Unwanted Gathering of Protagonists - 2

I had all but shelved any concrete plan for monitoring the six persons of interest, collapsed onto the bed, and promptly fallen asleep. After being worked over at the Ministry of Finance and then rattled around inside a carriage, simply lying alone in an empty room felt impossibly comfortable. Beds are not furniture—they are magic. And so the morning of my second day of Academy assignment dawned.

Of course, sleep did not magically produce a method that had not existed before. Even with my eyes open, I still had no surveillance plan. The absurd thought even flickered through my mind of simply marching straight up to the three kingdoms’ people and saying, “Look, we all know the score here—how about you just turn a blind eye a little?”

Should I just go full crazy and charge in?

But if I did that, the Minister and the Foreign Minister would cheerfully join forces to tear me limb from limb, so I abandoned the idea. Having even a scrap of operational guidelines would have made life easier, yet this sort of situation would first have needed a precedent to exist.

After scratching my head a few fruitless times, I decided to report to the main building for the day. If I watched how the Academy actually ran from there, maybe some method would suggest itself. And even if only for form’s sake, I needed to make a show of inspecting. As an inspector, if I performed no inspection, I had no justification for remaining stationed at the Academy.

With that dutiful resolve I stepped into the main building—and a splash of pink immediately caught my eye.

What’s she doing here?

A pink-haired girl trudging along with listless footsteps: Luise. First period was about to begin, as far as I knew, so what business did she have all the way at the main building?

“Luise.”

After a brief hesitation I called out to her. On the first day I had avoided her under the weight of everything, but I needed to establish some surface familiarity with Luise if my work was going to go smoothly. Those multinational nuisances would flock to her side on their own even if I did nothing. Securing even a modest degree of closeness with her would therefore make half the job easier. Fortunately a connection already existed: I was the older brother of her friend.

On second thought, that was not particularly fortunate. Damn you, Erich, you hopeless fool.

At the sound of her name Luise turned. The moment she recognized me, the drained look on her face filled with life again. She scampered over and bowed her head. This girl really was a good person.

“Hello, Karl Oppa!”

Definitely good. I nodded and let my gaze drift to the paper she was holding. Hmm. So that was why she had come all the way to the main building. Since we had simply run into each other, I opened my mouth as if pleased to see her.

“Seeing you again after only a day. But what brings you all the way to the main building?”

“I’m trying to start a club. I was looking for a teacher who would serve as advisor.”

“A club?”

My eyes returned to the paper that had first drawn my attention. She was cradling it so carefully—was it an application? Catching the direction of my gaze, she thrust the form toward me with a cheerful “This is the application form!” There was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠really no need to hand it to me of all people.

“May I take a look?”

“Of course!”

If she was fine with it, fine. Honestly I was a little curious what sort of club the original protagonist would found herself. The name was the Baking Club—perfectly ordinary. The stated purpose: to bake snacks that would soothe the minds and bodies of students worn out by their studies. A solid enough reason.

Club members: Luise Naiad, naturally the president. Second: Erich Crassius—exactly as expected. And the third…

Already locked in as number two?

Third Prince Ainter Libnoman. The instant I saw the name I squeezed my eyes shut. I had spotted him near Luise yesterday and half-suspected, yet I had not imagined he was already occupying the second slot. No third yet? Since the list ended with the Third Prince, probably not.

I looked at Luise with a mixture of gloom and reluctant awe. Barely ten days had passed since enrollment. And yet she had already enchanted a prince she would never have encountered in her entire life—and not just any prince, but the Third Prince, famous for his masterful social maneuvering.

“W-well. It’s a nice club.”

Having nothing better to say, I handed the application back. Even that mild praise only earned a dejected reply from Luise.

“But since yesterday, no one will agree to be the advisor…”

Of course they won’t.

Who in their right mind would willingly advise a club that already contained a prince? With luck you might catch his eye, but one small misstep and no one could guarantee what would follow. It was the equivalent of staking your entire life on a gacha whose rates had never been published. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The moment you accepted the advisor position was the moment “advisor” turned into “torture” in an entirely different sense of the word.

Of course, none of that applied to me. I had already butted heads with members of the imperial family on official business more than once; feeling intimidated by the Third Prince at this late stage was simply not an option. I had come here to monitor them—what good would it do if the monitor flinched from the monitored?

Advisor, huh.

