The Club Is Just for Show - 1
This year, the Baking Club had transformed into an organization that was a baking club in name alone.
Granted, it had already been warped enough since the year before last that you could have called it a foot-volleyball club or a chess club without anyone batting an eye—but this year, things had gotten truly extreme.
"Looks like we could spar right now without any issues."
"I want to cross swords before graduation. How many chances does a man get in life to go up against royalty?"
I let out a quiet sigh at Erich and Ryutis's muttering. Ever since Ainter—one of the club's founding heroes—had chosen the path of the sword, those two veterans had been spending overwhelmingly more time outdoors than in the Baking Club room. And now, with a brand-new royal recruit on the scene, their eyes said it all: who cares about baking?
With Erich drifting outside, Sera had naturally taken up outdoor living as well, and Lin was tied down with her own club preparing for the Club Expo. The only people left in the club room were Rory, Trixie, Later, and Tanian.
Even at full strength, the Baking Club had been little more than a gathering of people who just happened to share a room. Now half of them were outside? The club room of Year 79 was no longer a hall of pastry—it was essentially a lounge.
When a group of veterans has been sitting around long enough, the only endgame content left is chatting, I suppose.
Objectively speaking, it couldn't be helped. Gathering in the club room to mess around wasn't a one- or two-day affair, and spending three whole years with the same old lineup was bound to wear thin.
If even a few freshmen had joined the Baking Club this year, things might have been a little different. Or if someone from the Discussion Club Tanian had set up last year had been promoted into the Baking Club, that might have stirred the pot. Fresh blood always brings energy to a stagnant group.
Unfortunately, there had been zero new members this year. Not a single one.
"I did consider elevating a few people into the Baking Club, but they all declined."
It wasn't as though we had deliberately restricted new blood the way we had last year. As Tanian said, we had planned to let a few in—only for the candidates themselves to refuse. Even the Discussion Club mages who had been desperate to meet Trixie even a little more often, to receive even a scrap more of her teaching, had turned us down.
It was unexpected. The same people who had come all the way to the Imperial Academy for Trixie alone were now refusing?
"Last year everyone was still in a state of excitement, but after a full year to cool their heads, reason seems to have returned. It wouldn't do to disturb the composure of the woman who will become their teacher, would it?"
With Tanian's added explanation, I could more or less accept it.
The Baking Club was the place where an imperial royal, a foreign prince, and the next Saint all spent their time—and where my lovers and I gathered as well. It was a group where anyone new would feel awkward barging in. Sera was the exception, thanks to her childhood-friend privilege.
And even if someone did overcome that awkwardness and join, from Trixie's point of view it would simply mean an uninvited guest invading the intimate space she shared with her future husband. Far from receiving her teaching, they'd be lucky not to earn her dislike.
And so the Baking Club had become just… a club. A group that habitually gathered when club time rolled around and spent the hours each doing whatever they felt like.
"Brother! Everyone! Take a short break, then let's go again!"
In the middle of all that, Rory—who had effectively become the president of this "just a club"—threw open a window and called out. The cookies must have been ready.
"Let's head in. Proper rest is part of training too."
"Ah—yes."
I waved back at Rory and started toward the building.
No matter how warped the club had become, our foundation was still cookies. Foundations were foundations.
One way or another, cookies were the root of our club, so we had decided to keep the bakery concept for this year's Club Expo as well.
The differences from last year were that we would not be selling Trixie's special elixir cookies—to preserve their rarity—and that Rory, who had always had stars in her eyes, had offered her opinion with a distinctly lukewarm air.
"I think we should keep it simple this time. There's no real need to go all-out just because it's the Expo."
She had said it with the air of someone who had finally grasped a cold, hard truth.
"No matter how we make them, we'll take first place anyway."
I almost laughed. Honestly, I had thought more than once that the Baking Club could win even if we sold nothing but plain flour—but I never expected Rory herself to arrive at that conclusion.
So she's finally made her peace with the world.
It was funny, and a little bittersweet. The bright, laughing girl who had always been full of passion had evolved over the course of three years.
There were plenty of reasons for that evolution. As the daughter of a baronial house, she had rubbed shoulders with royals and princes; she had even kicked every one of those high-ranking friends at some point; and she had watched the baking club she founded turn into a multi-purpose hangout club with her own eyes. If she still overflowed with passion after all that, it would have been stranger.
And most decisive of all: Rory's heart had already left the Academy. It wasn't that she was sick of the place or disappointed in it—but her heart had definitely moved on.
Her heart is in the Imperial Capital. What can you do?
From last winter break through the start of the new term, Rory had stayed at my mansion in the capital. Even her father, the third of my fathers-in-law, who resided in the Attini Barony, had shown not a trace of resentment about Rory living at my estate—as if he already considered us husband and wife.
And Rory felt the same way. At our stage, we were as good as common-law spouses. We were only holding off on the wedding ceremony because throwing them one after another would exhaust the guests.
