No, I'm Telling You, It Copies! (1)

Monday morning.

Birdsong drifted in through the window, along with the warm glow of sunlight.

The weather had grown pleasantly warm of late, leaving the room comfortably airy, and as I opened my eyes amid that gentle atmosphere, my mind wandered back to what had happened last Saturday.

And I immediately folded those memories up nice and neat and chucked them into the trash.

Ugh.

Fold those memories right back up.

It had been the kind of day that gave me indigestion just thinking about it, so what was the point of remembering it?

But the moment I swept those thoughts aside, other thoughts came bubbling up—ones that had been wedged into some forgotten corner of my mind, too buried to surface until now.

And what happened to surface was, as it turned out, far more serious and important than anything I'd been dwelling on.

Wow.

Come to think of it, the serious problem wasn't the past at all. It was the present.

"…Professor Niger?"

[Yes.]

"So, um, what exactly am I supposed to do about the midterm exams…?"

The midterms were still looming.

Come to think of it, today was the first day of week eight, and I was in the frankly astonishing state of having prepared absolutely nothing for the exam.

No wonder I kept feeling like I'd forgotten something ever since I got home on Saturday.

Idiot.

Technically, this stopped being a Saturday problem about three weeks ago, when I really should have finished all my exam preparations, but regardless.

I wondered if a professor who forgot about his own exams even existed in this world—and never imagined that professor would be me.

[Figure it out yourself…. Actually, what is there for you to figure out? Just give them some half-baked written exam and be done with it.]

That was, admittedly, the most comfortable option.

But I'd only just managed a single week of theory lectures. Testing them on that alone felt like cutting way too many corners.

"Ah, um. I'd rather not, though…."

[…. Clearly any advice I offer goes in one ear and out the other, so do as you please.]

Hey, no need to sound so wounded about it.

"Midterm week starts this week, and I haven't prepared a single thing."

[I have no idea what you want me to do about that, but I'd recommend starting with a written apology for the Headmaster.]

Ah, damn it.

The apology letter hadn't even crossed my mind.

Niger heaved a deep sigh, then went silent, as if he'd never existed in the first place.

After that, I called for him again and again, but all that echoed back was a hallucination-like refrain of 'karma.'

Come on.

Please just help me out here.

It was entirely my fault for realizing far too late that this hadn't been the time to be out on a date—but still.

I kept calling Niger's name all the way until it was time to leave for work, and in the end, with no answer forthcoming, I set my feet toward the Academy.

A sigh escaped with every single step.

It was my sorrowful lament, the grief of a man who had accepted the fate of a professor he'd never even wanted to become.

Ah.

What am I going to do about the midterms.

At present, I was staring blankly as Elia put her students through their paces.

My own ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lecture, for its part, had already ground three straight hours of theory into my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠students and thoroughly wrung them out, so there wasn't much for me to observe.

The despairing expressions on their faces after three hours of nonstop lecturing kept flashing through my mind, but that was what they deserved for refusing practical instruction in the first place.

The only problem was that near the end of class, when a student asked what was going to happen with the midterms, I couldn't quite bring myself to give a straight answer.

I did tell them there'd be an announcement before Friday, but whether I could actually manage to post one by then was the bigger question, if I were being honest.

Nothing had been properly decided yet.

Hmm. Do I really have to fall back on a written exam after all?

I'd told the students they didn't need to bother with theory. If I turned around and announced a theory exam now, I could imagine exactly how they'd look at me.

If I pulled a stunt like that in a general elective, I'd be getting rolled up in a straw mat and stomped by the whole class before the semester even ended.

Knowing my luck, the stomping might even come on exam day itself.

Back when I was a university student, if a professor flipped his word the night before an exam and wrecked it on us, I'd have been fully confident of torching at least his office.

Ah, my life.

Frankly, the fact that a professor was sitting here agonizing over what to do about midterms was ridiculous in itself.

But I deserved a little leniency, I felt.

This was my first time playing professor, after all. Early on, I'd shoveled theory at my students and told them to bury it and get practical—and besides, I'd been so buried under an avalanche of everything else that my head was a blur.

Could a man in that state really have been expected to dream up a normal midterm? That was my pitiful excuse.

I'm pathetic too, so cut me some slack….

And so there I was, pondering how one even goes about writing an apology letter.

"Professor Niger, whatever dilemma are you working through so diligently?"

Elia's voice reached me.

At that clear, bright voice I lifted my head and found her face looking back at mine, smiling impishly—damp with sweat, yet without the slightest hint of strain.

Pretty.

And shameless of me to think it, but she'd always come to my rescue whenever I was stuck on something.

So maybe.

This time too…?

"Well, Professor Elia."

"Yes, go ahead. Hmm, though—if it's a favor, would you call me by my name like last time while you ask? It makes me want to work extra hard on your behalf."

"…."

I stared at her with an incredulous look.

Brazen. Though frankly, the brazen one was me, but still. When I kept gazing at her fixedly, Elia shifted her expression into a look of mild disappointment and fired off her retort.

"Ah, well, if you won't, nothing to be done. You clearly aren't desperate enough, so I'll just wish you luck in resolving it!"

