An Irresistible Gift
The turmoil sweeping through the Office of Academic Affairs and the Arcane School had not yet trickled down to the student body. A few well-connected upperclassmen had caught wind of it, but that was the extent of it.
Yet even without knowing anything about the administrative storm, one student had been an anxious wreck since the crack of dawn.
"Karen, do you have to poop or something?"
"Do you want to die? Today's the announcement!"
"Ah, right." Yurio hastily tried to console her. "It'll be fine. Didn't you say Instructor Ziel told you to just trust him and wait?"
"Still... Sigh. I looked into it, and apparently only students from the Arcane School ever get that scholarship."
"It's Instructor Ziel, though. Won't he work something out?"
"I know the instructor is incredible, but this is a completely different story."
Karen had not yet attained the sheer, unshakeable faith that Yurio possessed. To Yurio, who had been miraculously cured of his incurable affliction, Ziel was nothing short of a walking deity.
"Karen, trust me. It's Instructor Ziel we're talking about."
That blind, incomprehensible devotion! Karen shook her head in exasperation.
"Ah. Time's up. Let's head to class."
"Phew."
Even as they walked toward the gymnasium for their general education lecture, Karen's racing heart refused to settle.
What if I was rejected? Do I really have to look for a place in District 45 this time? They say public security there is practically nonexistent... I can handle some street thugs, but still...
A whirlwind of anxious scenarios flashed through her mind. She even caught herself briefly regretting that she had readily sent her Exchange Event prize money and dormitory fees back home to help her family.
No, stop it. Have I lost my mind? It was for my family!
Though instantly ashamed of the thought, the bitter twinge of regret stubbornly refused to leave. It was an agonizing burden for a fifteen-year-old girl to shoulder.
When they finally arrived at the gymnasium, Ziel was nowhere to be seen. Classmates who were oblivious to her plight offered cheerful greetings, but Karen could barely muster halfhearted nods in response.
"Karen, Karen. The instructor is here."
Karen snapped her head up.
Ziel had entered wearing his usual deadpan expression. He did not cast a single glance in her direction. As always, he looked out across the assembly of students and launched straight into the day's announcements.
"There will be a midterm assessment."
"Urrgh!"
"And there will be Field Training."
What they had all feared had finally arrived.
"Really? We're actually going out into the field?"
"So the rumors that first-years had to participate this year were true..."
Despair rippled through the freshmen. While they had achieved a stellar victory in the Exchange Event, that glory belonged to only ten representatives. Sharing in the celebratory atmosphere was one thing, but hearing the words Field Training naturally struck terror into the majority of the class.
Such expeditions were supposed to be the exclusive domain of upperclassmen. And worse—
"The Arcane School's first-years will also participate. You will be conducting your practical training at the exact same site as the Arcane School's first-year class."
"Gaaah!"
The fraught dynamic between the Sword School and the Arcane School was no secret. The subtle hierarchy that had taken root was not something known only to professors and administrative staff; the students were acutely aware of it as well. They knew that mages were considered far more promising than knights, and they understood the vast disparity in social standing and privilege afforded to magic users.
As a result, an unspoken consensus had long permeated the student body: the Arcane School stood a cut above the Sword School.
So now we don't just have to survive the wilderness, we have to beat the Arcane School...?
How are we supposed to win against them...?
It was only natural for such demoralizing thoughts to surface.
"I do not understand why you are reacting like this." Ziel tilted his head, genuinely perplexed by their despair, before wrapping up the notices and moving to the next order of business. "I will take attendance. Student Anne Peshua."
"Yes, Instructor!"
"Student Celia Rihardt."
"Yeees! Right here! Over here!"
"Answer only once. Student Quantus Hophel."
"Yes! The squad leader is present!"
"Your squad leader duties have ended. Student Maris Sophen."
"Yes."
While the roll call droned on, one student was completely consumed by something other than the impending Field Training. Karen stared intently at the instructor's podium.
He didn't say anything to me...
Was he planning to tell her after class?
"Student Maris Sophen. Please answer a bit louder. Next. Student Karen Aswan."
Seeing that he had not pulled her aside beforehand, did that mean things hadn't worked out?
"Student Karen Aswan?"
Karen raised her hand sullenly. "Yes, Instructor."
"I heard there is a dormitory festival next month. Will you be attending?"
"Pardon?"
"I asked because your name was not on the registration roster. Next, Student Deleve Kundel."
Karen stood frozen for a beat, her mind racing, until the realization struck her like a lightning bolt.
Wait...
Had it worked?
He went out of his way to bring up the dormitory festival...?
It went through! She had gotten the room!
Karen nearly shrieked at the top of her lungs. Unable to scream in the middle of roll call, she channeled all her explosive jubilation into aggressively stomping her feet against the floorboards.
"Karen, do you seriously still need to poop?"
"You and me, outside, right after class."
Her heart soared with giddy excitement. I owe the instructor so much.
Yet if she tried to repay him, he would undoubtedly reject it. He would hide behind his usual mantra: A teacher accepts nothing from a student. Even so, brushing off this immense debt with a simple word of thanks felt entirely inadequate.
