The Peaceful Finance Department and the Unpeaceful Nyx
Which department in the Caipol Municipal Magic School student council was the busiest?
Ask any student that question, and they would answer as if it were obvious: the Finance Department.
Finance. Hear only the name, and it sounded as though all they did was draft a budget and spend it. The Finance Department of Caipol Municipal Magic School, however, was a very different creature from those of other schools. The difference was this: Randolph Serdia, Second Imperial Prince and student council president, trusted the head of Finance and held her dear.
So when a budget was drawn up, Finance inspected every proposal the other departments submitted. When the money was spent, they monitored how the work progressed. And when an event was over, they closed the books and wrote the report besides. In short, there was almost nothing they did not do.
Worse, the moment the word money appeared even once in some sudden mess—like this latest Blow Incident—their workload multiplied without mercy. After the weekend, most of the Finance staff were all but living at the school, and Cindy Whiteglass, a fourth-year who nonetheless served as department head, had not set foot in her own house once since the incident broke.
She had worked from sunrise to sunset yesterday, and again today. Now, the strength gone out of her entirely, she had let down her signature sky-blue hair and curled up on the desk, chasing sleep.
She had not been curled there thirty minutes when Indoor, her staffer and the deputy head of Finance, sidled up and whispered in her ear.
"Chief."
"Why."
"You need to sign off on the Blow Incident. Now."
"Don't wanna."
"You have to."
"Haa."
At that, Cindy Whiteglass writhed across the desktop, thrashing with her whole body.
"I'm begging you, seriously! Just leave me alone!"
It was a sight Indoor already knew by heart, so he did not so much as flinch. He simply watched her. When her body went slack again a moment later, he held the papers out once more.
"Do just this, and you might even get to go home today."
"Why should I! Why! Why do I have to clean up after that Julbert and Golan Surf's crap!"
"Well, Student Welfare and External Affairs have already fallen into hell, and..."
"Those two are forbidden words from now on."
Cindy spat it out, trembling. Indoor swallowed the laugh that wanted out and went on.
"Planning is busy putting the Caipol Academia together, and Law Enforcement is tied up settling this business with the Faculty Council. You know that."
"Then Public Relations!"
"They've got next week's paper. And Redfrin."
"Oh, so we're not busy?!"
"It's an order from the student council president."
A silent scream.
Cindy Whiteglass answered by thrashing across the desk all over again, and the papers on it began to fly. Her deputy, long used to the sight, stopped them in midair with telekinesis.
In the end she gave up even the struggling, climbed down, and dropped into the chair she had occupied for roughly twenty-six straight hours outside of class. Staring into empty air, she twisted her hair up on both sides. Another staffer, as if they had been waiting, set coffee and cookies on the desk. She crunched the cookies the way one might crunch ice and began reviewing the documents Indoor had just handed her.
Watching her, Indoor clenched a fist and offered what encouragement he could.
"Only two months left, anyway. Hang in there a little longer!"
"For Finance, the peak starts now! It's year-end, you idiot!!"
"Right. Still, Chief, you're not doing this next year, are you?"
Cindy let out a hollow laugh and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Next year? As if it's ever going to come! Yulia or Julbert, let either of them try dumping this on me again. I'll burn the whole hall to the ground."
"Public Relations keeps sending cookies these days."
"Haa. Don't tell me those are the ones I'm eating right now."
"They are."
Cindy's face crumpled. She spat the cookies straight into the trash bin beside her.
"Aigoo, what a waste!"
"Next time they come in, send them right back. I'm begging you! I came here because I wanted to go to a magic school! Got it?"
"You should have taken a leave, like last year's chief..."
"Get out. I don't want to spend one more second at this school than I have to. Come to think of it, the second exam is right around the corner."
"Have you prepared?"
"Does it look like that's why I'm like this?"
"My apologies."
Giving up at last, Cindy Whiteglass put on her trademark pink glasses and bent over the papers. She flipped through what he had given her in a blur, reviewing every line without blinking once. Her quill darted from page to page, checking this and that, and Indoor, watching her work, could not help but marvel.
No matter how many times I see it, those eyes of hers are fast.
Before long the documents were thrust back at him.
