Entrance Ceremony
“Erm… Before we proceed with the entrance ceremony of our esteemed Caldea Imperial Academy, I’d like to extend my gratitude to all the distinguished guests who grace us with their presence today. First…”
The academy president’s monologue began, his scalp gleaming under the lights from his receding hairline. Chloe listened intently, her eyes sparkling with excitement and her heart pounding.
“Chloe. Why are you listening so hard?”
“Because it’s the president! Don’t just doze off—listen up.”
“He’s just spouting nonsense. What’s there to hear…”
“Hey! Watch your mouth—that’s the president you’re talking about!”
Eirin, sitting beside her, shrugged nonchalantly.
“But it’s true, right? Look—everyone’s asleep.”
“Gasp…”
Chloe’s face fell in shock. And rightly so: every person in the auditorium had turned into pigeons, pecking at the air with nodding heads.
“When’s this gonna end…”
“Eirin, look over there! Right there!”
“Huh?”
Chloe, uncharacteristically poking Eirin’s shoulder, drew her attention. Eirin, half-asleep, followed Chloe’s pointing finger.
“It’s the lady of the Adelaide family!”
“Whoa, she’s enrolling here? Isn’t she a year younger than us?”
“She’s been rumored to be a genius forever. As expected from the Adelaide family, war heroes…”
“…Adelaide’s the real deal.”
The Adelaide ducal house. A noble family that earned great merits in the Great War and led postwar reconstruction efforts.
Chloe, who had once received aid from the Adelaides, now gazed at her with eyes like she was beholding a goddess. Eirin shook her head helplessly.
“Wow… She’s so beautiful. I wanna talk to her, even just once…”
“…Hm?”
Thanks to Chloe, Eirin was wide awake now. Scanning the auditorium, her eyes caught someone out of place.
A man with hollow eyes, looking utterly fatigued. His gaze stared into empty space, and his black hair was haphazardly combed, making it seem even messier.
Yet the glasses perched midway on his nose lent an air of intellect to his disheveled locks, exuding a decadent charm.
“First, ask for a name. ‘Might I have the honor of your name?’ Something like that. And then…”
“Look at that guy, Chloe.”
“…Huh?”
Eirin nudged Chloe’s side. Chloe’s gaze finally turned their way.
Chloe stared quietly in the direction Eirin pointed.
“…There’s no one there?”
“Huh? No, there is?”
“Are you messing with me? Just you wait…”
“No, really.”
Eirin glared at the seat where the man had been. But he was already gone.
“The president’s speech is over.”
The man never reappeared, even as the president’s speech concluded.
Shoooo—
Water sprayed fiercely from the faucet. I stared at it blankly.
Watching the waterfall-like stream, I felt the jumbled thoughts clouding my mind wash away. So I kept staring.
“…Where’s the medicine?”
Oh right. I came here to take my meds. Damn.
I rummaged through my pockets and finally found the pill packet.
Gulp.
“Hoo…”
The slightly narcotic meds were a real help for my mentally unstable state. Nothing beat them.
What? Holy water baths? Talks with the bishop? Confession at the cathedral?
“Pfft…”
Ridiculous advice from people I wandered into after the Great War ended.
Pure bullshit. If that crap worked, I wouldn’t have wished for anything more. I didn’t want to rely on these pills either.
Especially that old priest who sternly urged confession. The most absurd of all.
While I served as a military chaplain on the front lines, that geezer holed up in his cathedral, preaching nonsense and fleecing tithes. Calling me a murderer for killing in war, forcing confession on me whenever he could.
“That damn old bastard.”
I gritted my teeth. My mind grew hazy—the meds’ effects lingering.
“…Damn you, old bastard.”
The cold water kept pouring, filling the sink. Without hesitation, I plunged my face in.
The chill cleared my head. I opened my eyes underwater. The round drain plug stared back.
Something echoed. A buzzing hum from beyond the drain. Muffled screams underwater.
I strained to listen. Hard to make out, but I focused on the faint sounds.
—S-Spare me…
—We’re all dead! We’re walking corpses!
—Fire! I said fire!
—Enemy attack! They’re coming! Fix the trenches!
—Bang! Rat-tat-tat!
—Hey. Why’d you survive?
