Second Semester at the Academy (1)

Back when I actually went to school, vacation was always painfully short. A few days before the semester started, a scream of Already?! would just slip out of my mouth on its own.

But not now. Right now, I was trembling in horror at the fact that my vacation still wasn't over.

When exactly am I supposed to raise my own stats with my own hands! Surely I've rested enough by now!

I know. I know this reward was the clumsy Chief God's way of telling me to take a break after all my hard work.

But that rest was fully consumed back when I was a sickly mesugaki.

Even now that my body is perfectly healthy and capable of drilling alongside Alrn family knights without faltering, this Automatic Growth was still running.

In other words, I was stuck grinding pointless training day after day!

Can't I just rest?!

Right. Fair point.

But listen here! How much do you think a jobless bum has to do in this damn fantasy world?! In a world with no smartphones or PCs, what exactly is there to do?!

Resting is fine for a day or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠two, but after a month, then two months, it got so boring I couldn't stand it!

That was exactly why, a few days before the academy semester began, I'd decided to head over there early. At the very least, there'd be more to do there than at the estate. Maybe I could even pick up some small quests.

“My lady. Are you truly leaving?”

Erin, who had attended me at my side all throughout the vacation, said this out of mere politeness—and I was not an employer oblivious enough to miss it.

I knew exactly how annoying it would be to have your boss clinging to you all day long.

So I told her she'd worked hard, and headed for the academy alongside Carl.

Despite the fairly long vacation, the academy streets looked no different from what I remembered. Naturally so. It wasn't as if the academy had gone under—what great upheaval could possibly strike a street that had stood for decades?

That assumption of mine changed the moment I visited the back alley, wondering whether Alsaetin had returned.

“Welcome, valued customer!”

“Welcome, sir!”

Alsaetin's information den used to be a hangout for a pack of sleazy layabouts—the kind of place any normal person would avoid, too scared and disgusted to approach.

But not anymore. Every single one of the men who had played at being ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thugs was standing at crisp attention, bowing.

...Am I hallucinating right now? Is someone feeding me an illusion?

Is this a dream? No. Impossible. I haven't dreamed in months, ever since I started training with Gramps. No way.

Just as I stood frozen at the surreal scene—like someone had hit me with a hypnosis app—someone came down the stairs.

“Hey, boss. Long time no see.”

“It's been a while, Lady Alrn.”

Karia wore a proud expression, while Alsaetin looked awkward and sheepish. It was painfully obvious who had orchestrated this situation.

Apparently a master who'd been missing for ten years didn't much care for the way her disciple had been running things.

“What do you think? Looks decent, doesn't it?”

Having read my bewilderment, Karia spoke as she descended the stairs.

“While I was reviewing the mess my disciple made, I realized there were things I never taught him, so I've been drilling him. Bit of a change, hm?”

A bit? A knife-licking thug standing at rigid, military-grade attention? There's nothing “bit” about this. The cognitive dissonance is not a joke!

“Since you seem to want a detailed explanation... Mm, let's see. Have you ever been to a Newman family outpost?”

'Yes.'

“Then you know. Unpleasant old-maid aunties.”

“Those places were all pretty ordinary, right?”

Come to think of it, yes. The Newman family outposts, every one of them, looked no different from any ordinary shop. They had lousy service, as if hoping nobody would come—but they were definitely the kind of store that could plausibly exist.

“Cultivating an unpleasant atmosphere to drive people away, like my disciple did, isn't a bad strategy. But the problem with that approach is that when something goes wrong, it gets exposed to whoever holds power in the area.”

Something going wrong—meaning, when a major crime occurs, you risk drawing the ire of the local authorities.

Even if you had connections with the powerful, getting cut loose was always a possibility in this line of work. So, Karia explained, if you were going to run an information den, it was better to look unremarkable—unpopular, but just barely scraping by.

“The ideal is a place so crowded you can't even track who's coming and going. But that's not something you can build by wanting it. So this middle ground is good enough.”

'Isn't this... too much...'

“Doesn't this stand out even more? People are going to whisper, 'That ill-tempered thug standing at attention—is he out of his mind?'”

“I told you. I'm in the middle of teaching him. I'm not changing it.”

Ah. So the lesson is: build your next outpost like this, huh.

Thank goodness. If this atmosphere had been permanent, it would have been unbearably awkward.

“Come upstairs for now, boss. There are a few things we need to discuss.”

After ushering me into her room, Karia smoothly shooed Carl out and sealed the room against both outside sounds and eavesdropping. This was not a conversation for ordinary ears, she said.

“While investigating with my disciple this time, one thing became clear: the Main God Church has gotten even more dangerous than before.”

Karia said this evenly. Even back when she'd served as the Shadow of the Kingdom, she'd known the Main God Church was no clean institution.

But back then, however many dirty figures lurked in its ranks, there were undeniably good people among them as well, so things held in a kind of balance.

“Not anymore. The balance is broken.”

