Cake Day

Simon decided to set a trap for that unidentified priest suspected of being Efnel's 'spy'.

The plan was simple: scatter corpse spiders throughout the area near the Forbidden Forest where the priest had been sighted, and wait. If the priest appeared, word would reach Simon instantly, and Erzsébet and Pier would mobilize. Erzsébet would disguise herself as a high-ranking priest, approach him, and pry the information out of him.

[Forgive my doubt, but if the target is a priest, wouldn't my nature as an undead be exposed at once? I have heard that priests, wielders of divinity, are keenly sensitive to the undead.]

"I doubt it. The guy uses Jet-Black."

Jet-Black and divinity were opposing forces — one or the other, never both. The peculiar sense priests used to detect undead could only develop through divinity. And the traitor priest had abandoned his divinity for the sake of wielding Jet-Black.

Even if he were found out, it wouldn't matter. Pier and the entire Legion would descend on him together, attacking in unison. Even if the man truly were professor-level and victory couldn't be guaranteed, at the very least Pier and Erzsébet would have no trouble extricating themselves.

[Understood. I shall begin studying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at once the appearance and mannerisms of upper-class priests.]

"Yeah, I'm counting on you."

And so the trap was laid. The priest would no doubt be careful for a while — he likely wouldn't set foot in the forest right away — but Simon could only hope he'd take the bait eventually.

With that, he released the undead into the ruins and returned to Kizen.

The Mission Period had ended, and a new chapter of life at Kizen began.

When Simon stepped into the lecture hall for the first time in a while, the atmosphere was several times brighter and livelier than usual. Laughter burst out from every corner, and the chatter never seemed to stop.

Everyone was busy trading stories about what they'd been through on their missions, and it looked like a single day wouldn't be nearly enough to exhaust all that material.

Where's everyone else?

Dick had walked to school with him, then bolted for the bathroom complaining of sudden, catastrophic stomach trouble, so Simon had arrived alone. He was scanning the room for a decent seat when a familiar face caught his eye.

"Meilin!"

She'd been chattering away with two other girls, but the moment she spotted Simon, her face went red and she hastily hid something behind her back. The two girls poked her in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ribs, snickering, and Meilin snapped at them to knock it off.

"What's going on?"

As Simon approached, Meilin flinched and took a step back. The girls exchanged friendly greetings with him, then shot pointed looks at Meilin.

"Well then, we won't intrude any longer~"

"Ohohoho!"

"Hey!! You two are dead!"

They giggled and scampered off across the room.

Meilin lifted her chin and shot Simon a sideways glare, then cleared her throat with an exaggerated ahem.

"You've got a pretty thick skin, you know that?"

"For what?"

"...You're just oblivious, that's what it is."

She let out a small sigh and thrust out whatever she'd been hiding behind her back.

"Here."

"Hm...?"

What she held out was a set of carrot cakes wrapped in pretty paper. Simon blinked.

"This is for me?"

"D-don't get the wrong idea! Please! I'm just giving it to you because we're on the same team, that's all!"

She pushed the cake into his arms and yanked her hands away, then turned her burning face aside and started fanning herself furiously.

"Thanks. But why the sudden gift? It's not my birthday."

"......."

She stared at him with an expression that plainly asked, do you seriously not know?

"It's Cake Day, obviously."

"Cake Day?"

"Yes! The day girls give cake to boys!"

Simon's brain spun into overdrive.

Cake Day — he'd never heard of it in his life. Back in Leshill, the closest things they had to holidays were the harvest festival, goat-feeding day, weed-pulling day... that sort of thing. Maybe this was city culture.

And judging by Meilin's reaction, not knowing about it apparently made you either an idiot or a country bumpkin. So the wise move was not to buy anything and make a fool of himself for no reason.

Having pieced the situation together in the flow of his own thoughts, Simon broke into a warm smile.

"You went to the trouble for me. Thanks, Meilin."

"......."

Her fanning hands sped up.

"Trouble? What trouble! I just felt sorry for you, that's all! You and Dick — if you can't even get anything from the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠girls on your own team, then that's just—"

"Hi there~ Simon!"

Two more girls from Class A came walking up.

"Here! Lemon cake!"

"Mine's black tea cake! Thanks for teaching me the combat stance in Magic Combat class the other day!"

They each set their cakes down on top of Meilin's. Simon felt a little dazed, but quickly broke into a bright smile.

"Thanks, you two! Glad I could help back then."

"...Ah."

The girls' cheeks flushed pink in an instant.

"I'll enjoy it."

"Ah — yeah!"

A slightly awkward, strangely charged air hung between them. Then the girls waved first, and hurried off elsewhere in a fluster.

"...N-not bad, actually."

Meilin, arms crossed and observing the whole thing, was sweating bullets.

"But that was everyone thanking you, including mine, right? So those three should be the end of—"

"Simoooon!"

Who was it this time?

Simon turned around to find Camibarez charging toward him, whipped cream smeared across her face. In her hands was a huge box holding a large cake.

"Oh, Cami."

