The Professors' Lounge and Room 409
The first day of classes for Kizen's new students had come to an end.
Before clocking out, the first-year professors gathered in the faculty lounge, sipping tea and trading stories about the incoming class.
"Meilyn Villenne exceeded expectations. She brewed Sharniph poison on day one, if you can believe it!"
"Bloodline really does tell, doesn't it? All seven of the Villenne children are outstanding."
"And what about the official Ivory Tower heiress?"
"Ah, Serne? Is there even a question. Now I understand why the Ivory Tower was so confident about her."
"Then there's Chatel Maer. There's a prejudice that giant hybrids lack magical ability compared to their physical prowess, but this boy is exceptional across the board."
"Professor, if you try to poach our Chatel, we're going to have a problem."
"Heh heh, listen to you. Acting like he's already your student?"
"You're aware that approaching students during the student protection period is against the rules, yes?"
Exchanging jokes and trading veiled barbs, the professors whiled away the hours talking about their new charges.
"Hey, Professor Bahil."
Bahil, the Curse Magic professor, who had been savoring his tea with his eyes closed, gave a slight nod to show he was listening.
"You had Class A today as well, didn't you? How was it?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Oh, stop playing innocent. I'm talking about Special Admission No. 1, hand-picked by Nephthys herself."
Bahil set his teacup down on the table with a circular smile.
"In my class, he was beaten ten to one by another student. I can't say I've seen much evidence of remarkable talent yet."
"...Hm, surprising. Still, for someone bearing the title of Special Admission No. 1, there was nothing special about him at all?"
It was a probing question, but Bahil merely smiled gently.
"His stamina was impressive. He withstood Exhaust nine times in the first class."
"Oh? Nine times?"
"Stamina is certainly a valuable quality, but for a Special Admission No. 1, it feels a bit... ambiguous."
Click.
Just then, the lounge door swung open. Aaron, the Summoning professor, shuffled in, hair as disheveled as ever, dragging his slippers along the floor.
He gave the professors a cursory nod of greeting and, paying no attention to the conversation swirling around him, headed for his coat hanging on the rack.
"Come to think of it,"
Bahil began.
"You had Class A today too, didn't you, Aaron?"
Every eye in the room turned to Aaron, who gathered up his coat with a blank expression.
"What about it."
"Special Admission No. 1. What did he look like to you?"
Before he knew it, every professor in the lounge was staring at Aaron, eyes gleaming.
It was a silent ultimatum: spit it out, right now.
Aaron sighed quietly and answered in his characteristic lazy drawl.
"An obtuse mediocrity. He had the creativity to make original garbage."
"......"
While the professors murmured among themselves, only Bahil's mouth was curling upward in a dangerous grin.
That man just threw up a smokescreen, didn't he?
Bahil, who had often fought in the field alongside Aaron, knew the man's temperament better than anyone. If a student had truly failed to impress him, Aaron would never have spoken so evasively.
An obtuse mediocrity.
The creativity to make original garbage.
Viewed another way, that was the highest praise Aaron was capable of giving.
...And my appetite for him only keeps growing.
The boy chosen by Nephthys, and marked by that notoriously picky Aaron.
Bahil could feel his vague interest in Simon hardening into a fierce conviction.
"By the way, senior."
In that case, the war had already begun.
"That declaration you made last year — that you would never take a direct disciple again. Am I right to assume it's still in full effect?"
"......"
Aaron, who had been on his way out, stopped dead in his tracks.
The other professors fell silent as well, turning to look at him.
A taut tension hung suddenly in the air of the lounge.
"P-Professor Bahil."
A female professor beside him tried to dissuade him in a tiny voice, but Bahil simply waited for the answer, smiling his circular smile. Just as Aaron's lips began to part —
Click!
"Hi there, everyone! Hello, hello!"
A silver-haired girl came bounding in out of nowhere at a brisk trot.
"Lady Nephthys!"
