Love in the Academy - 1
Vacations were meant to be precious time—moments to rest the body and mind after the grind of studies. Unfortunately, this winter break offered no such luxury. It became a season of relentless motion instead.
I had to prepare a gift to celebrate the advisor’s wedding, another to mark Ainter receiving his marquis title, and—because the advisor and Margareta, no, the Countess of Tailglehen, had been beatified—yet another gift for that as well. Duty demanded it. I spent a great deal of the holiday hunting for presents that struck the right balance: appropriate in rank, yet not so extravagant as to burden anyone.
Had the recipients been distant acquaintances, I would have left the matter to the servants. But the advisor, the countess, and Ainter were people I had known for two full years. To treat gifts for them carelessly would have made a mockery of any claim that I poured sincerity into anyone.
“Wedding gifts should be as lavish as possible. When two houses are joined in celebration, a modest present can wound more than it pleases.”
“For the marquis, something light will do. Rumors that the emperor’s younger brother is growing too close to a foreign prince would only trouble both sides. The quality, of course, must still be excellent.”
“Wouldn’t a modest gift suit the beatification better? The Dawn Church shuns luxury. If the Blessed received something too dazzling, it might look… improper.”
Thankfully, Rachel’s counsel gave me a clear standard. Unlike the other attendants, she was an Academy student herself and had seen both the advisor and Ainter with her own eyes. She understood their temperaments and positions, and her advice proved flawless.
“This is more than I deserve. Thank you.”
“Haha, it’s only what one ought to bear. I’ll make good use of it, rest assured.”
In the end both the advisor and Ainter accepted the gifts with open satisfaction. Rachel’s judgment, as always, produced the right result.
So when I returned to the Academy and immediately heard that the Countess of Tailglehen was with child, Rachel was the first person who sprang to mind. Preparing a truly magnificent gift while stuck at the Academy rather than home would be difficult, yet with Rachel’s help I could at least manage something befitting their station.
I felt a twinge of guilt for leaning on her again after all the counsel she had already given during the break, but there was no help for it. One simply does not ignore the pregnancy of an acquaintance.
Huh.
A future in which I troubled Rachel a little more—no, quite a bit more—already shimmered ahead of me. Something told me this would not end with a mere pregnancy gift.
What on earth happened?
The sight of Erich standing stiff as a board, Sera’s arm linked through his, left me unable even to force a hollow laugh. It felt as though I had witnessed something that had no right to exist in this world.
I had known for some time that Sera harbored feelings for him. Everyone in the club knew—everyone except Erich himself. For all I knew, the entire Academy knew. Everyone except Erich.
Yet that same Erich now looked flustered and mortified. The boy who had never possessed so much as a fingernail’s worth of social sense, who used to smile through Sera’s shy touches and tilt his head in confusion at her longing glances, was blushing.
“…By the time the advisor’s child is born, a new wedding will be taking place,” Ryutis remarked.
I could only nod. Looking at the pair before me, I half expected to hear the absurd news of Erich’s marriage within a year or two.
It was bewildering. When I had watched his catastrophic lack of awareness, I had prayed he would finally wake up. Now that he had, my mind refused to accept it.
That guy… getting married.
Judging by the way he still fidgeted, they had not even reached the stage of formal courtship, yet the shock remained the same. The one I had always considered the weakest among us had somehow pulled ahead.
A wave of self-reproach washed over me. Was I… inferior to him?
How did the world come to this?
I meant the lament with all my heart.
After club activities ended, I placed a call to Rachel.
"The Baron of Hardiner, you say?"
A faint note of dismay colored her voice. I nodded with grave solemnity.
“Yes. I think we had better prepare a gift for that fellow in advance as well.”
"Good heavens."
Hearing her murmur in a daze eased something in my chest. So I was not the only one stunned. Anyone who knew Erich even a little would react the same way.
And the self-reproach carved deep inside me began, little by little, to fade. No matter how hard I turned the matter over, I could not picture Erich dramatically seizing social awareness under his own power. In all likelihood the advisor, unable to stand it any longer, had stepped in and forced the awakening.
Yes. That had to be it. People do not change so easily; it simply must have been that.
…Otherwise I really would have become a lesser man than Erich. That, I could not bear.
“Even a guy like that finds a partner…”
A dry laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Whether the advisor had intervened or not, the fact remained: Erich stood on the verge of having a partner. Unlike me—he even had two.
"Your Highness sacrificed yourself for the stability of the royal house and the kingdom. The situation is entirely different from the Baron of Hardiner’s."
She shook her head hurriedly, offering consolation.
