The One-Meter Crisis
"Haaam……."
The morning of the entrance ceremony. On my way to the grand main building of the Imperial Academy, I let out a massive yawn that nearly unhinged my jaw.
The night before, I'd fended off the beast that burrowed into my bed, all while protecting the life of our stickler dorm supervisor. Even with this vigorous 17-year-old body, the all-night defense marathon had left hollow shadows under my eyes.
"Cadel. Sleepy?"
Reina, who'd hooked her arm through mine and pressed it snugly against her chest as we walked, suddenly poked her face into my view. The unrealistic sight of the academy's top beauty strolling arm-in-arm drew stares from every student around us, but she ignored them completely, gazing only at my face.
"Why'd you smile at that glasses girl yesterday? You should only cook for me, and smile only for me. No good. Should I go back and slice her up for real?"
"Student. You don't touch teachers at school. And that wasn't a smile—it was my social survival tactic for navigating this brutal empire."
"What's 'social survival'? Just smile at me—that's enough."
"Please, no school violence committee... or murder cases on the first day of classes. I'm too wiped to even write up a settlement or report."
A decade as a high school teacher had honed my ironclad defenses, and Reina pouted in dissatisfaction but still rubbed her cheek against my arm. She couldn't care less about other people's lives or deaths, but she hated seeing me tired. A terrifyingly transparent thought process.
Not long after, the massive doors of the auditorium swung open, and the entrance ceremony scene inside utterly shattered my common sense.
A colossal dome-shaped hall that could seat hundreds. Yet the number of 'students' lounging on the wide velvet chairs at its center—across all grades combined—was fewer than 60.
Filling that vast emptiness instead were the hordes of attendants, family-exclusive knight escorts, and academy faculty here to serve these exalted figures. Their numbers dwarfed the students two- or threefold; adults lined the walls in a tight, vigilant perimeter.
As the full student body gathered, the formal entrance ceremony began.
"Erm... Next, a welcome address from the Imperial Academy Dean."
At the podium stood a stern-eyed, no-nonsense old gentleman delivering his speech with florid rhetoric. The dean of the Imperial Academy, Count Wilhelm. A self-made man who'd risen from commoner teacher to count solely on his contributions to nurturing the empire's talents.
He stayed rigorously neutral in the emperor faction versus noble faction political quagmire, infamous as a rigid stickler who chewed out even royals or duke grandpas without mercy if they broke school rules.
To wrangle these super VVIP brats, you need that level of old-school authority(?).
Having memorized the academy's key personnel list before enrollment to survive this insane world, I inwardly found comfort in this inflexible disciplinarian principal.
"Noble heirs and ladies who will lead the empire's brilliant future……."
As Dean Wilhelm's address droned on, I sat next to Reina as a special enrollee, instinctively counting heads and analyzing the room like a occupational hazard.
Let's see. Empire-wide, only two ducal houses including Astrea, five marquessates, about 30 counties. Narrowing to direct heirs exactly 18 this year... including me and Reina, precisely 16 new students.
This wasn't a 'school' for learning so much as an exclusive 'social club' for future power monopolists. Factions already forming in clusters, exchanging loaded glances—the adults' political thriller was taut from the start.
Naturally, those budding power players' eyes locked onto today's biggest storm's eye: us.
A mix of gazes. Awe and admiration lost in Reina, the empire's strongest sword and overwhelming beauty. Then blatant contempt and curiosity toward me, the '17-year-old low baron heir' glued to her side.
But amid them, some chills crawled up my spine. A few ladies peering over fans, licking their lips with sticky, predatory stares.
...What the hell are those heavy looks? Have they pegged me as the 'seductive pretty-boy gigolo' who's stolen the duke's daughter's mind?
Of course, Reina fiddling with my hand beside me ignored the others' stares, fixated solely on my face. Unaware that any boundary-crosser would unleash a bloodbath in the hall, the nobles' elegant yet lethal scouting war continued.
"...This concludes the Imperial Academy entrance ceremony. New students, proceed to your assigned classrooms."
Finally, the count's interminable speech ended, and orders came to move for class introductions.
Exiting the auditorium and opening the door to Class 1's room, I let out a small sigh of relief at the unexpected coziness. Perfectly sized for 16 students—compact and snug.
High-end hardwood desks in neat arched rows of four, tiered around a central blue podium. Luxuries like plush carpets and velvet chairs screamed 'not your average high school,' but the layout felt familiar.
A seating chart designated by the homeroom prof was pinned to the blackboard; a young TA stood at the podium taking roll in their stead.
"Where are our seats......"
Squinting at the chart, mine was the back row—fourth tier, right side. Reina's was the far-right window seat; mine right beside it.
Oh, the school has some tact. Paired us side-by-side for the joint enrollment.
I'd worried noble cliques might polarize the seats; quiet relief washed over me. But it lasted less than three seconds.
"......"
Reina beside me looked seriously pissed. Her gaze wasn't on the chart but our assigned back-row desks.
The reason? Even in this snug VVIP social club, each desk had a generous meter-wide gap for noble 'personal space' in the arched setup. Side-by-side, sure—but that meter gap perfectly provoked the beast.
"Cadel. Desks are too far apart."
She muttered in a drowsy, displeased tone. And then—
Wood creak—!
The classroom air thickened like wet cotton, pressing down. Air pressure plummeted, hard to breathe. A horrific gravity field formed around Reina within five meters.
Not kill-intent to draw her holy sword. Just world-strongest irritation at 'sitting apart from Cadel'—a natural disaster tantrum. But the fallout was unreal.
Sympathizing with her mood, the plush carpet sank deep; empty desks' legs screamed under the load. Beast brain: simple solution. Gap too wide? Crush and compress that useless meter with gravity.