"These get another review. Send the rest straight up to the president's office."
"Yes."
"And why haven't those bastards in Planning filed an Academia budget request?"
"Ah, they dropped it off earlier."
"See? Our Rebecca is the only one a person can actually talk to. Hand it over."
She began leafing through the papers they passed her. All the while, the mutter of the staff reached her ears.
"Hey, so how's the prelim champion match gonna go?"
"Obviously Senior Yulia, right?"
"Herbena's in it this time."
"Oh, yeah."
"Still, I think Senior Yulia wins. There's a two-year gap between their classes alone."
"What does time matter? Mana and magic matter more."
"Fair. When Herbena canceled every last one of Blase's spells at the last Magic Workshop, that was genuinely chilling."
The others nodded along as if in agreement. Then one of them said, quite seriously:
"A talent like that Herbena was exactly the sort of person who belonged in Finance..."
"I know. We should've recruited her somehow."
A sigh slipped out among them at the wistful words.
"Come on, though, don't you remember Senior Yulia? At last year's Caipol Academia she was honestly overwhelming."
"But she lost to Rachel Campbell in a single exchange."
"That was... because her strategy was defend first, attack after."
"Even so, one hit is a bit much, no?"
"Does anyone in the world even exist who can take a single hit from Rachel?"
"You've got a point. And during this incident, the senior stepped right out in front of Rachel, too."
"That was cool, I'll give her that."
"And Senior Yulia uses every attribute well, doesn't she? I hear her spatial magic is incredible..."
"So Herbena can't?"
"Herbena? I've never seen her go all out."
"That's true too. Yeah... we really should have gotten her into Finance somehow."
Indoor, still standing in front of Cindy, slipped into the conversation as if it were nothing.
"There's Rebecca, too."
"Isn't she a one-trick ice mage, though?"
"Ice honed down to the extreme, though."
"With Rebecca that isn't even the problem. She uses her body insanely well."
"Right. That's why she's the one I least want to fight..."
"HEY!!!!!!!!"
Unable to listen a moment longer, Cindy Whiteglass slammed the desk.
"Having a lovely little chat, are we? While your chief is dying over here!!!"
"Senior, we did the work the whole time you were asleep."
"I slept thirty minutes! Thirty minutes!! So why is there still this much for me to look at!!"
"Because you're the chief."
Unable to bear it, Cindy leapt onto the desk and shouted at them.
"Fine! I'll just go out and kill every last one of them!!!"
"That's impossible, Chief."
"You looking down on me!"
"No—against Herbena and Senior Yulia, obviously..."
"Thanks for the facts. I really do love all of you! My darling little Finance staff!!"
Her face, unlike the words, was murderous. Everyone drifted back to their seats. Indoor, quiet until then, murmured as if adding a footnote.
"...Against Rebecca, too."
"Indoor."
"Yes, Chief."
"Go brew more coffee."
"Yes."
Only then did he take the documents she had handed him and leave to make the coffee.
Cindy's Finance Department was at peace again today...!
The Nyx Inn.
Everyone except Herbena, Yulia, and Blow Deblique—the one who actually had to decide—waited with keen interest for his mouth to open. Skadi and Jane, who had no stake in the answer this time, were especially dedicated to their beer and to the shrimp they kept stuffing into their mouths. Blow Deblique, meanwhile, avoided the two girls' gazes, both of them fixed on him and grown razor-sharp, and sank into thought.
"Mm..."
The headache that had started earlier left his mind hazy. He pressed his hands together and frowned, and Rachel, grinning wide, drummed on the table.
"Hahaha!! Blow Deblique! Out with it!!"
As if he had decided, Blow Deblique rose from his seat. Every eye snapped to him at once. What came out of his mouth was a name no one had expected.
"Hans!!"
"Yes?"
While the others were still blinking at the name that had come out of nowhere, Hans burst from the kitchen. Blow all but shouted at him.
"Bring a bucket!"
"Sorry?"
"Now!"
"Yes!"
A wooden bucket bigger than his own head was set before him at once. Everyone stared, wondering what on earth he meant to do, and Blow began dumping beer into it without hesitation.
"Hans!!"
"Yes?"
"Fetch the Ropert!!"
