Chapter 11: A Leisurely Cup of Tea
Employees at the Imperial Academy are assigned private dorm rooms. Excluding temporary fillers like me, most are top elites in their fields, so it's only natural they'd get such treatment. But there's one big flaw with this perk. A private room means a room for one. In other words, no busty seniors wandering around shirtless because it's hot, no panties casually tossed aside. A fatal problem, really.
"Ah...."
I sighed, rolling around on the bed. Lately, my dopamine levels had dipped for various reasons, but this made me realize nowhere beat the 2nd Combat Military Band. Even some hazing would have been better, but there wasn't any of that either. Well, truth be told, there wasn't much reason for hazing. I wasn't some parachute drop snatching a lecturer spot... I was basically just a human metronome for training. No need for jealousy or sabotage there.
If anything, Yael Jeffrison was the one people might resent. A mere captain snagging a mandatory class for all first-years. But even she couldn't voice objections lightly. You don't become an academy lecturer as a captain without being a monster. No one would think otherwise.
Yael Jeffrison, Captain. Guardian of the Zhuche Iron Lighthouse. The One Knight Against a Thousand. Sure, the Imperial Army loves hyping up select personnel with propaganda. Even minor feats earn grandiose titles. But even accounting for that, "One Knight Against a Thousand" stood out.
One Against a Hundred, One Knight Against a Thousand, Enemy of Ten Thousand—nicknames unfit for a mage. Not because mages have clear limits preventing such feats... if anything, the opposite. With proper support, a mage can take on an army. Sweeping away a thousand foes with a spell doesn't earn you "One Knight Against a Thousand." Plenty of mages achieve similar results, so it's unremarkable. Like calling a Korean fluent in Korean—exaggerated, sure, but par for the course.
But dubbing a Korean a "Korean language expert"? That implies mastery beyond native level, like a linguist specializing in it. Same with Yael. Mages can handle thousands with support. Her title means she did it alone, without any. Recreating that middle-aged dog-loving Jesus movie in real life? Who'd argue?
No one sane flips off a walking John Mori. And academy professor-officers aren't idiots. Wait, does Mr. Wick even walk? Anyway.
I chuckled at the silly thoughts, hauling myself up with a wince. Couldn't stay cooped up forever. Back home, I preferred holing up on days off. But this world changed that. No computers, no phones. Indoor options? Bodyweight exercises or reading—both get old fast. The band at least guaranteed dopamine via seniors, but here? Solo room, no dice.
I stripped off my pajamas and stood before the full-length mirror. Slightly dark skin wrapped in pristine white underwear. From my angle, the bra-supported chest was impressively sized. Ironic, given this world's high averages—this barely topped them. Whatever, it's for me. I admired my poses before swiftly donning my uniform.
Smoothing the fabric, topping it with my cap. The mirror showed perfection—no wrinkles, no stains, full FM. Seniors had teased me about overdressing, but... wasn't wasting this figure a sin?
I twirled in the uniform, admiring. Damn, three years in and still gorgeous. Nodding satisfaction, I grabbed my cane from beside the door.
Alright, where to today?
Nearly a week in this dorm, and I'd frequented the training grounds most. The academy bred elite knights; lecturers were mostly knight alumni or superhumans qualified as such. Few skipped training, especially martial knights—"warriors," not mages. Even pre-semester, staff dotted the grounds.
What did that mean? Eye candy of sweaty sisters! Not just pretty ones, either. Academy faculty are military but not a formal unit, so uniforms only for lectures/official duties. Casual wear otherwise, especially workouts. Thick clothes for exercise? Rare. Yesterday, someone lapped the field in dolphin pants and a clinging tank top.
Who wouldn't visit often? In an entertainment-scarce world, spectacles matter. But today... not feeling it. Even favorite foods get boring sometimes.
Eh, stroll and hit a cafe.
Decision made quick. A cafe nearby targeted staff and students. Tried it once—cakes were divine. I headed out, cane tapping rhythmically with my steps.
Trees lined the path, early spring flowers dotting beds. More open than officer or band schools, akin to my past life's campuses. It honed individual strengths, not uniform soldiers—hence the freedom. Students could outing freely (though curfews barred overnights). Not vibrant, but not barren. A few women about; they bowed spotting my uniform, assuming professor—fair enough for staff.
