The Boy's Romance
Roxwell stepped past X and took his place in front of him. Everyone in the room, still dazed by his entrance, naturally looked down toward him.
The first to act was the Academy Chairman.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing right now?!"
"I do. But as this student's assigned professor, an order to wait outside instead of attending his disciplinary hearing is an injustice. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Are you telling me you're going to ignore my orders—"
"Headmaster? May I have the floor?"
Roxwell's gaze turned to Elndoor. The Chairman's followed.
"Headmaster! Throw Professor Roxwell out this instant—"
"Let us hear him."
The Headmaster nodded as he answered. The Chairman went blank for a moment, then flushed red.
"Headmaster, you ought to think before you speak."
"Chairman. You've already forced our hand once today."
"..."
"We will only listen. This time, I ask that you sit quietly."
"...You'll regret this."
The Chairman sat, discontent radiating from every line of his face.
Now every eye in the room was on Roxwell. What could he possibly have prepared, to walk in like this? They watched him, taut with tension. X hadn't seen this coming either. All he could do was wait.
Elndoor watched Roxwell choose his words, then asked,
"Are you ready, Professor Roxwell?"
"...Yes."
Roxwell let out a long breath, and began.
"First, allow me to tell you a story."
At the word story, the professors' eyes soured. They hadn't come here to sit through a tale. Roxwell pressed on regardless.
"There was once a boy in the countryside. He was a boy who always carried a dream in his chest—the kind of courage that wants to protect the world. An admirable child."
"You intend to waste our time with a story like that?"
"Chairman, I ask that you hear me through to the end. This is not merely about one student's fate. The survival of the Academy—and beyond that, the fate of the world—hangs on this story."
"...Fine. Let's hear your bluster, then."
Roxwell looked around the room.
"Unfortunately, the boy had nothing. No strength. No ability. No talent. He was an ordinary boy, the kind you could find anywhere—a common person. Had he grown up as he was, he would have eventually learned his limits, learned his place, and settled into it."
A faint breath.
"We call this 'reality.'"
The Chairman snorted a laugh through his nose.
"And? Are you about to tell us we should keep dreaming even when we face 'reality'?"
"The boy was never allowed to know 'reality.' One day, a shabby swordsman came to the village. He heard the boy's dream, and pressed an old sword into his hands. 'You will fulfill that dream someday,' he said. 'You must.'"
At those words, Elndoor reacted. The smallest of reactions. Roxwell continued.
"The boy left his village to fulfill the dream he had always held—to protect the world. And in that moment, the boy could no longer see 'reality.'"
It was a cruel thing to say, perhaps. Roxwell started again, this time with a but.
"Because of that, the boy gained a great deal. Hardship and suffering—cruelty, even—closed in around him, but he gained the strength and the ability to stand against them. Companions to hold him up, as well. And in the end, blessed by the gods, he stood against a threat to the world itself."
Another faint breath.
BANG!
The Chairman, unable to contain himself, slammed his fist on the table. A vein stood out on his neck as he roared.
"So what is it you want?! You dragged us here to listen to some fairy tale—!"
"That boy was the Hero Protego."
At those words, every professor in the room understood. It was the story of the Hero they had all heard as children. Had they not grown up holding that tale close to their hearts? Even the Chairman raging before them had been no exception. But they were adults now.
The Chairman sighed, then thundered again.
"I fail to see the point of this story. Are you saying this student might become a Hero someday? Is that the preposterous claim you intend to make?!"
"Do you remember Elion Academy's first founding principle? We nurture and raise the children who will become Heroes. The children who will become Heroes means every child. Just as a young boy from a country village became a Hero, we pledged to find that possibility in everyone."
"That's nothing more than a founding ideal! Acting according to an ideal is unrealistic!"
"And so we made a selection. Do you remember? The meaning of the Special Admission Recommendation Letter?"
A letter given only to those of corresponding worth. It meant they had been chosen by the founder himself, fifty years ago. To a professor, that meaning weighed heavier than anything.
