The Princess in the Nightmare
“Have you given any thought to the vice president's seat?”
At the shocking offer, Simon's brain briefly froze.
“I'll be graduating soon myself, so I'll have to hand over the presidency of Kizen — but frankly, the 2nd-years just don't sat-is-fy me! Mm!”
Phantasos stroked his jaw.
“The 2nd-years are capable and talented, but far too calculating. You couldn't call a single one of them a man with a burning heart.”
Simon's eyes went wide with surprise.
“A burning heart! My father used to say the same thing!”
“Indeed! You come from an excellent father!”
For all his imposing, heavyweight presence, Phantasos turned out to be a talker — far more talkative than his appearance suggested.
Before anyone noticed, Simon was the only one still hanging on his rambling speech. Serne was off in her own little world, and Kajan was staring blankly into space.
One exception, that is.
“I'm afraid I can't say anything definite about the presidency just yet.”
In truth, even if he'd wanted the job, Simon wasn't in a position to take it — he didn't even know what the student council president actually did.
“That's wise. It's a position that carries heavy responsibility.”
Phantasos nodded.
“The president of Kizen must always be exceptional. Even were I to hand you the seat, the 2nd-years wouldn't sit still for it — you'd have to overcome every one of their challenges!”
“……Aha.”
“Still, I'd like you to take your time and think it over! Of course, this body forces no one. As I said before — who is the master of your life?”
“I am!”
“Exactly!”
Sensing the conversation might drag on indefinitely, Kajan checked his wristwatch and cut in at just the right moment.
“We should wrap this up, President. You have a schedule to get to.”
“A shame! It's been so long since I met young people I could actually talk to. Mm!”
Phantasos pounded his chest twice.
“Remember this, juniors! Never let another person drag your life along — live your own life, armed with a burning heart and towering dreams! That is the way of a man!”
“I'm not a man, though?”
Serne cut in with a sweet smile.
“Then it is also the way of a woman of power!”
Phantasos corrected himself without missing a beat.
“If you ever need help, come to me anytime! If you intend to fight for true freedom, this body will aid you to the fullest! Mm!”
With the whirlwind audience with the student council president behind them, the three stepped outside.
The next stop was the place Simon had insisted they simply had to visit. He glanced back at the others and said, “This one's a bit of a personal errand for me. You two are free to go elsewhere.”
“Guarding you is my job.”
Kajan said flatly.
“I'm staying with Simon too~”
Serne beamed and planted herself firmly at his side, spinning in place.
“The Ivory Tower elders would get suspicious if they saw us apart, you know!”
“……F-fine. Suit yourselves.”
Their destination was one of the seven glass towers — the building where the Jet-Black Mechanics event was being held.
It was here that Simon first rode a magic-circle elevator. You showed your student ID to the attendant for an identity check, then stepped onto the magic circle, and it whisked you straight to whatever floor you wanted.
Floor thirty-seven.
The walls were as transparent as glass, offering a dizzying view of everything below. The entire magnificent sprawl of Pentamonium lay spread out before their eyes.
“Kajan. What's over there?”
Simon was pointing at the outskirts of the city. Beyond the protective wall that shielded Pentamonium, the world outside was choked with something like pitch-black fog.
“The Demon Realm.”
Pentamonium was a treasure-house of knowledge, holding countless tomes of continental wisdom and historical records. Powerful figures across the continent had tried, again and again, to make the city their own — and not a single one had ever succeeded.
The reason was geography.
Pentamonium sat at the very heart of a region known as the Demon Realm.
The area had no oxygen. A third atmospheric layer — one that didn't exist anywhere else in the world — lay wrapped thickly over it, making it a place where no human or living creature could survive. Instead, it had become a paradise for the undead.
There was only one way into Pentamonium, walled in as it was by the Demon Realm: receive the city's permission and enter through a teleportation magic circle.
“According to the legend that's been handed down, an asteroid fell here a thousand years ago.”
Kajan gazed out at the view as he spoke.
“Only the spot where the asteroid struck stayed safe; everywhere else was swallowed by black clouds, and that's how the Demon Realm formed. And the city the region's natives built — founded on the alien knowledge inside that asteroid — is this very Pentamonium. Roughly speaking, anyway.”
Simon's eyes sparkled.
“That sounds kind of exciting.”
“In all of Pentamonium's long history, the barrier has never once been breached. You can rest easy.”
As they traded stories, the three of them came to a stop in front of a patient room. The door stood open, but out of courtesy Simon gave it a light knock.
There was a rustling sound, then a soft “Come innn~” answered him.
“Mind if I come in?”
When Simon opened the door and stepped inside, he saw a young girl in a hospital gown lying on a white bed.
“Been doing okay, Sasha?”
Her eyes flew wide open at the sight of him.
“Simon!!”
She was Sasha, the Saintess candidate Simon had met during the Neutral Zone dispatch.
It had all happened mere months ago, so his memory of it was vivid.
Sasha had been kidnapped by a Priest named Figaro, who was researching the Essence of Saintess, and her power had been forcibly driven berserk, leaving her trapped as a plant-bound Saintess — until Simon, wielding the power of a Legion Commander, succeeded in rescuing her.
It was only fairly recently, after he'd agreed to attend the academic conference, that he'd learned she was receiving treatment here in Pentamonium.
“Have you been well?”
“Yep!”
Simon set down the fruit gift he'd bought in Rochest, and the two of them fell into easy conversation.
When he'd first met her in the Neutral Zone, she had seemed fragile, closed off — a timid girl who opened her heart to Camibarez and no one else.
But she seemed to have gained real spirit since coming here. Her color had improved, she'd grown a little taller, and her hair had grown longer too.
