The Sleepy Ghost Princess
It was a night bathed in starlight.
Merida sat dozing on a bench beneath the lights, her head bobbing drowsily. Simon approached her.
"Merida, wake up."
No response.
"Merida, it's time to leave for the dispatch mission."
He tried shaking her awake too, but still, nothing. Simon let out a long sigh and sat down beside her.
The event hadn't started yet, so there was still time to spare. He decided to give her a generous twenty more minutes, and if she still didn't wake, he'd haul her over his shoulder like a sack of luggage if he had to.
Simon was just reaching for his textbook, thinking he might at least get some midterm studying in, when—
Thump.
A weight settled against his shoulder.
Rustle—
Merida had leaned her head onto it. Shallow breaths slipped out between her pale pink lips.
"……"
Sweeping his bangs back with a weary expression, Simon steeled himself.
Not falling for it this time. The last time he'd tried to talk her out of flopping onto her bed and pretending to sleep, it had cost him dearly.
"Exactly twenty minutes."
Having made his proclamation, Simon waited in silence.
He tried to block it out and ignore her, but there were simply too many people on the street. He could hear them snickering—how cute, they must be a couple.
'……Ugh.'
He found himself painfully aware of every passing gaze.
Worse still was the state of her face. Whatever makeup she'd prepared for tonight's banquet was smearing everywhere, and Merida's drool was already pooling on his brand-new tuxedo. He couldn't just leave her be.
'If I'm going to let her sleep anyway, let's do it properly.'
Still seated, Simon slowly placed his hands on her shoulders.
The dress left the smooth, rounded curve of her shoulders completely bare.
Having unintentionally ended up touching someone's bare skin, he felt his face flush hot for no good reason. Doing his best to show nothing, he gently shifted her. Her head, which had been resting against his arm, began to lower, and as Simon leaned back to lay her comfortably across the bench—
Gotcha!
"?"
Merida's head latched onto his lap like a magnet.
Simon felt his entire body freeze solid.
"M-Merida?"
By the time the daze wore off, she was already fast asleep on his thigh.
This time she didn't even snore. Her mouth simply hung open, dead to the world.
Careless of his predicament, she was getting the sleep of her life.
"Hey, hold on a second!"
Simon scrambled to extract himself, but Merida, as if absolutely refusing to give up such a prime sleeping spot, clung to his trouser leg with both hands and dangled there.
Mmmph—
A muffled sleep-talk protest bubbled from her lips. Simon sighed quietly and sat back down.
At this rate, he'd be completely drained before the festival even began. Staring blankly at Merida, blissfully oblivious and deep in slumber, Simon quietly slipped off his tuxedo jacket.
Her balance had tipped as she slept, her skirt rucking up, leaving her thighs fully exposed where they'd been covered before.
'……How can one person be this defenseless?'
Grumbling all the while, Simon draped the jacket over her.
Perhaps mistaking it for a blanket, Merida smiled sweetly in her sleep, clutched the jacket to her chest, and sank even deeper into dreamland.
"……"
"……"
And so the promised twenty minutes came and went.
"Merida. Wake up."
There would be no more concessions from his side.
Simon shook her roughly, but all he got was a groaning whine—not a single sign of her waking.
"……"
After a moment's deliberation, chin resting on his hand, Simon blurted out the brilliant idea that had just struck him.
"Senior Phantassus! What brings you here?!"
"?!!"
At those words, Merida shot bolt upright like a fish leaping out of water. Her hair stood on end, her eyes were half-glued shut with sleep, and drool glistened at the corner of her mouth.
Whip— whip—
Merida scanned her surroundings in a daze, then fixed Simon with a bleary, unblinking stare.
"……"
The moment she caught the corners of his mouth curling upward, her brow furrowed into a sullen glare.
"Liar."
Simon fired right back.
"That's not something a hopeless sleepyhead should be saying."
After trading one childish jab apiece, the two turned their heads away from each other. Simon rose from his seat feeling that, at long last, the score had been settled.
"You're up, so that's that. Let's head into the Tower of Time right aw—urgh!"
Drowsiness crashed over him all at once and he staggered. Realizing he'd been caught in a Sleep curse, Simon whipped around.
"Merida!"
"You lied to me."
She said it with a pouting face.
