The Klein Twins
Once swordsmanship class ended, the kids in my class started glancing at one another, then drifted over one by one to strike up conversation.
Most exchanged a greeting or two, traded names, and headed back to their seats. A few, though, stuck around longer.
"Hey, hey—you're crazy strong, huh?"
The girl standing in front of me right now was one of those few.
Red hair, ridiculously small frame. I'd already shrunk when I became a girl, and Celian was a touch shorter than me—but the girl before me was a full handspan smaller still. Out on the street you'd have sworn she was younger than us.
"Ah, thank you."
I answered with careful politeness. She burst into a peal of laughter and started smacking my shoulder.
"What? Formal speech with a friend? Just talk normal! You're giving me goosebumps, girl."
"Yes—wait. Yeah."
Truth was, the noble-lady diction still felt like a foreign language in my mouth. Having someone I could speak casually with was a genuine relief.
Though I really wished she'd stop whacking my shoulder. My senses were hypersensitive now; every slap made the skin protest. It had to be turning red already.
"You violent little brat. Fix that habit already, seriously."
The one who caught her hand and stopped the assault was the boy standing beside her.
Same red hair as the girl, but the build couldn't have been more different. Where she was smaller than her peers, he stood a full head taller than I'd been as a man—taller than any of the other boys our age.
I remembered these two clearly. After watching how they moved in the earlier sparring matches, forgetting them would have been the strange part.
Despite her tiny stature, the weapon she'd wielded was a greatsword nearly as tall as she was—maybe taller. How that little body produced such monstrous power was a mystery, but she swung the massive blade with terrifying skill, driving her opponents back without mercy.
The red-haired boy's weapon, by contrast, was a bastard sword. Normally a two-handed weapon, yet thanks to his sheer size he handled it one-handed. Putting out the force of two hands with one left his opponents scrambling.
They were two of the few I hadn't managed to give feedback to.
I ran the mental simulation: me versus the pair of them. In my old male body it might have been different, but as I was now I couldn't casually claim a guaranteed win. Still, even in this body I figured I'd take eight or nine out of ten.
Then I pictured the two of them against Celian.
No contest. Celian wins every time. Not because they were weak—because she was that overwhelming. Her swordsmanship wasn't merely excellent for her age; it carried a seasoned edge that didn't belong on a first-year. Truly a hero candidate.
"You never shut that mouth of yours around your big sister, you little punk!"
The girl, her left hand still caught, cocked her free right fist and drove it straight into the boy's gut.
Thud!
A perfect straight punch.
"Ghk… you damn shrimp… we're only a minute apart, you know…"
"Shrimp? You're dead today, for real."
I'd been so absorbed in my mental sparring that the two of them had already worked themselves up to a fight. Leaving them to it would only mean trouble, so I quickly stepped in and pulled them apart.
Luckily they hadn't forgotten I was there; they aborted the brewing brawl and turned their attention back to me.
"Uh… so…"
"Ian Klein."
I was still fumbling for how to address them when the boy helpfully supplied his name. I glanced at the shrimp—no, the red-haired girl—and she lit up with a sudden realization.
"Anne Klein! And as you can see, this one's my little brother. Twins, but we don't look much alike, right?"
Forget "not alike"—if I said Anne looked like the younger one, would she explode?
No reason to walk into that minefield, so I kept the thought to myself.
"I'm… no. I'm Elicia. Just call me Elicia."
"Yeah, I know. You're already famous."
?
"The problem child who snuck out of the dorm on the very first day of school. Pretty much everyone who knows anything knows about it."
"What?!"
How did they—? I'd slipped out through the window without a sound. I was certain no one had spotted me.
"But next time you need to sneak out of the dorm, wait till after roll call! Trust me on that one."
Now that she mentioned it, I vaguely recalled something like that in the dorm rules. Or rather, I hadn't known such a rule even existed.
Wait—wouldn't that throw a wrench into my scholarship plans?