For now, in exchange for taking part in Pentamonium's research, she was recovering her health with the latest treatments.
After the Essence of Saintess had left her body, she would never be able to summon holy power again — but recently, persuaded by Pentamonium, she had opened her core and become a necromancer.
Her ability — the branches that sprouted wildly from her body — would take focused training in a specific power, whether white magic or black, to bring under control. That had been the judgment.
“Here you go.”
Simon handed her a letter. Sasha's eyes went round as saucers.
“What's this?”
“A letter Cami wrote you.”
“Really? From Cami?!”
Camibarez hadn't been able to come to Pentamonium — she was swamped preparing her thesis — but when she'd belatedly learned that Sasha was here, she'd left behind a letter pages long.
Sasha read it with a face full of happiness, and before long tears were welling up in her eyes.
“When the first year ends and break starts, Cami says she's coming to visit you no matter what.”
“……Yeah. Thank you for delivering it, Simon.”
Simon smiled warmly and ruffled her hair.
“Oh! Look at this, Simon!”
When she spread both arms, wooden branches flowed out from her body. She could stretch and retract them at will.
It was a sight none of them had seen before, and even Kajan and Serne looked genuinely intrigued.
“Nothing's been finalized yet, but—”
Kajan cut in abruptly.
“According to what Lady Nephthys has said, Sasha is to be brought in as a Special Admission student next year and enrolled at Kizen.”
Simon nearly jumped out of his seat.
“S-Sasha? As Special Admission?”
“That's right. Sasha's ability carries exceptional, once-in-a-generation potential.”
Come to think of it — true.
Even granting that Sasha had the Essence of Saintess aiding her when she fused with that madman of a Priest, the sheer size of the tree she'd produced spoke volumes about her potential.
Common wisdom held that people with strong holy potential had weak jet-black potential, yet she had scored highly on both.
“But isn't Sasha a little too young, though?”
Simon said it with a worried look, but Kajan shook his head.
“Sasha is fourteen. She meets the minimum conditions for enrollment.”
Simon turned to Sasha with a look of pure shock. Under that stare, Sasha puffed out her cheeks.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“N-nothing, nothing at all.”
He'd pegged her at around ten years old at most — and she was only three years younger than him.
“The side effects of her plant-growth ability seem to have stunted her physical growth. Much like Lady Nephthys.”
“Oh. O-oh, I see. By the way, Sasha.”
Simon forced a smile.
“Do you remember?”
“Hm?”
“What happened back then.”
She shook her head.
“After that godfather— no, after that bad Priest kidnapped me, I can't remember anything.”
“I see.”
It was probably for the best, Simon thought.
“…….”
Sasha stared at Simon.
The truth was—
Sometimes she had nightmares.
Dreams of becoming a giant tree.
It hurt so much.
It hurt, and hurt, and hurt, and hurt.
To survive, her brain had erased those memories on its own — but the memory lingered sometimes, in the torn edges of dreams.
And yet, in that nightmare—
there was the moment she loved most of all.
Whatever happens—
From somewhere impossibly far away.
I'll take Sasha—
A white-haired man, cape billowing.
—back home with me!
A dream of him coming to save her.
And in the final scene, always, that long-haired, white-haired prince was holding her in his arms.
That strength.
That smile.
That gentleness.
As long as she didn't wake from the nightmare — as long as she could fall into his embrace at the very end — Sasha could sleep peacefully.
And the prince of those dreams—
“What's wrong?”
—was smiling right beside her, just like this.
“…….”
Sasha's face flushed crimson as she looked at Simon. She whipped her head away and blurted, “N-nothing! It's nothing.”
She didn't know if it had really happened.
That prince had had different hair, different eyes from Simon, after all.
More than anything, if Simon really were that prince, then a necromancer wielding holy power would be downright strange.
But she was certain.
Her heart was certain. Her skin was certain.
The one who saved me was him.
It was because Simon was at Kizen that Sasha had decided to enroll there too.
“Simon? I want to know what Kizen life is like.”
“Oh? Want me to give you the short version?”
Simon sat up straight and launched into it.
“The new students ride in on a giant whale, and the scenery as you drop out of the sky is really pretty. Oh, and the majors — they call them Jeochilso and Sahyeolmaengtu. If I go through them one by one—”
Once again, it looked like the conversation might run long.
Kajan watched the two of them for a moment, then turned his head. Serne Aindark was standing with a tilted posture, forcing a hollow laugh.
“What's with you?”
“Nothing. It's just—”
There was Simon, gleefully rattling off stories about Kizen to his junior, and there was Sasha, cheeks tinged faintly pink, gazing at nothing but his face.
“I was just wondering exactly how smitten a person has to be before it finally satisfies them~”
“? I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Well, you probably never will. Not in this lifetime!”
At that very moment.
The 2nd-Year Necromancer Student Thesis Presentation.
Shreaaak—! Shreaaak—! Shreaaak—!
Before a girl in a green plaid uniform — trembling, tears streaming from her eyes — lay her thesis, torn to ribbons and scattered across the floor.
“Garbage.”
The judges' eyes blazed.
“This is garbage!”
“Did you truly believe this patchwork excuse for a thesis would pass muster in Pentamonium?!”
“The very fact that you call yourself a necromancer is laughable!”
In front of thousands of spectators, the judges began tearing the student's spirit to shreds. The crowd roared its derisive jeers along with them.
The students present were all soul-drained with dread, and the one scheduled to present next had gone white as a sheet.
“Garbage! Garbage! Nothing but garbage! This is the level of our 2nd-years?! How is it that not a single one of them can satisfy us?!”
The chief thesis judge at the center slammed his fist down on the table with a BANG.
“Next! Bring in the next one!”