A Foul Smell (2)
The second floor of the Academy's administrative building.
A woman with a furrowed brow fixed her gaze on the red-haired girl before her.
"I clearly gave you a warning over this exact same matter last time, Student Lucia."
"I'm sorry."
"...Do you truly feel sorry?"
Part-time instructor Echidna let out a sigh, her face twisted with the look of someone nursing a headache. This was already the fifth time she had faced the single most notorious problem student of the current term.
Assaulting a classmate. Assaulting an upperclassman. Destroying property. Assaulting multiple upperclassmen—and today, once again, assaulting multiple upperclassmen. Barely two months into the semester, and already it had come to this; the spike in Echidna's stress levels was only natural.
Still, this too was an incident that would eventually pass. Dwelling on it too deeply and inviting unnecessary stress would be the act of a fool.
Besides, the thankless, unproductive work of reforming troubled students always fell to the youngest staff member. So Echidna dredged up, from a corner of her mind, the academy's long-standing manual for guiding problem students.
The time-honored handbook that the Academy—standing for centuries—had crafted to rein in students whose pride was matched only by their power had always been a lifeline for powerless faculty like herself.
Echidna crossed and recrossed her legs, feigning composure.
"Student Lucia."
"Yes."
"Surprising as it may sound, the world is not a place where 'I'm sorry' actually solves much of anything."
"..."
"If you truly feel remorse and are reflecting on your actions, shouldn't you be taking care so that this sort of thing never happens again?"
"...I am ashamed of the trouble I've caused. However—"
"However?"
"I... I don't see what was wrong with what I did."
Lucia lifted her bowed head and met Echidna's eyes. Anger flickered in her golden irises.
"If someone picks a fight with you... isn't it only natural that they should be prepared to get hit? Especially when they come in a pack, claiming they want revenge."
"......What a regrettable answer."
Echidna took a sip of her long-cold coffee, trying to drive off the fatigue. The girl's aggression made no distinction between targets. Even so, Echidna chose to see it not as an infringement of faculty authority, but as the sort of temperament one commonly found in children at the height of their stormy adolescence.
Still—
She could not help the unfavorable feelings that kept piling up toward Lucia.
Immature and emotional. Comparing her to Siriel—hailed as a model student even among the first-years—is only natural.
Echidna adjusted her glasses and spoke again.
"Wasn't there a more moderate approach you could have taken?"
"Moderate?"
"You know—bowing your head a little to the other party... or, if you dislike that, asking your guardian for help."
"Are you telling me to go tattling to my parents like a child?"
"...Your wording is a bit rough, but it isn't far off the mark."
Echidna smiled as she continued.
"As I understand it, Miss Lucia, you are the adoptive daughter of Hugo Prien."
At the name Hugo Prien, Lucia's head dropped low.
"Hugo Prien is a towering figure known to every soul in the Empire. Wouldn't borrowing his reputation be the swiftest and most moderate way to resolve this? No matter how much the Imperial Academy forbids outside interference and claims to pursue equality without regard to status, it is still an educational institution within the Empire."
"..."
"Those foolish children who pick a fight with you day after day would be sorted out in an instant at the mere mention of his name."
"But..."
Lucia's lips moved as if she were carefully choosing her words. In the end she could not force the next sentence out. How was she supposed to admit that she couldn't do it out of sheer pride—when she wasn't even a child anymore?
"Of course there are parts that don't sit well with you."
Echidna glanced at the clock on the wall. The hour was already late; night had fallen. It was time to wrap things up.
"But this Academy is not merely a place for academic achievement. It is also a social arena—a rehearsal for the world beyond these walls."
"..."
"As you well know, when disputes arise in society, running to one's backers is far more common than you might think. In the end, it is simply one method among many for solving a problem."
Echidna rose slowly from her seat. Gathering her belongings, she went on.
"If you continue like this, no matter how much you claim legitimate self-defense in response to their provocations, you will not be able to avoid a suspension. Think it over carefully and make your choice."
"...I understand."
Lucia bowed to Echidna and stepped out of the building.
When the interview began it had still been dusk; now night had fully arrived, and stars crowded the sky.
"Finished?"
And then a girl as beautiful as the stars overhead approached Lucia. Siriel had been waiting for her on the bench by the main gate.
"Sorry..."
Lucia murmured the word under her breath.
Even while holding firm to the stance that she had done nothing wrong, Lucia always felt apologetic toward Siriel. Siriel never once allowed her to walk home alone.
Lucia took a few steps toward her, then lowered her head deeply.
"Sorry, Siriel. Because of me, we're getting home late."
"Why would this be because of you?"
Siriel covered her mouth with one hand and let out a soft little laugh. But the words that left her lips carried no laughter at all.
"It's all because of those clueless insects who don't know their place."
"Sorry."
Lucia repeated the apology.
For a model noble young lady like Siriel to use such crude language meant her mood was thoroughly foul. Even though Siriel did not blame her, Lucia could not help offering apology after apology.
"Why do you keep apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong."