"You wouldn't wake up, what was I supposed to do?!"
"I hate lies like that."
Her eyebrows drew together.
"Never do it again."
"……"
He had plenty to say on his end too, but this was the partner he'd be spending the entire dispatch mission with. Picking a fight over something this trivial wasn't a good choice.
"Fine. I promise."
Only then did Merida snap her fingers with a crisp click!, and the drowsiness lifted in an instant.
She rose from the bench, brushed off her dress, and straightened herself up.
"Let's go."
"Yeah."
The two made their way carefully to the front gate of the Tower of Time, where the butler ushering in the guests spotted them and spoke up.
"Haha! There you are. I was wondering when you'd make it inside, seeing as how cozily you were seated together on that bench."
So he'd witnessed that entire embarrassing scene.
Simon turned his head away in mortification, while Merida simply stood there blankly, a question mark floating over her head.
First, they submitted the documents they'd received from the Kizen Headquarters staff member.
"Kizen Student Council President Simon Polentia, and student Merida Hugh Ikel, here on dispatch mission business. Confirmed. Please, do come in."
The butler bowed courteously. Simon nodded and started forward—only for Merida not to follow.
"?"
Merida stood frozen, her hand extended with the back of it turned upward.
"What."
"You're a boy. I'm a girl."
Pointing at her own chest, she tilted her head to the side.
"Where's my escort?"
……Honestly.
They were here to work, technically, but this was still a grand festival hosted by the Ivory Tower, and a partner was a partner. The moment they crossed this threshold, the aristocracy's war of etiquette would begin.
Just as Simon straightened his posture like a proper gentleman and reached to take her hand palm-down—
Stagger.
Sleepiness bloomed across him in a warm haze. Simon barely stopped himself from collapsing, and Merida snickered—pfft, pfft.
"Got you again. Dummy."
"You little—"
Before Simon could get a word out, Merida stepped forward and looped her arm through his.
"There. I'm not mad anymore."
"……"
"Let's go."
She snapped her fingers and dispelled the Sleep.
Was she still sulking about being woken with Phantassus's name earlier? Whether she simply held grudges a long time, or whether he'd genuinely crossed a line with his prank, he couldn't tell—but he resolved to be more careful from now on.
Escorting her, Simon led Merida into the banquet hall.
'Oh.'
A gasp of admiration escaped him unbidden.
Noble banquets took on the flavor of their host's tastes, but the gatherings of the highest nobility—the ones on another tier entirely—all shared one thing in common.
An opulence so extravagant it bordered on the absurd.
"Ah."
Merida's eyes lit up. Following her gaze, Simon found a beautifully seared steak on a plate.
He felt his own mouth begin to water.
"You haven't had dinner yet, right? Let's eat first—"
"That one looks soft!"
Hm?
She was pointing ahead with her free arm—the one opposite his.
She wasn't pointing at the food. She was pointing at the sofa beside it.
Clutching Simon's arm, Merida charged forward, plopped herself down on the sofa, and began patting it with her palms.
"Density, eight. Softness, five. Comfort, seven."
"……What are you suddenly talking about?"
She then sidled over to the opposite sofa, sat down to test it, and began rattling off her own incomprehensible assessment.
"The upholstery is linen, which is a bit of a shame. Good spinal support, so the lower back feels solid, but breathability leaves something to be desired."
"Merida. When exactly are we going to eat—"
"That chair looks comfy too!"
Dragging Simon along behind her, Merida roamed the hall hunting for sofas and chairs—whichever suited her fancy. She sat on them, pressed her face against them.
"This one too!"
Warm spots got no exceptions either—staircases, tabletops, nothing was off-limits.
Like a fussy bear hunting for the perfect hibernation spot, she darted all over the banquet hall.
"Here!"
At one point she wedged herself into a table full of complete strangers. The crowd cried out in alarm as a perfectly presentable young lady suddenly burrowed between them and pressed her cheek to their sofa.
"I'm so sorry!"
Apologizing fell to her partner, Simon.
Finally.
"Mmmph. Mmmph."
Before she could cause any more chaos, Simon laid her down on a reasonably comfortable sofa. She tried to get up, grumbling that she still had more ground to cover, but once he guided her face onto a cushion, her resistance crumbled. Before long, she was fast asleep.