So Rory, living at the mansion as one of my future wives, had been able to watch Mar up close—Mar, who had become pregnant the moment she became my official wife. Under those circumstances, how much room could the Academy or the Expo possibly occupy in her mind? She would rather stay at the capital mansion herself and live as my wife, not as an Academy student.
"Um, Brother… do we really need to graduate from the Academy?"
"Yeah. Dad said that if you don't have a diploma, you at least need a mom."
"Ah."
How else would we have ended up having a conversation like that right before the term started?
Of course, Rory had been half-joking, which was why I had answered with a self-destructive line of my own—but the fact that such words had come out at all, even as a joke, said everything about how she felt.
"Well, making things the usual way should be more than enough. It's not like our skills are lacking."
At any rate, Erich nodded in agreement with Rory's suggestion. From the members' perspective, a simplified Expo was more than welcome.
…Hmm.
"Come to think of it."
Erich's perfectly calm face irritated me for no good reason, so I casually opened my mouth.
"I heard Zenobia is coming from the Imperial Diet again this year. If we keep the Expo simple, there'll be plenty of free time—so why not take a nice, cozy stroll through the Expo together?"
"Huh?"
Erich went rigidly still.
Sera alone was already more than he could handle, and now Zenobia was coming too. His chest must have been so full he couldn't even speak.
"That's right—Big Sister said she was coming too."
And Sera, standing right beside him, casually linked her arm through his and beamed.
"If Big Sister comes, the three of us should go around together. She's always so busy—we hardly ever get the chance otherwise."
"Uh, yeah. We should."
Seeing Erich force an awkward smile put my heart at ease.
At this rate, I really might be hearing good news by the end of this year or sometime next year.
Club time ended around dinnertime, but thanks to Trixie's teleportation, we could still eat dinner at the mansion.
And due to everyone's various circumstances, the only people able to join us for dinner at the mansion were me, Mar, and Trixie. Six lovers, and four of them elsewhere—how melancholy was that?
"She really said that?"
"I could hardly believe my own ears. Last year she threw herself into it with a passion that left spectators in awe."
Still, I believed that even if our bodies couldn't always be together, our hearts always were. Even now, Rory's "we'll win first place anyway" remark had become the topic of conversation at the dinner table.
Mar, eyes wide with surprise, and Trixie, vividly recounting the scene, both eventually broke into soft laughter. Even to them, the idea of their pure pink capybara making such a world-weary remark was amusing.
"Then a lot of people are going to be disappointed. Even I thought the sweets we sold last year were spectacular."
"It can't be helped. What to sell is entirely up to the seller."
"Hehe, that's true enough."
Mar giggled at Trixie's reply and tore off a small piece of bread from the table, popping it into her mouth.
That bread, too, was something Rory had made and left behind. Thanks to the preservation magic on it, the mass-produced loaves appeared on the table every day.
"Honestly, I'm a little disappointed myself. Since it's the last Expo, I was expecting something even more extravagant. I suppose I'll just have to content myself with eating the freshly made sweets."
"Yes, freshly made sweets are a treat of their own… hm?"
Trixie, who had been answering casually, trailed off and tilted her head, as if she had sensed something off.
I had felt the same dissonance, so I turned my gaze to Mar.
Eating them fresh?
Strange. It sounded as if she intended to attend the Expo herself and buy them in person.
When I looked at her with that question in my eyes, Mar smiled again and spoke.
"The Expo is open to outsiders as well, so I was planning to atten—"
"No."
I shook my head firmly at those words. Where did a pregnant woman think she was going? A pregnant woman needed nothing more than to stay at the mansion and be looked after.
Besides, the Expo was an event that drew enormous crowds. If Mar went somewhere like that, got exhausted, or—heaven forbid—something happened to her health, I might genuinely break down crying.
"If there's anything you need, I'll bring it for you. I can put a spell on it so it'll still be warm when it arrives."
I tried to dissuade her with complete sincerity. It wasn't as if I lacked money or ability. Whatever my wife wanted, I could bring it to her without the slightest trouble.
"I just want to feel the atmosphere in person. Not as one of the organizers, but as a guest."
But at her wish to enjoy it as a guest, my mouth closed of its own accord.
It was true—Mar had been part of the Student Council, always leading the Expo rather than enjoying it. After three years of hard work, wanting to savor it as a graduate and a guest was more than understandable.
But did it have to be this year? After she gave birth to First Snow, next year…
…
Would next year even be all right?
I seriously wondered. Was there any guarantee that next year's Mar wouldn't be pregnant again?
Next year, Maple would probably be sleeping in Mar's arms. The year after that, Summer. The year after that, Cherry Blossom.
"It's all right, isn't it?"
Looking at Mar's bright smile, I couldn't bring myself to say no.
Saying she couldn't go because she was pregnant was the same as saying she couldn't go because of me.