Roxwell dared to declare it.
"He received an old sword. This boy did. From those who founded this Academy."
Roxwell looked around the assembly as he spoke.
"Did none of you find it strange? Why an incompetent commoner with no background and no money was admitted to the Empire's finest Academy? Has not a single one of you ever questioned it?"
This time, he looked at Amanda.
"When this student entered the Academy, he was 0th Circle. An ordinary person who couldn't even sense mana. And yet in less than a week, he reached 1st Circle. During a duel, he used 3rd Circle magic to defeat a 4th Circle student."
Hearing this, the Chairman glared at Amanda.
"Is this true?"
"...It is."
Roxwell drove the speech forward.
"His classroom conduct is the problem, you say? Then what do you make of the passion that brought him to every single class? If he meant to deceive the Academy, he would have skipped them. Instead, he attended every lecture to the very end, under the mockery of every student in the room. Not a single absence. Not a single late arrival."
A low murmur passed through the professors.
"Did this student indulge in luxury? Did he commit a forbidden act? Did he do something unjust? As I recall, the only thing he did was request a duel to protect a student who was being persecuted."
The Chairman tried to object, but could only grind his teeth. Watching this, Roxwell brought his speech to a close.
"To expel this student would mean... that we turn our backs on the Academy's founding principle. That we take the boy's old sword from his hands. That, in the name of reality, we throw away the smallest possibility."
"And what is this 'smallest possibility'?"
The Headmaster asked in a grave voice. Roxwell drew a breath and answered.
That absurd dream of protecting the world. The dream the Hero Protego had, in the end, fulfilled.
Roxwell's gaze turned, this time, to the Chairman.
"Chairman. You're fond of reality, aren't you? Then let's tally it up. The 'possibility' we gain by taking this student in, versus the 'profit' we gain by throwing him away. Which one is worth more?"
"..."
The Chairman's mouth clamped shut. Behind his eyes, countless calculations began to turn. At last, he exhaled a dissatisfied sigh through his nose.
"I don't think I need to waste my breath answering that."
The Chairman stared at X for a long time. Everything would now be decided by his next words—X's fate, and beyond it, the fate of the world. Knowing this, X and Roxwell were tenser than anyone in that room, their hearts ready to burst.
"Student X. Hear this."
The Chairman declared it in a voice of grave authority.
"I will now decide the matter of your expulsion."
Everyone held their breath, watching for the words that would follow—and the consequences they would bring.
Circe's private dormitory room. A luxurious chamber afforded only to those of the highest rank.
Circe, who had been researching there, glanced at the clock on the wall.
Six-thirty.
"It should be over by now. They've probably decided on expulsion."
That guy, getting on her nerves for no reason. Just recalling that smashed-up face of his was enough to irritate her. Strangely, that face wouldn't leave her mind.
"My head's too cluttered. I can't get anything done..."
The research wouldn't come together in her hands. She stretched, sweeping her violet hair back, and looked down at her own slight frame as if seeing it anew.
If I was going to reincarnate, I could've at least been born with a nicer body. What is this. Short, and flat-chested. The only thing different from my past life is the hair... Well, the face is decent enough.
She needed to reach 5th Circle, and soon. There was no telling when the Demon King would revive. Worries circled through her mind.
'I' am not the Hero Protego, after all.
...Then what was he, in the end.
She knew he wasn't an ordinary guy. He was definitely hiding something. She'd never know now, but it probably wasn't anything important.
Ah. The notebook.
His notebook suddenly came to mind. There might be something in it that had caught Professor Maria's interest. Even a diary would do. She might be able to dig up whatever past he was hiding.
You told me I was the reincarnated Sage, didn't you. This makes us even.
A faint prickle of guilt itched at her chest. She set the notebook she'd brought on the desk and opened it.
"...What. There's nothing here."