"Yes, sir!"
"You absolute lunatic—!"
Rachel's face twisted as she grasped what the gesture meant. A bottle of Ropert malt poured cleanly into the bucket. Blow slammed it down on the table with a bang and declared:
"In place of an answer, I choose death."
"Young Master...!"
"That is very you."
Jane went pale with shock. Skadi shook her head. Rachel, who had been watching with a look of pure disgust, glanced once toward Yulia and Herbena—then smiled instead, and came over to him.
"Oho. Sure, that's one way. However."
Without warning she cracked open another bottle of her own wine and poured the whole of it in.
"It ought to be at least this much, don't you think?"
Beer, whiskey, and now wine. The smell rising off something that could no longer honestly be called a drink already had Blow's stomach churning.
"......"
"......"
Even so, he could not pick one of the two staring at him with eyes gone sharp—Yulia or Herbena. He drew one deep breath, resolved to drink it straight down, and gripped the bucket in both hands while Jane's worried voice called his name.
And Blow Deblique began to drink the cocktail of death.
It tasted like nothing he could name, like swallowing tainted water, and his face crumpled—until a hand clamped onto the bucket.
"Enough."
".......?"
The hand belonged to Rachel, who was looking at him as if she might die of laughter.
"What am I supposed to do if the proprietor dies before I get home!"
"Your consideration is appreciated..."
"First time I've seen it."
"Seen what...?"
"Someone losing both rabbits at once."
Startled, Blow looked ahead. Yulia stood with her arms folded, watching him. Herbena would not even look his way.
Right. Choosing no one was the same as admitting the two of them stood on the same level. Which meant he had dragged both of them down.
...Wait. This isn't what I meant.
He wanted to turn time back. It was already too late.
"Still, it'd be a shame to waste this liquor. How about we all drink a cup of it together, for the sake of the realm?"
Rachel dipped her glass in and drew it out. Everyone else stared at the color of the liquid with open revulsion, while Rachel's attendants, long accustomed to her, came over without a flicker of concern and ladled themselves a cup. The rest were still reading the room when Rachel looked them over, shook her head, and spoke as if dismissing them outright.
"Well, of course. Far too difficult a task for our mages. Naturally. Then we'll just drink all of this..."
"......We drink potions every day. You think a few liquors mixed together would scare us!"
Skadi was the first on her feet. She scooped a generous cup and carried it off, and the others followed, one cup apiece. Somewhere in the middle of it, Yulia had taken hold of the bucket, still more than half full.
"...Senior?"
"Ah, Young Master, I'm fine. There's a fire in my stomach just now. I'll drink the rest."
"You're going to drink all of that?"
Yulia answered with a smile. Her eyes were not smiling at all, and a cold sweat ran down Blow's spine.
"Senior. Me as well, if you please."
Herbena held a bowl out to her.
"Haha! Of course! Herbena, take a cup from me."
Yulia poured exactly half into the bowl. For reasons he could not quite name, the air around Blow seemed to close in.
...Haa. I'm really in trouble.
Both of them had their eyes fixed on him. He did his best to avoid those gazes, and Rachel, seeing it, burst out laughing and lifted her glass.
"All right, a toast, everyone! To that red-haired idiot!"
They drank the cocktail of death together, and the mood of the gathering only ripened further.
A short while after the cocktail of death, a brief gap opened, and Blow stepped into the kitchen. Melo was drowning in a flood of gambas reorders and boiling pasta at the same time.
"Pasta?"
"Yep! The shrimp's starting to run out. Fry it in olive oil and that's the end of it."
"Trying to fill them up, huh? Good work."
"Hehe."
Blow ruffled Melo's hair, then crouched beside Hans, who was only now getting a chance to eat, and looked at him with a pang of sympathy. When their eyes met, Hans hurriedly set down his food, stood, and asked with care.
"Young Master! Is something lacking?"
"No. Everyone's losing their minds over how good it is."
"That's a relief! Guess it was the right call, buying the good baguettes."
"Yeah. The stuff from Dusk Block isn't fit to eat. You've got the carriage ready to take us to Roten tomorrow, right?"
"Yes, Young Master. Megan and I have the luggage more or less packed, too."
