Academy Semester-End Party (6)
Disguised as just another noble you might pass on any street corner, Alsaetin shoved his way through the crowds and hurried toward Soul Academy.
He had information that needed to reach Lucy Aln immediately — the single most important client he and his master currently served.
Why in the world was the First Queen of the Soladin Kingdom attending the academy's semester-end party?
She should have had no spare moment to breathe, handling every affair of state in place of the ailing King — so how could she possibly have found the time to visit this place?
Even for Alsaetin, who made a daily habit of gathering and organizing mountains of intelligence, this was an unforeseen development.
Back when Rene Soladin was enrolled at the academy, the First Queen had skipped the semester-end parties year after year, citing matters of state.
Who could have imagined that a woman who had never spared her own two sons so much as a passing glance would now show up here, using them as her pretext?
As a result, a small uproar had broken out among the people Alsaetin led.
One of the kingdom's most powerful figures had abruptly reshuffled her schedule, and the ripple effects were bound to reach them.
And no one could predict what kind of catastrophe might unfold if Lucy Aln — their most important client — crossed paths with the First Queen.
'Disciple. Our employer has been heard calling His Majesty the King an old, diseased pig. Do you really think she'll hold her tongue around the First Queen?'
'...Another storm brewing, then.'
'I genuinely wonder how many ulcers it'll cost Benedict before this is over. Though I can't run the experiment, since I can't begin to guess how that madwoman will react to our employer's insults.'
Ordered by his master to fetch Lucy and Benedict, Alsaetin walked as fast as his legs would carry him, praying that no disaster would erupt before he arrived.
Following the trail the two members of House Aln had left behind, it didn't take him long to find Lucy Aln at the academy dungeon's trial grounds.
It was hardly a difficult task. Lucy was the sort of person who drew the eye no matter where she stood or when.
"Good day to you, Lady Aln."
When Alsaetin bowed with deliberately aristocratic courtesy, Lucy looked up from the crystal orb, her brow furrowed.
The expression on her face clearly said she found his very presence an irritation, and Alsaetin hurriedly made a signal with his hand.
The agreed-upon gesture between Lucy Aln and his organization.
Only after confirming it did Lucy relax the tension in one eyebrow.
Which is to say, her other eyebrow remained thoroughly annoyed.
"Are you blind or something? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Lady Aln, this is urgent. Just a moment of your time—"
"It'll only take a few minutes, so wait. I'll praise you later for being such a good boy."
Now is hardly the time — the words rose unbidden to his throat, but Alsaetin swallowed them with superhuman patience.
He couldn't afford to cause a scene on top of an already conspicuous situation.
What on earth was reflected in that crystal orb that the lady couldn't tear her eyes away from?
As he wondered this and casually shifted his gaze, Alsaetin spotted Benedict hurtling down the long corridor at a speed that couldn't possibly have taken even a full second — and his eyes went wide.
Was Sir Benedict challenging the dungeon?
Alsaetin had attempted the dungeon Lucy designed at his master's suggestion, so he knew exactly where Benedict was.
The point where one awoke from the dream.
The corridor just before Floor 0.
At that speed, it would only be moments now.
'Ahh—'
KWAAAAAANG!
The instant the door swung open and the Derelict revealed himself, Benedict's fist drove into his face.
Speed even the Derelict at full power could not react to, combined with an impact no human punch should have been capable of — the blow sent the Derelict's body flying through the air, slamming into the wall before crumpling to the floor.
'Sorry about that! I was in a bit of a hurry!'
Delivering his apology to the Derelict, who was too busy coughing up blood to string a sentence together, Benedict swung his arm again.
And once more, the sound of impact echoed from beyond the crystal orb.
The Derelict — whose raw specs were overwhelming, even if you could predict every move he'd make — was beaten one-sidedly without landing a single counter, and Alsaetin found himself at a loss for words.
He had heard the stories many times: that Sir Benedict possessed astonishing strength.
That among those who had shared battlefields with him, he had reigned as an object of both awe and terror.
But now, witnessing with his own two eyes a prowess he had only ever known through rumor, he realized how crude his imagination had been.
And according to my master, that's him in a greatly weakened state. Just how strong was he in his prime?
...I'm starting to think that rumor about him cleaving a dragon's head in two might actually be true.
'Damn it! DIIIIIE!'
Barely a minute after Benedict and the Derelict had first faced each other, the Derelict scattered his crimson mana all around him.
The creature's final struggle.
The killing blow that had posed the greatest obstacle to everyone attempting to break the record.
Before the spell, laden with the will to drag its opponent to death itself, Benedict casually rolled his shoulders loose and channeled mana into his fist.
'You worked hard. Time to rest.'
And that was the end of it.
Benedict's fist shattered the Derelict's crimson mana, and shortly after, the exit door materialized.
From entering the dungeon to felling the boss: a total of two minutes and thirty-two seconds.
An overwhelming number — several minutes shaved off the record Lucy Aln had firmly held in first place until now.
If this is what he can do without even drawing his own weapon, how much stronger would he become wielding the greatsword I saw at Menesteil?
"...do it. No. Not possible with this."
Hm? What is the lady saying? Impossible?
"That stinking Derelict's pointlessly stretchy. Tch. Can't rotten meat just tear apart a little easier?"
Hearing those words, Alsaetin understood what Lucy Aln's muttering meant.
Is she looking for a way to beat Sir Benedict's record?
That record, which seems utterly insurmountable?
Listening to Lucy's murmurs, what startled Alsaetin most was that her muttering wasn't idle at all.
She was working through the problem of breaking Benedict's record with a concrete plan in hand.
