The Professor You Chose (7)
"What is that supposed to mean, Chief Professor? That it would bring your average down?"
"There's a reason. Explaining every last detail is a pain."
At Dian's reply, Knightly furiously worked her mind, trying to parse the real meaning behind his words.
Private tutoring for the Academy valedictorian — a duke's daughter — wouldn't help his career. Of course he couldn't list it as official experience. But the "career" Knightly had in mind was hardly a matter of adding a line to a résumé.
What she meant by career was a solid connection to House Toulouse, one of the true power brokers of the Imperial Noble Council. For a mere Academy Chief Professor, that was a privilege beyond imagination. Professor Dian already had some acquaintance with her father. Forging one more tie like this would surely serve him well down the line.
The truth was, Knightly had fled to the Academy to escape an arranged marriage and realize the romantic future she'd always dreamed of — becoming a special operations agent. Borrowing her father's influence now would be unbecoming.
But so what?
She had listened, heart swelling, to the stories her older brothers told of the Empire's special task force operatives who had come home from the Four-Year War a decade ago. Knightly had wanted to break free of that stifling gilded cage of a manor and become an agent who walked the continent in the shadows. The moment the Special Operations Academy was founded, she ran.
But the Academy she'd fled to hadn't given her the education she'd hoped for. She'd been training on her own when Professor Dian appeared. Wanting to see just how impressive this man really was, she had charged at him with a wooden sword. Dian had swung it once, maybe twice, with an expression so bored it looked like he might yawn — and Knightly had lost consciousness without even knowing how she'd been hit.
That was when Knightly made her decision. She would make that professor hers. She would use Dian as the stepping stone to realize her dream.
And then, as luck would have it, her father had visited the Academy, seen Professor Dian, and tacitly approved of her enrollment. Knightly intended to make full use of that opportunity. In other words: as long as Professor Dian was at the Academy, Knightly would not be expelled from House Toulouse. And if she had her family at her back, claiming one professor she liked was well within reach.
What was their relationship, anyway? Probably just a commander and subordinate who'd crossed paths during the war. The details weren't her concern.
Anyway — with him here, she wouldn't be forced to drop out or be disowned. So she could brazenly dangle her family's connections as bait. He would get to teach her, and in return, further cement his relationship with the great House of Toulouse — not some paltry line on a résumé.
She had assumed Professor Dian had fully grasped her intent behind the word "career." But he hadn't? He thought it would actually hurt his record?
What was he even thinking? And how impressive could his own career possibly be? A couple of commendations from the battlefield, at most?
Knightly, whose aristocratic arrogance and self-regard ran particularly deep, simply could not understand Dian's reaction. But she had no intention of giving up easily. Once Knightly set her mind on something, she claimed it to the end. That was how she had carved out her own fate until now. And this professor named Dian would be no different.
"Professor. Please think it over one more time. This is all to your benefit—"
"Once a week."
"Excuse me?"
Professor Dian held up a single finger.
"If it's about once a week, I can do that. But I can't devote myself to you every single day like some homeroom teacher."
"But Professor, isn't that far too infrequent? I've never received proper combat instruction at this Academy. There's only a year left until graduation, and to get to a level where I can be deployed into the field immediately..."
"It's enough."
"...What?"
"I said it's enough. Once a week, and by the time you graduate, you'll be ready to carry out missions as an agent."
Even with Dian's confident declaration, Knightly found it hard to take at face value. He was the Combat Chief Professor, sure, but that still seemed like a stretch. Then she changed her mind. For now, she would take this much of a commitment. She could always increase the frequency little by little later.
Knightly was confident she could wrap this pale, unassuming man named Dian around her finger. She was the daughter of a great house, the Academy valedictorian, and she was well aware of her own beauty. She had more than enough weapons. Within a month, Professor Dian would fall, and he would be playing the role of a homeroom teacher devoted entirely to her.
"Very well, Professor. Let's do it that way. I get to receive your instruction, you get to build a relationship with my family — there's nothing bad in it for either of us."
"Yeah, yeah. Now go on back. I'm busy. I've got a meeting."
Dian flicked his hand in a shooing motion, and Knightly asked,
"Then when is the first private lesson?"
"I'll let you know later. I need to see if I can even shuffle this week's schedule. Now go. Quickly."
"Understood, Professor. I'll be waiting to hear from you. You're welcome to come find me at my dorm, if you like. I live alone, separately from the others."
Knightly offered a rather seductive smile and crossed her legs. Her skirt rode up, revealing a smooth, gleaming thigh.
But Professor Dian didn't respond. He shuffled over to his desk, sat down, and ducked his head to rummage through a drawer.
Watching him, Knightly let out a low laugh. He'd just said he had a meeting to attend — so why was he suddenly digging through a drawer?
He's trying desperately to hide how flustered he is after seeing my legs. Unexpectedly innocent, isn't he?
Look forward to it, Professor... I'll make sure you can never get away. You're going to become a professor who exists for me alone.
After confirming Knightly had left, I pulled a whipped-cream pie topped with a cherry from the back of the drawer.
I gave it a sniff. Fortunately, it didn't seem to have gone bad yet. I was supposed to finish it today — I'd almost let it rot.
The truth was, I'd started thinking about this pie midway through the meeting with Knightly, and the conversation just kept dragging on. It was getting painful. There was only one, so sharing was out of the question — I'd used the meeting as an excuse to shoo her out quickly.
I took a big bite of the cream pie, and a sweet flavor flooded my mouth, drawing a smile unbidden.
This is really good. They said it was from the bakery right in front of the Academy's main gate. I should have Olicia pick some up now and then.