"Good."
Blow studied Hans, who answered so solidly, then dug in his pocket and held out two gold coins.
"Y-Young Master, this is—!"
"You've been working hard, what with the construction and all. Buy yourself something you want."
"Aigoo, and you've got so many places the money needs to go these days...!"
"Lady Rachel Campbell will probably pay a fortune on her way out. If she has a conscience."
"Haha."
"Spend it well. Anyway, I'm heading back in."
He turned—and there was Yulia Edfolk, standing quietly in the kitchen doorway, smiling at him. A little startled, Blow cleared his throat and spoke carefully.
"...Senior? What are you doing here?"
"Rather tenderhearted, aren't you, Young Master Blow."
"Sorry? Are you drunk, by any chance...?"
"Me? I've never been drunk."
He had asked only because of that cocktail of death, just in case. A faint flush was the whole of it. Yulia Edfolk held her back perfectly straight even now, and that alone made her a little more frightening.
"Young Master, when are you leaving for the hot springs?"
"I meant to go tomorrow, but Skadi and Herbena said they wanted to come too, so I'm stopping by the monastery first and leaving Saturday morning."
"The monastery? You're going to Paulos, then."
"Yes. I've got something to see to."
Yulia listened, then nodded with a meaningful smile.
"Hmm... I see."
"But why...?"
"It's nothing."
It was clearly not nothing. A chill ran through him at the words, and Yulia took one step closer and whispered.
"Young Master Blow."
"Yes, my lady."
"A presumptuous question, if I may."
"Yes."
"That question Lady Rachel asked earlier. Could you give me just a little answer, for my ears alone?"
...Was Senior Yulia this kind of person?
Blow swallowed and looked at her. True to the name Indigo Witch, her indigo hair glittered under the light, and in eyes tinged with violet his own face was reflected whole.
"I'll keep it a secret. Young Master Blow."
"......"
This atmosphere. This situation. The answer was already decided. Blow lifted the corner of his mouth and gave it to her.
"Of course Lady Yulia would win."
"Haha! Wouldn't I?"
"I'll return to my seat first. Young Master Blow."
"...Yes."
Yulia went back wearing a smile of triumph, her steps noticeably lighter.
"That nice big sister is scary..."
Melo, who had been watching quietly from the side, said it while shivering. Blow could only nod along.
An hour after that, the meal was done, and everyone was on their feet.
"I ate very well! Blow Deblique."
Rachel Campbell looked thoroughly satisfied, and so did the rest of them. Blow offered her a polite bow.
"I'm glad."
"I'll stop by whenever I come on campaign."
Blow very nearly answered that he was not glad about that, and settled for a businesslike smile instead.
The meal was winding down, so Melo and Hans had come out of the kitchen as well. Rachel Campbell was walking toward Melo. As she approached, the girl grew a little frightened and quietly caught Hans's hand. Rachel bent her knees and met her eyes.
"Girl! I hear you were in charge of the cooking. What's your name?"
"M-Melo Greenhill!"
"I ate very well, Melo Greenhill! I'd like to pat your head!"
"Th..."
"Hm?"
"You may!"
Melo said it cleanly. Rachel stroked her hair with surprising gentleness.
"If the Deblique family ever goes under, be sure to contact me first."
"Yes!?"
"My lady, what a thing to say..."
Yulia stared at her, appalled. Skadi, who had already laid claim to Melo, gripped her fork as if she might snap it and stared at the scene.
"Haha! A joke."
With that, Rachel looked once around every gathered face, set a hand on Blow Deblique's shoulder, and spoke.
"Blow Deblique!"
"Yes."
"I said it yesterday as well, but I don't think you're cut out for an ordinary life."
"It does seem that way."
Skadi, Herbena, Yulia, Rachel... Blow Deblique looked over the four of them and found himself nodding. Rachel smiled faintly at the sight and beckoned one of her attendants.
"Sophia!"
The guard knight who had been holding her post came forward and held out a sheet of paper.
"Tonight's bill."
What Rachel pressed into Blow's hand was a voucher stamped with the seal of House Campbell. At the sum written there, the pupils of Jane and of Blow Deblique, standing beside her, had no choice but to grow enormous.