I'm the Culprit

If one were to name the most prestigious academy in the Empire, Legandia Academy would always be among the first mentioned. List its merits—the caliber of its education, its knack for spotting talent others overlook—and the list goes on without end. That same prestige means anything that happens there spreads like wildfire.

The story of House Serios's daughter challenging an instructor to a duel is already common knowledge among the nobility, and even commoners of any standing have heard it. Gossipmongers chatter regardless of whether a tale is true, so the public is treated to all manner of stories about Legandia Academy.

This time, however, a single story had the whole place buzzing.

Nothing captures attention quite like an assassination attempt on the Emperor's own child—Sixth Princess Emilia Shane Bernies. From noble tea parties to taverns to back alleys, everyone was talking about it. People mentioned Philia and the others who had protected the princess, but far more were curious about who had ordered the hit. Military personnel sent to establish the facts, crowds hoping to get a look at the situation, and those with political stakes in the affair all piled in on top of one another, and the academy was a mess.

Headmistress Celenas, wearing a bitter smile as she regarded the mountain of documents piled on her desk, looked over at Rai.

He was sprawled across the guest sofa as if the chaos had nothing whatsoever to do with him, popping cookies into his mouth. For a slave, he was living a rather comfortable life.

Celenas, desperate for even one extra pair of hands, had tried to put him to work. Rai had claimed he was terrible at paperwork but would do it if asked—and he had been released from the desk in under an hour. He had reported nothing but the facts, which made him so unhelpful it would have been better if he weren't there at all. And now here he was, planted on the sofa, declaring the headmistress's office the most comfortable place to loaf around, even helping himself to the cookies.

It was infuriating, but Celenas consoled herself with the thought that she was essentially keeping a cat, and asked him a question as she read through the documents.

"Thank you for saving Her Highness."

"Leila already thanked me. More importantly, how's Brown doing?"

Rai didn't even sit up. He just tipped his head back to look at Celenas.

Dudley and Brown had been wounded fighting Uraros, the leader of the assassins. They had survived, thankfully, but they were in critical condition and would not be returning to the academy for some time.

Celenas nodded and said the treatment had gone well, then asked if he happened to know the assassins' identities. Rai shook his head.

Assassination organizations, aside from a famous few, did not tend to last long. The seven years Rai had spent in prison were long enough for more than half of them to have been replaced entirely. On top of that, his main theater of operations had been the center of the continent, so he was even less likely to know the outfits operating in the Empire.

"They were way too weak, though."

"Compared to you, Rai, wouldn't anyone seem weak?"

How many people in the world could satisfy the Devil of All Nations, the man who had once torn across every battlefield? Celenas smiled, dismissing it as nothing of consequence—but Rai shook his head again.

"No. They were genuine nobodies. In terms of price? Five hundred gold coins, maybe. That's all they were worth. Unless the assassination trade has been completely dumbed down in the last few years, that's the grade a provincial lord would hire to put down someone else's dog."

Five hundred gold was a substantial sum, but it was not an astronomical fee for a contract killing. Unfamiliar with that particular market, Celenas frowned prettily as she considered his explanation.

Emilia had little political foundation and ranked too low in the succession to have any real chance of becoming Emperor. The mere fact that she had enrolled as a first-year student at the academy was proof enough that she was a political weakling. Imperial family members typically transferred in midway, spent a year or two for the experience, and left. Emilia had been sent here in lieu of exile, with no succession rights and not even a scrap of real power.

Even so, she was the Emperor's daughter. Rai's assessment might have been overly dismissive, but no one would hire a provincial lord's dog-catchers to assassinate a child of the Emperor.

Sensing there was more to it, Celenas let out a small sigh and set down her pen. Her eyes were tired from staring at documents for so long; she took off her glasses and leaned back in her chair.

Perceptive as ever, Rai moved behind her and began massaging her shoulders. She thanked him and closed her eyes, savoring the massage at her leisure.

Still receiving the massage in silence, Celenas opened a drawer and took out a sheet of paper.

It was a document Rai knew well.

"Are you putting me back in my original zone?"

Celenas had previously added the Forest of the Antipode to his operational range for training purposes. Seeing her pull out the contract, Rai assumed she was shrinking his territory again.

