A Knock on the Window
Another day's schedule came to an end.
Having finished all his afternoon major classes, Simon trudged wearily toward the Student Council Room.
Along the way, his direct henchmen, who were cleaning the Student Council Building, greeted him with meticulous courtesy. Simon smiled and returned each greeting.
Before long, he arrived in front of the Student Council President's office.
Knock knock.
“There he is. Hey, everyone.”
When Simon opened the door and stepped inside, he found Meilin and Camibarez sipping tea and chattering away. Both girls' heads swiveled toward him at once, greeting him warmly with a chorus of 'Simon~.'
“Welcome, prez!”
From across the room, Dick waved a hand with a flourish, then swept his arm toward Simon's presidential seat.
“Now that you're here, get over there and start signing!”
“Got it.”
Today was one of his Student Council President workdays.
Simon took off his uniform jacket, hung it on the coat rack, and slipped on the President's Coat that hung there waiting for him.
'It really is the best.'
A symbol of power, and the highest honor a Kizen student could hold.
He still couldn't forget the way the freshmen had stared the first time he'd worn this coat. The feel of the luxurious fabric against his skin was a pleasure in itself.
Dick, too, was watching him with undisguised envy.
“Man, that is just cool. If I had that, I'd wear it everywhere—bathroom trips, bedtime, all of it.”
Meilin and Camibarez burst out laughing. Simon willingly shrugged off the coat and handed it over.
“Here, give it a try, then.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Dick didn't refuse. He threw the coat over his shoulders at once and preened in front of the mirror, making an absolute spectacle of himself.
The girls soon drifted over, drawn by the commotion, and a moment later Meilin wheedled that she wanted to try it on too. Dick defended the coat with his life and fled.
“Ahem.”
Simon, now in just his shirt, took his seat at the sprawling presidential desk. The quill reserved for the Student Council President's signatures was extravagantly refined as well—the feather alone was nearly the size of a man's forearm.
'Let's give it a go.'
Simon had to review the various documents submitted to the Student Council and sign off on them.
Since he was still in the early days of the job, there were no complicated forms yet—mostly just student suggestions and complaints.
'Install a portable restroom behind the outdoor training grounds? This one is genuinely necessary.'
Simon had suffered through the same problem many times. Whenever nature called mid-training, he'd had to walk a full thirty minutes to the nearest building.
He signed that document.
'A café business permit near the main entrance. This one's a bit iffy—defer it.'
Much as he wanted to approve everything, matters that demanded too much budget or lacked any realism had to be rejected. Even if the Student Council approved something, there was a good chance the school administration would simply shelve it anyway.
Balance was everything.
There were also cases where only one of two proposals could be chosen—like the one about what to build on an empty lot.
'This is fun.'
Working through the school's proposals like this, Simon truly felt that he had become the Student Council President.
Having cheerfully wrapped up the day's business, he leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes.
'If every day's workload were exactly like this, that'd be perfect.'
“Simon.”
Simon opened his eyes.
Meilin was standing there with the presidential coat draped over her shoulders, her face flushed with embarrassment. An involuntary sound of admiration escaped him.
“It suits you so well, Meilin! I'd believe you were the actual Student Council President!”
Meilin played along with a laugh.
“Hmph, then shall we trade? You can be the vice president.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Okay, enough joking around. Look at this one too.”
She rustled out a stack of papers and held them out with both hands. Simon took them and read.
“Oh, this cafeteria rating system. This is the one you mentioned before, right?”
“That's the one!”
Meilin rattled off a detailed explanation.
This was a project all four of them had decided to pursue together. Simon signed the paperwork without hesitation.
“Yes! So you're approving it? Thank you!”
Meilin hugged the papers to her chest and beamed.
Just then, the presidential coat on her shoulders slid off with a whisper of fabric. Meilin whipped around and yelled, 'Hey!!'
“We can't leave Cami out of this. Here you go.”
“It's so cuteee! You look like a little captain!!”
Simon smiled, satisfied with the cozy atmosphere of the Student Council.
Being able to spend his days like this with these people was a blessing. They were truly a wellspring of vitality in his life at Kizen.
The four of them settled onto the sofa for a cup of tea and were chatting about their major classes when—
“As fun as this is, shouldn't we start putting this together before long?”
Dick held out a blank sheet. Camibarez, who had been nestled snugly inside Simon's presidential coat, tilted her head.
