Lucky Number Seven
Vice Principal Bright had once been a rising star among mages. Not quite a court magician, but he had carved out a name for himself in the field with explosive successes and left behind a trail of accomplishments that the magic community still talked about today.
Back then the age of close-quarters combat mixed with magic was just beginning to take root. Everyone—from swordsmen to warriors—had started casually mixing a touch of spellcraft and mana into their training. When Bright himself was learning the craft, those hybrid styles were called battle mages or something similar, and they were carefully distinguished from pure casters. But those days felt ancient now.
Instead of drawing lines between different schools of magic, the academy simply labeled anyone who mastered pure magic as a pure mage, and that was the name that stuck. Even though Bright had always considered himself a battle mage at heart, the world had moved on. He could feel the years slipping away with every passing day.
After retiring from active duty in his fifties, mentoring his disciples, and finally receiving an invitation to join the academy, more than twenty years had now vanished in a blink. Bright found himself marveling at how quickly time passed. Thinking about Rai, he worried that the young man was growing far too rigid beneath the surface. As Leila had pointed out, Rai was handling every duty as an instructor with flawless competence.
He had delivered lectures that were second to none, outside the very first day. Externally, he had also left a lasting positive impression on the students. He had guided Zeroa—the academy’s official weakest newcomer—from the very bottom of the rankings to genuine growth, and he had quietly resolved the dangerous crisis that had nearly led to Philia’s expulsion. The situation had been terrifying enough to threaten the academy’s reputation, yet Bright knew it had been brought to a calm close only because Rai had stepped in.
“Even if the problem was of his own making…”
No matter how it had started, Rai had solved it and proved his worth. Afterward, watching the students fill the lecture hall with renewed energy and enthusiasm, Bright fell into a thoughtful silence.
He had never seen the students this passionate before. The atmosphere was still a little chaotic—hard to tell whether it was a real lesson or simply a game—but the young people were openly showing off the abilities they had cultivated themselves. And in the midst of all that noise, the inevitable conflicts that would have followed Philia’s defeat simply never came to pass.
Both sides had ended with honor, and the outcome had been flawless.
Bright wondered whether the times had truly changed and whether he himself had grown too old-fashioned. Perhaps the new era called for an instructor who taught students close to their level rather than insisting on rigid authority and formal titles. Rai might be exactly the kind of teacher the academy needed now.
Still lost in his musings, Bright reached for the carving knife he had paused earlier and began whittling at a thick log. The simple hobby he had picked up after years of academy life had given him a welcome slice of free time.
While shaping a statue from the raw wood, his mind wandered through endless thoughts—the very reason he kept this particular pastime. It was a far cry from meditation, yet somehow it filled the same quiet space.
The figures he created were surprisingly lifelike, and the headmaster soon started praising them. “Excellent work!” he would say, then have the best pieces installed around the academy grounds. Sometimes he even arranged a gallery so the students could admire them and offer their own words of encouragement.
Bright had lived his entire life without any hobbies, so the academy’s quiet praise only deepened his devotion. He loved working with wood that had not yet been touched by human hands. Every morning he arrived early, set up a log in the corner of the garden near the vice principal’s office, and spent hours—sometimes a whole week or month—chipping away at it.
The wood would weather under sun and rain, split in unexpected places, and shift in countless small ways. Bright found a strange kind of beauty in simply following nature’s own rhythm.
Of course, he never neglected his teaching duties for the sake of this hobby. The moment the sun rose, he put everything else aside. On mornings when the students ran laps around the academy grounds, he could watch them from his carving station, exchange a quick greeting, and return to his work. The peaceful rhythm of it all felt almost sacred.
Today, as always, Bright’s eyes lifted from the log to see another group of young students sprinting across the courtyard. Seeing those early risers in action gave the aging vice principal a fresh wave of energy.
He was about to call out a greeting when he noticed something strange. A figure was draped over a student’s shoulder like a limp sack of potatoes. The person was clearly unconscious, and the student carrying the load was sweating profusely and pushing through the run as fast as he could.
Bright hurried over in alarm. As he drew closer, the face on the shoulder struck him with familiar shock. It was Zeroa—the same boy who had shown such remarkable growth against Philia yesterday.
“Zeroa! What in the world is going on?”
“Eh? Uh, uh… what?”
Even though he had rushed over to help, Zeroa looked genuinely startled to see the vice principal. The two stood there in awkward silence until the unconscious figure on his shoulder suddenly lifted his head.
“Huh! Good morning, Vice Principal Bright!”
Bright stared at Rai, who was clinging to Zeroa’s shoulder with cheerful enthusiasm.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Training.”
“Training?”
“Just running doesn’t feel challenging enough, and it’s not very efficient.”