Without opening her eyes, Celenas answered.

"No. This is a reward for all your hard work. You saved Her Highness—you've earned a gift of that caliber."

"Ohh—so you're setting me free?"

"That I cannot do. Where would I ever find someone like you? I'm far too happy with the current arrangement."

She laughed softly at her own joke, signed the contract, and passed the pen to Rai.

"The gift is an expansion of your operational range to include the city of Legandia itself. You can go down into the city and enjoy yourself as much as you like."

"Wooooooow."

Rai let out a cheer utterly devoid of emotion and signed the contract. He could now roam freely throughout Legandia.

Leila would have opposed it tooth and nail, but saving a child of the Emperor was a feat that, under ordinary circumstances, would have warranted restoring his status entirely. Celenas felt she at least owed him this much.

The blue light wrapping around his body faded, and Celenas looked up at him.

"Go on, then. Enjoy your time off."

"I get the feeling you're kicking me out."

"I am kicking you out. We have a guest coming, and I can't have them seeing your face."

Even with his appearance changed, anyone who had clashed with him more than a few times would recognize his face. With so many people coming and going because of the assassination, she unfortunately could not keep him at her side. Rai, who had no interest in stirring up unnecessary trouble, nodded.

"Alright, I'll go play around for about three days."

"Absolutely not. You have lectures tomorrow. Just stay out of sight for today."

"Must be someone important coming today."

"Yes. A frightening person."

Celenas gave a wry smile, then took Rai's hands from her shoulders and told him to go.

"It's been some time, Brother Endo."

Emilia, dressed in a far more lavish gown than usual, offered a formal greeting.

"You don't appear to be injured. That's a relief."

"Thanks to you, Brother."

Second Prince Endo Shane Bernies smiled beautifully and invited Emilia to sit. He was a guest at the academy, yet the way he offered her a seat—as if he were the master of the house—made it perfectly clear which of them held the real power.

Endo's face, belonging to the man with the highest claim to the throne after the First Prince, was strikingly beautiful. His blue eyes were so transparent they seemed to reveal the depths within, lending him an air of mystery. With features that suited a woman more than a man, he curled his slender fingers around a teacup.

"Have you found out who was behind it?"

"No. The military is investigating, so I'm sure it will come to light soon."

"It must have been distressing, going through something like that. I've brought you a tonic that's good for the body. Do take it."

"Thank you, Brother."

A servant who had been standing at a distance approached, set down an ornately decorated small box, and withdrew. Then Emilia's own attendant stepped forward, opened the box, and displayed its contents from a pace away.

It was a medicine said to be excellent mixed into tea when one's vitality was low. Expensive, with limited annual production, it was a tonic hard to come by—though not something a child of the Emperor would be unable to obtain.

Emilia regarded the tonic in silence, then offered her thanks with a bright smile.

He might have looked like a kind older brother looking after his little sister, but children of the Emperor, raised in a palace crawling with succession plots, never ate anything given to them by someone else. And this was medicine, no less. There was no telling whether the vial contained a tonic or a poison.

"Thanks to you, Brother, I should be able to sleep deeply tonight. It's embarrassing to admit, but I haven't been able to rest properly since the incident."

"...Thank... you."

Watching Endo openly declare it poison with a smile that could make anyone fall for him, Emilia forced herself to keep her composure and expressed her gratitude. Powerless as she was, she could not even make an issue of it. All she could do was endure whatever torment he inflicted and hold out to the end.

Endo propped his chin on his hand, regarding her with intrigued eyes that narrowed.

"...Your jokes go too far."

Emilia forced her trembling lips into a smile at the bombshell, but Endo only grew more brazen, declaring it the truth.

"It's true. I was the one behind it. I commissioned an organization called the Black Snake to kill you. Honestly, I didn't think they'd take the job—but they did. How stupid can people be?"

Because Rai had killed every last assassin, the investigation was stalled. Even the military had only a few organizations as suspects; no confirmed facts had emerged. And yet the organization's name had just come from Endo's own mouth.

There had already been several peculiarities.

