Hero's Welcome and the Departmental Showdown
"You've been discharged! 'You've had a tough week. I'm so relieved to see you're recovering well.' 'I owe you big time.'"
As I left the infirmary early in the morning, I exchanged goodbyes with the nurse who'd taken care of me over the past week. For some reason, the aftermath of the incident had been busier and more exhausting than the day it happened. I couldn't even rest properly with all the people coming and going from my room under the pretext of post-incident investigations. If I hadn't been laid up as a patient, who knows how much they'd have dragged me around. Just thinking about it made my head spin.
"Well, at least I got something good out of it."
I lightly tapped the sword at my waist and headed straight for the academy along the path. Remembering my conversation with Professor Azela, who had visited earlier, brought a grin to my face.
- Glad to see you're recovering so quickly.
- Professor, what brings you here so early in the morning?
- I heard today was your discharge day, so I stopped by before classes. I didn't expect the famously strict Professor Azela to come check on me in person.
I'd thought she was just there to check on my condition, but after glancing at the sword on my waist, she launched right into a lesson.
- By the way, Aren, did you know? I did some personal investigating, and it turns out the sword used by the Iferia knight was buried in that dungeon.
- Is that so?
- Yeah. They say it's a divine weapon that draws out the power hidden in the user's heart. Probably Mordellin. That woman must have stolen it to use in her rituals.
- Oh ho…
I played dumb, feigning interest, and she let out a small chuckle at me.
- I was thinking of giving you a sword as a gift since yours broke in the fight, but it looks like you've already picked up a new one somewhere.
- Yeah, just a lucky find.
- Right, a lucky find.
Then she tossed out the line in an obviously theatrical tone anyone could see through, waving around the shabby sword in her hand that was clearly not gift-worthy, before leaving. It was probably her way of rewarding me for all the hard work—her own subtle show of flexibility.
Creak.
Finally arriving at the classroom, I threw open the door. My classmates, already seated, turned to look at me. For a split second, I felt a murderous intent.
"Yaaaaay! Aren's back!"
"Grab him quick!"
"What the—?! Hey! Use words, not hands, you idiots!"
They swarmed me, hoisted me up, and started tossing me in the air. What the hell was this? I flew around cluelessly before finally touching ground again after what felt like forever.
"We heard the whole story, Aren! You're a total badass!"
"Yeah! You saved the princess, right?!"
"Word's spread all over the academy! You took down someone from the Golden Generation!"
"Really?"
I flashed an awkward grin at the rowdy bunch and took my seat. They had no intention of letting me go, crowding around and boxing me in instantly.
Man, this was touching. At first, there'd been some hazing since I was a commoner among nobles, and a few guys looked down on me for being a dude. But after rolling through Professor Azela's Spartan training together, we'd built some camaraderie and gotten close. I hadn't expected such a flashy welcome back.
"Here, a discharge gift, Aren. You earned it."
"Uh… thanks."
Trish—the class mood-maker—handed me a bouquet as a "discharge gift." It oddly reminded me of the time I'd received flowers from the young lady on my first birthday with the Roze Tail family, stirring up mixed feelings. He grinned, clearly thinking I'd love it, and I couldn't bring myself to say I wasn't into flowers.
"Thanks. I'll treasure it."
The scent was nice, at least, so I smiled and expressed my gratitude. Trish blinked in surprise.
"N-no big deal. So, you like flowers too, huh, Aren?"
"Eh, somewhat. I'm a guy, after all."
"True. With your rough personality, it's easy to forget."
The class erupted in laughter at Trish's joke.
"Exactly. You almost make us forget you're a real boy."
"Yeah. Keep being so unladylike, and you'll never get married."
"That's harsh. Come on, a guy like me's gotta have at least one girl who likes him, right?"
I knew guys like me weren't in high demand in this world, but hearing it from someone else bruised my pride a bit, so I grumbled. Their laughter cut off abruptly.
"Pfft-hahaha! That's a good one. Who'd like a guy like you?"
"Isn't that a bit too confident?"
"That's not confidence—that's arrogance! Arrogance!"
"Yeah. Even that guy you hang with every day… Theo? He'd be way better."
They started openly mocking me. That crossed the line. Sure, the romance-fantasy protagonist—no, heroine in this case?—was perfect, but comparing me to that guy was unfair.
"Ugh, fine. Who'd like a guy like me? Just shooting my mouth off."
"…"
They flinched. Did they think I was actually hurt? I hadn't even gotten serious.
"…So, what's your type, Aren?"
"Type? Out of nowhere?"
