The Transmigrator's Survival Guide (Original Unknown) - 3
There are days when coincidences stack one atop another with almost spiteful precision. Irina, who always walked to school with Luise, had caught a spring cold and gone straight to the infirmary. Erich, for his part, had headed in early for a meeting with the swordsmanship instructor. The rest of their friends had scattered to their own errands, so the path that was usually crowded with company felt strangely empty for Luise today.
For a girl who walked alone far less often than she walked with others, the solitude was a little unfamiliar—yet she could not deny that, every now and then, she rather liked the idea of strolling at her own unhurried pace. Even a road she knew by heart took on a fresh flavor when she walked it by herself.
Luise let the morning breeze brush her cheeks and paused now and then to admire the flowers in the beds, her steps light. Once she reached the classroom, Erich would already be back from his meeting to greet her. When Irina returned from the infirmary she would ask how she felt. And so the day would begin.
That was how it would have gone, if not for the unfamiliar voice that suddenly called her name.
"Young Lady Luise?"
Luise turned toward the voice she had never heard before. Wavy red hair fell to the speaker's waist; between half-lidded eyes, green irises glittered. The girl hid the lower half of her face behind a red folding fan, and she carried herself with the easy assurance of someone accustomed to standing above others—chin tilted just slightly as she looked down at Luise.
"You are Luise of House Naiad, are you not?"
The words were framed as a question, yet the certainty underneath them rang clear. The girl's voice carried, pure and ringing.
"Yes, that's right. I'm Luise Naiad."
Even if the approach had been abrupt, ignoring it would have been rude. Luise offered a light bow and introduced herself; the other girl accepted the greeting and spoke in turn.
"I am Margeta Barenti, Vice President of the Student Council—and your senior by a year."
Luise's eyes widened. Barenti: one of the Empire's five ducal houses, the house of the Iron Blood Duke. Margeta was the late-born youngest daughter the duke had doted upon in his later years—so late, in fact, that the duke already had a grandson older than she was. A precious jewel raised with every care.
"My greetings to Lady Margeta."
This time Luise bent at the waist properly. In the Empire the prestige of a duke stood just below the imperial family itself. Five such houses might share that lofty height, yet none of them lost an ounce of authority because of it.
Margeta watched the bow, then gave a small shake of her head.
"There is no need for that, Young Lady Luise. Within the Academy every student stands on equal footing as a learner. I am merely one of your many seniors."
"Y-yes. Of course, Senior."
Of course, three years at the Academy were a drop compared with the decades that followed graduation, so no one ever took such words entirely at face value. Even Luise—surrounded as she was by imperial princes, foreign royalty, and a saint candidate—understood that much. If anything, the girl standing before her might be more intimidating than any of her clubmates.
A powerless third prince, friends who would simply return to their own countries after graduation—those she could manage. But the pampered jewel of a ducal house could make most noble families tremble with a single gesture.
Perhaps sensing the fine tremor of tension running through Luise, Margeta smiled with her eyes.
"There is something I would like to say to you. Might I have a moment of your time?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you, Young Lady."
Faced with a duke's daughter whose gaze said she would invent free time if none existed, what young lady would dare refuse? Luise quietly followed in Margeta's wake.
The farther we walked into quieter corners of the grounds, the more my body shook—so hard I half wondered how much more it could take. When someone with whom you have no connection, someone who would never even notice you outside these Academy walls, suddenly addresses you from so far above, it is a frightening thing.
I had already lived through the experience four times—with Ainter, Ryutis, Later, and Tanian—yet the feeling never grew familiar.
No. It will be all right.
Those four meetings had begun stiff with tension too, and now we laughed together in the same club. So this, too, might pass without disaster. Yes. That would be it. I had never done anything to offend Lady Margeta.
Then she stopped, turned, and spoke a single sentence.
"Young Lady Luise, you need to exercise more restraint."
Ah. So there had been something. Somewhere, without realizing it, I must have stepped on her toes.
Under the cold gaze of someone so high above me—something I had never faced before—my head dropped of its own accord. Even so, I could still feel that chill resting on the crown of my head.
"This year the Academy has experienced something unprecedented. I trust you know what I mean?"
"Y-yes…"
What followed was simple enough. Foreign dignitaries of the highest rank had enrolled—an event without precedent. In a situation that demanded the utmost caution and greater distance from such figures, I had done the opposite: under the pretext of sharing a club, I had drawn closer still.
For a girl of imperial blue blood who ought to be prudent, and for a young lady who ought to uphold her dignity, the choice had been improper.
My vision blurred a little. The whole situation was simply terrifying, and somewhere underneath it felt unfair as well. Was it truly so wrong to enjoy a club together? Was it so wrong to keep company with children who had come from other lands and had no friends at the Academy?
I had only wanted to laugh with children who looked lonely. To share sweets and grow closer, that was all.
"Young Lady Luise. Do you understand what I have said?"
Having finished, she called my name. I lifted my head, barely holding back the tears that threatened to spill. I was frightened, but I could not simply retreat. If I admitted fault here, I would have to part ways with the others.
