This Is What They Call an Academy (20)
The tournament continued into the afternoon.
The countless duels that had filled the grounds steadily dwindled as time passed, narrowing from the round of sixty-four to thirty-two, then sixteen. With fewer combatants remaining, the arenas themselves expanded, and by the time the round of sixteen arrived the fields had been specially prepared to make every clash even fiercer. Each field carried its own unique gimmicks, and the students who exploited them turned their fights into action sequences more dazzling than most movies.
The match unfolding now was no exception. The final bout that would decide the last spot in the round of sixteen took place on a fog-shrouded wetland. Visibility was poor, and the damp air and clinging mud steadily drained stamina. Every so often, blinding shafts of sunlight pierced the mist—bright enough to dazzle the eyes—and sometimes even formed rainbows that served as temporary bridges. It was a surreal landscape only possible in a world steeped in fantasy and mystery.
And when the star of the moment was Ban Taewung, the heat of the crowd only climbed higher.
Taewung pressed forward with overwhelming force in close quarters, while his opponent used a peculiar, almost bizarre technique—wielding spear and sword at once—to deflect those sharp assaults and fire back with counters. Nearly ten minutes of combat had produced no flashy magic, yet the raw, muddy melee between two swordsmen still set the spectators’ blood racing.
Flash!
The field’s gimmick triggered again, and Taewung moved.
“Kh…!”
He angled the flat of his blade to catch the sunlight and blind his foe. The opposing swordsman, flustered, swept the short spear in his left hand to force distance. The weapon curved like a snake toward Taewung’s legs—but Taewung closed the gap first. Two steps carried him past the spear; his sword flashed horizontally.
His opponent desperately swung to meet it, yet Taewung’s blade changed angle mid-air, perfectly catching the still-unpowered sword and knocking it aside.
Clang!!
A clear ring of steel, and the enemy’s weapon went flying. Into the opening Taewung’s tip thrust. A blade aura erupted as it sliced across the throat; the Barrier Cell on the opponent’s chest dropped to [0%].
It all happened almost simultaneously. The wound on the neck sealed instantly, and the defeated student, face pale, managed a bitter smile. Taewung offered a hand and pulled him up. Fireworks burst overhead as the result was announced.
Winner: Ban Taewung
Waaaaaaaaaah!!!
The crowd roared as Taewung, still catching his breath from the grueling fight, thrust a fist skyward.
Ban Taewung — Academy Ranking: 29th
The opponent he had just defeated had ranked higher; Taewung’s own standing shot up from thirty-fourth to twenty-ninth. That morning he had vowed to break into the top thirty, and he had delivered.
“Impressive.”
Watching it all, I felt genuine admiration. So that was what a real sword fight between pure swordsmen looked like. Seeing it confirmed that Reus had been going easy on me—half-sparring at best.
Reus himself sat comfortably in the upper ranks; he was fully capable of that kind of fierce exchange. Add his abundant mana and the picture was complete. Kang So-seon was more a mage who happened to use a sword, and the last time I fought Reus he had stuck mostly to defense, testing me with pure mana pressure. Pure sword-to-sword brawling simply wasn’t my style. No matter who the opponent was, you had to stay locked in close quarters where your head could leave your shoulders at any second, all while playing a deadly game of mind-reading. I was stuck in melee for now, but the moment I could learn magic I would switch without a second thought.
Not that I can.
I wanted to learn magic. Truly. But magic demanded talent beyond mere mana control. First you needed a magic-related job or skill—that was the gate. Then you had to refine your mana into the elemental fragments that matched your skill or class. If magic was a puzzle, refined mana was the pieces; fitting them together correctly activated the spell. That was the most basic method, according to Heroine Number Two, Riri.
The problem was that most people—myself included—couldn’t refine mana at all. Even with a job’s help it was hard; only with skill assistance could an average mage manage two or three spells. A skilled mage mixed different puzzles; an Archmage or Grand Mage created entirely new ones. Long story short: even if I died and came back, I would never cast magic.
Which was exactly why I was so obsessed with turning my summons into long-range DPS. Create a magic-related entity and I wouldn’t have to think—summon it and it would cast for me.
Time to head out.