"...You think so too?"
"Mm-hm."
When Siriel drifted a little closer, Lucia caught the scent rising from her. Her body carried the warmth of a gentle spring.
"We're 'sisters,' aren't we? Something like this is only natural. And... I've brought news that should cheer you up."
Siriel drew a sheet of paper from her elegant handbag and held it out to Lucia. Even in the dark of night, Lucia could read the writing on it with perfect clarity.
It was a passenger list for the airships that entered and left the Empire.
And there, highlighted with a fluorescent pen, Lucia found the name: Shiron Prien.
Shiron?
Lucia's eyes flew wide open.
Five years since Shiron had left the estate. The man who had claimed to be too busy even to answer letters properly—the Shiron she had longed for so desperately—had returned.
Yet Lucia could not simply rejoice in that fact.
"Siriel, where did you get this?"
"Lucia."
Siriel grinned and pressed an index finger to her lips.
"Read the room."
"Uh..."
"What matters right now is that Oppa is in Rihnn, isn't it?"
Siriel took the paper back from Lucia. A document she had quietly lifted from the Immigration Bureau was far too dangerous to leave for long in the hands of someone as scatterbrained as Lucia.
"We have to prepare a welcome party. He's been away in a foreign land for so long—he must have been terribly lonely. So... you shouldn't go around looking gloomy either, right?"
"Got it."
Lucia rubbed both hands over her face, composing her expression. But there was no real need to hide anything. At the thought of seeing Shiron, the gloom that had weighed on her moments before vanished as if it had never existed.
Meanwhile, in the red-light district that never slept, someone was growing thoroughly irritated by a situation that refused to progress.
"Damn it."
Shiron's face twisted as he stepped out of yet another building.
This made the fifth establishment, and still he could sense only the faintest traces of demonic energy—nothing that looked like an Apostle.
Yet pounding the pavement had not been wasted effort. No matter how thoroughly someone used polymorph magic, so long as they carried the identity of an Apostle, they could not completely escape the eyes of a Prien.
So if he kept drifting from shop to shop, he would eventually find the Apostle.
But after doing the legwork himself, he had come to a conclusion: this was not the way.
"The efficiency is garbage."
At this rate, dawn would break long before he finished—and there was a real chance that Camilla, currently working as a courtesan, would simply vanish somewhere.
"So this place turned up nothing either."
Seira, seated on a nearby bench, spoke up. She crossed her legs with a faint wince of discomfort and began kneading her calves.
"What are you going to do? There are still plenty of shops left, and word might start spreading that some outsider is looking for someone. If the person you're after has legs of their own... we should also consider the possibility they'll move on their own. I think it's time to change tactics."
"...Yeah."
Shiron dropped heavily onto the bench beside Seira. He pulled a waterskin from his coat and drank, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. True to Lucerne's reputation, the water carried a touch of holy power; his mind felt clearer for it.
With a slightly sharper head, Shiron surveyed his surroundings.
"..."
People were staring.
The reason he had come here without removing his clerical garments was precisely so that he would draw attention. Clothes this conspicuous made him easy to identify—and raised the odds that an Apostle who sensed a threat would reveal herself in order to eliminate him at once.
Camilla Rodos...
Shiron tilted his head back and dredged up what he knew from Reincarnation Sword God.
The walking disaster who nearly got the entire game slapped with an adults-only rating...
Camilla Rodos had been a catastrophe both in the game and in reality. Honestly, looking back, it was a miracle that Reincarnation Sword God had avoided an 18+ rating at all.
The suggestive outfits.
The vulgar setting in which she serviced dozens of clients a day without regard for gender.
But the core premise was supposed to be that Apostles hate the Priens. Did that change because the game became reality?
In the game, simply wandering this red-light district would have led him to Camilla with ease. And given that the genre was an action RPG, a bloody fight to the death was inevitable.
However—
A game was still just a game. A district that could be circled in five minutes had, upon becoming real, somehow acquired proper logic and swelled to the size of a decent-sized town.
It's not that I never expected something like this.
Shiron stretched and rose from the bench.
"We're changing the method."
"How?"
"We make her come looking for us."
With that, Shiron set off toward a particular building. There stood a branch of the Imperial Central Bank, Night Rail.
Seira, curiosity piqued, fell into step beside him. Shiron began reaching into his coat.
"What, planning to rob the bank?"
"...Are you insane?"
Shiron shot Seira a look for the absurd remark, then quietly entered the bank.
And now, several dozen minutes later, a commotion had broken out on the street.
It was noisy, yes—but by no means violent.
"Father! Bless me as well!"
"M-me first!"
"Don't push! Stop pushing!"
"Please wait your turn. The Lord's grace comes to all in due time."
With a sweeping gesture, Shiron—seated in a palanquin—scattered gold coins into the air. The expression on his face as he flung wealth without the slightest hesitation was almost that of a Buddha.
People clamored and scrambled to snatch up the coins that littered the ground, and word of the priest who showered golden blessings spread through the district in an instant.