She planted herself in front of Simon and took a deep, dramatic breath. Then, summoning all her strength, she thrust the cake out toward him.

"...Simon! You've — you've done so much for me, and — and thank you! Let's keep getting along all semester!!"

With that, she gave a stiff bow and presented the enormous cake.

Wait, what even is Cake Day? You'd do all this because of me?

Simon was beginning to feel something oddly bittersweet. Meilin, who had sidled up beside him to sneak a look, had gone wide-eyed too.

"Whoa! A homemade cake? That's amazing—"

At those words, Camibarez's face went even redder, and she shook her head vigorously.

"N-no it's not! Homemade? I just bought it in Rochest, that's all—"

"Cami."

Simon stepped closer and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Then he gently wiped the whipped cream from her cheek.

"Hold still — you had something on your face."

"...!!!"

Her face flared red to its absolute limit. A second later she shoved the cake into Simon's arms and fled from the lecture hall as if running for her life.

"What's gotten into her?"

"...Haah, you really are hopeless."

Meilin pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed.

Once that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠little episode had run its course, Simon took his seat and neatly arranged all the gifted cakes on his desk. Then, letting out a breath, he slowly looked around.

Somewhere along the way, the lecture hall had filled up with colorful cakes from corner to corner, and a distinctly pink atmosphere was flowing between the boys and girls exchanging them. So the lively energy Simon had sensed on arriving — it turned out to be post-Mission Period reunion joy plus the power of Cake Day.

And over there, in the far corner of the room, sat Hector.

He was slouched in his chair with his legs sprawled wide, wearing an expression of pure irritation — but in spite of that fearsome scowl, he had a ridiculous pointed cap on his head. In front of his desk, cake boxes were stacked into a small mountain.

"U-um, Hector!"

A girl had approached him carefully. She wasn't even from Class A.

"H-here! I got this for you..."

"...Put it anywhere and get lost."

"Eeeeeek!"

She added one more cake to the mountain, turned scarlet, and bolted out of the lecture hall.

There was something oddly entertaining about watching that Hector, unable to lash out, just grumpily scratching his head.

Can't be easy for him either.

Simon was thinking this as he reached for his textbook.

"Hello there~ Simon."

He looked up.

"Oh, Class President."

Jamie Victoria. Ever since she'd led the bow as class representative during Toxicology class, the students of Class A had taken to calling her 'Class President'.

She had short green hair and a slim, wiry frame — at a casual glance, it was honestly hard to tell whether she was a girl or a pretty boy.

"Cheese, vanilla, or cinnamon. Which do you want?"

She asked while rummaging through the sack slung over her back.

"I'll take cinnamon..."

"Oh! Nobody's picked that one — thanks for taking it off my hands!"

She held out a box of cup cakes. Simon thanked her and asked,

"Are you handing these out to all the boys in Class A?"

"Yep! Consider it a 'looking forward to this semester' gesture. See you!"

She winked and moved on. And right behind Simon's seat, two boys who'd been sitting there pitifully empty-handed — not a single cake between them — were now staring at Jamie with wide, gleaming eyes, as if gazing upon a savior.

"...Simon, you know."

Meilin, who had settled into the seat beside him and unpacked her things, wore a meaningful look.

"You had no idea about Cake Day, did you?"

Simon's shoulders gave a jolt. Reading her answer in that reaction, she shook her head slowly.

"Let me make one thing clear. This is school, Simon. If you don't want your peers looking down on you, you'd better keep up with basic stuff like holidays and the latest trends."

Fair enough.

Then again —

"There are more of these holidays?"

"Of course!"

"Next up is probably the day boys give things to girls. What's it called?"

The corner of Meilin's mouth curled up.

"Accessory Day."

Simon let out an empty laugh.

"...That's not fair."

"Oh, please. Do you really think girls would hand out cakes if they expected actual gem-studded jewelry in return? It's just toys — everyone trades silly little trinkets."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, yeah."

She smiled sweetly.

"Of course, if the boys want to put real thought into it, I'm not going to stop them~"

...The world really wasn't fair.

The chaotic pre-class commotion finally settled, and the first lesson of the term at Kizen began.

First period was Jane's Basic Dark Magic.

"I have received word that all members of Class A returned safely to Kizen. As your professor, I find that satisfactory."

Jane looked around at the students and continued.

"First, an important announcement."

She took a fresh document from her teaching assistant and read from it.

"Yes. Beginning this week, the Duel Evaluations commence."

A collective groan rippled through the room. The lively atmosphere from Cake Day could be felt icing over in real time.

Oblivious or indifferent, Jane pressed on with the explanation.

"The Duel Evaluations will run for the entire first semester. The rules are simple. You will fight one-on-one against fellow first-years of Kizen. Not just Class A — from Class A all the way to the farthest, Class N. All fourteen classes are your competitors."

She walked to the blackboard, took up a piece of chalk, and drew a simple diagram.

"The victor moves up to the higher squad. The loser moves down to the lower squad."

"Squads are renewed every week. And any student still in the Bottom Squad when the first semester ends—"

She turned a cold gaze over the students.

"Every last one of you will be expelled."