Look how cunning she's gotten.

Old Elia would have beamed at me with that guileless smile and told me to ask for anything I wanted. Now she was deliberately turning her head away, waiting on my answer.

Apparently getting chewed out by Bellatrix on Saturday had taught her a lesson or two.

The problem being that the lessons she'd picked up were all the wrong ones.

"…Elia. May I ask you for a favor?"

"Hhk—! Of course…! Anything, just say the word!"

But for someone who's supposedly gotten so crafty, isn't she absurdly easy to crack?

All I did was drop the word "Professor."

When Elia heard my dilemma, she stared at me for a moment with a face full of disbelief.

Yes, I know. So please don't look at me like that.

"Truly…, well. I was stunned for a second because it's a problem I never even imagined. The midterm plan submission deadline, I believe, was last week. Hasn't the Headmaster said anything to you?"

At Elia's careful words, I slid a piece of paper across to her.

The apology letter I'd been hard at work on since a while ago.

"Ah, um…. I see."

Elia replied like someone who had lost the ability to form sentences—a response that wasn't really a response at all.

Her hanging jaw, her twitching eyebrows—they seemed to speak for her, spelling out just how absurd she found it, and I felt a little embarrassed.

"I was…, rather terribly busy, and it slipped my mind. Even Elohim says such mistakes can happen…."

"Ah, yes…. Elohim is very forgiving, isn't He."

He forgives murder, so going easy on an unprepared exam should be well within His mercy, no?

Professor or not, failing to prepare for a test isn't a capital offense.

Really, it was a matter of writing one apology letter and taking a small pay cut, and it would be overlooked.

Oh, thinking of it that way, I feel a bit better.

"Hmm, for the practical side of a Sacred Arts course…. You have covered healing, barrier, and purification spells in full, yes?"

"Yes, I have."

"Then how about making it a substitute midterm where your students assist the Swordsmanship students in their practical exam? We were planning to hold ours in the Forest of Hallucinations this time."

Ah, now that I think of it, Lutz took his midterm in the Forest of Hallucinations around this time.

It was an episode I'd used roughly to underline Lutz's tragic past and the wounds on his heart, so no accident had occurred there.

So. The Forest of Hallucinations, hm.

The Forest of Hallucinations was, first of all, a forest located on Academy grounds.

Due to its nature, entry was normally strictly forbidden, but it was opened once in a while for examinations.

It wasn't a bad idea.

Perhaps a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bit much for first-years, but it was certainly a suitable venue for putting the Sacred Arts to use.

Still, I did wonder whether leaning on her this heavily wasn't an imposition.

So I answered with an awkward laugh.

"May I really? I won't be interfering with the Swordsmanship exam?"

"Hmm, if anything I think it'd be a good thing. They're first-years, after all—you never know what kind of accident might happen. So why not pair them up one-to-one and send them through in teams of two?"

Elia said this with a soft, beaming smile.

She looked so lovely, smiling as she insisted it would help her too. She was worrying herself over a problem that wasn't even hers, and I was grateful for it, and somehow she was just… cute.

Before I knew it, my hand was on her head, ruffling her hair.

"Hweh…?"

Elia let out a strange little sound at my sudden touch, her head jerking stiffly as she tilted it up.

She must not have expected to get her hair ruffled, because she simply stared at me, dazed, like a machine that had broken down.

Her expression looked so utterly blank that I flinched, my whole body shuddering, and pulled my hand off her head.

Ah. Sorry.

I thought you were Ppoppi from next door.

Click, clack—

The sound of my heeled shoes rang out.

It was a peaceful lunchtime at the Academy.

The students savored the mood, laughter blooming among them.

I wasn't walking among them, but I could feel that atmosphere just as keenly as they did.

Admittedly, whether due to exam season or what, the shadows beneath their eyes were impossible to hide.

And yet every one of them still strolled the campus grounds with a bright face.

And threading through it all came the students' voices.

"Hey, did you hear? The Sacred Arts midterm notice just went up on the Academic Bulletin Board."

"Ah…. I'm scared already. Is it normal to be scared already…?"

"Beep. Yes. Perfectly normal."

The students exchanging that chatter promptly dashed off toward the Academic Bulletin Board.

Midterm notice.

A sigh was folded into those very words.

It was information that important—yet information no one wanted to hear.

Knowing that unhinged professor of mine, the madman who posts his exam notice during exam week, there was no telling what kind of exam he might have concocted. One couldn't even begin to guess.

And so I walked.

Drew near the Academic Bulletin Board where the students were swarming.

And truly, the status of a Ducal Princess was remarkably convenient at times like this.

As I approached, the crowd parted to either side of me, clearing a path as though nothing so lowly dared to touch me.

It left a faintly bitter taste in my mouth—but a good thing was a good thing.

Thus I lifted my eyes to the board.

The murmur of the students rose up around the board as they read the notice.

On its face, the announcement was fairly ordinary. But the fact that the exam venue was the Forest of Hallucinations, and that it ran from morning until evening—both of those things were deeply suspicious.

Ah.

And I was already terrified.