It was a novel's setting bible. Title, worldbuilding, story... She couldn't understand why he'd asked her to take this to Roxwell. Her interest cooled. She read it anyway. Just in case.
Well, it's interesting. Readable enough.
The story seemed to draw heavily from the fairy tale of the Hero Protego. The five of them failing to slay the Demon King a hundred years ago, then all reincarnating—a story like a dream. And somewhere in there, the others had reincarnated too. It put her in a good mood, for no particular reason.
Then she realized she'd been smiling over nothing, and her face hardened.
...He's got a talent for putting people in a good mood, I'll give him that.
The part about entering the Academy to grow stronger was interesting too. The character names were just the names of real people, used as-is. He probably hadn't decided on them yet.
That much I can understand. But why is the content like this?
Demons appearing, cities sacrificed, the Hellgate opening... and then the reincarnated thief dies?
"This pisses me off!"
She hurled the notebook. He really was someone she couldn't stand to associate with, writing a story with no dreams and no hope.
She fumed for a while, then opened the notebook again. The ending would be a happy one, surely. The sacrifices were for his sake.
But it wasn't. To the very end, there were no dreams and no hope. She was so angry she nearly tore the notebook apart.
"What? Every reincarnated companion dies and only the Hero survives? What kind of insane novel is this?!"
The next time she saw him, she would pass judgment on that rotten brain of his.
But I can't see him anymore.
Expulsion. She wouldn't be able to meet him at the Academy anymore. Even if she tried to find him outside, she couldn't go searching through that many people.
...Why am I talking like I'm going to look for him.
Still, if only a little. If she'd had a little more patience. If she'd made even the smallest concession. He might not have been expelled. They might have met again. Bickering a little, this time. Like ordinary students.
The thought made her gloomy.
"...Forget it. It's already over."
She kept looking through the notebook. The section with detailed character settings. She was surprised by how detailed they were—detailed to a degree that felt almost desperate. It was a little frightening.
So this is how hard it is to make a novel.
Her interest had faded. She didn't think she needed to read any more. Time to close the notebook and get back to her research.
That was what she was thinking, when she turned the next page.
The first line written at the very top of the paper.
"Huh?"
For a moment, she was glad. Right. Ending on a destruction ending would have been unsatisfying. So this was the setup for turning it into a happy ending. Thinking that, she read on.
But then.
"...What is this?"
"What is this."
I carelessly mentioned the setting. Maria, the Hatchling Dragon, took an interest. She offered me a teaching assistant position. The scenario has gone off track. Originally, Circe was supposed to become the teaching assistant.
"What is he talking about."
I caught Rung's attention. Fortunately, the keyword 'disciple' wasn't mentioned. I steeled myself because of it, but I need to avoid him from now on. Originally, Leon—the reincarnated Hero—was supposed to become Rung's disciple.
"This is... this is..."
A single sentence flashed through her mind.
How to prevent the destruction?
In an instant, her mind was in chaos. One hypothesis she could not accept. Every scrap of knowledge she possessed was mobilized to deny it—a defense mechanism of her very being. But the hypothesis surfaced at last.
What if it isn't a novel? What if it's the truth?
"That's impossible."
She said it, but her eyes raced across the notebook. She accumulated the knowledge in her mind, cold and fast.
"There's no way."
Hypotheses rising one after another. She cross-referenced them against the notebook's contents, verifying each one. What about the worldbuilding? How far did it diverge from the truth?
True. True. True.
Every hypothesis she tested. All of it was true.
"...Then."
Then the end of this story—this fate... The part about only the Hero remaining... What that meant...
"...Am I going to die again?"
This meaninglessly?
In that instant, something appeared before Circe's eyes. A rectangular pane of translucent glass. She had read about what it was in the notebook. And on it, these words were written.
Forget it all.
...Is this a status window?
And in that same instant, her consciousness went dark.
Before Circe, who had collapsed unconscious, only the traces of a notebook remained—reduced to powder, its form no longer recognizable.