Final Semester - 2
Sniffle... It was delicious. A tofu cake after work always is.
Why does this taste so good?
No matter how many times I ate it, the reality was too bitter to accept, and a hollow laugh slipped out of me. It was irritating for no good reason. This food was trauma itself—yet somehow, uselessly, it tasted amazing.
"It's not bad. The texture is soft, and the flavor is nice and nutty. Even if you aren't pregnant, it's more than worth enjoying."
And it wasn't just my take. It was Trixie's as well.
Which only made me want to lose my mind even more. Just as I flinched at the sight of tofu cake, Trixie had never been particularly fond of tofu as an ingredient either. She knew full well about the tear-soaked tofu binge her husband had put on after consecutive house arrest and detention.
And yet even Trixie was diligently working through a tofu cake, her expression sour while her hands betrayed her completely.
I admit it, Ryutis. You really did give the perfect gift.
"Tofu cake, huh. It's cake in name only—the process looks simple enough. Should we try making it ourselves?"
"If the Second Lady likes it, of course we should."
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Chef and the rest of the kitchen staff whispering among themselves in the corner. The lady of the house, carrying triplets no less, had found a food she enjoyed—so as cooks, they seemed to be making a solemn vow to master it completely.
As an employer, it was a beautiful sight that made me swell with pride all on its own. But the thought that the result of that vow would be the mass production of tofu cake nearly brought tears to my eyes.
Ryutis has poisoned the mansion.
You damn Armein plant. This house is already overwhelmed enough with the half-rings I handed out myself.
"Wow, it's actually really good?"
"And depending on which beans you use, the taste and texture could go in all kinds of directions."
At the admiring reviews that followed from Rory and Lin, I closed my eyes in grim resignation.
A gift from a prince really was on another level. I never imagined it would win over everyone's palate.
"Karl, are you all right?"
My back must have looked pathetic, because Mar patted my shoulder with a worried expression. It wasn't much comfort.
I'd just watched Mar—who lately had been eating mostly fruit—dig into a tofu cake with sparkling eyes.
"Of course I'm fine. Next time I have no appetite, I can just eat that."
On the outside, of course, I spoke as if I were perfectly calm. If anyone was at fault, it was Ryutis for gifting a trauma-soaked food in the first place—not Mar for eating a present from a foreign prince.
If you traced the root of the problem, the one who'd gotten himself put under house arrest and detention was me... but I deliberately ignored that.
I did not want to admit that the guilt lay with me rather than Ryutis.
There is a demonic power in the words final semester.
"So this will be the last time we get to see the flowers blooming at the Academy."
Even Villar, the textbook example of a stiff, blunt knight, had been so taken by the atmosphere of a final semester that he'd turned into a sentimental man.
Fair enough.
Given the Villar I knew, it should have been shocking—but I accepted it quickly enough.
Villar and I had both been dispatched to clean up after the antics of important people. But unlike me, who was on domestic assignment, Villar had been sent not merely to a foreign country but to a rival nation that had once been a potential enemy. The mental strain on him had to have been far worse than mine.
And in the middle of that nightmare, the Empire and Armein—once potential enemies—had forged friendly relations. His unplanned foreign posting would end with this semester. Anyone with even a speck of feeling left would see the whole world as beautiful.
"Anyone can enroll in the Academy, but no matter who you are, you only get three years to enjoy its beauty. Anything beyond that is reserved for the faculty—so shouldn't you and I, Sir Villar, step aside?"
"Quite right. Lingering any longer to savor the atmosphere would only be a nuisance."
I played along with the misty-eyed Villar, and he nodded with a faint smile.
That man was only saying it for show. If I actually asked something like, "Then would you like to stay a little longer?" he might slap me across the face. Even in the military, when discharge day draws near, people get strangely sentimental—but nobody ever postpones their discharge. They're not insane.
"That aside, you've spent three years at the Academy, Sir Villar. I can't help thinking we ought to give you an honorary diploma at least."
"Just hearing that makes my heart race. Receiving a diploma from the continent's foremost educational institution would give me something new to brag about."
Villar let out a short laugh at the proposal I'd casually tossed out. He probably thought it was nothing more than a joke.
It's not a joke.
Unfortunately for him, the talk of an honorary diploma was entirely serious. Right after the opening ceremony, the matter had come straight from the principal's own mouth—no one else's.
"Though these people came to the Academy through circumstances no one could have predicted, over the years they have also helped maintain order and support our events. Drawing a line and calling them outsiders no longer fits people who have grown this close to us."
To put it bluntly: These folks have worked hard, so let's at least give them a business card.
It didn't cost any money, but it was a fitting reward that still showed honor and goodwill. This was the Imperial Academy, whose prestige had skyrocketed after Trixie came as a guest lecturer and I became the continent's greatest swordsman. An honorary diploma from a place like that would be more than enough to brag about.
"If it were up to me, I'd give one to the Minister as well—but since you came under the clear title of auditor, that makes things difficult."