Ah!
A brilliant idea struck her like a flash of inspiration.
"Hey, Yurio. Stay behind with me after class."
"Are... are you going to beat me up?"
"Among other things."
"Other... things?"
"There's something we need to do together." The corners of Karen's lips curled into a mischievous grin.
"What are we doing?"
It was the one thing Instructor Ziel could never, in a million years, refuse.
"We're going to make something delicious."
One week later, the day of the midterm assessment arrived.
Calling it an examination made it sound grandiose, but in reality, it was merely a checkpoint to gauge the students' current academic and physical progress. Of course, given that the evaluator was Ziel, the students felt a crushing pressure that rivaled an actual final exam.
"Next. Student Anne Peshua."
"Yes, here I come!"
There were two tested categories: reflexes and swordsmanship. Physical endurance was automatically calculated from their logged performances during routine training drills. In other words, the remaining two criteria required facing Ziel directly in combat.
"Three minutes have elapsed. Next."
"C-couldn't you give me just a little more time? I feel like I'll land a hit if I just—!"
"Not even if an hour were to pass. Next."
"..."
Naturally, not a single student managed to land a blow on Ziel. Nor did anyone succeed in dodging his counterattacks. However—
Clang!
A few did manage to parry his strikes.
"As expected of Deleve."
"Honestly, I'm more amazed that Yurio managed to block him."
The two most prominent standouts among the first-years—Deleve and Yurio—had both reached a level where they could withstand Ziel's offensive to a certain extent. Deleve in particular had made remarkable strides since the Exchange Event, even launching a bold riposte.
Whoosh!
Though his blade only cleaved through empty air, the ferocious counter forced Ziel—who had previously deflected attacks without budging an inch—to take half a step backward.
"Your extension has grown faster."
Deleve practiced the Kundel Heavy Sword Style. Ordinarily, the style was praised for its crushing power and overwhelming mass, yet Ziel had commended its velocity. Deleve broke into an ecstatic grin.
"I took some inspiration from Celia's swordsmanship."
"Hey! You stole my techniques?!"
"I said I took inspiration, inspiration!"
Ziel knew little of the orthodox Kundel Heavy Sword Style. Typically, a noble house's martial arts required mastering rigid forms before seeking personal innovation. Deleve, currently transitioning into the Eighth Form, had hybridized elements of Celia's swift sword style into his own repertoire. Even had Ziel known the sacred traditions of the great houses, he wouldn't have cared in the slightest.
Use every tool at your disposal if the situation demands it. That was one of the core tenets drilled into him during his life as an assassin.
"Well done, Student Deleve Kundel."
"That was an actual compliment, right?"
"Yes."
"I knew it! I was right on the mark!"
Of course, the praise was immediately followed by unsparing critique.
"However, it is still clumsy. Because you tacked raw speed directly onto a structure dedicated to heavy swordsmanship, the kinetic chain breaks down during transitions. Demonstrate it before me again next period. Make sure you practice."
"...Understood." Deleve wilted slightly. Couldn't the instructor give the critique first and end with the compliment? Flipping the order every time was dizzying.
"You seem to have changed since encountering your eldest brother at the Exchange Event, Student Deleve Kundel."
"Pardon?"
"Your swordsmanship has become considerably more orderly since then."
"Ah..."
"You appear to be in higher spirits as well."
Deleve averted his gaze, embarrassed. He still felt mortified whenever he recalled screaming at the top of his lungs and charging blindly at his eldest brother during the tournament. Yet since that day, his brothers had begun spending time with him again. Just a few nights ago, they had even sparred and corrected his forms in the dormitory courtyard.
Is that what family is like? Ziel wondered. Could merely growing closer to one's brothers truly transform a person so visibly?
The answer came to him almost immediately: I have no idea.
When confronted with things he had never experienced and could not logically deduce, Ziel rarely wasted time brooding over them. He simply accepted his own ignorance. Even so, a faint flicker of curiosity remained. He wondered if that was simply the nature of family.
"That's true," Deleve admitted softly. "Reconnecting with my brothers... it's put my mind at ease, I guess."
"That is a good thing."
"Right? Do you have any siblings, Instructor?"
"No. I do not. Next. Student Celia Rihardt."
Stepping forward onto the platform, Celia ground her teeth. "Instructor, Deleve outright stole my swordsmanship. Don't you think that's unfair?"
"The dictionary definition of 'theft' is taking another's property without their knowledge and claiming it as one's own."
"Then he definitely stole it!"
"How does one steal swordsmanship?"
"Well... by watching and copying it..."
"If a martial style can be replicated simply by watching, does the concept of theft even apply? That sounds equivalent to claiming someone stole the art of driving a nail because they watched a carpenter swing a hammer."
"..."
It was unassailable logic. The convoluted aristocratic etiquette of the nobility carried zero weight with Ziel. Debating whether a technique was 'stolen' was a game reserved for proud noble houses. Ziel was no noble. More accurately, he was entirely oblivious to the highborn way of life.