I had needed a legitimate pretext to approach the persons of interest anyway. If Luise simply founded the club, the ones I had not yet seen would naturally start gathering around it, and all I would have to do was keep a focused eye on that single club. Whether I was even allowed to serve as advisor remained an open question, but I would have to check with the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠principal.

I soothed the still-grumbling Luise by suggesting that if she kept looking a little longer ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠someone was bound to step forward, then sent her on her way. Of course no one would. Not until the absolute last moment, when some unfortunate soul was drafted as the sacrificial lamb.

It was only right that I step in before that pitiful sacrifice was born. Luise would be happy to have her club, the faculty would be happy to have dodged the bomb, and I would be happy to conduct perfectly legal surveillance. Was this what they meant by the greatest happiness for the greatest number?

“An advisor?”

The principal reacted as though he had just heard something completely unexpected. I understood. I myself had never imagined that coming all this way would end with me becoming a club advisor.

“Would it be possible?”

“Well… there is no precedent, you see…”

The principal stroked his long beard with a troubled expression. The absence of precedent was only natural. I would have been more surprised if one had existed. What kind of idiot would pin on an inspector’s badge and then volunteer to become a club advisor? It was regrettable that I was about to become Idiot Number One.

Still, it was a request from the inspector, and the principal was well aware of the faculty’s frantic game of hot-potato with the bomb named Third Prince. After a moment’s thought he nodded.

“I will examine the regulations. If it looks feasible, I will inform you.”

“Sorry for making such a request, Principal.”

“Haha. It’s quite all right.”

And, to my surprise, a solution appeared within a single hour. The vice principal, cold sweat beading on his brow, was the one who had found it.

“Looking at the inspector’s authority, it is explicitly stated that an inspector may involve himself in Academy affairs. The power was granted so that any work showing signs of illegal funding could be overturned.”

The vice principal explained while producing a thin booklet. The essence was this: the authority allowing an inspector to involve himself in Academy business could be stretched to cover clubs, which were themselves one of the Academy’s affairs.

“Frankly it is a rather convenient interpretation, but since there is no clause that fundamentally prohibits an inspector from intervening in clubs, the argument can be made.”

“It feels like rather too much of a stretch. Will it be all right?”

“There is no other way.”

The vice principal’s gaze carried a faint edge of resentment that said, Weren’t you the one who wanted to be the club advisor? Yes… that had been me. In the end we decided to proceed exactly as the vice principal had outlined. It was a self-serving reading of the rules, true, yet it was equally true that no other workable solution existed.

I also asked the principal to casually sound out the three kingdoms’ forces currently stationed at the Academy. An inspector who was already an object of caution suddenly pulling the eccentric stunt of becoming a club advisor would naturally put them on edge. I felt a twinge of guilt for treating the principal like a deputy chief of staff, but it was all for the greater good; he would understand.

Fortunately the replies were mild.

In that order: Armein Kingdom, Uven Alliance, Holy Kingdom. The fact that an imperial inspector was now stationed at the Academy the same way they themselves were had already become a given; they clearly calculated that there was no profit in picking a fight over something this odd. Even if they clenched their teeth and opposed the inspector’s advisor appointment, the three kingdoms stood to gain nothing.

On the contrary, starting off by souring relations with the Empire would be pure loss. Better, then, to take one step back now and later—when the three kingdoms themselves needed to push some forced interpretation—remind the Empire of this very concession. Their calculation was not wrong.

If they had known their own key personnel would join the club, they would have opposed it with everything they had.

At present the club had three members, all Empire citizens. But soon personnel from Armein, Uven, and the Holy Kingdom would begin joining one after another. I almost felt sorry in advance for how thoroughly the three kingdoms’ forces would lose their minds when that happened.

“Poor things…”

No matter how much they were described as key combat power for escorting important persons, at root they too were nothing more than pitiful middle managers who simply rolled wherever the people above them pointed. A sense of kinship rose from deep inside me and I closed my eyes without meaning to. It felt uncomfortable, as though I had just unintentionally screwed over a fellow mid-level administrator.

But what choice did I have? I had to survive first. Worrying about others was a luxury only available when one had room to spare. If they hated it that much, they could always bring over a transmigrator of their own. If they happened to have one, that is.

And so my appointment as “Baking Club Advisor” passed with everyone’s consent. When lunchtime arrived I approached Luise, who was still wandering in search of an advisor, and informed her that I would take the role. Her eyes went round as saucers, then she broke into a bright smile that was genuinely cute. After looking at nothing but that dense younger brother of mine, the feeling was a lot like suddenly acquiring a little sister.