At her entrance, the professors of Kizen — the very men said to hold half the continent in their grip — bowed at the waist in perfect unison.
"An honor to see you."
Bahil, greeting her like a gentleman, was the first to approach. He then drew something from his coat and held it out.
It was chocolate ice cream.
In all of Kizen, Bahil was the only person who carried ice cream at all times, stored in a sub-space sealed under a permanent freezing spell — just in case he should ever run into Nephthys.
"Honestly! How many times have I told you to stop treating me like a little kid!"
Even as she protested, she snatched the ice cream right out of Bahil's hand.
"Preparing a lady's snack is the mark of a gentleman."
"Hmph. Smooth talker."
Nephthys took a bite of the ice cream. At once her cheeks flushed pink and her face melted into a gooey expression just like any girl her apparent age.
A few professors bit their lips at the sight. It would be sacrilege to harbor the irreverent thought that the great Witch of Death was cute.
"Please, take a seat, Lady Nephthys."
One professor hurriedly arranged a chair for her. Nephthys grabbed the armrest of a chair a little too tall for her and scrambled up onto it with a grunt.
"Hup! How were the first-day students?"
she asked between bites, and the professors competed to report their impressions.
Rather than the proven special-admission students like Serne or Chatel, the high scorers took center stage — Meilyn and Hector of Class A, Kaez of Class B, and their ilk.
Nephthys nodded along, listening attentively.
"Mm, good, good! Report to me if anything goes wrong. It's the first day, so head in early and rest up."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Lady Nephthys."
Just then, Aaron — silent until now — spoke up.
"I would like a word with you. Alone."
The other professors' eyes went wide.
To be sure, professors of Kizen's caliber were permitted audiences with Nephthys, but demanding a one-on-one meeting so brashly like this was practically unheard of.
"Sure, okay."
Nephthys smiled brightly and hopped down from her chair. Aaron bowed his head once and followed her outside.
Still as blunt as ever, I see.
Once Nephthys was gone, Bahil settled back into his seat and crossed his legs, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
But she won't spill everything to you so easily, senior.
The very first day of enrollment. All of Simon's classes at Kizen were finally over.
Simon, Dick, and the rest of Class A filed toward the dormitory under the guidance of the henchmen.
But then a small problem arose.
Because they had sat through every minute of the final three-hour Summoning class, Class A arrived late — and by then, the dorm rooms were nearly all full.
Each dormitory room housed three students.
Simon and Dick had agreed to room together, but the students who had arrived earlier were already occupying two seats or more in every room.
"I-I'm terribly sorry. There's no room with two open beds on the second floor either."
The dormitory caretaker bowed her head again and again. Though none of it was her fault, she was sweating and apologizing profusely, and Simon waved it off.
"You don't need to apologize, ma'am."
Being treated with such deference by an elder sat a little uneasily with him.
True, within Kizen students technically outranked henchmen. And with most of the student body being distinguished nobles besides, it was only natural for the henchmen to keep a low posture.
Dick, apparently used to situations like this, folded his arms.
"Nothing on the third or fourth floors with two open beds either, I take it?"
"...No, I'm afraid the other floors are in much the same state."
The caretaker showed them the second-floor list. The occasional single bed sat scattered here and there, and those were too far apart anyway.
Simon and Dick exchanged a look.
"What do you want to do, Simon?"
"Let's check the other floors first before deciding. Just in case."
As the two of them weighed their options —
"Move it!"
There was a smack, and the caretaker was knocked over by a luggage bag. A brown-haired student hauling a cart behind him scowled.
"Hey, what are you doing? I said move!"
"I-I'm so sorry!"
The fallen woman bowed her head quickly, while the friend walking beside her snickered. The brown-haired student inspected his luggage bag and grimaced.
"Ugh, seriously. This is dented because of you. What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"Sorry won't cut it. Come with me. Now."