Semester a week off, but many students had arrived early. Traffic lags behind Earth, so buffers were smart.
"Hm?"
En route to the cafe, I spotted someone unexpected. Blue hair in a side ponytail. She was opening the door, saw me, and turned. Deep pink eyes widened slightly.
"Lieutenant Konstantia?"
"Captain."
Yael Jeffrison, Captain. New professor for my trainee classes, the first-year one. First meet since greeting the dean days ago.
"I never imagined running into you like this, Lieutenant. What a coincidence."
Ah, shall we head in first? I nodded at her murmur.
"On a day off, yet in uniform."
"I'm military."
"Mm, I can't keep up with you, Lieutenant. I should try harder to emulate you."
"...That wasn't my intent."
I rushed to add as she gave a wry smile. Realized too late: she's military too; phrasing was off. Not deliberate, and she got it, but it could twist to "You're one slacking soldier, huh?"
Why uniform here? Simple.
Ditch it, and I'm just a lieutenant—no babying excuse.
No one treats me as such now, but 0.00001% vs. 0%? Different odds.
"What'll it be?"
"Ah, one shaken iced coffee, please. And you, Lieutenant?"
"Same as last time for the drink."
A male server approached—white shirt under calm vest. Targeting lonely female students? I glanced at Yael amid idle thoughts.
"Yes, coffee diluted with water?"
"Yes, please."
"...?"
"...Personal taste. I'd appreciate your respect."
She stared like I'd seen a ghost. I cleared my throat defensively. Seriously, baffling. Shaken iced exists, but no Americano—just add water? I don't mind disdain from beauties, but not "crazy eater" vibes.
Like begging a masochist partner for insults, then getting "pervert" thrown in—wrong scale.
"Ah, yes...."
Awkward nod from Yael. No direct jab, but eyes screamed incomprehension. Past me would've shared that view. Same reaction my first time here, other cafes on outings too.
"Dilute the coffee with water, please."
"Uh, sure. Lighter roast?"
"Mm... 1-to-8 ratio."
"...Heavy on coffee?"
"Eight times the water."
...Yeah, violent-sounding ratio on reflection. I magnanimously forgave Yael's judgment. I'm the weirdo here. Own it.
Shrugging it off, I finished ordering.
"Any fresh-baked cakes?"
"Uh... chocolate and whipped cream."
"Strawberry, whole one."
Three seconds flat.
"Isn't one whole cake too much for two, Lieutenant? Meal time soon...."
"Two? What do you mean?"
"Pardon?"
"Won't Captain Jeffrison want a side treat?"
We blinked at each other.
"...You're eating a whole cake?"
"Ah... I have a hidden gluttony."
"...Ah."
She nodded, seemingly convinced—but shadowed expression, like stepping on a landmine.
This world's food output lags Earth, breeding gluttons easily. Black Knight of Famine still active; starvation trauma common. Konstantia House isn't starving, though—she knows that. Hence the sensitivity. Frontline soldier starving? No light topic.
Never seriously starved myself! Band always fed well. But no correcting her.
Can't say "I sold a kidney back home for strict dieting."
"So the coffee dilution too...."
"...That's truly my taste."
"Yes, noted."
"...."
Even eyed my served Americano pitifully. How traumatic was poverty? That gaze said.
...Kinda pissed me off. What's wrong with Americano? Anyway, we chatted casually across the table. Both academy newbies, same classes—plenty to discuss.
"Hm?"
"Lieutenant? Something wrong?"
"No. Just looks like a newbie."
I glanced outside. Girl with map in hand, huge backpack, peering around as she passed the cafe.
"Ah, definitely."
Yael turned, nodded. Hard for me to gauge ages here, but her reaction confirmed student-age by local standards.
"About time for arrivals. Map means freshman, not returning."
We didn't dwell. Coincidental sighting, not special. Back at academy post-tea? Newbies everywhere.
"...Isn't that the same student?"
"Student...? Ah, yes."
"Seems a bit lost. Paths here are tricky."
Second appearance same spot... mildly concerning. But she passed quick again.
"...Hm."
"...Hopeless sense of direction."
Third loop. Now it's obvious. Circling like a pro.
"...."
"...."
Post-disappearance, we kept peeking. How ignore?
"...I'll escort her to the academy."
"...Yes, go ahead."
Fourth lap, I was already standing. Yael nodded approval.