First, the assassins had not been particularly skilled. Emilia might have had no power and no fame, but she was still a child of the Emperor. And yet their abilities had been such that academy students could trip them up. However talented the students were, they were still uncut gems in the process of growing. If first-rate professionals—the kind whose fees were whatever they named—had come, they would not have stood a chance. For something as grave as assassinating a member of the imperial family, people of that caliber should have been the ones sent.

Second, they had walked into the academy as they pleased. The academy was protected by the power of ancient ruins; unless someone tore the barrier open outright, sneaking in was nearly impossible. And if the barrier were destroyed, the headmistress would certainly know. And yet they had slipped in so quietly that no one noticed. They had even erected their own barrier to block distress signals. That was impossible without a collaborator inside the academy.

At present, the headmistress and vice principal—the ones authorized to use the ruins' power—were under suspicion. But Endo, as a member of the imperial family, could have used that power without their permission.

"Well then. What will my cunning little sister do?"

Endo looked at her with a smile that filled his eyes with malice. Those hollow blue eyes reflected Emilia's tense face. His crossed leg bounced in anticipation of her next words—a posture that would have made the palace etiquette instructor grimace.

After a moment of silence, Emilia set down her teacup and smiled.

"You're far too mischievous, Brother. To toy with people who live in the back alleys for your own amusement—I worry others might speak ill of you. Please restrain yourself next time."

She dismissed the sending of assassins as a mere prank and let it pass.

Endo's eyebrows twitched as if the response had caught him off guard. Then he let out a hollow laugh and leaned back in his chair.

"I see. Even with riffraff, one ought to be mindful of appearances."

"Yes. The Empire holds many opinions, and only one who can embrace them all can truly call themselves Father's child."

She had said "Father's child," but she meant the Emperor's throne. Endo nodded and rose. He had come purely for this amusement, and now he had no further business at the academy.

"You're entertaining. Don't go getting yourself killed by our lesser siblings. Survive a long time, so I can keep enjoying this."

"Thank you for your concern."

Emilia bowed, but Endo paid her no mind and turned on his heel.

The door closed. Left alone in the silence, Emilia reached for her tea. Her hand trembled as if seized by a spasm; she tried to still it with force, but the shaking would not stop. She stopped reaching for the cup and clasped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her trembling hands together. She tried to smile, but her frozen lips would not obey.

Several days had passed since the Second Prince's secret visit to the academy, which had gone unannounced to the public. Even within the academy, only Celenas, Bright, and Emilia had known he was coming. He had arrived in secrecy, conducted his business, and vanished just as quickly.

Bright, who had been drowning in extra work because of the attack on Emilia, could finally breathe a sigh of relief. The attacking organization had been identified as the Black Snake, and the Empire's excellent military had wiped out not only the organization itself but every remnant connected to it—all in a single day.

The citizens praised the military for its swift handling of the matter. Those in high positions found the speed of it suspicious, but they did not involve themselves too deeply. The only people who would send assassins after Emilia, a child of imperial blood, were her own siblings. And no one was going to take the side of a princess with neither power nor status.

Bright felt sorry for Emilia, but there was nothing he could do. However formidable he had been in his active years, the Empire was vast, and those who held power wielded its might as they pleased. If anything, he would be lucky not to bring disgrace upon the academy by sticking his neck out. His influence reached no further than these grounds, so he resolved to keep the princess safe for as long as she remained here. That was the least courtesy he owed her.

Restless, Bright rose from his seat. In his hands was an antique cloak—one he had used in his active years. He had originally intended to pass it on to his disciple, but that disciple had, unluckily, not lived out a natural lifespan.

Devastated by the loss of a student he had cherished, Bright had withdrawn from the front lines and lived in solitude until the academy extended an invitation. He had refused at first, but the previous headmaster's earnest plea had won him over. Now, watching the students grow had become the joy of his life.

That was how much the students meant to Bright. Whether they were clever or dull, virtuous or not, regardless of their station—every one of them was precious.

And Bright had been deeply moved by Rai, who had saved Emilia, a student of the academy.

His manners left something to be desired, but he had driven off the assassins with a skill that stirred even an old man's competitive spirit. It was not mere ability that had moved Bright, though. Rai had been stationed at a training post, and the moment he heard Tena's words, he had left to save them. He had vanished before the instructor at the post could even open his mouth, and he had saved not only the princess but the other students as well—even the staff who had been in critical danger. Was this not exactly the kind of person the Empire needed?