Bright knew the students increased weight and pushed themselves harder during runs because they wanted to grow stronger. Though he was a pure mage, his long years at the academy meant he understood every detail of this routine. Still, he had never seen anyone carry another human like this. The way Rai continued to watch him with such strange eyes prompted him to add:
“We’re carrying an injured person. Once we leave the battlefield, that’s the first thing we always do. It’ll be good to get used to it early.”
It looked absurd, but the underlying philosophy was pure battlefield realism. Bright said nothing, and Rai suddenly patted Zeroa’s back.
“Hey, stop. The enemy never stops. You’re already tired?”
“I didn’t expect the instructor to be so heavy…”
“Then a fainting person should feel light, right? Run, man. Even without mana, two of us can cover twenty kilometers before we drop.”
“Is that… even human?”
Zeroa offered a polite bow to the vice principal and immediately started running again.
Left staring at Rai’s limp form, Bright shook his head. The man’s words were still infuriating, but the sheer dedication shining in his eyes was undeniable. As a brand-new instructor, his enthusiasm was admirable, and even more so because Rai himself appeared to possess none of it. Had Bright himself begun judging people only by experience and appearance? The thought brought a small, rueful smile to his lips.
Rai was an excellent instructor—his abilities were outstanding, and his heart was clearly on the students’ side. His casual manner actually made him easier to approach. As Bright turned back toward his log, the distant voices of the two young men drifted past his ear.
“Keep running, keep running. When we finish, I’ll treat you to an academy special breakfast. But is the cafeteria even open this early?”
“Huff… huff… You’ll really do that? You have no money, right? Yesterday you spent every last coin you had on the kids. It’s all on credit, remember?”
“Dividend came in today. Your dividends are insane. It’s all because of you, all because of you.”
Bright suspected his ears were playing tricks. Students gambling or betting against each other was never an issue at the academy; he even allowed students a little recreation after exhausting days. He never interfered unless events grew dangerously out of control.
But having an instructor join in the students’ gambling? He could never accept that, no matter how close he seemed.
“Zeroa! Wait a second!”
The vice principal’s shout made Zeroa slam to a halt and turn. Rai lifted his head too, and the sight of Bright striding toward them was unmistakable.
“Instructor Rai! Are you joining the students’ gambling?”
“… … is that not allowed?”
“Normally it isn’t.”
Zeroa’s answer left Rai silent for a long moment. Then the three of them’s eyes drifted toward Aria’s empty seat. Four students were frozen there, but none of them was Aria. Of course not—Aria was sitting right there.
Zeroa showed the seven on his number card with careful hesitation. Both the three men and every other student in the hall gasped. Every gaze turned toward Rai.
“Pfft. You’re kidding, right? You idiots.”
Rai swept the floor one last time, then slipped out of the lecture hall with remarkable speed.
Inside the lecture hall, where curses and screams still filled the air, Zeroa looked at Aria with a happy smile.
It seemed even the luckiest number in the world was not yet exhausted.
Leila stood at the lectern, speaking quietly, yet every eye in Class B was fixed on one direction.
“Next week’s march training will require us to form teams. Some assignments will be individual, others will involve the entire year class marching together. Whichever method we choose, we must consider the diverse skills each of you possesses. It would be wise to prepare balanced teams.”
Leila finished her explanation and glanced up. More than half the students were clustered around Aria’s seat. Zeroa, sprawled awkwardly on the floor because of the crowd, offered a strained smile. Leila sighed.
“Normally we would let you choose freely, but since we are in Class B we will draw lots.”
“Eh? Why? Give us some freedom too!”
“Of course I should be paired with Aria.”
“Follow the rules!”
The students’ complaints fell on deaf ears. Leila glanced at them, then at Aria.
“Aria, will you draw?”
“… …”
The entire hall watched as Aria circled the room, eyes wide with confusion. Students were staring at her with expressions that could only be described as desperate hope. One of them had even dropped to one knee and extended a hand, as if preparing to swear an oath of knighthood.
The pressure became unbearable. When Aria remained silent, Leila slammed her papers onto the lectern.
“Lots it is, then.”
“Eeeeee—”
The students looked utterly disappointed, but since the one person they actually wanted had not chosen them, they had no choice but to return to their seats. As soon as everyone sat, Leila slid a box forward.
“Thirty-two students, eight teams. Four slips per number. Draw one by one, starting from the front. Before that, however, let’s begin with Aria herself.”
Aria stepped forward quietly and drew. The other students watched in breathless silence as she checked her number. Only she could see it.
“Three!”
“Three!”
“Even if I die, I want three!”
Shouts rang out. Aria jumped in surprise and looked around—only to lock eyes with Rai behind her. The man who had been holding up three fingers suddenly flashed a wicked grin, then yelped as Leila kicked him and shoved him into the corner.
“Aria, please come this way.”
“Yes.”
Aria clutched the slip as if it were treasure and walked back. The next student stepped up. The voice of a student muttering a solemn prayer drifted through the hall.
