, sharp instant. They had never even greeted each other before, yet today she spoke first.
"You two seem very close."
"Ah—Lady Grace. Good morning."
Roy hastily unlinked their fingers and stood to bow. Chloe rose after him.
"Nice to meet you, Lady Grace. I'm Chloe—"
"I know. Chloe Bacon. Are the two of you... lovers?"
"What?! No! Absolutely not!"
Chloe defended herself with the desperation of someone accused of murder. Roy simply stayed quiet.
"Is that so? I must have been imagining things. The forbidden love between a baron's house and a count's house! I actually thought that might be it."
"...It's not! Absolutely, completely not!"
Watching Chloe shake her head with frantic energy, Roy could only feel exasperated.
You're just making it look more suspicious, you idiot.
Chloe was overreacting because of the amulets. From Roy's perspective the technique wasn't something he wanted public yet either, and the Bacon family was just as eager to keep it away from other houses. Count Bacon had spoken to her about it; that was why she was panicking.
Grace's gaze shifted to the silent Roy. He answered.
"So she says."
It was a remark that could easily be misunderstood.
Over the next few days, Roy confirmed that the group harassing him on campus had nothing to do with Grace. Once he knew that, he almost felt sorry for them. Children so young, forced by family circumstances to act as the marquis house's dogs. What a pitiful fate.
...That I even thought that means I've still got a long way to go.
Their real goal wasn't to impress Grace, the marquis's daughter. That was only the surface excuse. They were simply natural garbage who enjoyed forming packs and tormenting the weak. They used the need to stay in the marquis house's good graces as convenient cover to justify every nasty thing they did.
The harassment began like this.
One day he came home and found ink splattered across his clothes. Someone had clearly done it on purpose. An amulet wouldn't trigger over something so petty, so Roy had no way of knowing who was responsible—unless he kept his Golden Eyes active all day long, which he didn't.
Childish.
Another day, a message claimed a professor wanted to see him. When he arrived, the professor said he had never called for anyone. Roy confronted the boy who had delivered the lie; the child only trembled and refused to speak no matter what. That boy had been ostracized ever since the previous class, when he had asked what would happen if monsters drained every last drop of mana from a mana vein. Anyone could see he was being used. Roy couldn't bring himself to punish him. In the end he let it go with a warning that this was the only free pass.
"If you change your mind, tell me. I'll deal with whoever's hiding behind you."
"I-I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I'm more worried about you. Will you be okay? If you don't trust me, go to the professors or contact your family."
"N-no. I have my own reasons... But you're really kind."
"Kind? Me?"
It was the first time in Roy's life anyone had called him kind. Clever. Gifted. A genius—those compliments he had heard plenty of. Kind was new.
Well, compared to those pieces of trash, even I might look kind.
"What's your name?"
"I'm Jack. Jack Beanstalk. I live in a territory north of the capital. Same rank as you—baron's house."
"Beanstalk... Sorry, never heard of it."
"It's a small fief. I heard Greenhilt territory is huge, with tons of food... I'm so jealous. We're both baronies, but..."
Jack chattered on, spit flying, like someone who had been starving for anyone to talk to him.
Small territory, short on food. The commoners might go hungry, but a lord's son shouldn't be starving, right?
Roy had no particular interest in Beanstalk Territory. What he did understand clearly was why these people were using the boy. When a territory lacked food, the ruling house had no choice but to stay on the good side of the Rosemond marquisate, their source of grain. That meant they also had to watch their step around the hangers-on who lived under the marquis's protection.
Roy wrapped up the conversation and sent Jack on his way. But the harassment against Roy continued the next day, and the day after that. Once they realized Roy had forgiven Jack, they used the boy even more relentlessly. As long as Jack kept silent there was no hard evidence, so formal complaints based on circumstantial signs alone were tricky.
But this was Roy. He had zero intention of putting up with it forever.
If you're going to play it that way, I'll just pay you back in kind... Right?
Roy smiled. He was actually enjoying himself. The situation was getting interesting. If they kept handing him perfect justifications like this, he would have no choice but to act even if he wanted to hold back.
Father. They struck first. Not me.
The third son of Baron Greenhilt was preparing to twist his father's teachings about "justification" just a little.