It was true that the Main God Church's influence stretched across the continent—but the center of all that power was, in the end, the Holy Land.

And right now, in the Holy Land, there were almost no people left who truly believed in the divine.

“When I drew up that old list, I flagged certain people as dangerous. Why is it that every single one of them is now positioned at the top?”

Even though the investigation had only just properly begun, Karia sighed and said the conclusion was already visible.

“Boss. This work isn't that urgent, is it?”

'No, that's right.'

“What, auntie? Getting old, so it's harder to move like you used to? Can't be helped, I suppose. Your age being what it is. I understand. Useless old woman.”

“...It's not that! If I hadn't lost my strength, I could have wrapped up something like this in a single month!”

It wasn't her age, she snapped. It was because she'd lost her power, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and because the job demanded more careful, meticulous investigation, that she was asking for time—she flared up, then soon found herself staring at the floor, letting out a long sigh before recovering her composure.

“For now, take this.”

What Karia handed over was a small notebook. Wondering what might be written inside, I opened it—and the moment my eyes landed on the first page, I couldn't help but swallow hard.

What the notebook described was the corruption of the Church's power brokers. And not the small stuff—these were things that would cause a massive uproar if they ever went public.

The entries toward the back were much the same. Some were detailed, some were sketchy, but every single one spoke of the misdeeds of the powerful.

“I compiled these back when I was working. Everything from mere rumors to fully verified facts, written down as far as my memory goes.”

The moment Karia finished saying that some parts might have grown with time but surely none had shrunk, Gramps's voice echoed in my head.

<...Child. Is this true?>

'I don't know.'

To be precise, I should say there are things I don't know and things I do.

Even among the same Church's upper echelons, there's a clear divide between characters who mattered in the game and characters who barely featured at all.

No matter how much of a rotten-water veteran I am, I can't know what the game never spelled out.

So I can't say for certain that everything in here is true. But as far as I know, most of what's written here was fact.

Saying “I don't know” didn't mean the rest was false either. I doubted there'd be any sloppiness in research done by a woman once called the Shadow of the Kingdom.

The reason I answered that I didn't know, despite thinking all this, was consideration for the shock Gramps was about to take.

If I, who had run rampant committing all manner of outrages under the excuse of the clumsy Chief God, simply nodded along, then all of this would become established fact, wouldn't it?

As a nonbeliever, all I'd feel looking at this is what a pack of trash. But Gramps is different.

He was once a man of the Church. He contributed greatly to the Main God Church spreading its influence. He believed in the word of God and saved the world. The shock awaiting him is on a different dimension from mine.

Even Gramps, who had admitted the Church had its ugly corners, would surely struggle to accept that it had rotted away into utter garbage.

This was something to be revealed gradually, piece by piece.

For now, half-doubt was the appropriate stance. Time would make me learn it whether I wanted to or not, anyway.

“That's outdated information, so don't take it as gospel—just use it as reference. You know you can't show this to anyone, right?”

'Who on earth would I even show this to?'

“Don't worry. Unlike some people, I'm young, and I don't particularly enjoy whispering behind backs.”

“...Well, that's a relief. In any case, bear with that for now. Even if it takes a while, within two years at most I'll update everything written in there.”

There was no hesitation in Karia's voice as she promised to deliver the real thing soon enough.

Was that bluster? Or confidence welling up from genuine conviction?

Since I didn't know the person called Karia, I couldn't say for sure which it was.

Only this: if those words had come from serious deliberation, then Karia was a more capable operative than any information source I knew.

If she'd appeared in the game while still alive, she'd have been treated as a broken, banned-tier character—just like Phoebe.

“Now that I've briefed you on the work, it's time for the main topic.”

Main topic? You're telling me everything so far wasn't the main topic?

You just handed a bomb into my hands, and you're treating that as a side note—just how serious is the actual topic?!

The thought of not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wanting to hear it rose unbidden, but Karia didn't stop moving her mouth.

“It's about our boss. I thought you should know before the second semester starts.”

'Me?'

“Yes, you.”

“That's right, boss. You act like you couldn't care less what anyone thinks—but really, you care a whole lot.”

You even noticed that?! Seriously, the Mesugaki Skill's behavioral compulsion means nothing to Karia.

Haah. If only everyone were as perceptive as Karia. Then I'd never get misunderstood.

“Let me say it upfront, so you can brace yourself: it's bad news.”

'What is it?'

“Auntie. Just say it already. Stalling is excuse enough to explain your unmarried status, no?”

“...If I didn't owe you my life, I'd give you a knuckle sandwich for that.”

Sighing, Karia swept her hair back and continued.

“I'll give you the conclusion first. Our boss has become someone who draws the jealousy of everyone—commoners and nobles alike. Simply put: your enemies have multiplied.”

...I'm sorry?

What on earth does that mean, Lady Karia?

Why does my reputation going UP mean my enemies multiply?!

Hey! Clumsy Chief God! Aren't you supposed to be doing your job properly?!