The Clothes and the Confession
—I'm so sorry. Meilyn.
—This is how far apart we really are?
—You are no longer the heiress, my lady.
……
It had not been a pleasant dream.
Meilin, who had been scrolling through fragments of a memory she wished she could forget, came to her senses and opened her eyes. She saw the jagged ceiling of a cave. In her ears, the crackle of a campfire echoed.
She was a little cold, with a hazy, distant feeling in her head. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly pushed herself up.
"……?"
She was wearing unfamiliar clothes. A slightly oversized robe—when she stretched her arms out as far as they would go, only her fingertips peeked past the sleeves.
She looked around again. This was a cave, and outside, a light rain was drizzling down.
And there, sitting in front of the campfire near the mouth of the cave, was a man—lean but solidly built, shirtless, with his upper half bared.
Just then he glanced back over his shoulder and gave her a grin.
"You're awake?"
"S-Simon?!"
Why is this boy half-naked again?!
Meilin shrieked inwardly and quickly lowered her gaze—only to find herself staring at her own outfit.
"Wh-wh-wh-what?!"
Beneath the robe draped over her, she was in nothing but damp underwear. Her face instantly flushed scarlet, and she reflexively clutched her chest and pressed her knees together.
Curling into a defensive ball, she asked in a trembling voice, "Wh-where are my clothes?!"
Simon gave an awkward smile and pointed with his finger. Near the cave's entrance, a line of vines strung up like a clothesline held his soaked uniform and hers, both drying side by side.
"……Sorry."
Simon cleared his throat.
"You'd catch a cold if you stayed in wet clothes, so, um……"
"……!!!"
Meilin's embarrassment hit its absolute limit. Her face burned red to the very tips of her ears, and tears welled up in her eyes.
"You— you, you insane perverted bastard!"
"M-Meilin! Can you please keep it down a little……!"
She grabbed for anything nearby to throw at him, but unfortunately there was nothing. Simon scrambled to his feet, sweating profusely.
"I swear! Nothing happened, I promise! I even closed my eyes while taking off your wet uniform!"
"Haa… hoo… haa…"
She shuddered once, then covered her face with her palms.
Simon waited quietly, saying nothing, until she had calmed down.
"……"
About ten minutes passed in silence. At last, ready to face reality, she lowered her hands from her face. Her face was still scarlet, of course.
"……What exactly happened?"
Simon, as if he'd been waiting for that, explained everything from the beginning.
While the two of them had been fighting, some high-grade monster had crashed their duel, and Meilin had been caught in the blast and knocked unconscious. Then it had started raining, so he'd sought shelter in a cave beneath the cliff—that was the whole story.
Everything lines up. There's no reason to doubt it.
She knew full well that Simon wasn't the type to pull anything strange.
Still—to think a boy had stripped her clothes off her…! All she wanted was to crawl into a mouse hole and hide.
Huddled into a tight ball, she sniffled and glared at Simon. He quickly looked away, pretending to scratch the hair by his ear.
"……Simon."
"Yeah?"
"T-turn around."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Turn around? Why all of a sudden?"
"Because I'm going to get dressed, you idiot! Turn around!"
Simon flinched and hastily turned his back, staring hard at the campfire as though he could bore through it.
In her heart, she would have preferred to send him outside for a while, but with the rain still falling, there was nothing to be done.
"S-stay exactly like that! If you look back, I'll really, really, really kill you!"
She was clearly trying to sound threatening, but with her voice quivering like that, it wasn't the least bit intimidating.
She was like a tiny puppy, shivering and growling after being soaked by the rain.
Simon did his best not to let it show as he answered. "Got it. Take your time."
"……"
With her shoulders hunched, she awkwardly rose to her feet. Sneaking glances at Simon, she pulled a dry towel and fresh underwear out of her subspace pocket.
Simon still showed no reaction.
"……"
She let out an inward sigh of relief and grasped the robe draped over her.
Meanwhile, the person in that cave feeling the most tension wasn't Meilin at all—it was Simon.
Wh-why am I so nervous all of a sudden……
Contrary to Simon's usual sensible values, the heart of a healthy seventeen-year-old boy was pounding like mad.
His eyes were fixed on the campfire, but every one of his senses was helplessly concentrated in his hearing—as if he were trying to see, through sound alone, what he could not look at.
Then he heard fabric slide softly over skin, and the robe she'd been wearing dropped to the floor with a soft thump.