"Stop!! Stop!! Can't breathe, you maniac!!"
Coughing, I panicked and gripped her shoulders. Pale-faced toward the frozen TA, I yanked out my go-to [Special Permit] from my pocket and waved it wildly.
[Special Permit]
Emperor's Decree: Joint Enrollment as Exclusive Escort & Tutor to Lady Reina de Astrea.
Must remain within 1 meter (or closer) at all times for protection duties.
Signed & Sealed by His Imperial Majesty.
"T-TA!! Imperial decree, imperial decree!! The exclusive retainer has guard duties—must stay within 1 meter, no, 1 centimeter!! Otherwise, this student gets upset and turns the floor and desks to dust!!"
"Eek?! Wh-what... but the arched seating's aesthetics......!"
"Aesthetics over my life?! You want 'Imperial Academy Classroom Collapses Day One from Gravity Anomaly' plastered on the empire paper? Please, just let me shove the desks together!!"
My bloodcurdling roar broke through; the gasping TA nodded shakily under the invisible pressure. Without looking back, I grunted and dragged my desk and chair over, slapping it flush against Reina's—no gaps, ignoring the elegant arch symmetry.
"Phew... See? Side-by-side now. Perfectly stuck."
Sweating buckets with a forced grin, the classroom-crushing gravity vanished like a lie. Air returned; she sat lightly beside me, chin in hand, utterly content.
"Yeah. This is Cadel's seat."
Having bodily averted disaster, I slumped over my desk, panting. Felt like a year shaved off my life in the first hour of school. But the real trouble was just starting.
Our desk debacle(?) and the unidentified gravity that'd crushed the room—watched in stunned silence by the empire's top VVIP brats entering the class.
After the seating fiasco, a tense silence blanketed the room. As the crushed TA cleared his throat to speak, the back door flew open irritably.
Click-clack, click-clack. High heels echoed sharply under her ornate uniform.
Chloe de Valua, core of the emperor faction, Marquess Valua's lady. Her banquet arrogance intact, she strutted across the center, fan fluttering, nose high.
Her eyes hit our back window desks—Reina and me, zero-gap stuck—and twitched.
Ah... that glare. 100% incoming beef.
Teacher's instinct confirmed it. Chloe hadn't forgotten the terrace humiliation.
Click-clack. She halted right in front of our desks; Reina's purple eyes darkened ominously.
No!! Can't get labeled problem child day one!!
Panicking, 0.1 seconds before Chloe spoke, I shot my hand under the desk. Interlocked my rough fingers with her trembling gloved ones, squeezing madly.
"......?!"
Reina froze. Her gaze drifted down to our joined hands. Ice-cold purple thawed with life; her lips curved slyly.
Oblivious to her threat, Chloe sneered at Reina then spat venom at me.
"My, Lady Astrea brought such a 'vulgar lowborn retainer' into the academy's sacred classroom? How tacky. The air's getting all stuffy with a baron runt like you sitting there."
Contempt poured over her fan. High school girl disdain? Zero damage. But I wasn't saintly enough to smile off open provocation.
I grinned, locking eyes. Pulled out... the emperor-granted special permit, unfolding it slowly. In my teacher-low, bone-chilling tone:
[Special Permit]
By Imperial Decree: Cadel Evans permitted joint enrollment as exclusive protector & educator to Lady Reina de Astrea.
Hand-signed and Imperial Seal affixed by His Majesty.
"I'm seated here because His Imperial Majesty specially permitted my joint enrollment as the lady's exclusive guard and tutor, signing this permit by hand with the imperial seal. Assigned by imperial decree."
"......Wh-what?"
"Does Lady Marquess think... His Majesty's decision 'lowers the sacred classroom's dignity'? Questioning the decree's validity? Or doubting the imperial judgment...? Better clarify."
My counter left Chloe's face bloodless. Just insulting a low baron, now framed as defying the emperor, a rebel. Even haughty marquess ladies couldn't frontally deny an imperial decree.
"Wh-when did I...! J-just a joke, why so sensitive?! Annoying!"
Face ashen, trembling, she hid behind her fan and fled to her seat.
Phew... nothing beats the imperial frame for shutting them up.
I inwardly cheered, glancing at Reina still interlocked and unrelenting. Ignoring Chloe, she leaned dreamily on my shoulder.
"Cadel... gonna keep holding hands like this?"
Her drowsy-sweet voice drew cold sweat. "…Student, no hand-holding in class."
Chloe fled; awkward silence fell.
Phew... dodged the ugly scene.
Sighing relief, tucking the permit away—then a prickling stare from the front-center seat. Per my memorized list: Julian von Vander, noble faction head, Vander ducal heir, top new student.
...What? Why's he staring like that since earlier?
Deeply intrigued, he adjusted his glasses. Eyes darted between my pocketed permit and Reina, now meekly dozing on my shoulder. A weird smile spread; he nodded like he'd cracked a profound mystery.
What the hell's that cryptic smile?
Channeling my 10-year girls' high vet, I shallowly analyzed his smug(?) grin and nods.
Top-student types love overhead analysis. Low noble causing back-row ruckus and sassing a marquess lady day one? Probably pegs me as arrogant baron trash riding ducal coattails. Rich kids' entitlement, ugh.
He shot 'I know it all' scholar eyes. Tangling would exhaust me.
Aigoo, smart top student. Stare at the board, not back here. Eye contact's tiring—ignore.
Ignoring his actual thoughts, I whipped my head away. Priority: wrangling extreme childcare(?) with this 17-year-old body.
"Cadel, don't look elsewhere. Only me."
"......Yeah, got it. Student, ease up on the grip. Hands are sweaty."
Sighing at the beast's sneaky obsession fiddling my hand under the desk, I fretted over the brutal academy life ahead.