“Holy gods watching from above… the reason I have lived until now is here. Please let me pass safely and grant me your protection. I am but a humble servant of yours…”
The atmosphere grew so heavy that even the students drew back. The boy who drew next simply collapsed to the floor the moment he saw the number. While Rai scooped up the slip marked two, the next student drew.
As the lottery continued, the three students already chosen—each with the number three—kept shouting. Zeroa, who had been chosen last and was still waiting, stepped forward with nerves on edge. Some students had not revealed their numbers, so the box might still hold a three. Knowing his luck had already run out, Zeroa reached in anyway.
“I hope… I hope…”
The students still waiting erupted in cheers. With only one seat left, the misfortune of others had become opportunity.
Zeroa shuffled back to his seat, then glanced at Aria. Her usual blank expression met his gaze, and she offered the smallest bow of acknowledgment.
“Good. Aria and I at least greeted each other.”
The moment Zeroa sat, the number slips were drawn one after another. The student who drew three cheered. With the teams now complete, Leila straightened her lectern.
“Group marches will be familiar, but every assignment must account for all possible situations—stragglers, small-scale infiltrations, anything. First, decide roles. Gather for a meeting, then dismiss when the ceremony ends.”
The students gathered by number. Those who had drawn three stood tall and walked toward Aria, their faces glowing with triumph. One student laughed until he cried, another waved his slip high in the air like a trophy, another danced with joy, and another clutched the precious paper as if it were the most valuable thing in the world.
Watching the others bask in envy, Zeroa put aside his own disappointment and searched for the student who had drawn seven. Most had announced their numbers aloud, so those with matching slips remembered them.
“Hey, even if I don’t say it, it’s Set.”
Set, who had approached with a bounce in his step, dropped into the seat beside Zeroa.
“You’re the one who completely destroyed our team last time, right? Sorry if we were a little rough.”
“Ahaha… Philia’s team put up a great fight.”
After the match ended, Philia had locked herself in her room and cried. How dare she make my student cry and then smile? You bastard!”
“She didn’t cry.”
Philia, who had silently appeared behind Set, grabbed her friend by the hair and gave a playful tug. Set yelped and flailed, crashed into the desk, and Philia shrugged at Zeroa before walking away. She had drawn eight, so she was in another group. The seven that Zeroa remembered belonged to Set and Abigail.
Abigail. Same commoner background as Zeroa, yet she was both talented and famous—though only in the wrong way. She never blended in well and had a vicious temper. People who spoke to her without thinking usually regretted it. She moved alone, barely visible during lessons and training, and was rarely seen at all.
Even now, while the rest of the class gathered in noisy groups, Abigail sat by herself, unmoving. Just as Zeroa was about to ask Set if they should approach her, Set raised his hand.
“Abigail! Seven, right? Come over here!”
Zeroa had assumed Set and Abigail were friends because Set was so friendly with everyone. The sight of Abigail ignoring the call made his assumption shatter instantly.
When the girl refused to look up despite the entire lecture hall hearing Set’s voice, Zeroa worried they were arguing, but Set simply kept calling in his usual cheerful tone.
“Abiiiiiiigail~~~~!!!”
“… …”
“Abiiiiiiigail~~~~~!!!!”
“… …”
“Abiiiiiigaaaail~~~~!!!”
The sudden, familiar noise drew every student’s attention. Abigail’s face twisted in irritation as she marched over.
Set unleashed a burst of mana, and Abigail’s fiery red hair whipped around like living flame. The girl who had been glaring murderously at Set now met her eyes with open hostility.
“Do you want to die?”
“Yes. This is Abigail’s seat.”
“… … Don’t care. Do what you want.”
Abigail turned to leave, but Set drew in a deep breath.
“Abiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaail~~~~!!!”
“Shut up, you idiot!”
Abigail cut her off with a growl of frustration, then glanced between Set and Zeroa, sighed deeply, and dropped back into her seat. She wanted to crush Set, but as an academy student she could not throw a punch.
“Well, only one left. Who is it?”
“I only remember the two of you…”
“Who? You’re being rude by keeping us waiting…”
Thinking the girl had even less manners than the other two, Abigail shot Set a glare when someone suddenly stepped forward.
“I… I’m seven.”
“… …”
Set and Abigail stared in stunned silence. After a long beat, their eyes drifted back to Aria’s seat. Four students were frozen there. None of them was Aria.
Zeroa showed the seven on his slip with careful hesitation. The three men and every other student in the hall gasped. Every eye turned toward Rai.
“Pfft. You’re kidding, right? You idiots.”
Rai swept the floor once more, then slipped out of the lecture hall with surprising speed.
In the middle of the lecture hall’s chaos of curses and screams, Zeroa looked at Aria with a bright, happy smile.
It seemed even the luckiest number in the world was not yet exhausted.