Splash!
“Hah! Heh…! Hah…!”
Fuck. The meds were wearing off a bit. I popped another pill from the bottle.
“Hah… Hoo… Damn it all…”
This dose lasted pretty long. My body hadn’t adapted yet—it was strong stuff. But soon I’d need something stronger.
…Tired of it all. The thought slipped out unbidden.
No. Not yet. I couldn’t give up here. I had a promise. Until I kept it, I couldn’t die.
I roughly wiped my face with a handkerchief. My hair ends dripped wet. I dried them as best I could.
The curled tips like pig tails disgusted me. After the ceremony, maybe get a trim.
—…Well then. To the 89th class of new students at the academy. Congratulations on your enrollment.
Thunderous applause echoed even here. The president’s speech was done. Next up: introducing the new faculty.
Could I stand before all those students?
“…Let’s do it.”
Have to, right? Probably. No certainty.
I shook my head hard against the drugged haze. When that didn’t calm me, I resorted to a blessing spell.
Only then did I step out of the bathroom.
“This year, with so many applicants to our academy, selecting new faculty was no easy task. There were so many talented candidates, and fierce competition.”
The academy president gestured my way, hyping us up. I was surrounded by the academy’s new professors.
Some filled vacant spots from departed faculty; others took on new subjects.
I was the former. Taking over the theology professorship left empty.
Never thought I’d get picked. Lucky break. Maybe they valued my war service. Was there another veteran here from the Great War?
“I deeply regret not being able to bring on the other excellent applicants… But! I, Damian Lindberg, president of the academy, can confidently say these new professors possess tremendous skill and prowess!”
If there was, I’d ask. How do they endure this pain? Relying on this shitty meds? If so, any recommendations?
“Allow me to introduce! First, Professor Esther Garrett, who will head the illusion magic department!”
Ah. No good. The president’s mic boomed in my skull, turning my stomach. My fingertips chilled.
“Calm down. Calm. Steady… Hoo…”
“Yes! Thank you! I’m sure you’ll guide our students well. Next… a new subject this year! Professor Alfred of the close-quarters combat department!”
A bit calmer now. Strong urge to smash that damn mic, but I could just barely hold it together.
One by one, the people beside me were called up. Realizing that, a dark thought surfaced.
This felt like watching my comrades leave me one by one…
“…No.”
The meds worked. I suppressed the nausea, cleared my mind.
Bad thoughts scattered—like storm clouds parting after rain. I took slow, deep breaths.
“…Professor? Sir?”
Someone tapped my back. I whipped around irritably; a student council rep flinched.
“What is it?”
“Uh… It’s your turn to go up, sir.”
“…Ah.”
The chairs around me, once packed, stood empty. I gave the student a wry smile and thanks, then rose.
“Hoo… Alright. Let’s do this.”
No choice now but to see it through.
“And finally… Professor Antonelli of the theology department!”
Clap-clap-clap.
The applause had weakened after so many intros. I forced positive thoughts and stepped forward.
Thud. Thud.
Sharp footsteps echoed through the auditorium. Tension rippled through the students’ eyes as they spotted the owner.
“Why’s his face so pale? Is he sick?”
“He looks kinda scary…”
“Doesn’t seem well…”
The footsteps crossed the silent hall, halting at the podium’s center. Quiet returned.
On the vast stage, the man before the lectern swept his gaze over the students. Countless eyes fixed on him. Even the faculty and president watched.
A moment of silence. Then he spoke.
“…I am Lucio Antonelli, assistant priest taking over theology this semester. I’ll also serve as assistant priest of the Academy Cathedral. Theology is mandatory, so all students in my class—give it your best.”
Plain words. But his voice dripped with gloom, casting a pall over listeners.
“That guy’s… a priest?”
“He’s unusual.”
“Something bad happen to him?”
As murmurs grew, President Damian swiftly grabbed the mic.
“Assistant Priest Antonelli will fill the vacancy left by the late Professor Helena. Everyone, give him a big round of applause!”
Clap-clap-clap!
Boosted by Damian’s energetic close, the applause surged with fresh vigor, filling the hall.
Even amid the thunderous cheers, Assistant Priest Antonelli couldn’t muster a smile.