Is This the Main Story...?

“Uugh….”

“Nnngh….”

Watching the students wilt from the morning lecture onward, Kyle thought to himself:

Monday really was lethal no matter where you went in the world.

They had all gone out and played hard over the weekend, then sprawled around and rested to their hearts’ content—and they still looked like this.

Play them that yellow sponge’s song and they’d probably rush him ready to kill.

“Is it because it’s Monday? Everyone seems to be struggling,” Tisha whispered from the seat beside him, still busily taking notes.

A model student by nature, she never let a single word of the professor’s lecture slip by. When a question came flying, she would glance around once, then produce a perfectly suitable answer. Had she focused on magic instead of shamanism, she would almost certainly have been offered a teaching assistantship or a graduate program. Of course, Tisha was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not the sort to fall for that kind of devil’s whisper.

On top of that, her physical ability was decent enough that she did not tire easily. Studying was not done with the head alone. The stamina to stay seated for hours mattered too. She was nothing like those fragile specimens over there, the ones who folded at the mere sight of Monday.

It’s all because they don’t train enough. Little brats.

One weekend spent the John Nassen way, and they would realize Monday was not such a villain after all.

Clicking his tongue, Kyle tried to refocus on the lecture.

“Ah—and for this assignment, we will be doing something special: a group project.”

“…?”

“Some time has passed since the semester began, and yet you all still look rather awkward with one another. That is the decision I have come to.”

Professor, you cannot just spring a bombshell like that on us without warning. At the absolute minimum, you should have floated a little “how would you all feel about a group assignment?” so people had time to prepare themselves mentally. The situation had already crossed a line—and it had crossed it in thoroughly John Nassen fashion.

“…This is a bit much, isn’t it…?”

See? Even Tisha was calling it over the line!

“Suddenly I really hate Mondays.”

“Same here, Kyle.”

As the professor expressed his hope that this assignment would help a few more friendships take root, Kyle sincerely prayed that the man’s scalp would peel clean off his skull.

“This is honestly too much.”

After the lecture, walking down the corridor, Tisha opened her mouth in a thoroughly agitated tone, as if she could not accept it at all.

“Springing a group project on us out of nowhere is one problem—but we don’t even get to choose our own members!”

“I more or less saw it coming. The professor said it himself, didn’t he? That it was for improving awkward relationships.”

“…So what you’re saying, Kyle, is that the professor just went ahead and mixed the groups himself so we’d all get friendlier?”

Exactly that, Kyle said—and Tisha shot back at once that that was the problem. How was a group forced together among people who were already awkward supposed to run smoothly? If the real goal was improving student relationships, it would have been better not to split them into a handful of groups at all, but to throw the entire class into one enormous team and make them cooperate.

“Do you think he’d listen if we protested?”

“From what I saw, not a chance.”

“Why not?!”

“I watched some of the noble students try. They went right back looking thoroughly dejected.”

The professor had probably taken it as a challenge to his authority. From a professor’s point of view, students complaining over a little group assignment could seem absurd. The Academy was not a social club. Getting along with people you did not already know was part of the point. Whining that you did not want to mix with “strange” students would naturally get under anyone’s skin.

But from the students’ side, it was just as understandable. Working with people you already knew and got along with versus working with complete strangers whose personalities you could not even guess—if you asked which they preferred, nine out of ten would pick the former. No: ten out of ten.

And those noble brats. They’re not wild animals.

From a distance they preened like peacocks, all lofty elegance—but the moment you approached, they startled and fled like mad. Do not touch. Do not come near. Only look. That was the whole act.

Of course, that particular reaction applied only to Kyle. Nothing good had ever come of being associated with John Nassen.

Maybe the fastest way is just to go to the professor, grease the wheels a little, and ask him to assign me decent teammates.

Pure fantasy, naturally. Do that for real and both the professor and the student would lose their heads. Pull a stunt like that in territory under direct Imperial jurisdiction and you would earn the Empire’s wrath on the spot.

Besides, the Academy had an unspoken rule agreed upon by every noble house: even if lobbying was common enough outside, at the Academy, at least, you kept to the line. From the most remote rural family to the Grand Ducal houses—of which there were only three—everyone had consented.

Or… do I just go completely unhinged and quietly threaten him?

No need for excessive force. Just sidle up, ask, “Have you heard of John Nassen?” and clench a fist once. Now that he thought about it—would that not be the most serious threat in the world?

