Enrollees (1)
In time leap movies, the protagonist's tiniest action in the past often dramatically alters the future.
I think they called that kind of plot twist the butterfly effect. I'm not from the future, but it's undeniable that I've intervened in this world.
So, is this some kind of butterfly effect too?
If so, what the hell did I do to turn the Second Prince into the Fifth Prince?
There wasn't even a Fifth Prince in the royal family to begin with.
Euclid von Derpart.
I mulled over the name of this character who never existed in the novel, chewing it over again and again as I thought.
So who the hell am I supposed to Battōjutsu now?
What about my plan to drag the prince into a duel, smash the promising prodigy, and proclaim the greatness of Battōjutsu to the kingdom—and the whole damn world?
That fucking author...!!
This had to be that bastard's doing, refusing to admit his mistake and scheming to sabotage my mission to spread Battōjutsu.
Doesn't he know that ignoring a momentary shame turns it into a lifelong disgrace?
If he didn't recognize Battōjutsu's power, he could've just apologized and learned it. Why the hell is he being so stubborn?
You think some cheap trick like this will make me back down?!
No matter what it takes, I'll spread Battōjutsu so far and wide that it becomes a required course at this academy.
As I secretly steeled my resolve, Euclid's speech finally wrapped up, and the entrance ceremony drew to a close.
Moments later, the lights flickered back on. Marina had vanished at some point, replaced by a man well into his later years on the podium.
"Temporary class assignments will now begin! Students, please wait a moment and head to your assigned classes!"
The hall buzzed briefly at his words, but the murmur died down in under five seconds, restoring silence.
The academy was a hotbed of social climbing, but it hadn't forgotten its roots as an educational institution.
They assigned temporary classes first, then reassigned based on end-of-month evaluations, sorting students by performance.
To climb to a top-class section, you needed stellar scores on the exams every three months—or feats equivalent to them, though the latter was practically a myth.
Anyone capable of such feats would've aced the exams and risen already anyway.
"I thought I'd finally be rid of you, but I have to wait longer? It's infuriating."
As I sank into thought, Jessica shot me a look like I'd tracked mud on her dress.
"Jessica, don't be so harsh. Just a bit ago, we were holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes."
"W-When did we ever...!"
"You don't remember?"
She seemed to have blanked on it, so I grabbed her hand (wrist) again and stared her down.
Jessica flailed her arm wildly to shake me off but lacked the strength, settling for a low growl and a death glare.
"How about now? Ringing any bells?"
"Don't manhandle people...!! Are you even a noble?!"
"Even as a noble, I'm just a lowly baronet, so I don't really sweat the honor or decorum stuff."
"Urgh...!"
Her face twisted like she might scream any second, so I released her wrist and turned back to the podium.
Assignments followed seating order, and since we were in row E, Jessica's and my turns were still a ways off.
"Hey, Jessica, mind if I ask one thing?"
"……."
She clamped her mouth shut, staring blankly at nothing like she'd sooner die than utter a word.
She looked ready to ignore even a caress of her luscious roll-bread hair or a puff of air in her ear, so I pulled out my secret weapon.
"Answer one question, and I won't talk to you for the rest of the day."
"……Just one day?"
"If one's not enough, how about three? Three whole days without me teasing you!"
Jessica closed her eyes, pondering, then nodded as if she'd made up her mind.
"……Keep it short. And if it's about my hair, this deal's off."
I had zero intention of asking about her hair, but I nodded anyway.
"Heard a rumor the next Sword Saint's enrolling this year. Know her name?"
She snorted, eyeing me like an idiot.
"The rumor’s more than a little late. The next Sword Saint enrolled last year. This year's newbie is her little sister, Rain von Reinhardt."
Her. Little sister.
Nothing intentional, but one question netted two prizes.
The next Sword Saint already enrolled?
Euclid on the podium earlier was similar yet different from canon.
Second Prince swapped for Fifth Prince. Next Sword Saint swapped for next Sword Saint's sister.
This inexplicable downgrade nagged at me, but brooding here wouldn't yield answers.
Does a protagonist and rival swap mean the plot derails too?
I cared about their growth, but even more about whether the enemies ahead would change.
"I answered as promised, so no talking to me for three days. Got it?"
"Yeah. Once classes split, we won't cross paths for days anyway."
"Eek?!"
As realization dawned that this bet cost her nothing, Jessica flushed red while I kept pondering.
Their statuses dropped a peg, but maybe the plot won't veer too far?
A Fifth Prince could still claim the throne, and futures twist unpredictably—even without the Sword Saint title now.
I couldn't confirm without knowing exactly who they were, but the story might parallel canon without being identical.
For now, ignore the sister and...
The second-year so-called next Sword Saint—she'd be my first Battōjutsu prey. I vowed it silently.
I'd tuned out the Rain announcements—whether from fixating on her name or her spot behind mine—so I never caught her class.
Mine was 1-G.
Tucked in a corner of the main building's second floor. Nothing noteworthy.
Jessica's was obvious since she was right there, but I had no clue on Hori's.
With Jessica forcing distance anyway, it might work out fine.
What class was Leon in at this point...?
If Rain mirrored Leon's path, that intel might clue me in.
Too bad I didn't know Leon's temporary class.
His stint there lasted under a month and barely got mentioned.
Fuck... Other novel transmigrators knew this stuff cold.
If Battōjutsu had shown up in the story, I'd have devoured it. Blame the author for that too.
Trudging up to the second floor, I reached 1-G. Everyone but one seat was taken—I was last.
About thirty students, give or take.
As eyes from teacher and students turned to me, I bolted to the empty spot and sat.
Once full, the early-forties man at the front scanned us and spoke.
"Some of you may know, but this is a temporary class—only for a month."
End-of-month exams would scatter us.
Having reminded us, the teacher continued.
"That said, we're all academy students pursuing knowledge and martial arts. So today, let's get to know each other. Start from the front row."
At his cue, kids rose one by one from the first row, introducing themselves in shaky voices.
First-timers, all awkward—some drew snickers midway.
Baron, baronet, viscount, baron, baronet again.
Coincidence or design? No earls or higher.
"Finally..."
The teacher glanced my way, and I shot up.
"Ian Bar Tow! My dad's a warrior who passed, so I'm the baronet now! Specialty's Battōjutsu! Anyone wanna learn, hit me up anytime!"
I finished with gusto. Sparse, dry applause echoed.
I waited a bit after, but sadly, no takers lined up for lessons.
They didn't get Battōjutsu's power yet—cold reception, but good enough for now.
Humble beginnings, grand finale.
By graduation, 50 million enrollees would flock to learn Battōjutsu under me.
Dreaming of that bright future, I headed out for my routine Battōjutsu practice.
"Hey, lend us your face for a sec."
Less than an hour later, my first three enrollees arrived.
As expected of Battōjutsu...!!