Come to think of it, this huge Academy doesn't have any real amenities. Even universities in my previous life had every franchise you could name. Bring in a bunch of shops, let faculty and students use them, and the Academy collects rent and a cut of the proceeds. That's a win-win. Nobody loses.
Of course, they'd have to be strict about quality control so nobody coasts on a monopoly. But that's the admin office's problem. It doesn't have much to do with the Combat Department, but it has everything to do with my quality of life, so I should bring this up separately later.
Hmm. So what should we bring in? Olicia's been going out to the market a lot lately, so I should ask her at dinner. First a bakery has to come in, and a restaurant — no, two or three of different types, right? Look how many people there are. And then...
A few days later, late evening at the dormitory.
"Um, class president..."
Several female students approached Knightly with shy expressions. Each held a small, prettily wrapped box.
"Would you... maybe... this..."
Knightly stared at the students holding out the boxes, then snorted.
"Sorry, but I don't swing that way. Try somewhere else."
"Ah?"
The girls' eyes went wide at the ice-cold response, then they stammered in flustered confusion.
"Th-this isn't... for you. It's for Professor Dian..."
"What?"
"We were hoping you'd pass it along to the Combat Chief Professor..."
"What did you just say?"
It wasn't that their voices were too quiet, and she wasn't repeating it to intimidate them. She simply could not comprehend what they'd just said.
"Last time we saw you... you seemed personally close with the Combat Chief Professor... He's too high-ranking for us to approach directly..."
Knightly stared at the girls for a moment, then realized she'd made an utterly absurd misunderstanding. Shame and fury twisted her face in an instant. She'd been on the receiving end of gift-and-confession campaigns since her freshman year, so she'd naturally assumed these were meant for her.
"Do I look like your servant? You want me running around delivering presents?!"
The startled girls blurted apologies and fled. Other students who'd been watching and stifling laughter hurriedly composed their faces, looking away or making themselves scarce.
"Those girls are ridiculous."
The hangers-on gathered around Knightly shot sidelong glances, wearing fake smiles.
"Who do they think they are, telling Knightly what to do?"
"Right? If this were the outside world, commoners like them wouldn't even be allowed near her."
"That applies to all of you too, doesn't it?"
At Knightly's sharp retort, the hangers-on shut their mouths and exchanged uneasy looks.
Leaving them behind, Knightly strode down the hallway.
"Knightly! Where are you going? Night infiltration class is about to start!"
"I'll handle it myself, so stay out of it!"
Knightly's nerves were stretched taut, and she was reacting to even the smallest things. Days had passed without a single word from Professor Dian. He'd clearly said he'd take her on once a week, and he'd looked embarrassed by her deliberate advances — she'd thought she'd hooked him properly. So why the complete silence?
Furious to the point of boiling over, Knightly left the dormitory and headed for the faculty building. She intended to march into his office and demand answers.
"Professor! Professor Dian!"
She pounded on the door bearing the nameplate Combat Chief Professor Dian as if she meant to break it down, but there was no response. Through the crack, she could see no light — he'd already gone home. She'd have to go to the faculty residence.
But night infiltration class was about to start. If it were a theory lecture she might skip it, but this was a practical exercise in actual mountain terrain outside the Academy. Missing it wasn't an option.
After a moment's hesitation, Knightly headed back to the dormitory. She would attend class first. She could see Professor Dian again tomorrow, but night infiltration drills weren't a daily occurrence.
"Huh? There she is! Senior Knightly! Could you give Professor Dian my letter—"
"Get lost!"
"Eek! I'm sorry!"
Outside the Academy, night infiltration class was underway along a stretch of coastal cliffs and several connected high grounds.
Students in black infiltration gear, faces smeared with charcoal, moved in small teams under the supervision of assigned teaching assistants, navigating the mountain terrain at night. Each team was issued a different infiltration route, with the common objective of crossing the high grounds to infiltrate the Academy. As this was the first night infiltration exercise since the Academy's founding, the difficulty wasn't particularly high.
As infiltration teams departed one after another, Knightly still stood in place with her arms crossed. It wasn't that she had a complaint about how the class was being run — she simply hadn't been assigned a team.
"Professor. Is it not my turn yet?"
"I was just about to get to you."
When Knightly raised her hand, Infiltration Professor Lina handed her a map. The moment Knightly took it, she couldn't believe her eyes.
"What is this...? This is the infiltration route?"
"That's right. Follow that path and infiltrate the Academy."
"But this is..."
The route Knightly was looking at was nothing like the other teams'. Even from the contour lines alone, it looked as if someone had deliberately picked out the most vicious terrain and connected it with a line.
"There's no way a person can actually go through places like this."
"Sorry. The Combat Chief Professor ordered this personally. I don't have the authority to change it."
The Combat Chief Professor? Professor Dian? Then was this the once-a-week private lesson he'd mentioned?
He'd probably chosen a separate location because of the other students watching. Not bad. A private lesson for just the two of them, late at night, in a secluded place no one else would go...
Looks like you'll lose to me again this time, Professor.
For the first time in days, Knightly felt a comfortable sense of satisfaction as she set off.
At the bottom of the map was a strange inscription, though she didn't attach much meaning to it.
I'm the professor you chose.
Endure it with grit and guts.
He was probably just blustering to seize the initiative and make up for being captivated by her coquetry during that meeting. How cute.
One hour later.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it! This godforsaken professor!"
Pressed flat against a near-vertical slope on all fours, Knightly spat curses.
"Where the hell are you?! Why haven't you shown up yet?!"