Celia found herself persuaded, though she interpreted it through her own unique lens.
"Fine, then I'll steal his too! You said it doesn't count as stealing, right?"
Her practical evaluation commenced. True to her reputation—
Clang!
She blocked it. Ziel's strike was firmly turned aside.
In that moment, the count of first-years capable of withstanding his attack rose from two to three. Unlike Deleve, however, she failed to pull off a counter. In her haste to awkwardly mimic Deleve's heavy blade dynamics, her footing gave way and she stumbled across the stone floor.
"Ugh!"
As she scrambled back to her feet, puffing with frustration, the critique arrived without mercy.
"You must think more carefully about how to execute heavy sword principles with such a light blade. Your center of gravity collapsed entirely."
"...Yes, sir."
"Your initial evasion was excellent, however. Focus more on the sword style suited to you."
"Yes..." Celia lowered her head in disappointment.
To Ziel, however, the picture looked entirely different. She has grown even further.
The Exchange Event had clearly served as a massive catalyst for their development. It would be wonderful if they grew further during the Field Training.
The upcoming expedition would take them through sprawling ancient ruins and dense wilderness. The practical experience gained there would undoubtedly serve as fertile soil for their maturation. Ziel wondered if the quiet warmth settling in his chest was what people called joy.
With that, the midterm evaluations concluded.
"Starting next week, we will begin preparations for Field Training. Dismissed."
Class was officially over. Ziel was already calculating how many crispy chicken skewers he would buy on the stroll back to his quarters to round off the afternoon, when—
"Instructor."
"Have you not left yet, Student Karen Aswan?"
One student had lingered behind in the cavernous hall.
"No, because I have something to give you."
"I do not accept gifts from students."
"Well, I don't know about that. I don't think you'll be able to refuse this one." Karen flashed a bright, mischievous grin as she pushed a decorative box toward him. "Open it."
"I will not accept it."
"Come on, you'll regret it if you don't."
Karen cracked the lid open just a sliver. Instantly, an intoxicating, heavenly aroma billowed into the air.
"...!"
Ziel froze. To think such an enchanting, decadent fragrance could exist in this world!
"...What is inside?"
"I made it myself to give to you, Instructor. Go on, open it up."
As if pulled by invisible marionette strings, Ziel lifted the lid. Resting neatly inside was—
"It's called a waffle. Have you heard of it?"
"It is my first time hearing that word."
"It's absolutely insane with coffee."
Glossy caramelized sugar glistened along the deep, crisp grid pattern of the pastry. A warm, buttery, overwhelmingly sweet steam rose from its golden surface. Every primal instinct in his body screamed at him to sink his teeth into it right this second!
This is nearly as agonizing as the assassin survival trials.
In the Organization, assassins were rigorously trained to withstand starvation. They were starved for three full days, then locked inside an airtight room alongside a lavish spread of fresh food. In that state, they were forced to endure another three days without touching a morsel. Having nearly starved to death on the streets as a child before being abducted by the syndicate, hunger was the one trial Ziel had struggled with the most. His scores during that particular test had been notably lower than his other lethal proficiencies.
"Don't feel burdened, okay? It's just my way of saying thank you... The academy happens to offer a baking elective, so Yurio and I borrowed the kitchen for a bit."
A pastry baked once, brushed generously with sweet sugar syrup, and baked again to golden, crunchy perfection! It was an entirely novel creation to Ziel's eyes. Resisting such temptation was nigh imposs—
"I cannot accept this from a student."
"Aww, Instructor! It's just a token of my gratitude! If you won't even take this, how am I ever supposed to repay my debt to you?"
"I did not act expecting repayment. You are my student."
It was deeply touching, yet utterly infuriating. Karen puffed out her cheeks. "Ugh! Can't you just accept it this once?!"
Ziel desperately wanted to accept it. However...
Hmm.
A man's principles were absolute. Just as he parted his lips to deliver a final, unyielding refusal, Karen made her move.
"Fine! I don't even like waffles anyway! I'll just leave it right here, so consider it trash! Throw it away if you want!"
"What?"
"Goodbye, Instructor!"
Slamming the pastry box down onto a nearby chair, Karen bolted toward the gymnasium doors and vanished outside. It was a tactical retreat born of sheer desperate cunning.
Left behind in the empty hall, Ziel stared dumbfoundedly at the open doorway. "To think such a method existed."
He hesitated, standing alone in the vast silence. The rich, buttery sweetness continued to tickle his nostrils. A tempest of inner turmoil raged within his mind, crashing back and forth like ocean waves against a rocky cliff.
After a moment of profound contemplation, Ziel decided to make his very first compromise.
It was definitely not because he craved the waffle. Absolutely not. It was purely because he wished to honor the thoughtful heart of Student Karen Aswan.
Crunch!
He took a large, deliberate bite.
"Huuuh."
A sharp breath escaped his throat before he could stop it. The shattering crunch of caramelized crust yielded to a warm, pillowy interior soaked in sweet buttery bliss.
"...Sublime."
It was the highest praise Ziel was capable of offering.