Well-Risen Bread Dough is Great for Slapping (2)
Continental Calendar 997. Compared to the founding of Esdinas Academy, it was roughly the 497th year since the academy's opening. Coincidentally, the 1,000th year since the introduction of the Continental Calendar aligned perfectly with the 500th anniversary of the academy's establishment. Some argued it should be three years later, factoring in the "pilot school three years" when the four saints and various instructors had trained and graduated the first batch of students. But getting into that level of nitpicking felt excessive, especially when the '00' year fell so neatly into place, making it administratively convenient for everyone. And so, on March 1st of Continental Calendar 997—a day some hailed as the kickoff to the monumental 500th year of Esdinas Academy. The day when new students would fully join the current ones in entering the Hall of Courage, welcoming everyone together.
"Huh."
In the waiting room of the Hall of Courage, where the freshman welcome ceremony was underway, Ederson Lionheart—the dean of academic affairs, already roped into emceeing several events—practiced his speech but could only manage a hollow chuckle at the incoming report.
"The men... total annihilation?"
"Total annihilation isn't the right term, Dean Ederson."
Ederson swallowed hard at his female secretary's words.
"Because about ten are planning to show up."
"Between current students and freshmen, there should be around four hundred male students. If only ten turn up, isn't that basically annihilation? Even in the army, they call it a defeat if thirty percent are lost."
"......."
"...Ha."
Ederson Lionheart scanned the list of those hoping to attend the freshman welcome.
"These gelded fools."
"Dean, they're students."
"They're young men around eighteen! Back in my day, at that age...! Ahem."
Ederson, who had bellowed his complaint like a savage roar, cleared his throat and composed himself.
"No matter how chaotic the times are and how cautious everyone is, does it make sense for only ten men to show up at a freshman welcome?"
"It's not mandatory attendance."
"Miss Gwendolyn. You're staying calm about this, but historically, there's only been one instance where neither current students nor freshmen participated in a welcome ceremony."
Ederson thumped his own belly as he addressed his secretary, Gwendolyn.
"Cases where they had stomach issues and couldn't possibly show their best side!"
"......."
"It's the first meeting! The moment to leave the deepest impression on each other. So why is no one willing to show up?"
"Well... they're all worried about getting devoured by stares?"
"Hey!"
Ederson barked roughly at Gwendolyn's blunt remark.
"They're students!"
"It feels like you're repeating back what I said earlier, Dean... but that's exactly why."
Gwendolyn reached toward her eye.
Shh.
As she pressed her middle finger against her pupil, a thin, membrane-like film slid out over it.
"Madolens. Made by stretching mana stones extremely thin, it serves as a vision aid for some."
"Urgh...!"
Ederson grimaced openly at the mention of madolens, but Gwendolyn handed the lens from her finger to him.
"Do you know what function is attached to this lens?"
"Sex magic, semen detection."
"Yes. You know it well."
It might seem absurd to hear about sex magic in the halls of learning that were the academy—especially since some students, particularly upperclassmen, were adults.
"Personally, I think the development of these madolens allows men and women to gauge each other's potential right from the start of enrollment."
"What are you talking about, Gwendolyn?"
"How have freshman welcomes been like until now?"
Gwendolyn fiddled with the lens and placed a hand on her chest.
"Thanks to the way uniforms cling so tightly, male students could visually inspect the new girls' mana. Some girls took pride in that..."
"The ones barely scraping a C-rank got those so-so looks. But... that's unavoidable."
Ederson stated firmly.
"Even if they enroll at seventeen, by graduation at twenty, they can grow from their entry level! That's what the academy is for—nurturing that potential!"
"But the sensitivities of youths around eighteen can't always handle it."
"Urgh...!"
"Now it's just reversed. Dean Ederson... you wouldn't understand."
Gwendolyn subtly glanced downward with her eyes.
"A lion with his pride can't grasp the feelings of small animals like rabbits or mice."
"......."
"The students are the same. Look at the names on that list—they're a bit unusual. The student council president makes sense, but there are unknowns too."
"So these guys..."
"Yes."
Gwendolyn slipped the madolens back over her eye with a wry smile.
"...are commoners reluctantly pushed forward by others."
"......."
