The Storm Strikes Twice
"To all the freshmen who have enrolled at the Imperial Academy. I extend my sincere welcome. At a wonderful occasion such as this, I would prefer to speak only pleasant words, but as the headmaster of the Academy, there is one point I must address. From here on, truly arduous and grueling studies will torment you. It will be hard, but if you endure and persevere, light will surely shine upon you. I hope that every one of you will press forward with all your strength."
With the headmaster's brief yet weighty congratulatory address, the freshman welcome party began.
It was the Academy's greatest festival, held in a banquet hall of staggering size. Since even the freshmen were adults, getting drunk tonight would pose no problem whatsoever.
"A pleasure to meet you! I'm…"
"…Oh! Fancy running into you here! And this friend of mine is…"
Those who had already known each other before enrollment exchanged greetings first. Whose house they belonged to, whether their parents were well, how things stood in their territories. The criticism that the Academy was merely an extension of noble high society was not entirely off the mark.
Of course, the commoners were hardly standing around in a daze. Any commoner who had made it into the Imperial Academy was a verified check of talent. After trading pleasantries, nobles would go hunting for commoner students they might bring into their fold.
All around, upperclassmen and freshmen laughed and chattered with one another. Freshmen in particular deserved every bit of the attention they were receiving—and yet, in the midst of it all, three young men and women stood completely outside that spotlight.
To put it more precisely: one of them had already been branded a total ass on day one; another was pouring her passion into shamanism, the least popular discipline on the entire continent; and the last was someone people avoided simply because even approaching him felt like too much pressure.
This is chaos. Total chaos. Ugh, I just want to go work out already.
That deranged thought alone was enough to show how thoroughly rotten Kyle's mood currently was.
"Quite the noisy place."
"If it's too noisy, just go back to your room already."
"They said attendance was mandatory, so I had no choice but to come."
Right beside him, Tisha and Ian kept bickering without pause. Tisha refused to leave Kyle's side, and Ian insisted on staying near Tisha, which meant the only one suffering was poor, blameless Kyle.
If only Tisha would ignore Ian completely and stay quiet, life would be so much better. Unfortunately, she seemed incapable of letting Ian's mere presence next to her slide.
And the real problem was that this was not even the end of it.
These two alone are enough of a headache…
Sometimes you just get that sudden, unmistakable feeling that someone is staring at you. At first Kyle thought he was imagining it, but he quickly realized it was no illusion.
Far across the hall, a red-haired young woman sat tilting her wineglass. Amid the entire frantic party, Lady Elga had fixed her gaze on him and him alone.
I really… want to run away.
Whether he sensed Kyle's inner turmoil or not, Ian kept right on talking to Tisha.
"Hey."
"How many times do I have to tell you it's not 'hey'? Do you actually think my name is Hey?"
"Ah… sorry. Tisha. There's something I wanted to ask you."
What she really wanted to say was Don't ask. Just shut your mouth. But being cold to someone to their face was simply too hard for Tisha. So she could not bring herself to say it, and settled for folding her arms with every ounce of dissatisfaction she could pack into the gesture.
"Do you hate me?"
…Wow. This bastard. Straight fastball right out of the gate.
"…What did you just say?"
"I asked if you hate me."
Tisha stared at him with pure disbelief in her eyes—the look of someone thinking, Of course I hate you. You think I'm doing this because I like you? Only, since she was not good at saying unkind things out loud, none of it left her mouth.
"…Why are you suddenly asking something like that?"
"Because it feels like you get angry every time I open my mouth."
"You're saying I get angry every time you speak?"
"Yes."
"You're right. I do get angry every time you speak. So then, why do you think I get angry?"
"Because you hate me?"
Tisha did, in fact, dislike Ian. The issue was that it was not simple dislike—there was a very clear additional reason. That reason was why she got angry every time he talked. Ian, however, either genuinely did not know or was pretending not to, and merely blinked at her.
"Wrong, Ian. I get angry at you not because I hate you, but because you casually spit out things that turn a person's stomach inside out. That's why I get angry, and that's why I end up hating you. Understand?"
"But I never meant any of it in a bad way."
Ian's utterly confident reply drew a long, incredulous sigh from Tisha. Kyle, listening quietly beside them, felt exactly the same. If every single thing Ian had said so far had been meant with good intentions, someone needed to sew his mouth shut.
"Ha… Forget it. If we keep talking, I think my insides are going to explode."
Even though the only people she knew here were Kyle and Ian, Tisha turned and vanished somewhere into the crowd.
"…Is she angry?"
"If that wasn't anger, what do you think it was—her joking around?"
Honestly. Of all people, how was a guy this dense the protagonist? Watching him made Kyle feel as if he had just forced down two thousand sweet potatoes in a row.