“What's this, Dick?”
“Class schedules. And course registration is tomorrow!”
'That's right, tomorrow.'
Simon had heard plenty about the notorious infamy of Kizen's course registration.
The required major courses for second-years were fixed, but the general electives were not. Simon could choose up to four from among Curse Magic, Jet-Black Mechanics, Spirit Magic, Hemomancy, Toxicology, and Magic Combat—and he was required to take at least three.
The one course that absolutely had to be on every schedule was Jet-Black Mechanics. And now, newly added at Nephthys's orders, Holy Defense Studies had become mandatory as well—preparation for a war against the Priests' faction.
Incidentally, Dick mentioned that Holy Defense Studies was arranged separately by each department, so it had nothing to do with course registration.
“The dorms must be in an absolute frenzy right now. Here—I pulled together another full list!”
The three seated students leaned in, eyes gleaming, to examine it. Simon rubbed his chin.
“This looks pretty complicated.”
“That's what happens when you sweat the fine details. No need to overthink it. What we're really choosing is whose class with which professor we take.”
In the first year, schedules shifted wildly, but a second-year's timetable was relatively set in stone.
The first and second days of the week were devoted entirely to major classes, while the fourth and fifth days were all general classes. The third day was a mix of the two. Roughly speaking, you could guess which classes fell on which days.
[Intermediate General Jet-Black Mechanics – Professor Jane Olivia / A]
“So what's this 'A' attached to the course here?”
Simon asked.
“Hmm—”
Meilin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, frowning in thought.
“Since it's Professor Jane's class, does it mean 'A-grade class'?”
“Wrong. It just marks a time slot.”
Dick shook his head and gave another example.
“Look here—Professor Byeolya's 'Intermediate General Toxicology' is also marked A, right? It means they run in the same time slot. In other words, you can't register for two classes in the same A line. You have to pick one or the other.”
“Ohh!”
“So if you absolutely had to take Toxicology, you'd skip Professor Byeolya's class in the A line and sign up for Professor Crawley's instead—it's in the D line, you see.”
“Got it now.”
Simon pored over the list with growing interest.
Beyond the major courses, there were general electives like history, economics, and foreign languages. These barely counted toward grades, but true to their name, they let you pick up broad knowledge without any burden.
“Here it is! This is way too easy!”
Meilin scrawled onto the blank sheet.
[Intermediate Jet-Black Mechanics – Professor Jane Olivia / A]
[Intermediate Curse Magic – Professor Bahil / C]
[Intermediate Magic Combat – Professor Hong Peng / D]
“These three are locked in no matter what! What do you think?”
Dick let out a goofy grin.
“That's a ludicrously luxurious lineup. Well, if we can actually get all of these this year too, I'll be happy just thinking about it.”
“The problem is—”
Simon raised his index finger.
“Everyone else is going to be drawing up exactly the same kind of schedule.”
“Exactly right, Simon.”
Dick nodded, clicking his tongue.
A schedule that would let them take classes from Jane, Bahil, and Hong Peng all at once—the star professors who represented Kizen itself.
“This is far, far too ideal a timetable.”
“So what? Aim high! Dream big!”
Meilin declared with a hearty laugh. Camibarez turned to Dick.
“So, Dick—how exactly does course registration work?”
“Ah, I skipped that part. Let me explain.”
Registration itself was simple. You went to the professor, submitted your registration form before the class filled up, and got their signature. Done.
But there was no way a place as notorious as Kizen would allow anything so easy. The routes leading to the professors were usually littered with monsters, obstacles, and all manner of dangers.
“Last year, they say they released monsters across the entire Second-Year Campus. If you wanted to register, you had to risk your life just getting outside.”
“...Ugh, classic Kizen.”
Meilin shuddered.
“So to sum up—course registration is a competition too, then.”
Simon crossed his arms.
“We don't know whether Kizen will release monsters or set up obstacles, but if we get through faster than everyone else, we can claim the best classes. Right?”
“That's exactly it!”
Dick's eyes flashed sharply as he raised his index finger.
“Which means we need a really, really well-made plan. First, let's decide which class to sign up for first. Whatever you hit first will probably be easy to get into, no matter what.”
“Professor Jane's class, obviously!”
Meilin declared. Camibarez looked at her.
