Lightning Strikes Twice
If one had to name a single difference between men and women, it might well be the time spent agonizing over what to wear before going somewhere.
In the time it took Kyle to crush his upper body, thrash his lower body, finish cardio, and even complete his shower—
“Urgh…”
—Tisha was in her room with clothes spread everywhere, clutching her head.
Did I buy too many…?
She was a commoner. And nobles, she had heard, looked down on commoners for being poor. So when she enrolled at the Academy, determined never to hear such things, she had scraped and saved every coin she could and arrived with as much money as possible. On top of that, the margrave had given her a reward, so she was in no danger of financial hardship.
Thanks to that, she had bought whatever she needed near the Academy without holding back. Among those purchases were dresses for today’s freshman welcome party. The spending had, truthfully, been a little excessive. But to avoid being ignored by nobles—and because she wanted to hear something nice from Kyle—Tisha had opened her wallet without a second thought and ended up with five dresses.
The problem was that Tisha had never once in her life fretted over clothes like this. When the market came, she would buy a few of the cheapest garments, wear them for several days, wash them, switch to something else the next day, and when that got washed, go back to the first set. The cycle left no room for this kind of dilemma.
What am I even supposed to do?
Different colors, different cuts, different decorations. The disaster of buying whatever the shop clerk recommended. And it wasn’t just the dresses—there were capes to drape over them, accessories, shoes…
If I’d known it would be like this, I should have asked what style he likes. No! At the very least, what color he prefers! You idiot! Stop talking about shamanism all the time and ask about things like that!
Thump! Thump!—
Tisha pounded her own head with her fists, groaning in regret. Why did talk of shamanism just pour out of her the moment she stood in front of Kyle? At least he was kind enough to listen. If it had been a man like Ian…
This dress is too short at the bottom… a-and how am I even supposed to wear this one?
It was a dress with a plunging neckline, aggressively bold in its design. Wearing it would either draw every eye in the room—or the exact opposite.
After nearly an hour of agonized fretting, Tisha finally decided. A purple dress that matched her hair, tastefully embroidered with silver thread. Over it she draped a cape and fastened a brooch she normally found too much trouble to use. For jewelry she settled on a single bracelet, worried that anything more would look like a commoner putting on airs.
“Mm…”
After slipping on her shoes, Tisha stood before the full-length mirror and looked herself over. She wasn’t drowning in self-consciousness or anything, but she thought she looked pretty decent.
Alright. Okay. Don’t be nervous.
She gave her cheeks a light pat and stepped out of the room.
This was an Academy where she knew almost no one. There was no one she particularly needed to impress. Right now, Tisha had bought the clothes, fretted for an hour, and spent another thirty minutes primping in front of the mirror for one reason only: to show this version of herself to Kyle.
“Tisha.”
The moment she left the dormitory and reached the street, Kyle rose from the bench where he had been sitting and waved. He was dressed in formal wear like the other nobles, and with that outstanding frame of his, the clothes looked even better on him. Some of the nobles walking past were all flashy fabric with nothing underneath—clearly neglecting themselves, either far too thin or far too soft.
“Sorry, Kyle. I said I’d get ready quickly… Did you wait long?”
“No. I just got here myself.”
He had actually arrived earlier, but there was no need to emphasize that. He had already finished today’s training, and while waiting he had been doing seated knee raises. As long as you had the will, you could train anywhere… well, no.
“Your dress is pretty.”
“Huh? Ah… I bought it newly for this. D-does it look good on me?”
“Yeah. It looks amazing on you. The color’s close to your hair—really nice.”
Thinking back to the state of Tisha’s luggage when they came to the Academy, she hadn’t owned anything like this. So the dress was almost certainly something she had bought after arriving. Naturally, saying the new clothes suited her would get a positive reaction.
Making someone feel good was never hard. A single ordinary line like that was more than enough to make them smile. The problem was that Male Lead Number One, Ian, couldn’t even manage that much.
“Shall we go? We should get to the banquet hall before the party starts.”
“Ah, yes! Let’s go, Kyle.”
Tisha answered and immediately drew right up beside him—close enough that she could have taken his hand or linked arms if she wanted. But she decided it wasn’t time for that yet. So she simply kept stealing glances, matching her steps to his.
“Is something wrong, Tisha?”
“Huh?”
“You look like you’re deep in thought.”
I was actually wondering whether to hold your hand or link arms.
She couldn’t exactly say that, so Tisha flailed with an “Ah—ah!” While she scrambled for something to talk about, the words slipped out on their own.
“I-Ian! He’s not around this time, is he?”
Kyle let out a long sigh.
“Why? What’s wrong, Kyle?”
“Don’t even ask. I told him to come to the party and he asked why anyone would go to a place like that.”