I was still on the fence, but that's it. I can't do this anymore. The original plot? You can go to hell.
If he kept trying to force the original storyline, either he or Tisha was going to die of rage-induced illness. Besides, "following the original" only meant knowing a few characters' names. At this point, wrecking the original was clearly the better option.
"Ian."
"I'm listening."
"I'm going to go calm Tisha down, so stay right here."
"I have nowhere else to go anyway. You're worrying over nothing."
"…Ian."
"What."
"That's exactly why Tisha hates you so much."
"…?"
"All you have to do is say 'Got it,' but you always have to tack on some extra nonsense that turns people's stomachs."
Ian furrowed his brow slightly and glared at Kyle. When Tisha had chewed him out he had barely reacted, yet the moment Kyle said something he started advertising I am mildly offended with his whole face.
What are you going to do about it, you bastard? You think glaring is going to scare me?
Kyle was well aware that Ian's swordsmanship was exceptional. He had never seen it, but the guy was the protagonist—surely he could not be weak. Even so, being the protagonist did not make someone an absolute powerhouse. Maybe someday far down the line, but not now. At present, Ian was simply quite skilled among his peers—that was all.
If I plug big brother Lear or big sister Lea into a fight against Ian…
No matter how many times he ran the scenario, all he could picture was Ian getting completely wrecked. And that was the cutest, most sanitized version. If they actually fought, he would have to worry about whether Ian's limbs would be left intact.
Leaving Ian behind, Kyle headed in the direction Tisha had disappeared. Laughter and conversation washed over him from every side. Scattered through it were a few remarks about Kyle himself; he deliberately pretended not to hear them.
"Tisha."
He found her on the second-floor balcony, leaning against the railing.
"Kyle? Why did you come all the way out here?"
"If you were going to storm off like that, did you really expect me to stay next to Ian? I'm frustrated too."
"Right? So I wasn't just overreacting and getting angry for no reason?"
She was the one who had gotten angry, yet she was the one still fretting over it—while Ian, the actual cause, still had no idea what the problem was. Kyle muttered under his breath that being too soft-hearted could be a real flaw, and stepped up beside her.
"I'd like to tell you to look on the bright side, but I can't."
"I wish I could too. I know he doesn't mean any harm—that's not a lie. I know that, but… the way he acts and the things that come out of his mouth make me feel like I'm going to explode. I'm not weird or a bad person for feeling that way, am I?"
"Of course not. You've only put up with that much because you're you, Tisha."
It was not empty comfort. Anyone else would have flown into a genuine rage. Even Kyle himself kept wondering what the hell was wrong with that guy.
"Haa…"
Unlike the brilliantly lit banquet hall, the balcony felt remarkably calm. Perhaps it was the darkness, with only moonlight falling across them. The cool night air settled over everything, and the boiling in their chests finally quieted.
"To be honest… I've thought a few times that I want to get along with Ian."
"Huh?"
"He said he spent a long time wandering, right? That feels a little pitiful. He must have had his reasons. If that's what made him turn so emotionally flat, then I can understand it. So I tell myself that next time I'll try to treat him a little better, and then…"
Tisha paused, thinking, then shook her head hard as if deciding it was hopeless after all.
"I can't. Ugh! That guy is the absolute worst!"
She slapped the balcony railing a few times. Kyle answered with a simple "Agreed," and started to head back inside. If a man and a woman stayed out here too long, unnecessary rumors could start flying.
"Um."
But Tisha did not follow. Instead she suddenly caught his hand.
"Kyle. Can I ask you just one thing?"
When he nodded, a faint conflict flickered across her face before she spoke.
"We're close, right? Not just people who exchange casual hellos, or classmates who bumped into each other once on the way here. We're actually close, aren't we?"
"Of course we are. Just casual hellos? I'd be the one who felt hurt if that were true."
Ian was one thing, but Tisha was fine. If Ian was the type who dragged disasters around and made them bigger, Tisha was usually the one who cleaned them up. If Kyle had to pick the original protagonist he was happiest about getting close to, Tisha would easily take first place.
"We should head back in. I'm worried about what kind of mess Ian might cause if we leave him alone too long."
"So even you worry about him a little, huh?"
"A bit, yeah. We did get our recommendation letters from the same border marquis and come all the way here together."
"Same for me. I want to just ignore him, but we're not complete strangers either, so I can't quite bring myself to do it."
Kyle and Tisha were chatting softly as they stepped back inside—when a young man suddenly appeared right in front of them.
"Kyle John Nassen."
The man was none other than Leto.
"Her Grace the Grand Duchess… ahem. That is, Lady Elga wishes to see you for a moment."
…Ah, why again. Please, Grand Duchess. What did I ever do to you?
Once more, Kyle found himself about to face the storm that was the Grand Duchess of Litorio.