Midterm Evaluation (1)
In the end, without properly figuring out the real reason the saintess had come to see me that day, a week slipped by in a somewhat uneasy haze.
“Aaaah, hello! What a coincidence, Aren.”
“...Yeah.”
The guy still seemed to think he wouldn't get caught, dropping by now and then under the excuse of "coincidence." Someone might call it self-consciousness overload if it were truly random, but running into each other at least five times a day in the most unexpected places? Anyone who called that coincidence had to be out of their mind.
Still, he didn't seem to have any malicious intent—he'd just chat briefly and vanish—so I decided to let it slide.
And today marked exactly one week since then, when a welcome face finally reappeared at the academy.
“I'm baaack!”
“It's been a while, miss.”
On my way to class, I watched with a fond smile as the pink hair collided with its plump padding, bouncing up and down. I gave her a little clap.
Yes, at last, our miss had finished her week-long suspension and confinement, returning to the academy.
I'd tried visiting the dorm a few times in between, but she'd adamantly refused, saying, 'I can't let Aren into a place like this!' So today was our first meeting.
“How've you been? Your cheeks look a bit fuller.”
“Really? Maybe 'cause I eat so well! The maid must've pitied me—she made special midnight snacks every evening.”
“Oh, you've got a good one there.”
Taking such devoted care of our miss made her practically a benefactor to me. If I got the chance, I should thank her properly.
“How about you, Aren? What'd you do?”
“Eh, same old. It was boring without you around. Even lunch with just Theo every day felt kinda empty.”
“Ahem, right? You really need me by your side!”
'Of course, I need Aren by my side too!' She tossed out a line that was music to my ears.
I'd worried her week of house arrest might have dampened her spirits, but it was just my imagination. If anything, she seemed even more vibrant than before. Good for her.
“By the way, any new academy news? I've been cut off from the outside world, so I'm dying to know.”
“Not really. Oh, they mentioned midterms in ten days.”
“Oh yeah? Time flies.”
Most students would scream at the words "evaluation" or "exam," but they didn't faze our spirit prodigy and top student one bit. She just brushed it off with a simple, "Guess I need to prepare." Watching her, I was reminded of her sheer caliber all over again.
Come to think of it, Neriel had the same reaction. Tsk, that's overachievers for you. She should've seen our class turn into pandemonium when the announcement dropped—that's the normal student response.
“Any details on the format?”
“Written and practical, I think? They gave the written scope and schedule, but practical's a total black box.”
“Maybe they'll reveal it on the day, like the class placement exam? Sounds fun.”
Her beaming excitement drew a chuckle from me. Most people wouldn't call that fun. Our miss had a subtle streak of madness, it seemed.
“Must be nice being so chill. My head's already pounding from the written part.”
“Why?”
“'Cause theory's my weak spot. Why does knight class have so much to study? It's not like we're mages or spirit mages.”
Living with Theo from the magic department, I'd glimpsed his textbooks now and then, and each time I was glad I hadn't gone that route. The problem? Knight theory was still too much for my brain—monster ecology, tactical basics, military history, even anatomy and musculature. I kept wondering if this was really knight class. And why the hell do we need anatomy here? Isn't that for healer mages?
“Just memorize it, right? Cram the textbooks cover to cover—no problem.”
“Please don't use your standards on us mortals. It kills my confidence.”
“S-sorry?”
I snapped at her more sharply than usual, and she apologized right away. Who the hell memorizes entire textbooks for exams? And these weren't thin high school ones—they were law-book thick. I'd never even thought of them as books, just handy bludgeons.
“So yeah, planning to bubble one answer and nap.”
“What about essays?!”
“Beats me.”
Luckily, I had a cheat key: the universal student skill of guessing. I wasn't gunning for top spot, and unlike our class crybabies desperate to escape C-rank, I had no burning need to overdo it.
“Still, try a bit harder. I hate seeing you underrated just 'cause you're in C-class.”
“Mm...”
Damn, she knew how to tug at my heartstrings. If she'd pulled rank like 'How can my bodyguard be like this?!' I could've brushed it off. But her sounding genuinely sad about my C-rank placement? Hard to argue with that.
“If worst comes to worst, ask someone for help.”
“Easier said than done.”
Our C-class was all practical types—no theory whizzes. Even Tricia, our class's "top student," spent lectures napping. There was one smart slave who could help, but different department made it tricky. A-class or at least B should have theory buffs...
“Ah!”