"It's fine. Not having a diploma doesn't erase the memories I made at the Academy."
I was absolutely not saying that because I couldn't get one myself.
Right. I don't need something like an honorary diploma. Even if the husband has no honors, the wives all have the real thing.
...Phine doesn't, though.
Come to think of it, of my six lovers, Phine was the only one with no Academy experience.
Ah.
I was losing it. I knew I shouldn't, but the fact that I had a partner in the same boat as me flooded me with sudden peace. My internal sense of closeness toward Phine doubled on the spot.
I really shouldn't be bonding over something like this.
Sorry for being such a lousy partner, Phine.
I stared up at the ceiling with my mouth hanging open in a daze.
I'm... so tired... Unnie... please save me...
"Chair, you're going to start drooling."
"If drool soaks these documents... can I take a break...?"
"Then you'll just get the extra work of rewriting them."
"Ueeeeeeh..."
Gueeeeeeeeh...!
"Come on, pick up your pen again. If processing falls behind, you're the one who suffers, Chair."
At my cold junior's merciless prodding, I took up the pen again with tears in my eyes.
It's hard. Being Head of the Disciplinary Committee is too hard and too heavy!
I thought the Disciplinary Committee would have nothing to do with using my brain.
I muttered the complaint I could never voice out loud and forced myself to start reading the documents.
In truth, ordinary committee members really did have nothing to do with using their heads. As a first-year, you just did whatever the seniors told you, and even as a second-year you only helped carry out the Head's orders. Up through last year, life on the Disciplinary Committee had been easy and fun.
But this year, the moment I became the Head of the Disciplinary Committee—something I'd never even wanted in my dreams—everything twisted out of shape.
Why am I the Head?
I nearly teared up from the sheer unfairness of it. I hadn't even been on the committee since enrollment, and I couldn't understand why a commoner like me had been put in the Chair's seat. I was grateful that the others thought well of me, but if this was the price, maybe being a little disliked wouldn't have been so bad.
—If you're Head of the Disciplinary Committee, you'll definitely get a letter of recommendation! Don't run away or slack off—work hard!
Still, the reason I was hanging on in this position wasn't complicated. Amelia unnie wanted it.
My unnie, who graduated last year—my amazing unnie, who took a letter of recommendation and went off to a place called Wiridia.
—If you follow your aptitude and go into the military side, at least you won't have to suffer using your head...
And my poor unnie, who always looked like she was dying no matter what work she was doing...
That wretched sight was exactly why I clenched my teeth and held on even harder. Sure, as Head of the committee I had to use my brain as the one responsible for the whole department—but after graduation I could go back to a job that used my body instead. I couldn't live like unnie did.
What on earth is going on over there?
While reading the documents, I briefly recalled unnie's haggard face. I vaguely remembered her saying something about wild horses and breeding once, but I didn't know the details. Honestly, I'd heard it—I just hadn't understood it.
She does seem to be doing well, though.
Fortunately, despite the worn-out complexion, unnie seemed to be getting by fine. The work was hard, but the rewards and sense of fulfillment were supposed to match it, or something?
Come to think of it, she was working in the territory of the man who was practically our sisters' benefactor—the Audit Department—no, His Excellency the Minister. The Minister wasn't the kind of person who would abuse his subordinates or make them do anything strange. Yeah.
Should I go to Wiridia too?
I spun my pen between my fingers and thought about my path after graduation. My younger siblings were already living in the house unnie had set up in Wiridia, so if I worked there too, the whole family would be in the same place.
I'd planned to join the Audit Department after graduation to repay the Minister's kindness—but if Wiridia was the Minister's territory, wasn't working there a way of repaying him as well? Obviously it wo—
"Chair. Why did your eyes stop moving?"
"Ah."
After that, I got scolded for more than ten minutes.
It was so unfair. I needed to graduate already so I could go back to being the cute youngest instead of the Chair who got yelled at by her juniors.
Hm?
Shedding yet another of who-knows-how-many tears of the heart, I picked up the next document—and something distinctly ominous caught my eye.
Uuuuhh?
The content was so ominous I checked it several times.
Maintaining order? Hadn't we already assigned a budget and personnel for that? And now, out of nowhere, an emergency budget?
"Hey, hey—Katlea."
"Yeees, Chair."
Unable to make sense of it, I called the one person who might know. Katlea, who had been processing other documents for me, turned her head.
"What is this?"
At the blunt question, Katlea's brow furrowed slightly before smoothing out again.
"Ah, that."
After checking the document in my hands, Katlea nodded and went on.
"This year's Class Tournament is the last one the seniors from other countries will get to enjoy, right? So they were all fired up about absolutely winning this time. It's on a completely different level from last year or the year before, so the Disciplinary Committee's role has gotten a lot heavier."
"Aaah."
The moment I heard that, I seriously considered it.
Dropping out of the Academy might not be such a bad option after all.