“Huh? No, you have to go! Upperclassmen maybe not, but freshmen are required to attend!”
“I told him that too. He said it’s loud and chaotic and he doesn’t want to.”
Ian truly had not attended the freshman welcome party. A freshman who didn’t show up even after being told he must—and a commoner at that, not even a noble. The next day, of course, a few classmates would ask why he hadn’t come. But when your conversation partner was a deranged protagonist who area-of-effect taunted the moment he opened his mouth, a scratched ego and a duel with a noble classmate were the inevitable result.
Why Tisha ever got involved with that lunatic is one of history’s great mysteries.
Kyle shook his head; Tisha shook hers right along with him.
“I just don’t understand that man. Why did he even come to the Academy?”
“In his own mind he wants to get stronger. The Academy has produced a lot of outstanding swordsmen, right? He figured if he came here he might gain some insight and break through a wall.”
“Unbelievable. Before sword training, that guy needs to learn how to hold a conversation.”
At Tisha’s words Kyle burst out laughing. And when he laughed, Tisha found herself smiling without meaning to. The fact that she had made Kyle laugh left her quietly pleased.
“I think you’re right, Tisha. Ian should learn conversation skills first.”
“See? Heehee.”
Her steps grew lighter and lighter. She had been nervous inside, but Kyle’s reaction was good. She had spent so long buried in shamanism that she had barely interacted with the people in her village, which meant almost no experience dealing with boys her age. In that state, Kyle’s positive responses kept making her hope for more.
Calm down. Calm down, Tisha. We’re not anything yet! Kyle and I aren’t… anything… right? If I had to say, we could at least call each other friends, couldn’t we?
Suddenly the word friends filled her entire head. The man walking beside her right now—Kyle—what did he think of her? Just a classmate who happened to receive the same letter of recommendation and come to the Academy together? A friend of the opposite sex who shared an interest in shamanism and was easy to talk to? Or maybe someone who felt romantic interest and was wrestling with what to do about it?
Should I ask? No, no! What kind of answer am I hoping to hear?! …Ha, but I’m curious! I can’t just be the only one beating the drum and blowing the trumpet! What if Kyle doesn’t even think of me as a friend—just one more classmate? Let’s ask! Ask… ah, no! I can’t ask!
Roll, roll—
Tisha’s eyes darted every which way as she furiously debated. Ask? Don’t ask? What if the answer isn’t what I hoped for? But I want to ask!
An angel and a devil had each settled on one of her shoulders and were putting her to the test. At last the devil cleanly punched the angel who said not to ask right in the jaw. Decision made, Tisha drew a deep breath and was just about to open her mouth—
“Tisha.”
She almost answered “Yes! Kyle!” on reflex, but the voice wasn’t his. This was the voice of a man she absolutely, positively did not want to hear.
“…Ian?”
The moment the name left Kyle’s mouth, Tisha squeezed her eyes shut. Why?! Of all the important moments, why did this cursed man have to show up again?!
She wanted nothing more than to charge Ian and throttle him. Why did you come! Why?! Were we mortal enemies in a past life?! Stop tormenting me already!!
But even Tisha could not have been more shocked than Kyle.
Why the hell is this bastard here? He wasn’t supposed to come.
The one person who should not have attended the freshman welcome party had suddenly appeared. From here on, predicting how events would change was impossible. No—prediction was secondary. He needed to worry about what kind of aggro this master of provocation would pull next.
I’m going crazy. What am I even supposed to do now?
His head throbbed again. A quick glance to the side showed Tisha already red-faced and glaring daggers at Ian. That was not the face of someone who liked him, or of someone who was embarrassed. Anyone looking—even the most pure-hearted protagonist of an all-ages story—would know at a glance: She’s furious.
Cursing internally the whole way, they headed toward the banquet hall. Up ahead, several freshmen were bowing their heads to someone. Of course it had to be Elga they ran into.
“Lady Elga.”
Kyle led the way, and Tisha and Ian bowed as well. Ian tried to stay ramrod straight, but Tisha immediately shoved his head down. Nice one, Tisha.
“….”
Elga didn’t spare Ian so much as a glance. She looked only at Kyle, flicked a single glance at Tisha beside him, and without even acknowledging the three of them turned and walked straight into the banquet hall.
That left Leto, who was accompanying her, in an awkward spot.
“Ah, everyone. My apologies. Her Ladyship is in a foul mood… please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m sure she accepted your greetings in her heart. She’s not normally like this—I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
You’re asking because you don’t know? One look and it’s obvious you’re the culprit.
Kyle muttered that to himself and once again came to a firm realization.
Male Lead Number One or Number Two—you two are best suited to being single.