This Is Actually a Huge Problem
"We will now begin the draw for the Capall Academia preliminary bracket!"
Aurora's brilliantly clear voice rang through Pétrus Hall, and with it came a rush of excited applause from the students.
A moment later, Mnevoir summoned a violet magic circle. The circle flashed, and a bracket of enormous size took shape above her head, glowing.
It was the most ordinary sort of bracket: four blocks—A, B, C, and D—two slots each, eight in all.
"The seeded students, chosen by their results in the Magic Workshop and by the faculty's evaluations, will enter blocks A, B, C, and D as the first, fourth, third, and second seeds, in that order!"
In other words, the bracket had been built so the seed of Group A and the seed of Group D would meet only at the very end.
"A! Hervena Westriver!"
At once, cheers burst from the commoner girls of the first and second years who supported Hervena.
"A means she's number one!"
"That's Senior Hervena for you!"
It was as natural as breathing, and Hervena's expression didn't so much as flicker. Her name settled into the upper half of Block A in a handsome script, and Aurora announced the next seed.
"Next, D! Yulia Edfolk!!"
The moment her name was called, cheers rose from her supporters. Yulia lifted a hand to them and took her place at the far end.
A and D.
Standing at opposite ends, Hervena and Yulia glared at each other once more.
"......"
"......"
"Next! C is Cindy Whiteglass!"
The instant her name spread through the hall, the crowd reacted with surprise. As if she had expected as much, Aurora added an explanation.
"In Cindy's case, she recorded the greatest number of duels and the most wins in Magic Workshop class, and so she was selected as the third seed."
Something about having a pitiful little explanation tacked on behind her made Cindy Whiteglass pout.
And then—
"Go, Finance Department's hidden ace!"
"The twin-tails of Finance!"
"This bracket is the best the department head has ever drawn!"
At the Finance Department's fervent cheering, Cindy's face went red, and she glared at them as if she meant to kill them on the spot.
I swear, those idiots... you're all dead today.
Infuriating as it was, from Cindy's point of view this was still the best bracket she could have hoped for. If she had landed in Block B, her next match would have been against Hervena. The later she met her, the better—and now, if she could only avoid Danvers, the trickiest of the four who weren't seeds, it would be perfect.
"The Finance Department is sending up quite the roar of support! And so, next, B naturally goes to Rebecca Settelund!"
As Rebecca stepped forward and took her place, the crowd fell quiet for a moment. Used to it, Rebecca stood with her usual haughty expression and looked the audience over.
"At this rate, the odds of Hervena and Rebecca meeting in the second round are sky-high."
"There's hope for Senior Yulia after all?"
"Who knows? Maybe Rebecca can beat Hervena?"
Hearing those whispers, Hervena was, of course, in no mood to be pleased.
Those bastards are holding a funeral rite, praying I go down in flames.
Hervena narrowed her eyes and glared toward the source of the words. Everyone flinched at once and looked away.
"From here on, we will randomly draw four balls containing the names of the four remaining students!"
A short while later, Mnevoir came out with a velvet pouch whose contents could not be seen and stood beside Aurora. Aurora thrust a hand inside, swung her arm about, and called out in a bright voice.
"The draw order is the reverse of the order just called! We begin with Group B—Rebecca!"
Her arm stopped. She lifted a single ball high enough for everyone to see.
"Danvers De Winter! Group B is Rebecca versus Danvers!"
At the prospect of a match between retainer and master, every eye in the hall went wide. Danvers adored Rebecca to a frightening degree, and curiosity filled every face—yet contrary to expectation, neither Rebecca nor Danvers showed any particular change of expression.
"I'll be counting on you, Danvers."
"Yes. It's a duel."
They looked at each other in Block B and nodded.
After that, Cindy was paired with Blasse, and Yulia with a fourth-year named Sen.
Rachel, watching the one person left standing alone, let out a hollow laugh as if she couldn't believe it.