She was trying to leap over an unbridgeable gulf of physical disparity through nothing but her own ability.
Ha. Like father, like daughter, is it?
No wonder they say nothing but monsters are born from House Aln's bloodline.
Just as Alsaetin was entertaining thoughts that would have made Lucy recoil in horror, a massive set of footsteps came rapidly closer from the distance.
There was no need to wonder who it belonged to.
Only one person in the entire world possessed a voice so hearty and enormous.
"Lucyyyyy! Did you watch your papa in action?! Papa was amazing, right?! Right?!"
"Papa♡"
"Hm?!"
"Getting all serious and showing off to your own daughter is like, totally pathetic♡ I'm actually embarrassed that someone like you is my papa♡"
"Th. That's—!"
"Don't come near me♡ You're giving me the creeps♡"
"Lucyyyyy..."
Watching the man who had displayed such awe-inspiring strength moments ago now begging his own daughter for mercy, Alsaetin was once again left speechless.
It's a terrible thing to say, but perhaps Sir Benedict bears some of the blame for how twisted Lady Aln has become.
"...Hm? And who might that be?"
After begging Lucy's forgiveness for a good long while, Benedict's gaze naturally shifted to Alsaetin, standing nearby.
An utterly different presence from the loving look he had given his daughter moments before — cold and crushing.
Alsaetin had met every manner of dangerous individual in his line of intelligence work, but even he felt genuine fear at the pressure Benedict exuded.
"Judging by your build, you don't appear to be an academy student."
"He's one of my loyal dogs."
"...A dog, you say?"
The moment the word left Lucy's lips, mana flared up around Benedict.
In an atmosphere thick enough to suffocate a man to death on pressure alone, Alsaetin squeezed the words out through clenched teeth.
"Count Aln. I believe there's been some misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding. A misunderstanding, you say. Now that's an amusing word."
A massive hand — the kind that could pluck an adult man's head clean off like uprooting a weed — brushed past Alsaetin's ear and came to rest on his shoulder.
"Shall we hear this excuse of yours, then?"
"Th. That is—"
The sensation of death he had felt facing his master at Menesteil.
His breath caught. Cold sweat poured down. His mind went blank white.
Damn it. I can't steady my—
"Papa!♡"
Thankfully, Lucy raising her voice proved faster than Alsaetin's legs giving out beneath him.
"What do you think you're doing?!♡ Don't tell me this pathetic scrub actually thinks he can hang around me?!♡ Seriously?!♡"
"N. No. Lucy, you see, there's—"
"It's bad enough when people boss my dog around, but now you're putting a gorgeous, noble girl like me on the same level as this discarded scrap?!♡"
"Your papa was only worried about you."
"Like, totally disappointed♡ I'm leaving♡ Creepy papa doesn't get to follow me♡"
"LUCYYYYYY! Papa's soooorrryyyy!"
Is the man kneeling before his daughter right now, begging forgiveness, actually the same person who was threatening me a moment ago?
Unable to keep up with the whiplash of it all, Alsaetin stood there gaping at the spectacle — until he felt the stares pouring in from every direction and hastily wedged himself between Lucy and Benedict.
Fortunately, the signal his master had taught him worked on Benedict as well.
After parting ways with Alsaetin and heading with Benedict to our agreed meeting point, Karia came out to greet us.
"Hey there, you two, it's been a... um, Boss? What's wrong with him?"
'Don't ask.'
"How should I know? My idiot father is doing idiot things."
"Sniff."
Listening to a man three times my size make sniffing sounds wrung a sigh out of me all on its own.
Going hard at him the moment I saw Alsaetin had been a mistake — I figured if I let it slide, he'd only get worse later. I hadn't expected the aftershocks to drag on this long.
I let Grandpa's remark go in one ear and out the other, then planted myself in front of Benedict, who kept stealing glances at me.
If I left things like this, nothing was going to get done.
'Father.'
"Idiot father."
"Sniff."
...This man is pretending he can't hear me.
Is he sulking?
Ugh! Fine! I get it!
If that's what he wants, I can call him that!
"Papa♡"
"...Lucyyyy."
"Papa's the king of idiots♡ But since I'm such a good girl, I'll specially forgive you for being dumb today♡"
"Ohhhh. Lucy. Thank you so much."
"But♡ If you pull this stunt again, I'm just moving out, so don't forget it♡"
"Understood! Your papa will do his very best never to disappoint Lucy!"
Watching Benedict beam at that single word of forgiveness, I had plenty I wanted to say — but saying any of it would obviously just be a rerun of what happened earlier, so I silently took my seat.
Karia, who had watched the entire scene unfold, glared at Benedict as if he were a hopeless case, then shook her head without a word.
"Haaa. We're short on time, so let's get straight to business. I called you two here because of the guest list for today's semester-end party. I've organized everything here, so give it a read."
Who on earth was coming that had Karia acting like this?
Was it because of all the political operatives attending?
No. If that's all it was, I could handle it easily at my current level.
My stomach might churn a little, but nothing I couldn't manage.
Was someone from the Church coming because of Phoebe?
Unless it was someone truly high-ranking, that shouldn't be a problem either.
I could conceal my divinity to a reasonable degree now, after all.
...Don't tell me the Second Queen is coming?
That old hag is here to recruit me?!
That would be... quite a serious problem, actually.
I did not want to find out what happens after blurting out the word "hag" to her face.
As I turned the page, mulling over one possibility after another, my eyes landed on the name written at the very top — and I froze solid.
Cabati Soladin
That medieval playing card of a woman was supposed to be cooped up in the royal palace — and she's coming?!
Why?! Why?!