How to Become the One on Top (9)

Velma clapped both hands over her mouth, and the moment my lips sealed shut, silence settled over the cramped little room.

The two men standing at the back were darting sideways glances at each other, each trying to read the other's face.

They probably never imagined this would happen. After all, they'd pulled similar stunts plenty of times before and nothing had ever come of it.

They'd be scrambling to come up with an excuse right about now, but no matter how hard they racked their brains in these few seconds, there was no way a decent answer would surface. At best, they'd settle for shoving all the blame onto Velma.

"Velma! What on earth are you saying?!"

As the administrative professor bellowed out of nowhere, I idly tapped my fingertip against the desk.

Hmm. Watching Grandpa work through his deliberations must have sharpened my own instincts, because the situation was unfolding exactly the way I'd predicted.

'What should I do here?'

Squeezing these two wouldn't be all that difficult. Even the safety the academy guarantees only stretches so far, even inside its walls.

At the end of the day, the academy merely shields commoners from a noble's whims. If their wrongdoing is clear-cut, it won't pick a fight with the aristocracy on their behalf — and all the less so if the noble in question holds considerable standing.

To put it bluntly, if I reported those two, their academy lives would be over. Beyond that, they'd pay the price for crossing a noble.

I couldn't say for certain, but the punishment would be severe. A commoner laying hands on a noble — they'd be made an example of, if nothing else.

The problem was that Velma would get dragged into it too. She was involved in this whole affair either way.

She's a character I end up seeing often whether I like it or not, one you run into constantly playing a commoner start, so I'd grown fond of her. I didn't want her dragged down into the mud along with the rest.

Ah. Come to think of it, there's one more problem.

If these two get off with some wishy-washy half-measure, the Commoner Faction will radiate hostility just as fiercely as they do now — no, fiercer. Not a real threat, but a royal pain in the neck.

'I'm sorry... what?'

<It's not as if a little slip-up from you is going to derail anything beyond repair. You only sharpen your wits by thinking and acting for yourself.>

The whole reason I asked was because thinking is a chore, and this is the answer you hand me? I whined about it once, but Grandpa was immovable.

Fine, then. If anything goes wrong, it's all Grandpa's fault, so he can jolly well clean it up himself.

Feeling the sting of Grandpa's betrayal, I set my mind working.

First, I had to decide what I actually wanted to accomplish here.

Objective one: Velma's safety. Objective two: making sure the Commoner Faction never even dreamed of defying me.

As I turned over how to handle both, my head started to ache.

The latter wasn't hard to solve. A single warning that one misstep could see their higher-ups shredded, and they'd flinch back on their own.

It was the former that was difficult.

No matter how I spun it, Velma's peaceful academy life seemed destined to evaporate.

Left alone, she'd be bullied by the other commoners. And even if I threatened to destroy anyone who touched her, she'd simply end up an outcast.

Keep her at my side at all times, then? I'd considered that too. But the moment I pictured the scene in my head, I scrapped it immediately.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Me, with my filthy mouth. Joy, with her terrifying scowl. Frey, doing whatever she pleased. And Prince Arthur dropping by now and then.

Throw a timid commoner girl into THAT mix? That's not companionship, that's just bullying. She'd develop a hole in her head and be dead before graduation.

Uuuugh. Isn't there a decent option somewhere?

If only there were someone I could trust and leave her with...

Ah. Vishy!

The instant that name surfaced — a girl so faint in presence I'd completely forgotten she existed — it felt like everything clicked into place.

The bullying aimed at Velma would vanish on its own once I finished destroying everyone responsible. And the friend problem? Just dump that on Vishy and it'd be mostly solved! Unlike me, that girl seemed to have plenty of friends!

Having unearthed such a beautifully clear answer, I lifted my head with a delighted little smile.

The administrative professor — whose name I couldn't even recall — and the commoner boy were still badgering Velma.

The moment they failed to pin the blame on her, they knew the arrows would swing back around to them.

How pitiful. Those two, who could see nothing but what was right in front of them, had no idea the arrow had already been loosed. They clung to the hollow hope that the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bowstring might yet be turned in another direction.

So now I'd have to teach them. That their futures had already been decided.

"What's this?♡ Did I ever say you could open your mouths?♡ Why do I keep hearing pigs squealing, I wonder?♡"

The instant I spoke again, a dead hush fell over the room once more. Three pairs of anxious eyes turned toward me.

They were mouthing wordlessly, clearly bursting with things to say, but I had no intention of listening. No amount of rambling excuses was going to change my mind.

"You there, the shabby little commoner thing♡"

I pointed at the boy first.

"...Y-you mean me?"

"Then who else would it be, you? Were your brains slapped together as carelessly as your face?♡ Born unfinished, huh?♡ Tsk. What an amusing person♡"

I watched his face flush crimson, but I didn't stop. Even if he blew his top and lunged at me, I was confident I could flatten him without breaking a sweat.

"By the way~♡ I heard a strange rumor lately, you see?♡ Something about pathetic commoner losers getting jealous whenever anyone gets close to the oh-so-pathetic Saintess?♡"

"...Excuse me?"