I had confirmed the protagonist’s growth; nothing more to see. My prediction: Taewung would lose his next match. Not from lack of skill, but from stamina and matchup. His next opponent was German Jenimia of the Jenimia spirit-user family. German specialized in archery that applied spirit arts. In the round of sixteen he had shown pure long-range tactics: earth spirits for a secure bunker and high ground, then circling rapidly while loosing arrows wrapped in wind spirits—classic sniper play. For Taewung, who needed to close distance fast, the fight started at a disadvantage. Even a lucky win would cost too much stamina. Protagonist or not, it was impossible. Unless he suddenly awakened and started firing blade auras like Reus for ranged attacks, the matchup was a hard loss.
“…”
I had a bad feeling that saying it out loud might make it true, but this was just another trial for him. He would invent a new fighting style from the experience. That was his problem, not mine.
“Hold on.”
I stood and started down the corridor to leave the arena when someone followed, overtook me, and blocked my path.
“We need to talk.”
Cat-like, haughty beauty; wavy blonde hair cascading to her waist; mysterious blue-green eyes that mixed meadow and lake, each iris marked by a glittering cross-shaped star. The classic, stable combination gave her a mature air.
Heroine Number One. Severe protagonist-obsessive. Only daughter of the Valentia Group: Luicia Valentia.
By now Taewung should have reached the waiting room—so why was she here instead of with him? My brow furrowed at the unexpected development. Having deliberately cut me off, she clearly had no intention of stepping aside.
“What is it?”
“…I have a place prepared. It’s too noisy here for a proper conversation. Follow me.”
Annoying. I had planned to hit a dungeon next; this surprise was the last thing I wanted. I had barely recharged my mental energy and had no desire to spend it on this.
As if my inner grumbling meant nothing, she left the words hanging and strode ahead with the same haughty gait. My answer was apparently optional. At some point two black-suited mountains of muscle appeared behind me, sealing any escape.
Still as thorough and meticulous as ever.
Which only made her more of a pain. Every time I tried to teach the protagonist something she would barge in, screeching about human rights and abuse until my ears rang. Of course I crushed her with pure rhetoric every time, turning her into a living example of how to shut up someone throwing personal tantrums. Yet she never tired; she kept improving, even sitting in on lessons just to needle me. The side benefit was that Taewung got excellent hands-on experience in dealing with difficult people.
In the end we had become bitter enemies—sworn rivals locked in a tiger-and-dragon stalemate. Just to be clear, I only ever returned the jabs she threw first. All that “mortal enemies” nonsense was entirely her own invention. The only time her prickly hedgehog personality softened was when the other heroines who got along with the protagonist were nearby. Otherwise she defaulted to cold, businesslike, or high-handed—and with me, add open hostility.
Running now would only invite more creative harassment later. Better to hear her out. If I didn’t like it, I could brush it off.
The place she led me to was a café with private rooms. Sunrise Academy, being a magnet for high officials and their peers, had no shortage of such venues. The moment we entered, a waiter who had clearly been waiting set out black tea and refreshments, then withdrew. Luicia Valentia straightened her back, steadied her breathing, and took a sip of the tea before her.
It looked like typical aristocratic leisure, but it was her personal way of releasing tension. I had spent ages teaching that exact technique to the protagonist; ironically she used it better than he did.
“…Haa.”
“So. What’s this about?”
Taking the exhale as the signal she was ready, I leaned back into the sofa, crossed my legs, and spoke. The complete lack of decorum made her brow twitch for an instant, but she closed her eyes, opened them again, and swallowed it. She was holding it in? Something serious really must be going on. My mood sank.
“You’re aware of the enormous volume of rumors circulating about you lately?”
Ah. That. I nodded calmly. Luicia narrowed her eyes, let out a low sigh that said “as expected,” and pressed on.
“What exactly are you plotting this time? Conquering the academy? Playing at being the mastermind? Or is this just another round of your absurd hero-making?”
The more she spoke, the more violent emotion rose in her face. Anger. Strangely, her boiling point for herself was extremely low, yet anything involving Ban Taewung set her off instantly. Outside of Taewung she had spent the most time with me, so I had assumed she understood me on some level—but this was the first time she had asked so directly.
The reason I educated Taewung so obsessively was because I expected something from him. It was no different from forcing one’s ideals onto another person. That, she could not forgive. So she made herself a nuisance, knowing full well that the thing I hated most was being bothered. I regarded it as interference. That was why our relationship was so poor.
She loved Ban Taewung. Not merely as a friend, but as the lifelong partner she wanted at her side; she expressed that love without reservation. At the same time she was the rare modern ideal of a devoted wife who supported him from behind the scenes. Yet she constantly suppressed her own feelings for fear they might become chains on him—a truly pitiful sight. The problem was that those feelings tended to explode right through the lid she forced over them. The worst result so far had been that cloyingly sweet field magic (not really) that left my entire mouth flooded with sourness.