Rustle. Rustle.
The sound of wet underwear being peeled off followed.
His nose tingled. For some strange reason, his mouth kept watering.
Squelch.
Finally came the sound of the soaked garments falling to the ground. Perhaps because of the rain, they landed heavily.
She had really taken everything off.
The moment he realized that if he turned around right now, he would see Meilin wearing nothing at all, Simon's heart slammed against his ribs like it had malfunctioned.
I-I'd rather be standing outside in the rain.
Unable to stop himself from picturing her, Simon had to shudder under a crushing wave of guilt.
Meilin was his friend. Having indecent thoughts about a friend was a sin in itself. He had to get a grip, no matter what.
Desperate, Simon busied himself with rearranging the firewood, obsessing over anything to keep his mind occupied.
Rustle.
Having towel-dried herself, Meilin at last slipped into her clean new underwear, wrapped herself snugly in Simon's robe, and only after fastening every single button did she finally let out a long, relieved breath.
She walked stiffly over toward the frozen Simon.
"Scoot."
Then she plopped herself down right beside him in front of the fire.
Simon glanced sideways, caught a glimpse of her pale legs peeking out from under the robe, and whipped his head away in alarm.
"What?"
Meilin chuckled and poked his arm.
"Why are you more tense than me, you bashful dork?"
"……I'm not tense."
She let out a small laugh, pulled her knees up to her chest, and hugged them with both arms. For a while, a calm silence settled between them.
"You're hungry, aren't you?"
Simon got up. He stirred the pot bubbling over the fire with a ladle, then scooped steaming hot soup into a small dish and handed it to Meilin.
"Meat soup."
It was made following Hong Peng's recipe.
Her eyes went wide. She had never imagined she'd see actual, proper food on this island.
"……Thanks."
She murmured as she took the dish. She'd been terribly hungry anyway, and she carefully raised a spoon and took her first sip.
Wow!
It was exactly the taste from that day at Hong Peng's cabin. The second spoonful followed immediately, then the third. Simon watched her eat with quiet satisfaction.
"Simon."
"Yeah?"
She had finished the dish without his noticing, and she replied with a faint blush, putting on an air of indifference.
"……Thank you. For saving me."
"Don't mention it."
She rested her chin on her knees and gazed at him for a long moment.
"But why did you save me? Honestly, you could've just left me. I attacked you first."
Simon gave her a look that said, Is that even a question?
"Well, you didn't really mean to knock me out either, did you?"
"……"
"That's all. I can't just throw away a teammate I'll be stuck with all semester over some silly squabble."
Simon grinned and held out his fist. "Right?"
She smiled, a little sheepishly, and bumped her fist against his.
"Ugh— no, I can't let this slide!"
"Is something bothering you?"
Instead of answering, she raised her right arm, the one wearing the Tongue Pad.
She unfurled a magic circle in Jet-Black, inputted a command, and layered it over the device.
Wait—that command is……
Simon knew every Tongue Pad command by heart, too.
Meilin's Tongue Pad gaped wide open, and its tongue shot up several meters into the air.
She plucked out the green sphere the tongue had been holding—a point orb of tremendous size.
"Meilin! What are you—!"
"What do you think? If you're going to get caught, so be it. But I'm paying you back for saving me!"
Take it.I can't accept this. The two of them tangled into a chaotic back-and-forth, until Meilin finally pressed the sphere against Simon's Tongue Pad by force. His Tongue Pad happily gulped it all down.
"Ah……!"
The number on his Tongue Pad shot up dramatically. Working out the figures, he'd gone from about 127 points to 260.
Simon jumped. "How much did you even give me?!"
"All of it. I kept one point."
She said it casually, taking another spoonful of soup.
"It's only fair, isn't it? I was supposed to be knocked out right there."
"But you……"
Simon's expression turned serious.
"Aren't you going for first place in this exam too?"
"……"
She stared at the campfire in silence for a moment, then flashed a grin.
"Hah, of course I am! We've still got two days left, don't we? If I hunt nothing but the big names, first place is totally within reach."
"……Haha."
The mood lightened naturally, and the two of them scraped the pot clean of meat soup together, like old friends.
Outside the cave, the drizzle was still falling.
Just beyond the campfire was a dizzying cliff face—but from there, the whole island spread out below at a glance, and the view was breathtaking.
It's warm.