"Lucky for you, the housemother didn't dock any points for whatever reason, so you don't have to worry. You'll probably still get an earful, though."
I could handle a lecture all day. What mattered was whether points got deducted or not.
"Whew… that's a relief. But I don't think there'll be a next time."
"Well, just in case—if you ever need help, you can come to me!"
The tiny girl thumped her chest with both fists and struck a proud pose. Far from looking reliable, she only looked adorable.
Besides, there was nowhere outside the academy that still had any connection to me. No reason to sneak out of the dorm ever again.
Rattle—
Before I could offer any excuse, the door opened and the professor for the next class strode in.
"Ah! Professor's here. Talk later!"
She waved a cheerful bye-bye and dragged Ian off by the arm toward their seats. Remembering how she'd swung that greatsword, I had to wonder whether Ian was actually being hauled or just pretending to be. A completely pointless question, but it floated up anyway.
Anne, mindful of her height, had claimed a seat in the very front row.
Even towering Ian sitting up front could have been a problem for the kids behind him, but he was on the outermost aisle, so both the students in back and the homeroom professor seemed willing to let it slide.
I was still sighing when Celian scooted her desk right back up against mine.
The history professor who'd just entered noticed Celian shoving desks together and started to scold her—until Celian claimed she'd forgotten her textbook. He let it go.
I could have sworn I glimpsed a history textbook inside her half-open bag, but that had to be my imagination.
Lunch period at Griffin Academy was the same for every department and every year.
A comfortable hour and a half. Bring a lunchbox, use the cafeteria, hit the snack shop—however you wanted to fill your stomach was fine.
The cafeteria menu was impressively varied, ranging from cheap everyday fare popular with commoners all the way up to high-end dishes designed to please the refined palates of high nobles.
Of course, the choice of menu was entirely up to the individual, and so was the bill that came with it.
Given that I needed to stretch every coin, the cheap line was the only sensible option. Yet the line I was currently standing in served the most expensive regular menu short of the course meals and specials.
It wasn't gluttony or a wasteful streak. I'd simply followed Celian, and this was the line we'd ended up in.
I considered peeling off even now, but Celian was beaming at me and chatting away, and the moment slipped by.
"I heard from some graduates that this menu is really delicious."
"H-haha… looking forward to it."
I didn't mean a word of it, and I felt a little sorry for myself that I couldn't just shout No!
The line slowly shortened. Eventually five meal tickets left my hand and disappeared into the collection box. Five tickets would have bought me the cheapest menu five times over. In return I received a tray loaded with dishes I had never tasted in my life.
Considering the quality, five tickets was actually a bargain—but to someone who had to count every copper, every chunk of meat and every sprig of greens on that tray looked like pure money. That cut of meat alone had to be worth three tickets, right? The greens maybe one more? And the dessert…?
Water under the bridge. Celian was already smiling and leading the way outside; I forced a smile onto my stiff face and followed her into the open air.
The weather was so pleasant, with a soft breeze, that every outdoor table already had occupants.
Celian and I were still wandering in search of a seat when a group stood up to leave. We hurried over, set our trays down, and claimed the table.
"Please sit here, Miss Celian."
Knowing how to score points in the little things—that was the real skill. Trying to buy someone's goodwill with pure flattery was the lowest of low strategies. Flattery was only ever a side dish, the seasoning. It should never become the main course.
Celian's bright smile told me my choice had been the right one.
Once she settled across from me, I took my own seat.
"Enjoy your meal."
"Hehe. You too, Miss Elicia."
All right. Time to focus. This was a five-ticket meal. A reverent attitude was only proper.
Slowly, very slowly… one bite at a time… savoring every flavor was simply good manners.
Even the act of lifting fork and knife to cut the meat was done with care, feeling the grain of the flesh.
I speared a carefully cut piece so the juices wouldn't escape and brought it to my mouth.
"Ah! Miss Elicia! Why are you crying?"
Ahh… this was meat seasoned with tears. No extra salt required.