From my perspective I would rather she simply grabbed Taewung tight and kept him out of further trouble… but forcing the issue would only bounce off her ears.
I considered Taewung a friend, yet I also intended to use him. For a peaceful future. As a shield to escape bothersome affairs. Because I respected and understood the scale-like values he had carried even before I became “me,” I wanted those values maximized. So I wrapped unnecessary burdens in goodwill and loaded them onto him. I gifted them expecting them to return to me someday. By piling up debts he could never repay, I thoroughly imprinted our relative positions—even if the road ahead was paved with hell.
And the fruit of that labor was the Ban Taewung of today: grown splendidly, charging forward to break through and solve sudden dangers without flinching. Do you know? The road to hell is paved not with malice but with good intentions. That is not some bookish philosophy; it is lived experience—the lesson carved into bone by the agony of my previous life. In a way this, too, was an extension of education: I planned it so that he might unconsciously grasp the lesson I had learned. Of course the plan only worked because he was the world’s favorite.
He would grow even without my interference. Everything in this world began with him and moved for his growth. That was what it meant to be beloved by the world. Had I not known he was the “protagonist,” I would probably be grinding myself into the dirt right now trying to become the protagonist myself—spitting on the world’s rules, becoming a criminal if necessary, and smashing the skulls of every bastard who deserved it. Then I would have met that woman and accepted the proposal I once rejected. The sweet offer I would have taken without fail if Ban Taewung had never existed.
“I have mountains of things I want to say, but first let’s correct some bad information.”
“…What?”
“I didn’t start the rumors. I didn’t cause the incidents either.”
Why would I bother? In the past, yes—I had forced the immature protagonist into crises under the banner of early hero education, and I had pulled a few strings behind the scenes. That was over. As academy enrollment approached, incidents began erupting around him on their own. The kidnapping related to the Luicia sitting in front of me, the research-lab incident involving Riri, the Onohara Group terrorism—all of it. Even without my intent the world prepared events for him. Until now I had walked a tightrope of manageable risks to guide Taewung; that was no longer possible. The recent academy incident had driven the point home. But that was only from my perspective.
“And you expect me to believe that?”
Which was precisely why she remained so wary. She feared I might treat Taewung as a disposable pawn for my own ends. The thorns of hostility she aimed at me sprang from the anxiety that one day I would betray him and leave him in despair. Her first real doubts about my identity had probably formed while cleaning up after the lab where Riri had been experimented on—when I took command and the government turned out to be involved. In truth that woman had moved, but from Luicia’s side she must have dug furiously into the suddenly vanished lab’s secrets. Midway, that woman’s interference would have made the Valentia chairman’s feet burn, and he would have ordered her to drop the matter. Easy enough to reconstruct even without past-life knowledge. The current head of the Valentia family knew, at least indirectly, what had happened that day. Ten major groups famous as the Ten Strong had shrunk to seven overnight; he could not have been ignorant. All those layers had tangled into the distrust she now directed at me.
What a pain.
I had no intention of personally uprooting the distrust planted deep inside her. Without Ban Taewung as a point of contact, she and I would never have met. She was far too distant a being for me to spend precious time and emotion on simply because she was a “heroine.” Therefore I had to make the choice I had postponed: treat her as an enemy here and now, or calculate her as an ally.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I drummed a steady rhythm on the sofa armrest. The habit from my previous life still lived in this body—just like the memories and experiences. The only difference was the motive that moved the former me and the current “me.”
Compare profit and risk and the answer was simple. After taking that massive sucker punch from the latest mastermind, I had realized something: I was already entangled in this world’s board. But I had zero intention of being jerked around at will. If a god had planned all of this, the present situation was also a perfect chance to flip that god the bird.
One more thing the recent events had confirmed: the reason the god used me—not the protagonist—to handle the irregular discovered in connection with the evil god. There had to be a reason it kicked aside material so perfect for creating adversity. Gods, the will of the stars, were neither omniscient nor omnipotent. They simply knew more than we limited beings, and wielded greater power. Operate under that assumption. First step: pull her in. Turn the heroine NPC sitting on the god’s game board into a “player” named Luicia Valentia. What would the god think when it saw her break free of fixed rules, move autonomously, and begin to worry and think for herself? Would it be pleased? Or would it curse the one who created the situation?
Bang!