The more she thought about it, the more Meilin marveled at what a good spot Simon had found. She felt safe, her belly was full, and a pleasant drowsiness flowed through her body.
"Meilin."
Just then, Simon spoke up, casually.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Ask anything perverted and I'll kill you."
"No, nothing like that."
Simon paused for a moment, then asked.
"Why are you so obsessed with being first?"
"……"
Her eyes, gazing silently out of the cave, hardened.
"There's someone I have to beat. No matter what."
"That would be,"
Simon picked up her thread.
"Special Admission No. 2, Serne Aindark. Am I right?"
"……"
Meilin's reactions to anything involving Serne were always razor-thin and raw.
He remembered the first day she'd been assigned to his group—nothing more than the mention of Serne's name had turned the atmosphere deadly. And when Hector had called her "Serne's lapdog," she'd lunged at him fully intending to burn him alive.
"You're right."
She nodded and admitted it without resistance.
She loosened her arms from around her legs, braced her hands on the ground, and leaned back comfortably.
"I've never told anyone at Kizen this, but… I was supposed to be the Ivory Tower's official heiress."
Meilin, not Serne? This was entirely news to him.
"Apparently it was decided before I could even remember. So, you know… the Ivory Tower family spoiled me rotten, and I grew up cocky as hell. Back then I didn't understand how heavy the position of official heir really was—I just thought it was fun watching all the grown-ups bow and scrape to me. I was a brat."
"But," she continued.
"One day, out of nowhere, the Tower Master took in a new adopted daughter."
Simon read the situation instantly. "And that adopted daughter was Serne."
"Yeah. She's the same age as me, and from the start it was obvious she'd been brought in as my direct opposite. The Tower's people were naturally against it—a adopted daughter out of nowhere, they said, an obvious scheme, they said. She wasn't even a second-born daughter; with no legitimate claim at all, my succession seemed rock-solid. But……"
Tension crept into the edge of her voice.
"Serne was a genius. No—she was a monster beyond what that word could hold."
"……"
"A Jet-Black morphing technique that took me nearly half a year to master, she finished in a week. She'd devour the most convoluted logic in no time—teach her one thing and she'd grasp a hundred. Bloodline matters a great deal to the Ivory Tower, but before Serne's talent, none of it meant anything. Before anyone realized it, the whole Tower—factions and family lines be damned—was drunk on expectation. The day Serne grew up and became the Tower Master, they said, the Ivory Tower would reclaim its past glory. And me……"
She gave a bitter smile.
"I got pushed into the background. The adults never stopped comparing the two of us. I was always the fool cast to make Serne shine brighter, hauled out at official events just to be humiliated. And by the time I finally grew up and came to my senses……"
Meilin shrugged.
"I was a write-off, I guess. The elders amended the Tower's laws themselves and made Serne the official heiress after all. From that day on, the way people looked at me completely changed. The family elders, the servants, my friends—even my own parents. Everyone gave up on me."
"……"
"Then we both turned seventeen, and because of the pact with Kizen, Serne was sent to study there under Special Admission. So I took the entrance exam on my own strength and came to Kizen too."
Only now could Simon understand everything.
So that's why she was so obsessed with first place—why she barely slept and worked herself half to death. To surpass Serne. To win back the recognition of her family.
Honestly, her attacking him had felt a little unjustified before. But after hearing this, it all made sense.
Simon was Special Admission No. 1—the one who had pushed her target, Serne, down to No. 2.
Of course, there was an unbridgeable gulf between Simon, who had only recently begun learning dark magic, and Serne—and the gap between No. 1 and No. 2 hadn't been decided purely by "difference in ability," either.
Still, Meilin's pride must have been burning. If she beat Simon, wouldn't that bring her one step closer to Serne? It wasn't hard to imagine her thinking that.
"I will never, ever give up."
She clenched her fist tight.
"Everyone says it's impossible. But someday, I'm going to take back everything that was stolen from me. I swear it."
Simon smiled brightly.
"Then it's possible. I'm rooting for you, Meilin."
"Hmph."
She blew a raspberry, but a pleased smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite herself.
"Oh, and—one more thing. You know all 961 first-years were let onto this island for the survival exam, right?"
"Yeah."
"Serne is on this island too. If you ever run into her, run. Don't fight, don't talk—just run. I'm saying this as someone who's watched her up close for years, and the more I see of her, the more certain I am that she's really……"
Meilin's expression turned grim.
"Not human at all."