"If the student council president can draw eyes, great—but if things go on like this—"
"No."
Ederson gripped his wrist.
"If we're drawing eyes, we need to do it properly—grab all the attention."
Old School Building. March 1st, morning.
"Congratulations on your admission to the academy."
In the Old School Building classroom, Instructor Esta personally hosted the event, welcoming us four new students as our instructor.
"No need for any big ceremonies. You all know each other well enough already."
Me, Unia, Rydmila, and Evangeline—we'd claimed the inner square of the classroom like a formation. It felt a bit empty around us, but those vacant seats were for future comrades who'd join.
'Who was it that said classrooms are like Pokémon boxes?'
In the pinnacle of collection RPGs, Pokémon, you sometimes use 'boxes.' You stuff them with random party members, but you also manage a special box for your 'elite team.' Classrooms are the same. If the front-line six—or more, really—count as the first string, then the ones ready to rotate in anytime or handle specific gimmicks fill those empty seats. Not yet, though.
"I missed the timing earlier, but the special class name will be Vermilion Bird Class."
"Pardon?"
The other three tilted their heads at Instructor Esta's words.
"Zhu... what?"
"Vermilion Bird Class. Named directly after the guardian deity of the south, the Vermilion Bird."
Phoenix, fenghuang, birdm—nah, not that.
"Why? Does using the name of this world's guardian spirit—one of the four saints blessed by a spirit—bother you for a class name?"
"N-no, not really."
Unia glanced around nervously; Rydmila watched her in silence; Evangeline just kept shaking her head side to side.
"So Vermilion Bird Class means... the other classes are like Azure Dragon, Black Tortoise, White Tiger?"
"Exactly."
If you're wondering why medieval fantasy has Eastern guardian beasts, it's because the game's developer isn't Western.
"Then the class rep for Vermilion Bird Class will be Miss Unia."
At Instructor Esta's unilateral declaration—
"Wait just a moment!"
Evangeline shot up from her chair, hand raised.
"Isn't the class rep elected two weeks after classes start, through class officer elections?!"
"You've studied the academy's schedule thoroughly. Admirable attitude. But special admissions for the special class are different."
"B-but still...!"
"Elections mean one vote per person via ballot. Shall we vote right now?"
Instructor Esta extended her hand toward us.
"Quickly—nominations first."
"I nominate Miss Unia."
Rydmila raised her hand immediately.
"Good. Candidate 1: Unia."
"Th-this is like toasting beans in a lightning fire...!"
"Any more candidates?"
"Candidate 2!! Evangeline!!"
Evangeline pointed at herself.
"I nominate myself!"
"Good. Candidate 2: Evangeline. Any more?"
"Um."
Unia raised her hand and—
"P-Phoenix."
—nominated me.
"Hm."
Instructor Esta eyed me briefly.
"Good. Candidate 3: Phoenix."
She wrote my name on the board.
"Any more...? Why are you raising your hand again?"
"I nominate Miss Rydmila."
"...What a mess."
I felt a glare like an axe from behind, but I just waved casually backward and watched Candidate 4 get added. Logically, it made sense—Rydmila's a named character, powerhouse.
"Straight to voting."
But Instructor Esta, looking indifferent to who won, skipped speeches and went right to ballots.
"Note that self-votes are allowed... Still, procedure is procedure—secret ballot."
Instructor Esta tore a sheet into four pieces and handed them out.
"Write your chosen candidate..."
"......?"
A voice formed of mana echoed from the Old School Building's ceiling.
"L-Lion King Ederson...?!"
"Grandfather...?"
He asks if it's okay, but calling it serious leaves us no choice but to listen.
"What's the matter?"
"......Why is that?"
"......."
No way.
Who'd have thought the episode from third-year second semester would hit first-year first semester.
"No helping it."
I stood from my seat.
"There's zero reason to be ashamed, really."
Big or small.
"This academy is a place of growth—why fear standing before others over something like that?"
With confidence, anyone can step up.
"Instructor Esta. May I go?"
"Hm. ...No causing trouble."
"No issues."
Anyway.
"Perfect chance to reveal the special class to everyone."
It'd be ideal for sizing up all the new students and current ones—minus the men—in one go.
"Who the real heavyweights are."