Just as she rose to her feet, head hanging like a criminal's —
"Sorry, but no."
Simon stepped forward.
"I'm talking to this woman right now."
"...What?"
The caretaker's pupils went round as saucers. The brown-haired student laughed awkwardly.
"And I saw you knock into her on purpose, clear as day."
Dick snorted and came to stand at Simon's side.
"...You little punks have lost your minds. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?!"
"Whoa, whoa, hold on!"
The friend frantically grabbed the student's shoulder and hissed in his ear.
"That's him! Special Admission No. 1 — the one who took the oath as student representative in the auditorium!"
"...Huh?"
The student had been studying Simon's face carefully, and his expression promptly drained to the color of ash. His pupils, trembling like an earthquake had struck, darted helplessly toward the caretaker.
"Ahem! C-Cough! Be more careful next time! Let's go!"
Watching him flee the scene, Dick doubled over and howled with laughter. Simon chuckled too and offered a hand to the fallen caretaker.
"Are you all right?"
Blushing, she took his hand and rose to her feet.
"Th-thank you for helping me."
"It was the obvious thing to do. Don't worry about it."
"My name is Lena! If you're planning to check the upper floors anyway, I'd be happy to guide you. I might actually be of some help."
"Oh? Would you really?"
And so the three of them headed upstairs together. Lena moved quickly, gathering information from the other caretakers along the way, and soon steered them straight toward the fourth floor.
"There's exactly one room left on the fourth floor with two open beds!"
Lena called over her shoulder as she ran, with Simon and Dick hot on her heels.
"There's actually a room open?"
"Yes — you're in luck! Room 409 was originally built as a four-person room, so it's spacious, has a great view, and it's right by the central staircase — prime real estate! Honestly, I never dreamed two beds would be open in that one."
Before long, the three of them arrived at the door of Room 409.
Lena examined the names fixed to the door — and then:
"Ah......"
A shadow fell across her face all at once.
"What's wrong?"
She turned back to face the two of them, offering a helpless smile.
"W-well, let's just look somewhere else, shall we? Rooms 412 and 413 each have one bed open, but they're right next to each other, so—"
"Is something wrong with this room?"
At Simon's question, she gave a stiff, reluctant nod, then pointed to the nameplate on the door.
"...Kajaan Edvalt. He was here last year too."
Dick's eyes went wide.
"That can't be right. This is the first-year dormitory, isn't it? The second-years won't even move in until next month."
"Kajaan is a retained student. From what I've heard, he caused some enormous problem and was held back — this term, he's starting first year all over again."
"Hm."
Even accepting that explanation, something still didn't sit right with Dick.
Kizen was a place with no hesitation about cutting students loose.
Ordinarily, anyone who caused trouble or fell below the academic threshold would be expelled outright. Held back a year? That was almost unheard of.
Simon asked again.
"What was the reason he was retained?"
"I'm just a dormitory worker — I don't know the details. But he's earned quite a reputation among the staff for stirring up trouble. Students who shared his room kept turning up with bruised faces, or begging to be transferred to a different one."
So that was why this room alone had two beds sitting empty. A flicker of fear crossed Dick's face as he stole a sidelong glance at Simon.
"Simon, let's just take a different room—"
"I'm just going to say hello. That much should be fine, right?"
With that, Simon knocked on the door and stepped inside. Dick nearly shriaked as he scrambled in after him.
The room was quite roomy, as befitted a former four-person suite: two bunk-style beds with a single bed each, plus a personal desk and wardrobe apiece.
The window overlooked Kizen's buildings, the mountains, and a winding valley below. It certainly lived up to Lena's claim of being prime real estate.
And against one wall, someone had already unpacked his things and was lying sprawled on the upper bunk, a white blanket pulled up over his head.
"Hold on, Simon!"
Dick hissed under his breath.
"You heard what Lena said! That guy is clearly bad news!"
Simon drew in a breath — swish — and spoke.