"Fate really is a spiteful thing, isn't it, Blow Deblique?"
"You can say that again."
"And the final match, decided automatically! Hervena Westriver versus Greig Campbell!"
For a moment, every gaze in the hall swung not toward the front, but toward Blow and Rachel.
"This isn't rigged, is it?"
"Judging by the look on Hervena's face, maybe your brother ought to forfeit..."
"Talk sense, Blow Deblique. A child of House Campbell, forfeiting?"
"My lady, even I think that might be the wiser course."
Skadi murmured it just loud enough to be heard, siding with Blow.
She and Blow had no choice but to say so. There was a happiness in Hervena's eyes so dark it was almost sinister.
Rachel, looking on with clear displeasure, shot a glare at her younger brother. He was wiping his forehead again and again with a handkerchief, as if the cold sweat wouldn't stop.
"With that, the bracket is complete! The first round of the round of eight—the Block A and Block D matches—will be held tomorrow evening. The second round is on the twenty-eighth, the semifinals on the thirtieth, and the final on Saturday, the second of December. We ask for your keen interest."
With those words, the eight on the platform looked to their opponents.
Among them, in Group A—where every eye had gathered—Hervena thrust a hand out at Greig.
"I'll be in your care."
"Right."
"I really am lucky, aren't I!"
Leaving behind those frightening words Greig had no way to interpret, Hervena headed toward Blow. Watching her back, Greig squeezed his eyes shut, and Yulia, standing a little apart, let out a faint sigh as she watched her go.
After the drawing, Blow returned briefly to his room—the attic of Hills—and lay on the bed to rest.
...Good thing I told the teacher not to do it. My conscience nearly got the better of me.
The experiment had been harder than he'd expected. He had seen the tremor in Mnevoir's hands, however dryly she tried to look at it.
Still, they said today's results had brought a fair amount of progress. Better to think positively. Thinking negatively wouldn't solve anything anyway.
He had lain still for about an hour, and was just starting to get up when a clear voice called him from below.
"Young Master, it's Jane."
"Jane? I'll come down."
"No, I'll come up. You're not well."
A little later she climbed into the attic and held out a cup of ominous orange tea, steam rising from it.
"Please drink. It's a tea that helps restore your strength."
"Looking after me?"
"Why would you even ask that. It won't taste good. It's a kind of potion."
"If someone went to the trouble of giving it to me, I ought to bear it and drink."
Blow smiled and drained the cup in one go.
It tasted like some unidentifiable herbal medicine he had swallowed a few times back in his days as Han Ji-hoo. Fouler than he'd expected—but if he thought of it as good medicine, he could get it down.
Jane, who had been looking around the attic in the meantime, let out a sigh as she spoke.
"There are rooms downstairs, Young Master. Why the attic, of all things..."
"I told you. It's closer to the sky."
"...Fine. If you like it."
"And people will be arriving before long."
"You mean the servants from Blanya?"
"Them too. I have a feeling they might turn up around today."
"Ah."
Only then did it come back to her, and Jane's hair bobbed.
Blow set the teacup on the drawer beside the bed and slowly rose.
"You're getting up?"
"Yeah. It's about time to start on dinner anyway. And we've got a meeting with Senior Yulia, and with the rest of you."
"We could handle Red Forest among ourselves..."
"We can't. Owner Lil said she'd be coming too."
As Blow pushed himself upright, his head spun and he staggered. Jane startled and caught him.
"Jane?"
Blow looked down at her, braced against him as if she were holding him in her arms. Jane's face flared hot. Flustered, she thrust both arms straight out in front of her.
"...What are you doing?"
"I was startled, that's all!"
Jane answered in a voice that shrank in on itself. Then a strange silence fell between them.
Feeling it, Jane opened her eyes wide as a rabbit's before she knew what she was doing, swallowed dryly, and looked at him.
"Young Master! It's Megan!"
At the voice, Jane flinched and pulled away from Blow. For no good reason, he lifted the teacup as he answered.