"I didn't pay it much mind at first. That's on me, really. People are just jealous because I shine so dazzlingly bright♡ But after that, so many odd little things kept happening to me♡"

Standing before the boy, I recited the litany of misfortunes I'd suffered today.

By any ordinary measure, things that could be waved away as mere bad luck. Things one could dismiss with a word about oversensitivity.

And yet neither the boy, nor the administrative professor, nor Velma could summon a single such excuse. How could a rational thought possibly surface in heads currently blazing with indignation at my provocation?

"Now then, shabby commoner?♡ I'll spell it out nice and slow so even a brain-deficient thing like you can understand♡ If those cheap lips of yours get a little lighter, your sins might get a little lighter too♡"

I could see the boy's eyes darting wildly in every direction.

I wonder what I looked like, reflected in them.

A crazy bitch out for his throat? A terrifying creature that made him regret ever laying a finger on anything? Whichever way it landed, it wouldn't be flattering.

Perhaps sensing my unease at his hesitation, the administrative professor belatedly came to his senses and opened his mouth.

"...Lady Alrn?! What exactly are you—"

"Sir Oink?♡ You just stay quiet and keep oinking, alright?♡ Otherwise I'll stuff you in an actual pigsty♡ Oh, right. If you're enough of a masochistic freak to enjoy that, by all means, knock yourself out♡"

You may or may not realize this, but the academy has racked up quite a few debts to me lately.

The mess at the entrance ceremony. The mess during my duel with Arthur. And the attack by the Apostle of the Evil God on Academy Street. If I started demanding accountability for each and every one, things would only snowball.

Which means the headmaster has no choice but to take every word out of my mouth with utmost seriousness.

If you had connections and a reputation on par with Luka's, I'd have trouble ending you. But you? The sort of man whose disappearance tomorrow wouldn't raise a single eyebrow, aren't you?

Socially. And quite literally. If you're fond of your head staying attached, silence would serve you well.

A man who had lingered at the academy so long on a commoner's status had no trouble catching my meaning, and he shut his mouth.

If only he'd shown this kind of perception a little sooner. What a shame.

Well, no matter. From here on out, he'd serve me very, very well. Survival instinct alone would drive him to see to my comfort in every way, wouldn't it?

Tearing my gaze from the now-collared slave, I turned back to the boy.

He had been watching in naked panic as the administrative professor swallowed every excuse without uttering a word, and the moment our eyes met, his shoulders began to tremble.

"I'll... I'll talk."

The backbone of the Commoner Faction was typically made up of second-years.

First-years knew next to nothing about the academy, which made it hard for them to play any major role within the group.

Most third-years had already graduated — and after graduation, they were far too busy figuring out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠which path to take next to concern themselves with faction politics.

Obvious as it might sound, the person holding the faction's decision-making power was also one of those second-year students.

Born the son of a merchant company head, Mane had received an extensive education despite his commoner birth and had ultimately earned admission to Soul Academy with top marks. Today, after hearing the day's events retold from a dozen different mouths, his head was pounding.

It was the kind of story that made his sanity want to flee his body. They laid hands on a daughter of House Alrn!

Mane knew roughly who Lucy Alrn was.

A degenerate who had once limped along on her father's borrowed glory, but who had recently come to her senses and begun flaunting her towering talent.

And someone whose notoriously vicious temper, by all accounts, remained fully intact.

Mane flung down the paper he'd been reading and slammed his fist into the desk; everyone nearby flinched.

"Who gave the order?"

Messing with a noble? Forbidden, yes — but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doable. Choose your target well, and it barely registers as a problem.

This time, though, they'd chosen catastrophically badly. Lucy Alrn was not a person you touched and walked away from smiling.

She was a lunatic who flaunted that exact personality even in front of the King himself.

So what happens when the target is a commoner she could look down on for ages to come — and that commoner picked the fight first?

Mane was certain of it. This would not end with one commoner.

"Answer me!"

"...W-well, Mane."

When Mane roared a second time, one of the people gathered in the meeting room finally spoke up.

"Why are you so worked up about it?"

"...What?"

"It ends with the guy who did it getting thrown under the cart anyway, doesn't it? Prank a stuck-up noble, rough up a few first-years we don't like. Same stuff we always do."

"Yeah, that's right. Nobody's going to dig into it that deep."

"What, we can't even mess with a bitch who's got the Saintess's favor?"

"...Hey. Are you brain-dead? What the hell are you—"

"What! What about it!"

After listening to the ramblings of a few of these idiots, Mane felt the color drain completely from his head.

The reckless stunt of one lunatic was a tangled mess involving how many people?

Ah. Is it because I'm a cretin too, You say? Guilty as charged. I didn't flee the madhouse the moment I could have — I've led these cretins all this way, so a cretin I must be.

Mid-prayer, confronted with the grim reality, Mane rose from his seat without answering any of them.

To escape the lunatic horde, even now.

"Move, would you? If you touch me, the loser stench might rub off."

Stepping out of the meeting room and into the corridor, Mane saw it.

The Lady of House Alrn, walking into the commoner dormitory.

Those crimson eyes locking onto him.

That razor-sharp smile, like a predator that had just spotted its prey.

Oh. Fucking hell. O God above.