I steeled myself and opened my mouth—only to catch sight of a familiar figure approaching behind her.
Karl oppa!
The moment I saw him the tension drained out of me, and before I knew it I was smiling brightly. Lady Margeta frowned at my sudden change of expression, then turned to look—
"Oh my. Young Master Karl. It has been some time, hasn't it?"
In that instant the cold mask she had worn since the moment we met seemed to melt away.
I had half suspected, but it really was Lady Margeta. I had heard she enrolled last year, yet I never expected to run into her here.
"It has been a while, Lady Margeta. I trust you have been well?"
I inclined my head in greeting, but Margeta merely folded the fan that had covered her mouth and stared straight into my eyes without a word. What? Why the silence?
"Lady Margeta?"
Still nothing. She tapped the closed fan lightly against her cheek as if something displeased her and refused to speak.
…Ah.
"Mar. Have you been well?"
I let out a quiet sigh. Only then did Margeta smile and finally open her mouth. A hard mouth to pry open, that one…
"I have, Young Master Karl. Father mentioned it, but seeing you at the Academy truly is a pleasant surprise."
"I never imagined we would meet here either. I trust His Grace the Duke is in good health?"
"He has been living in seclusion since last year. It seems the proposal he made with such great resolve was rejected out of hand, and the disappointment still weighs on him."
"That is unfortunate news."
"Heehee. Isn't it? I do wish Young Master Karl would go and soothe Father's heart."
"I shall visit him in spirit."
She made the absurd request with a perfectly straight face; I quietly shook my head. Soothe him? If I actually set foot in the Iron Blood Duke's house I would be treated to a German suplex on the spot. The man might be the oldest duke alive, yet he was still spry enough to put most young men to shame.
I turned my eyes from the softly laughing Margeta and looked at Luise. Her eyes were brimming; one poke and the tears would spill. She was forcing an awkward smile. Ah. She must have taken quite a scolding.
"By the way, what business did you have with Young Lady Luise?"
"I was offering a senior's advice."
It did not sound like simple advice, but I could hardly press further, so I let it go. Digging deeper would only lengthen the conversation.
When I showed no intention of prying, Margeta opened her fan again and hid her mouth. Come to think of it, I was sure I had seen that same fan last year. Did she truly carry it everywhere?
"Well then, I shall take my leave. Until next time, Young Master Karl."
And with that she left without the slightest lingering regret. She had appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as suddenly.
As I watched her retreating figure, Luise tugged lightly at my sleeve from behind. Right—I should have comforted her first. I had gotten distracted.
When I turned, Luise looked up at me with still-damp eyes. Fair enough. A sudden pressure interview from a duke's daughter would rattle anyone. She might already spend her days with princes and the like, but those boys were hopeless soft touches where she was concerned; they had done nothing to thicken her skin for moments like this.
"You all right? What did she say to put that look on your face?"
"It was just advice…"
"You really need to learn how to lie better."
Luise rolled her eyes, fretting, opened and closed her mouth a few times, then finally confessed the whole truth. Hmmmm.
She's not wrong.
I felt sorry for Luise, but Margeta's words were not entirely off the mark. If anything, they were genuine advice. Had Luise not been the one-in-a-million case of the original protagonist, I would have thought the same way myself.
Caught between defending Luise and agreeing with Margeta, I simply patted the girl's shoulder and offered my handkerchief. The careful way she accepted it and wiped her tears looked thoroughly pitiful.
While I watched her, my lips stayed sealed but my mind spun at full speed.
Doesn't seem like a villainess, at least.
The instant I saw Luise getting verbally threshed by Margeta, the thought had flashed through my head: Is Margeta the villainess? Romance fantasies usually have one, or so I hear. I had not been an avid reader of the genre before I transmigrated, so I was no expert, but I briefly wondered whether this original work followed the pattern.
Yet Margeta failed every villainess checklist. She was neither secretly in love with the five boys who doted on Luise nor engaged to any of them, and she had not picked a one-sided fight. Just now she had truly spoken as a senior and an imperial duke's daughter offering counsel.
Right—there were already five outside organizations gunning to tear the Academy apart. Having a villainess inside as well would be ridiculous. The original author seemed to possess at least a minimum of decency. Good to know the Academy itself should stay quiet.
Relieved on that score, I found Luise carefully speaking up.
"Um, Oppa… do you know Lady Margeta?"
You two seemed close, she added softly. I shook my head firmly. Close? Hardly. We had crossed paths by chance, nothing more.
"We had some business last year. We're not close."
"But she allowed the nickname 'Mar'…"
"I have no idea why she does that either."
When a duke's daughter insists, you comply. Ruining relations with an entire ducal house over a form of address would be the height of stupidity.
In truth I had only accepted her persistent request for the nickname because I never expected to utter it again. After I rejected the Iron Blood Duke's marriage proposal involving Margeta last year, I had assumed our paths would never cross for the rest of our lives.
I thought that was the end of it—yet here we are again. Human affairs really do leave no more than an inch of foresight.