Ten Minutes Before Morning Roll Call
Ten minutes before morning roll call. The moment I pushed open the front door of Classroom 1-A for the first-years, the air brushing against my skin felt different from usual. An eerie sense of wrongness that was hard to put into words. The instant I crossed the threshold, every gaze in the room snapped toward me in unison, as if on cue. It was a suffocating tension, like standing in the eye of a storm.
I paused at the door and swept my indifferent eyes across the classroom. Leonhardt, standing by the window with his arms crossed, had a gaze weighed down not by his usual arrogance, but by deep anguish and scrutiny. Julian sat at his desk, pressing his fingertips firmly into his temples while staring fixedly at a point in empty space. Elarra, the second our eyes met, gasped sharply and immediately dropped her gaze to the floor beneath her desk—like a mammal terrified after witnessing some tremendous secret.
Seraphina clutched her flushed cheeks with both hands, breathing raggedly. Tristan was scribbling furiously in his notebook like a madman. Oscar, in the corner of the front row, hunched over a sketchbook on her lap, her hollow eyes roughly tracing lines with her pen. Isabella had her hands clasped together, eyes closed, lips moving in pious prayer.
They all saw it with their own eyes yesterday... I swallowed a short sigh and walked quietly to my seat. It was inevitable. Sixteen hyperactive noble brats had witnessed that absurd, overwhelming massacre up close.
I sat down, and Reina, who had followed behind me, took the seat beside me. Ignoring the bizarre tension in the room entirely, she casually rested her chin on my elbow.
"Cadel, what's for lunch today?"
"I don't know yet, Your Highness."
"I want meat."
"Right after outdoor training, your digestion might suffer, so you should hold off on meat every day. It'll blunt your jawline."
"No way. I want meat."
"It's up to the dining hall chef, regardless of Your Highness's preferences."
Reina pouted in dissatisfaction but, far from pulling away, leaned into my arm with more of her weight, drowsily nestling closer. I pulled out my notebook and began mechanically organizing my schedule for the day.
I could feel the countless stares in the room twitching sensitively at the slightest movement of my fingertips or Reina's breathing, but I didn't stop writing. Ten years as a K-teacher had honed this skill. This level of blind scrutiny was just annoying.
Scraaaape. Just before class started, the front door opened again, and Assistant Professor Arthur entered. The dark circles under his eyes seemed a centimeter longer than yesterday, and his trembling hand still clutched a green potion—his lifeline, a low-grade mana restorative.
He stood at the podium and unfolded his tattered attendance book, pausing briefly. His sharp, jaded worker's eyes read the taut, almost religious atmosphere in the room. But he didn't ask any pointless questions.
"Leonis."
"Yes."
"Vander."
"Yes."
"Evans."
"Yes."
"Astrea."
"Yeah."
Arthur glanced up briefly. His hollow gray eyes took in Reina for a moment, flicked over my face, then dropped back to the book. He said nothing. Neither did I avoid his gaze. In that short silence, we shared the cool solidarity only overtime-weary adults could understand.
Morning was magic theory class. As Arthur gripped the chalk and scrawled mana wave analysis formulas across the blackboard, the room's tension eased ever so slightly. I took notes mechanically while monitoring the others from the edge of my vision.
Seraphina wasn't even looking at the board, scribbling densely in her notebook while blushing to herself. Tristan pretended to watch the board but struck poses as if cloaked in an invisible cape, scraping away at his notebook. Oscar had her sketchbook hidden under her textbook, making indecent pencil scratches. Leonhardt stared holes through the board but kept stealing glances my way, his jaw muscle twitching.
They've already filtered it through their own rotten lenses and come to their perfect little conclusions. I didn't need to ask to guess how it had spread. What I'd said yesterday while personally removing Reina's "gloves" in front of the tent. And how that single phrase made a powerful demon literally evaporate with the ground beneath it. Passing through those kids' chuunibyou, romance, and fanatic filters, it had no doubt twisted into some horrific rumor. I was too tired to chase them down one by one explaining, "It's just safety gloves to prevent property damage."
Ding, ding, ding. The bell rang, signaling the end of morning classes and break time. Seraphina moved first, toddling quickly toward my seat. I felt her presence but kept organizing my notes.
"E-Evans."
"Yes, Lady Lumière."
Seraphina's voice trembled faintly—a dangerous quiver from tension or excessive delusion-fueled adrenaline.