She was not wrong. Because of my abilities, whispers occasionally arose that I ought to be made crown prince. Were I to marry the daughter of a great noble house, a formidable base of support would form, and calls for a change in succession would only grow louder.
That was why I had long since pushed people away—those of powerful lineage, those of outstanding talent, those of considerable ambition—one by one, until only the bare minimum of attendants and guards remained. Even that had not felt safe enough, so I had come all the way to the Imperial Academy.
Looking back, I suspected the reason I had fallen for Luise was precisely her station. Marriage to the daughter of an imperial baronial house would exert no influence whatsoever upon Juven.
Though I never expected her to be the Magic Lord’s disciple.
I allowed the corner of my mouth to lift as I looked at Rachel. For the sake of my brother’s succession rights I had pruned every connection, and even in choosing a companion my instincts had selected only the safest option. That was how I had lived: reading the room, keeping my head down.
Yet even I had been unable to cut Rachel away. I simply could not abandon a friend I had known since childhood.
Somehow I managed to keep Rachel at my side.
Fortunately the Sorta family possessed no great prestige, and while Rachel’s abilities were excellent, they did not rise to the level of a once-in-a-generation genius. Thus the bond had endured.
“My Sera, it seems, is you.”
"Pardon?"
Rachel’s body gave a small jolt.
Ah.
Only after seeing her reaction did I realize how easily the words could be misunderstood. I had spoken of Sera as Erich’s childhood friend rather than his sweetheart, the way I had seen her in the club. Rachel, however, had just learned that Erich and Sera stood on the brink of becoming lovers.
“You’re the only person I can call a childhood friend, after all.”
"Ah—yes, of course. I am Your Highness’s only friend."
Not his only friend—his only childhood friend. Ordinary friends I possessed several of, even within the club.
I chose not to correct her. I had only just salvaged an atmosphere that had nearly turned awkward; I could not very well dash it to the floor again—
"Then before long I might become Rachel Ostia."
“What.”
Whether she was exacting revenge for startling her or simply seizing the moment, the sudden counterattack froze me solid.
Ostia. For Rachel to take my family name would mean…
"I’m joking."
“O-of course you are.”
I nodded as naturally as I could manage at her soft chuckle.
I may have stumbled over the words a little, but I chose to believe it had not shown.
Clocking out is, without question, the noblest and most beautiful concept humanity has ever devised.
“Mar!”
The moment I returned to the mansion with Trixie I bolted straight for Mar’s room. The daily privilege of seeing my wife—without teleportation it would have been an unimaginable extravagance.
“Welcome home, Karl. You worked hard again today.”
“Wang!”
Inside, Mar sat perched on the edge of the bed, smiling, while Titi, who had been resting at her feet, leapt up to greet me.
And our child in her belly seemed to offer a greeting of its own. I was certain I saw Mar’s stomach give the tiniest twitch.
Yes. It moved. The important thing was believing it had moved.
“Have you been well? Nothing uncomfortable? Ah—if there’s anything you want to eat—”
“I’m perfectly fine. The staff have been looking after me with the greatest care.”
As she spoke, Mar opened her arms wide, as if to say quiet now and come here.
I gathered her carefully into the embrace those bold, direct signals demanded—chest and face touching, yet never the belly. What if our child felt crushed and uncomfortable under its father?
“Our little one says it wants a hug from Papa too.”
“Then we must oblige.”
I closed the last fraction of distance so that my body met her stomach as well. Already fond of its father’s arms—whether son or daughter, this was clearly a filial child.
“By the way, Karl.”
“Mm. Go ahead. Do you need something?”
“What fetal name shall we give our child?”
My mind went pure white.
“We can’t keep calling it ‘the baby,’ can we? It feels far too careless for our one and only treasure.”
The argument was so persuasive that I nodded on pure instinct.
She was right. Even panting little Titi had a proper name. How could our treasure lack even a fetal name?
“Do you have any name already in mind, Karl?”
“M-me?”
“Yes. You’re the father, after all.”
The arms holding Mar began to tremble, just slightly.
A name. The first name I would give my first child. Only a fetal name, true, yet a beautiful one we would use for the next nine months or so.
What would be good?
Sadly nothing rose to the surface at once. Had the trauma of having my suggestion for Titi’s name ignored recently left a scar?
Still, I owed it every ounce of thought I could muster. Naming the first child’s fetal name was a memory Mar herself must have coveted. She was yielding that memory to me.
Uuuuuum.
Fetal name… first child… fetal name… Karl and Mar’s child…
Fetal name… Karl… Mar…
Ka…
Oh, shit.
I bit my tongue hard and slammed the brakes on that train of thought.
I had come within a hair’s breadth of creating a child who would grow up advocating the redistribution of wealth.