Because of the tangled politics of the imperial court, the students who had thrown themselves in front of the assassins and Rai who had eliminated them had received no real military honors. A simple commendation with no reward attached—that was all. They had gained honor, yes, but tossing someone a scrap of honor and wiping your hands of it was a wretched thing to do. Honor, after all, was something that naturally followed those who acted; it was not a gift from the people they had helped.

Those who performed great deeds deserved praise and reward.

Bright had prepared a few things to reward them personally. He had many useful items. Now that he was retired, they were treated as little more than decorations; in the hands of fine young people, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they would actually do some good.

The dark gray cloak was one he had been particularly fond of. It had only a single ability, but the effect was so outstanding that Bright had once defeated a formidable enemy thanks to it. Certain Rai would be pleased, he stepped out the door.

Finding him was easy. During lecture hours, you checked the schedule and went to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the classroom or training ground. Any other time, you just looked for wherever it was noisy. Strangely enough, people always gathered around him. He was constantly in the company of staff, instructors, and all sorts of others—especially the students.

This time, too, Bright spotted Rai laughing among a cluster of students and approached the group.

"Hey, check this out. Isn't this sick?"

Rai was showing off a rod that shot flames, but the students' reactions were lukewarm.

"You bought that at the magic shop with the bearded guy, didn't you? Everything from that place is weird."

"It doesn't even produce a proper flame. It just sprays sparks everywhere. What's supposed to be 'sick' about that?"

To students who had received a high-level education and knew magic well, the item Rai had brought looked cheap. As they had said, it did not produce a proper flame—just dust-like sparks spraying in every direction. Flashy, and nothing more.

Rai tilted his head at the tepid response.

"Isn't it great? Use it as a marker during a night raid and the Pure Magicians can torch the enemy formation from long range."

"That sounds plausible, but you could use something else as a marker."

"Yeah, that's true."

Watching Rai think about how to use a junk item strategically, Bright was impressed. Using it as a marker was not exactly a revolutionary idea, but the habit of considering how to use whatever was at hand was extremely important. Plenty of people could not do even that simple thing, and it was often what separated the ordinary from the gifted.

"Then how about this?"

Rai forcibly altered the magic formula of the item in his hand. Tampering with a finished product was a dangerous thing to do, but he rewrote the formula without hesitation and poured in mana.

Piyuuung!

The flames shifted through a rainbow of colors, putting on a spectacular display. And then they started launching themselves. The clumps of fire soared high into the sky, scattering dust-sized sparks all around them. It was genuinely dazzling. The students stared up at the fantastical show, then burst into cheers.

"Whoa!! How did you do that?!"

"Did you just forcibly rewrite the magic formula?"

They all shouted over each other, begging him to tell them how. Watching Rai expertly execute the most fundamental teaching method—drawing interest and turning it into learning—Bright smiled with satisfaction.

Thrilled by the students' change in attitude, Rai sprayed flames in every direction. One of them landed on a wooden statue.

Paaaang!

Even a large clump of sparks should not have produced that kind of firepower from mere contact. Whether the improvised magic formula had gone wrong, the moment the flame touched the wood it erupted into an inferno and set the statue ablaze.

Rai and the students all stared blankly at the burning statue.

"That's... the one Vice Principal Bright made..."

The student's words trailed off at the presence they felt behind them. At a dull thud, the students turned around to find Bright standing there, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his expression utterly devastated, the cloak fallen to the ground.

Rai turned around a beat late, met Bright's eyes, and smiled awkwardly.

"Uh... Vice Principal... this was during a magic experiment... or rather, it was a magic experiment, or maybe it wasn't, or maybe it was...?"

Bright wordlessly picked up the cloak from the ground. He calmly brushed off the dust, then draped the cloak he had brought as a gift for Rai over his own shoulders.

It had been a very long time since he had worn it—not since his active years. There was no better item for dealing with the enemy right in front of him.

"...I'm busy. I'll be going."

Rai bolted, then ran back to splash water on the wooden statue and put out the fire, then bolted again. Bright unleashed a surge of powerful mana and gave chase.

That day, the students got to see just how strong a high-level Pure Magician could be—even in a one-on-one fight.