"Just curious! Light chit-chat."
Everyone nodded at Trish's question. Ah, right. They were at that age where this stuff piqued interest. And with me being the only guy in class, no one else to ask.
"Someone I click with in conversation? That'd be enough."
"What about looks?"
"As long as she's not ugly."
I wasn't obsessed with faces, so I said it casually. A few clenched their fists. Why were they so invested in my love life? As I listened, mischief bubbled up, and I smirked at Trish.
"Why? Gonna be my girlfriend?"
"Wh-what?!"
He glanced around wide-eyed. The room went dead silent, so I playfully patted his shoulder.
"Kidding, kidding. Don't get all serious on me."
"A-ha… right. Sorry."
Apologizing just made it more awkward, dude. Noble ladies sure can't take a joke.
"Whew…"
"Me too…"
"And me…"
The others murmured, thinking I'd been serious. Even for me, that was a bit much.
＊
Lunch was the first time in ages I'd eaten with Theo. In the hospital, he'd kept me company at meals, but we hadn't actually eaten together. Eating alone always felt awkward, but chatting over food with him was surprisingly fun.
After the lively meal, I headed to the student council room to check on Senior Siel's condition.
"Oh, if it isn't our future vice president!"
Senior Siel greeted me as usual. I'd visited a few times while she recovered, so I wasn't expecting much change, but she was too normal after such a huge incident—it threw me off a bit. Consistency was a good trait, though.
Except for one inconsistent thing that bugged me.
"…Weren't you the treasurer? When did you get promoted to vice president?"
"Hee-hee! It means I think highly of my junior's value!"
"Won't the actual vice president be upset?"
"Nah. She's buried in work—if a replacement showed up tomorrow, she'd hand it off in a heartbeat."
I pictured the overworked vice president slaving away like a packhorse and zipped my lips. She seemed nice last time I saw her. Maybe that's why she couldn't quit.
This is why people need a little selfishness.
"Must've been chaos, huh."
"Total chaos. They say staff meetings happened three times a day. Some went all night."
"Not that. I mean your family."
The academy freaking out was expected. What worried me was something else.
"The Balshutain royal family."
"My house?"
"Yeah. Their precious second princess nearly died in an accident overnight—bet they flipped out."
Probably caused a huge uproar. Maybe even pressured the academy or demanded accountability. Worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind…
"…Nah, probably not."
"Pardon?"
Her usual chipper tone was gone; she mumbled evasively. Turning, I caught her troubled expression.
"They wouldn't care much about someone like me. No one in the royal family."
"…"
She forced a smile, lips twisting. Was this the Siel senior I knew? Racking my brain, I recalled seeing this face before—our short talk in the labyrinth about the current king, her mother. Yeah, she'd looked just like this.
"Oh yeah, you knew, right, junior? Classes resume on schedule next week."
"…Really? News to me."
Obvious topic change. I considered calling it out but played along coolly, sensing her silent plea not to pry further.
"Some special event, then?"
"You bet. Ever heard of the Departmental Showdown?"
"Departmental Showdown?"
I'd tossed it out playfully to humor her, but the unfamiliar term hooked me instantly. What was that?
"Yeah. First-years haven't been here long, so they lack a sense of belonging. This event boosts that."
"How's it work?"
"Simple. Five reps per department duel one-on-one. Winning department gets a special holiday to visit home."
Oh ho, sweet deal. Most students here were nobles missing home.
"But there's an odd one out, right? Bye to the win?"
"Nope. Everyone duels once. Most wins takes the crown."
"Got it."
So, 5v5v5 format. Minimum two fights per person.
"How do you pick the reps?"
"Usually, the top student picks the other four. No exams yet, so it'll be based on placement tests."
"Hmm."
So Silvena Bronheim would pick for knights. Magic would be that Magic Tower disciple. Spirits: our young lady.
"Thing is, it's basically an A-Class show. B- and C-Class kids are just fillers."
"Fillers? Sounds perfect."
"Pfft, you're one of a kind, junior. Everyone fights for those spots."
"That hassle? Hell no."
It benefited the whole department anyway. Cheer from the sidelines and reap the rewards? No need to bother.
I couldn't understand those who volunteered.
"I'll cheer hard from the back and snag that sweet holiday."
"What if you're picked?"
"Who'd pick a C-Class kid?"
"Silly. Rules say at least one per class."
Oh? I'd thought it was A-Class only from the filler talk. But our class had Trish, whom even Professor Azela praised. Too bad for senior—her plan wouldn't fly.