“What? Something up, Aren?”
“Just had a great idea.”
...Right. Her. How had I not thought of this sooner? Feeling like a blockhead, I grinned. Looked like I had a way out.
＊
After classes, Silvena—unusually not at her usual training grounds—was alone in the classroom, poring over a book. With midterms approaching, she'd prioritized written prep over practice, her weaker area.
“Uwaaaangh, Bron...heim...!”
“...?!”
Suddenly, the quiet classroom door burst open, revealing a familiar face. A flicker of shock crossed her usually impassive features—the first expression Silvena had ever seen on that face, throwing her brain into chaos.
“What brings you here?”
“No reaction to that outburst?”
“I was a bit surprised. You pulling a crybaby face is rare.”
Regaining her composure, she responded coolly as always, which only made him look sheepish. The intruder who'd shattered her solitary peace—Aren—silently showed her the bulging leather bag slung over his shoulder. It looked ready to burst.
“I know it's a huge bother, but could you tutor me?”
“Written exam?”
“Yeah. Was gonna guess and sleep, but now it's do-or-die.”
“A Teleos Academy student thinking like that.”
Most would claw for every point, but his hopeless attitude was so him—infuriating yet endearing—that she smiled despite herself.
'Must be for Roze Tail.'
She could guess why the sudden change. Only Tiabel could motivate him like this—not himself. The thought brought a strange pang she couldn't quite name.
“Tutoring's fine, but you're asking empty-handed?”
“Uh... want a dance?”
“That'd be entertaining. But I want something else.”
“Name it. You're my only option besides the miss.”
Anything, huh? Not words a man should toss at another woman lightly. What if she made a cheeky demand? 'Tempting to tease, but not now.'
She sat beside him and made her request.
“Nothing big. Just call me by name.”
“By name? Sure, but you good with that?”
Was it that easy? He blinked wide-eyed, scratching his cheek—oddly cute.
“That's it. Try it.”
“Lady Silvena... like that?”
“Drop the honorifics.”
“Got it. Silvena, then.”
“Hehe, still no dice. But I like it.”
Even close classmates in her class used honorifics religiously. They'd wave off her casual requests with 'How could I dare?!' For a commoner like him to treat her so freely? It meant real closeness. Pride swelled in her, unbidden laughter escaping.
Ideally, he'd drop formal speech too—probably from his bond with Tiabel, her "owner." She'd ease into that later. For now, she'd curb her greed.
“Since we're on names, you call me by mine too, Silvena.”
“Uh, what?”
His counterattack caught her off-guard, freezing her rare rattled expression.
“You always say 'you' or whatever. Try it. Aren.”
“N-no, I don't need to...”
“C'mon, it'd be weirder if only you get name-called.”
“Nngh.”
A sneak attack she hadn't seen coming. She'd never called a man by name—high difficulty. But he had a point; no good excuse to refuse.
“A-Aren...? That work?”
“Nice! Here.”
“...? Ah.”
Forcing out his name for the first time, she saw his face light up as he extended his right hand. Puzzled, she blinked—then remembered the inter-class match. Understanding dawned; she carefully high-fived him.
Clap—
“Huh, your hand's pretty big, Silvena.”
“Family trait. Mother's the same.”
Women's hands were often larger than men's, but Silvena's were exceptionally so. Staring curiously, Aren broached.
“Oh yeah? Let's compare. Mine's big too.”
“Wait—?!”
He pressed forward without hesitation. Suddenly palm-to-palm with him, Silvena couldn't meet his eyes.
This beat a quick high-five; the warmth of his hidden-but-present hand against hers set her heart racing.
“Whoa, definitely bigger than mine.”
“You're a man...”
His pure admiration dispelled any ulterior motives, leaving her guilt-stricken. Is he always like this? So casual with a strange woman's hand?
“Do you... do this with other women too?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, do you casually hold other ladies' hands like this?”
Not quite holding, just pressing—but to her, same difference. His innocent reply:
“Nah, just you, Silvena.”
“...?!”
He'd meant she was the first woman with hands big enough to pique his curiosity. Without context, it landed as pure fluster-fuel for her.
“Anyway, study time? Don't wanna waste more of yours.”
“R-right.”
He shook off her shaken heart like nothing, pulling out books. A faint regret washed over her. But no repeats followed, and the session ended successfully.
Ten days of this routine later, seeing him return from the written exam with a grin and solid scores, Silvena could only wryly smile. 'This'll do for now.'