What is Clothing? (2)
[Late night, in the academy staff meeting room.]
"How many supplies could the Old School Building possibly need?"
"As many as possible. As varied as possible. Everything they want."
"Come on, even so, there are only four of them, aren't there?"
"Heh. Who knows if those four won't turn into sixteen?"
"That's a leap, Senior. Why would they abandon perfectly fine dorms for the inconvenient Old School Building?"
"For the chance to learn non-attribute mana directly?"
"The theory is simple enough. With enough effort based on that principle, anyone can master it. No need to learn from the technique's originator."
Debate raged on. Seated around the large oval conference table, they wielded tongues sharper than any sword or staff, clashing in verbal skirmishes disguised as opinions.
"Do the Old School Building students really merit that level of investment?"
"What nonsense is that? They're special admissions. We only became aware of angels thanks to them."
"It's only provoked the Church. They're demanding a full investigation into the Old School Building's special admits—the four in Zhuque Class. Ah, excluding the Mercenary King's granddaughter, of course."
The instructors eyed the four profiles floating on the wide mana stone screen before them, continuing the discussion.
"The newborn empire's princess. Disciple of the Ash Witch. Fine, let's concede their backgrounds check out, barely. But what about this one?"
Mana Stone Screen Profile
Red Sol Phoenix
In the center of the staff room, a single face materialized across the glowing mana-powered screen.
"Red Sol Phoenix? Was there ever a surname or middle name like that? And he values 'Phoenix' over 'Red,' apparently?"
Red Sol Phoenix. He looked like a golden-tanned delinquent at first glance, yet with his neatly combed hair, he could pass for a proper student—
"This minor—or is he even an adult?—who openly declares he'll build a harem and just waits to be devoured by women like some siren flower?"
A casual glance might mistake him for a grown man.
"Hey, siren flower? Is that something you say about a male student?"
"Sorry, but I agree with 'siren flower.' Look at his behavior. Whether he's suppressing his mana or that's just the extent of his skills, this Phoenix acts exactly like one. He'll hook a girl, bite, and grind toward marriage."
"He declared he'd build a harem himself."
"That's the classic move: Shout 'harem' first, then fall for one girl in pure love mode. Ditching the rest of your conquests to obsess over her makes the devotion shine brighter."
"Writing romance novels now, are we?"
"...Everyone."
The man seated silently at the head of the staff table—Dean Ederson Lionheart—rapped his knuckles on the table, drawing all eyes.
"We were discussing supplies for the Old School Building. How did we veer into this?"
"Brainstorming, Dean. These free-flowing chats spark ideas."
"And? Any ideas relevant to the topic?"
"On Old School Building supplies..."
One instructor raised a hand.
"I think showcasing Silverstar's mass-produced goods would suffice."
"Silverstar, eh."
"Yes. The most popular, widespread merchant group—affordable for anyone."
"Oh my, still using old-fashioned terms? It's not a 'merchant group' anymore—it's a 'Group'—"
"Enough."
Ederson rapped the table lightly. The sharp thunk echoed softly, but the room's air froze instantly.
"So, are we doing it?"
"D-Dean. No need for mana release. It's... tense."
"I-Indeed. We all have mana here, but an S-rank like you pressuring us...!"
"Perhaps."
Cardisha Alreister, attending as the Old School Building's rep, raised her hand quietly.
"Were you planning to spoil your beloved granddaughter over weekend dinner, only for Old School Building and angel business to keep her away? Feeling a bit grumpy?"
"Hey, Instructor Cardisha...!"
"No reason or excuse for anyone but me and Instructor Esta to visit the Old School Building on weekends."
"Instructor Cardisha. When's the student supply list due?"
"Tomorrow, Saturday, 1 PM."
"Right."
Ederson stroked his goatee, gazing out the window.
"What percentage of male students holed up in dorms this week, skipping classes?"
"...13%."
13%. Out of a hundred, thirteen hadn't attended a single class in the semester's first week. Holed up like their dorm rooms were safe houses.
Not one hour of lectures.
"Ever since rumors spread that Angelica's Old School Building raid targeted male students—specifically Phoenix..."
"Will they even venture out for essentials?"
"...Ah!"
One instructor exclaimed.
"Send supply trucks to the academy dorms too! Park a golden carriage in front of the boys' dorms so they can buy necessities without nearing the girls!"
"That dodges the 'special privileges only for Old School Building' suspicions. Good idea."
"Approved. Avoid scandals later. No whispers of favoritism toward Old School Building students or extra attention beyond plans."
Ederson swept a sharp gaze over the room.
"Their ability to counter angels—and awaken those possessed—mustn't spread."
Gulp. The instructors swallowed heavily.
"Because of non-attribute mana? No. As Instructor Ziled said, it's tricky but theoretically accessible to all. Might target the Ash Witch's heirs who know it, but..."
Ederson nodded toward the screen.
"Phoenix. Only he can restore sanity to those turned angels and unawakened. Every instructor here tried and failed."
"......."
"We prepare. Three days since the first angel. If they appear across the continent..."
"Commoners might ignore it, but any noble with wealth will flock here. Straight to the sole healer: Phoenix."
"Exactly. And he's an academy student. Remember that."
Thud.
"Mismanage Old School Building crises, and we fall. Can you handle the fallout?"
"......."
"No sneering at issues from Old School Building's Zhuque Class. Maximize aid without it seeming like privileges. For example..."
"Example?"
"Their requested 'supplies.'"
Ederson eyed the blank list on his table.
"Grant whatever they want."
Three blank sheets. Hidden behind: Ederson's scrawled list of every conceivable item.
"Understood, Dean."
Cardisha raised her hand.
"So, on building gym facilities rivaling three dorms—no personal bias there?"
"H-Hey, Cardisha. Don't you live in the Old School Building?"
"Filling empty spaces with weights next to my health office?"
"Ph-physical training is..."
"Facilities equaling three classrooms aren't privileges—"
The instructors' night stretched long.
Unia visited at night. What she pulled out: a 'fashion magazine.'
"So this is what you want supplied, Miss Unia?"
"Yes. ...Ah, w-wait a sec!!"
I flipped to a page, and Unia panicked.
"Not this one!"
"Didn't expect you to want something like this."
"I didn't request this!"
The page showed a man with a cool smile lounging on the beach in nothing but a skimpy Speedo.
"Hoping I'd wear this? Inspired by the ad?"
"What are you talking about? This is a warning not to wander around like that this summer."
"...Huh?"
I checked the magazine again. Thought it was her fashion hobby, but it brimmed with warnings.
-This summer, the sun is brutally intense.
-How about full-coverage swimwear instead of going nude?
"...It's warning guys not to strip down carelessly?"
"Yes. And what I wanted was..."
"Nope."
Unia turned the page; I shut it down immediately.
"Rash guards are a no."
Rash guards? Hard pass.
"Swimwear can wait till summer. Let's prioritize. You want casual clothes, right, Miss Unia?"
"Yes."
Testing the waters, maybe. She looked a tad disappointed but grinned at the rash guard veto.
"Mr. Phoenix... Could you add women's underwear to the list? For me...?"
Unia flipped pages solemnly.
"L-like this...?"
"......Oh."
Right on cue.
"You want me to order women's lingerie like some pervert?"
"J-just say the word! I mean..."
She pointed to a model in red undies.
"'Gonna gift it to Miss Unia since it'd suit her.'"
"Oh, Miss Unia."
I pointed her to the model.
"If I order this as a 'gift,' how'll you wear it?"
"That."
Unia extended her pinky, dead serious.
"I can prove it. ...In person."