“But Meilin, you're a Jet-Black Mechanics major—you're already taking it, aren't you?”
“Look here, Cami.”
Meilin showed her the next page of the list Dick had brought.
Each course's syllabus—in other words, an overview of the class and the required materials that the professors wanted to communicate to students.
“Besides Jet-Black Mechanics, the core of the class is acquiring the essential knowledge and skills every necromancer needs. It says right here that Jet-Black Mechanics majors are welcome to register too! Sure, there'll be some overlap, but the more of Professor Jane's classes you sit in on, the better!”
“Okay! If Meilin says so, then first up is Professor Jane's class. What's next?”
Camibarez pressed a hand to her chin, frowning thoughtfully.
“Professor Bahil's Curse Magic class and Professor Hong Peng's class! It's so hard to choose which one to do first!”
“Ah, but according to my intel, Professor Hong Peng's Magic Combat registration is the most brutal. To find Professor Hong Peng, you don't just search the Second-Year Campus—you have to comb the whole of Roc Island.”
“Then let's put Hong Peng third for now and start with Curse Magic.”
And so the four Student Council members settled on their dream schedules and their registration order.
Just as they'd first planned: Jane, Bahil, then Hong Peng.
As for the fourth and final class, each of them would take whatever they personally wanted to study.
Simon didn't have any particular thoughts on the fourth slot. He already had three major classes, three general classes, and Holy Defense Studies—seven classes in total. With Student Council duties keeping him busy as it was, bumping his course load up to eight was something worth mulling over.
With their timetables fully settled, they even worked out fallback plans in case things took too long or the schedule fell apart.
“Professor Bahil's Curse Magic class does worry me a little, though.”
Dick stroked his chin.
“Any proper necromancer absolutely has to take Curse Magic, but is Professor Bahil okay? He didn't even show up to the Department Selection Ceremony, remember.”
Simon made an uneasy face, and Meilin shot him a sidelong glare.
“He's fine—that's why his name is on the list in the first place, you dummy!”
“I want to keep learning Curse Magic from Professor Bahil too!”
Simon nodded.
Of course, the same went for him.
That night.
The Summoning dormitory.
Snore— snore—
Toto, worn out from a brutal day of classes, was fast asleep and snoring away, while Simon switched on his desk lamp and puzzled over the rotation formula for the Skeleton Knights he'd been using lately.
Plop.
Plop-plop.
Feeling cold droplets splash against his face, Simon turned his head.
'It's raining.'
Shhhhhhhh—
Rain was pouring down hard beyond the window. Simon rose from his seat and closed all the open windows.
'Course registration starts at dawn. I hope it lets up by then.'
Simon stretched, sat back down at his desk, and set his quill scratching across the paper again. The sound of the night rain drifting in from outside seemed to sharpen his focus even further.
'Ooh, this is good.'
Simon jotted down the idea that had just struck him and underlined it with a few brisk strokes.
'If I set the rotational axis itself starting at the skeleton's feet, then...'
THUD!
Simon flinched and looked up.
Shhhhhhhh―
There had definitely been a thud from somewhere close by—but nothing was there.
Toto was asleep, and beyond the window there was nothing but the roar of rain. Even holding his breath and listening, he heard nothing more.
'...Did I imagine it?'
The moment Simon tried to refocus on his studies—
BANG!
His senses on high alert, Simon whipped his head toward the source of the sound.
'!!!'
And he saw it.
A crisp, unmistakable handprint pressed against the window glass.
Simon jumped so violently he nearly toppled out of his chair.
Thud! Thud!
A hand beat against the glass again and again, and then a head of long hair, soaked utterly through with rain, smeared up against the windowpane.
Simon backed away, breath freezing in his throat.
“Wh-who's there?! Toto! Toto! Wake up, come on!”
Simon grabbed Toto and shook him, but no matter how hard he rattled him, the boy wouldn't stir.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
'Wait. Hold on.'
Simon's eyes went wide.
That face—why did it look so familiar?
Simon swallowed hard and walked slowly toward the window. Then he opened it.
Shhhhhhhhhh!
The moment the window slid open, the sound of the rain rushed in, clearer and louder.
And there, clinging to the second floor, was a woman drenched head to toe in rain. Simon startled and cried out.
“Chief TA Chehekl!!”
She was the Head TA of Curse Magic professor Bahil.
It was Chehekl.