No matter which way he turned it over, only one answer remained: praying that their professor would please, please put together a halfway normal group. That was still the most perfect outcome available.

The absolute best would be a group that included Tisha, with the rest filled out by commoners. Noble students were nothing but discomfort, and the way they watched their step around him was painfully obvious. Commoner students still looked at him with a measure of goodwill. Noble-born ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠students looked at him the way you looked at an ogre.

Or even a noble would do, as long as they were the type to mind their manners a reasonable amount and work reasonably hard—a group that went half the distance and no more, no less. That would be ideal enough.

But what is this uneasy feeling creeping up on me?

They said a bad premonition was never wrong. The ominous feeling rising little by little made his skin crawl. On top of that, this world was not an ordinary fantasy—it was a romance fantasy. What did that mean? That events designed to tangle people together were bound to happen. Even if the current situation was nothing like the original story, and none of these people were supposed to end up together yet—unfortunately, those events would still fire, like them or not. That was Kyle’s prediction.

And exactly one day later—

“…Damn it.”

Looking at the group roster posted on the bulletin board, Kyle spat out a thick curse.

He looked, and looked again, rubbed his eyes and looked once more—the list did not change. Precisely, with absolute precision, he had been stuck right among those people. No—stuck at the very end.

…That professor, that devil. May his head go completely bald.

Just the thought of having to deal with Ian, Elga, and Leto was already enough to make him feel choked. On top of that, being tacked on at the very back like “Extra #1” was deeply irritating. Honestly, given who he was now, he ought to have been listed first, or second right after Tisha. Failing that, at least in the middle. Instead he was dead last.

He tried to think positively—at least he was in the same group as Tisha—but the moment his eyes landed on the name “Ian” written next to hers, his chest already felt tight. Group projects demanded cooperation above all else, and that guy was the absolute worst at cooperating.

And then there was the Elga-and-Leto combo, no less stressful. Elga kept sending him those strange looks, stoking Kyle’s sense of dread, while Leto spouted nonsense without the slightest regard for how stifling he himself was. At this point you could reasonably conclude the groups had been drawn up as an experiment to see whether someone would die of rage-sickness.

Think positive. Positive. Right. Ian, Tisha, and I all received recommendation letters from the Margrave of the North. And Elga and Leto—considering the recent improvement in relations between Litorio and John Nassen. Let’s say that’s why he put us together. We’re already acquainted, so get even closer! Embrace our professor’s profound intentions and think positively… like hell. Screw that.

He was heaving sigh after heavy sigh when Tisha’s voice came from behind him. She greeted him, checked the board, and murmured, “Oh, the groups are up?!” Then she saw her own roster, and her expression turned, quite literally, extremely strange.

“….”

You could tell at a glance she was thinking, What kind of group is this supposed to be? First of all, she was stuck with Ian, whom she disliked most—and also with Elga, who was the most awkward person imaginable. The only reason her face did not twist outright was that Kyle was in the same group. If he had not been there, she might well have marched straight to the professor’s office to protest that this was unacceptable.

“The group is… something else.”

Tisha’s mutter carried more than one meaning. Kyle found himself laughing without meaning to.

Yeah. You predicted this was possible. Pretty likely, even.

It was a romance fantasy. And the protagonists of those stories always got tangled up by events. He had not read so much as a page of the original, so he had no idea ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whether each of them successfully paired off in the end. What he did know for certain was that plenty more events like this were scattered all over the place. He had tried to keep his distance so he would not get dragged into this kind of nuisance. Keep his distance, hell—they were so close now he had to start worrying about what came next.

So then—why had the professor assembled the members this way?

Was it as Kyle had guessed: because some of them held recommendation letters from the Margrave of the North, and the other two houses had only just reconciled? Or had the flow of the world itself guided his hand, making him do it without even realizing?

Amusingly enough, neither reason applied.

Why had the professor bound these five into one group and told them to complete the assignment together?

Persons of interest have to be kept together. It’s easier that way.

One was a diligent girl completely obsessed with shamanism. Another was a provocation specialist whose swordsmanship was excellent and whose everything else was failing grades. Then the young lady of a Grand Ducal house that no one short of the Imperial family itself dared to touch, along with her secretary. And last of all, a terrifying monster who could overturn the Academy with a smile.

Better one group has an incident than five ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠groups each having one.

It was the best result the professor had managed after wrapping his head in his hands. The stress of wondering whether he should really form the group this way had nearly given him baldness overnight.