"Yeah, Megan. What is it?"
"Brother Aubio from the monastery has arrived."
"Has he? I'll be right down."
Blow spoke to Jane, who was standing there with her mouth hanging open.
"What are you doing?"
"Huh?"
"Let's go down together."
"Ah—yes. You go first. I'll follow."
A little later the two descended the stairs at an easy pace. Megan, who had been waiting for Blow, tilted her head at the sight of Jane coming down after him.
"Lady Jane was here as well?"
"She brought me tea."
"......"
Seeing the faint flush at the tips of Jane's ears, Megan spoke with the ghost of a smile.
"I see."
"See what."
"You're cute, Lady Jane."
Megan and Blow led the way, and Jane followed them outside.
Waiting there were a freight wagon loaded with maple boughs and beer, marked with the moon emblem of the Lunaria Orthodoxy, and Brother Aubio, smiling.
"Young Master."
"Oh, Aubio. What brings you out in person?"
"I heard you'd opened a restaurant, and I was curious. The abbot told me to come and see for myself as well. And..."
Liz peeked out from behind Aubio, came up to Blow, and bowed.
"Liz came too."
"Young Master, hello!"
Liz—modest but neat, her pale blonde hair braided into twin tails—was just bending at the waist when the restaurant door flew open. Melo came out wiping her hands on her apron, and her eyes went wide.
"Liz!"
"Melo!"
The two embraced like sisters reunited after a long separation. A trace of disappointment crossed Aubio's face.
"You don't look pleased, Aubio."
"No, this is a good thing. That place you said you'd introduce her to..."
"Karlfeld Elegance, nearby. A place I know well. Karlfeld, the owner, is strict, but she'll be able to learn the work properly."
"Thank you for the consideration, Young Master."
"Liz looks worn out from the journey, so let her rest today and tomorrow. Around Friday, I'll take her to the atelier myself."
"Will she be sharing a room with Melo?"
"That's the plan. Better for girls around the same age to room together."
Aubio nodded, then spoke again as if entrusting her to him.
"In any case, I leave her in your care, Young Master."
"Leaving already?"
"Yes. I have to stop by a few towns on the outskirts of Caipol."
"A shame. I wanted to treat you to dinner at least once."
"Next time, I'll come with the Saintess."
"Good. I'd be glad to host you both."
Then Aubio's gaze shifted to Liz, who was looking at him and sniffling.
"Liz... you have to do well."
"Yes, Brother. Thank you for looking after me right to the end."
"No. I'm the one who's grateful you were always so good."
After that, Aubio hugged Liz tightly once and climbed into the wagon.
Liz waved until the wagon vanished far out of sight, wiping again and again at the tears that kept welling up. Melo, whose heart went out to her, squeezed her hand.
"...Liz, I'll make you something delicious!"
"Hic... okay...!"
"You do some rather good things, don't you, Blow Deblique."
Rachel had opened the door at some point and was watching the scene. Blow smiled at her.
"Were you waiting? I'm sorry."
"No. Your servant makes a wickedly good cup of coffee."
"A child who'll be living with us arrived, so I was just introducing her. I'll come to you in a moment, my lady."
"Take your time. Yulia and Skadi aren't here yet either."
"You came outside?"
"That was because I was bored. I'm going back in first, all right?"
"Yes."
While Jane exchanged a warm greeting with Liz, Blow spoke quietly to Megan, who stood ramrod straight.
"Megan, this is the Liz I told you about. After today's work is done, give her a simple explanation of the rooms and the rest."
"Yes, Young Master."
"I'll explaaain!! First! Our house is—"
And Melo launched into an enthusiastic explanation.
Watching them, Blow felt a chill race down his spine.
An aura, vast beyond words.
His heart beat faster, his legs trembled, and his mouth seemed to go dry.
"Young Master...?"
From the tremor in Jane's voice, she seemed to be feeling something similar.
Then the two of them were drawn, without meaning to be, to look toward the end of the alley.