The moment I settled on the policy, I slammed my raised hand down. Mana surged, pressing weight across the entire surroundings. The bodyguards behind her reflexively started to move, but I applied the skill Charisma to fling killing intent and froze them in place. I had no intention of eating them. This was between her and me. Outsiders, stay out.
“Are you prepared?”
Thoughts organized, I slowly turned my eyes to meet hers. I discarded the viewpoint of pure annoyance and disregard. If I was going to pull her in, I would use her thoroughly. She could have lived laughing in the bright world knowing nothing; she was the one who chose to step into the dark.
“Are you prepared to cooperate with me knowing everything?”
I looked at her with that warning. Her expression, facing me head-on, did not change. Only the rest of her betrayed inexperience: both hands clenched tight on her skirt, body faintly trembling. Conversely, that meant her poker face at least scored a passing grade. Eyes filled with resolute will met mine without a single cloud. The twinkling star pupils that symbolized the Valentia family shone brilliantly, reflecting her inner self.
Nod.
Her head dipped slowly. Confirming it, I withdrew the mana and killing intent.
“Hhk…!”
“Young miss!”
Luicia clutched her chest and sucked in ragged breaths while the two mountains of muscle stepped protectively in front of her. I jerked my chin at them.
“Get out.”
“…We cannot do that.”
“This is our duty.”
I snorted a laugh. Spare me the act. If their loyalty were that grand they would have moved when I released the killing intent a moment ago. I didn’t blame them; people instinctively flinch when they feel their lives threatened. More than that, what they truly feared was not me, but the people who would move if I were harmed. In short, my backing scared them enough to make their feet burn. High odds they had received a quiet word from the chairman.
I disliked this side of Luicia. She had not even made the subordinates she treated like limbs truly her own. The ones they sincerely followed and moved for were the Valentia chairman, not her. They protected her only because she was the daughter the chairman loved, because they had received his orders. The complacency of regarding these people as naturally hers and drawing them close was far too immature. Well, I disliked the bodyguards even more—overwhelmed by a single burst of killing intent, forgetting their master’s duty and scrambling to save their own skins.
As for her, I could teach and correct her one step at a time the same way I did the protagonist; nothing to worry about. She would have grasped something from the exchange just now.
In that regard I truly found Ban Taewung amazing. Whatever the problem, he would stick his head into the incident for the sole reason that a comrade had been hurt—without nitpicking. If there was a misunderstanding he would resolve it; if the conflict could not be resolved he would keep confronting until he offered terms that convinced; once he discovered something he took responsibility and stayed to the end. That was the kind of person Ban Taewung was. Even in a crisis where he himself was desperate to survive, if others were in danger he thrashed with all his might to save them—even when it was impossible. And when he fell into crisis, the world lent its strength to save him. That was the cycle. He instinctively understood how to use the power given to him. So Ban Taewung struggled. The whole world might be impossible, but at least the injustice that entered his sight he would erase for certain—and he grew stronger for that purpose.
Are you ready to accept the damned fate of being bound to a good-natured fool like that, Luicia Valentia?
“…Both of you, leave.”
Under my cold gaze she finally recovered her breath, straightened her posture, and spoke.
“But…”
“That is an order. Withdraw.”
The coercive expression left no trace of the frightened, fragile girl from moments earlier. Only the future head who would lead the Valentia family remained. She had even steadied her mind in that short time. Truly impressive.
That’s why she’s a heroine, I suppose.
A slight flaw that her concern was for their safety rather than for me, but it was enough for now. I idly sipped the completely cooled tea while thinking pointless thoughts. A high-class aristocratic order to clear the room. Literally: until you leave, I will not deal with you either. It also meant I placed more importance on drinking already-cold tea than on them, and further declared that I could maintain this leisure indefinitely. A pressure that no matter how hard they sat and racked their brains, it meant nothing if I refused to engage. I disliked these twisted formalities, but since she was acting the noble, matching her was only proper.
“…Understood.”
The two bodyguards groaned, bowed, and left. Guilt and bitterness twisted in their clenched fists as they exited, leaving silence to settle over the room. Anyone watching would think she had been taken prisoner by an enemy general.
“Well then. Shall we begin the conversation?”
Clack.
I returned the barely-touched, unpalatable tea to its cup, switched the cross of my legs, and looked at Luicia. Where to start? Yes—this would do.
“If I told you this world dotes on just one person… would you believe me?”
From today onward you are no longer a mere heroine. You are a heroine who knows the protagonist is the “protagonist.”