"Phew."
Only then did Simon exhale and straighten his tie. He finally had a moment to look around.
'Almost everyone here is a necromancer.'
He could sense people's jet-black energy everywhere. Most faces were unfamiliar, but there was one he recognized.
And that one person was walking straight toward him.
"Well, if it isn't you! It's been far too long!"
A middle-aged gentleman whose impeccably tailored suit was the very picture of elegance. Short sky-blue hair and intellectual glasses stood out most of all.
Simon shot to his feet.
Daniela Villenne, the head of the Ivory Tower's Moderate faction.
Mayrin's father.
"I-it's been a while, Lord Daniela!"
Simon bowed, sweat beading on his brow.
He'd come here expecting a relaxed evening. The last thing he'd imagined was running into Mayrin's father—not even at the Ivory Tower, but here at the Tower of Time.
"Haha, please, do relax. Mr. President."
He said with a gentle smile.
"You're my daughter's dearest friend. Calling me 'Lord Daniela' feels a touch stiff, don't you think? How about 'Uncle Daniela' instead?"
"I-I couldn't possibly—!"
"Hahahaha!"
He laughed heartily and took the seat across from Simon. Simon quickly moved to shake Merida awake.
"Merida, come on, wake up—"
"Let the young lady sleep."
Daniela Villenne held out a palm.
"She seems quite exhausted."
"Ah—yes, sir."
Simon sat politely with his fists resting on his knees, rolling his eyes about.
He was still fretting over what on earth to discuss with Mayrin's father when, mercifully, the other man opened the conversation first.
"I trust your uncle is in good health?"
"Yes, very much so!"
Richard and Daniela had crossed paths once before, at the promotion ceremony on the last day of Simon's first year. Back then, Richard had concealed his identity and introduced himself simply as Simon's uncle.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, the two clinked their wine glasses together.
"My daughter talks about you a great deal, Mr. President."
"Does she?"
Daniela smiled warmly.
"If we were to split up the conversational shares, you'd claim well over half. Every time she opens her mouth, it's Simon this, Simon that."
"……Ahaha."
"And, I might add, of the remaining share, half goes to a girl named Camibarez, and the other half to a young man called Pion."
Which meant that, effectively, Simon commanded seventy-five percent. Simon laughed awkwardly and managed a reply.
"What about Dick?"
"My daughter does occasionally work that name into her curses. 'Not even as good as this Dick,' that sort of thing."
"……H-haha."
I'm keeping that conversation to myself, then, Simon thought.
"In any case—now that I've finally met the Student Council President, there's a thanks I've been longing to deliver in person."
"To me?"
"Yes. For making our daughter your Vice President."
Daniela beamed and went on.
"For a while, the letters came in a flood. 'Dad! I made Vice President!' 'Dad! Can you believe it? Me, Vice President!' Utter pandemonium. In truth, these days I strut around the Ivory Tower with my shoulders squared, all because I'm the father of Kizen's Vice President. Hahaha!"
Daniela rattled on with stories that would have made Mayrin cough up blood on the spot. Simon bowed his head.
"You flatter her. If anything, it's me who owes Mayrin a great deal."
"……Oho?"
Daniela rested his chin on his hand, visibly impressed.
"Well taught. Imagine if our Mayrin had that kind of poise. All she does is charge around like a wild bullet."
"Th-that's not true at all! Mayrin has so many things worth learning from! She works hard, her talent is exceptional, and she's honest—"
"Her honesty is written all over her face, you mean. She'll grumble and snap out words she doesn't mean a bit, but her face goes red as a beet and gives the whole thing away. She's a soft-hearted girl underneath, so do look after her well, Mr. President."
The conversation with Daniela was genuinely pleasant.
Here was a man who surely possessed wealth, honor, everything—yet he met Simon at his own level and created an atmosphere of easy comfort. There was never any need to force the conversation along. The longer they talked, the calmer Simon's heart grew; he truly seemed like a good man.
"Ah, one more thing."
And then Simon finally sensed it—the shift toward the real business at hand.
"There is something I'd like to discuss regarding the Tower of Time."
As tension bloomed in the air, Simon reminded himself once more why he had come here—reaffirming his purpose.
Simon was here as a spy, having infiltrated the Ivory Tower's ranks.