A man was slowly approaching—deep wine-red hair, a large scar across his face, a sharp impression.
At his waist hung a sword that did not look ordinary, and he wore silver armor engraved with the golden eagle granted only to those chosen by the imperial palace.
Blow spoke to Melo and Megan in an urgent voice.
"You two, get inside the restaurant."
"Huh?"
"Now."
By the time Megan had hurriedly taken Liz and Melo inside, the knight had come to a dead stop in front of Blow.
"Are you that Blow Deblique?"
A low, deep voice, resonant as if a beast were speaking—pressure rising of its own accord.
Jane, frozen solid, grabbed Blow's sleeve without thinking and stepped back. Seeing that, the man's expression hardened further, for some reason.
Blow fought to find his composure and answered in a calm tone.
"I am. May I ask who—"
Before he could finish, the man's eyes flashed fiercely, and he drew his sword.
Blow went pale at the unexpected turn.
Then the door beside him slammed open, and in the same instant a tremendous clang rang through the entire alley.
It was only swords meeting, yet the force was so great that Blow and Jane had no choice but to stumble back.
What met their eyes was an enormous Black Blade, and the longsword holding it at bay, flashing in the sunlight.
On Rachel's crumpled face—she who owned that black greatsword—surprise and bewilderment were written together.
"Huh?"
"Rachel Campbell. Your sword is as fine as ever."
Rachel sheathed the Black Blade in a flash. While Blow stood dumbfounded, wondering what on earth was happening, she snapped her knees together and offered a formal bow.
"I greet Grand Duke Bjorn of the East."
...Grand Duke Bjorn?
That Bjorn Hetaya—one of the Emperor's Four Swords, the man known by the epithet Slaughterer of the East?
Leaving the pale Blow behind her, Rachel held her bow.
"My apologies. I felt killing intent all the way inside, and I acted before I thought."
"It's fine."
Blow had never seen Rachel with none of her usual ease. Coming to his senses, he offered a bow of his own.
"I greet Grand Duke Bjorn. I am Blow, second son of Baron Slot Deblique."
Receiving the greeting, Bjorn slid his sword back into its sheath. Those oppressive eyes looked Blow over, slowly, from above.
"I hear my daughter is investing in you."
"That is correct."
"I'll give you a chance to defend yourself."
The sword was sheathed, but the killing intent still burned clear.
How in the world did Skadi explain this?
But with the Grand Duke already standing in front of him, questions like that were meaningless.
Swallowing a sigh, Blow forced a smile, indicated Hills with both hands, and said,
"If you'll step inside, I'll explain everything from the ground up—"
He was forcing the words out with every scrap of courtesy he possessed when, from the sky, a handsome middle-aged man in a black formal suit and a long cloak landed lightly.
The density and purity of the mana coming off him were tremendous.
...And what is this now?
Bjorn alone was enough to make his knees threaten to give out, and with the intrusion of a figure to match him, cold sweat seemed to bead on Blow.
The handsome man, stroking the splendid mustache that stretched long to either side, approached while examining the sign for Hills.
"Hills... hmm? This is the place. Ahem."
Then his eyes met Bjorn's.
Both of them started.
Astonishingly, it was Bjorn who bowed first.
"I greet Marquis Deschamps Edfolk."
"Bjorn? What are you doing here? Don't tell me an elf turned up in Caipol?"
"A private matter."
"Mine is thoroughly personal as well, you know?"
When Deschamps spoke with narrowed eyes, Bjorn's face hardened another degree.
"If I may... what might you mean by a private matter?"
"I've come to see my daughter Yulia's business partner. A man called Blow Deblique."
"I, too, am here because my daughter Skadi is said to be investing in this Blow Deblique."
At that, the faces of Deschamps Edfolk and Bjorn twisted as one, and their sharp gazes stabbed into Blow.
For the first time in a very long while—not since his duel with Greig—Blow Deblique felt death beckoning to him from within arm's reach.