"Yesterday... in the Beast Forest..."
"Ah, there was an unexpected situation in the practical evaluation zone. Thankfully, no casualties thanks to Her Highness's swift response."
"N-No, that's not it! You... you took Her Highness's hand..."
Seraphina suddenly clutched her red cheeks and twisted her body.
"That chilling gaze as you personally removed her gloves and whispered! That tension! It was straight out of the forbidden romance novel I read—the 'Tamed Weapon of Slaughter and Her Noble Master' scene exactly...!"
I stopped my pen mid-line. My stomach ulcer throbbed. Tamed weapon of slaughter was one thing, but master? I was just Reina's squire.
"Lady Lumière, you must have been badly shaken by that high demon's horrific killing intent yesterday. Your complexion looks unstable today. Why don't you head to the infirmary right now for treatment?"
"N-No! I'm fine! Witnessing that tremendous taboo with my own eyes... I'm more than fine!"
Seraphina fled back to her seat, practically steaming from the head. Reina watched impassively with her chin on my arm, then tugged my shirt sleeve.
"Why's she like that?"
"Seems like she's got a serious fever in her brain."
"Oh."
Reina nodded indifferently and went back to watching birds outside the window.
"Comrade."
No sooner had Seraphina vanished than Tristan approached slowly, extending his bandaged arm forward. His single visible eye gleamed dangerously at me through his long forelocks.
"Yes, Young Shadow."
"That thrilling scene yesterday... I etched it firmly into my eyes."
Tristan whispered in a heavy baritone that seemed to drip onto the floor.
"The moment you personally held the 'Key of the Seal' and granted complete liberation to the incarnation of slaughter slumbering within! That was no mere subjugation. It was...!"
He thrust his clenched fist to his chest and cried out.
"The 'Lord of the Abyss,' hidden in this world, finally unveiling his most horrific weapon—a holy declaration!"
"...Young Shadow."
"Speak, my great comrade."
"The bell rang. Class is starting—sit down quietly."
Tristan gazed down at me meaningfully, then spun dramatically as if flourishing a nonexistent cape, and returned to his seat. I dragged my hands down my face and let out a deep, heavy sigh.
Reina looked up at me after staring at Tristan's bizarre retreating figure.
"Why's he really like that?"
"No idea. Don't want to know either."
"Oh."
After lunch, I settled alone on a quiet bench in the western corner of the academy courtyard. Reina had stepped away to the bathroom. My one moment of peace.
Crunch, crunch. Cautious footsteps on the grass approached. I looked up to see Isabella standing before my bench. Her hands clasped piously over her chest, eyes gently closed. The breeze tousling her abundant golden hair proved the rumor that she glowed with a halo in morning backlight wasn't nonsense.
I swallowed a sigh and waited for her to recite some cult doctrine. Isabella slowly opened her clear, limpid eyes.
"Young Evans."
"Yes, Lady Aris."
"Yesterday..."
Tears welled in her golden eyes.
"I beheld the saint's holy sacrifice, personally unbinding the beast's seal to remain unstained by the world's filth."
"Seems there's a misunderstanding. I merely did my duty as Her Highness's squire."
"Ah, even that humility dazzles the eyes."
Isabella gripped her clasped hands tightly in rapture.
"But my faith saw clearly: what you held was no mere glove fragment. It was the 'Sacred Chains of the Seal' you bore to halt the world's reckless chaos. To unbind it yourself means...!"
"Lady."
"Yes, Saint."
"It's just leather gloves."
"...Pardon?"
"Special mana-control gloves to make Her Highness's meals more comfortable."
Though the main purpose is my physical well-being. My fact bomb made Isabella blink. But she soon nodded lightly, a saintly smile on her lips.
"The saint's humility is as boundless as the universe. Humbly, I engrave that great feat deep in my faith."
She gracefully gathered her skirt hems, bowed, and glided away toward the courtyard. I roughly rubbed the bridge of my nose with my fingers.
God, is there not a single normal person in this damned school? Even the third-year Class 3 kids from my past life—who'd been called a delinquent camp and wrecked my stomach—were more reasonable. At least they operated under physical laws and reality.
"Evans."
I opened my eyes to find Leonhardt standing by the bench, silent as a ghost. I inwardly admired his flawless stealth.
His expression looking down at me, arms crossed, was strange—not his usual smug, obnoxious imperial heir face. It was the heavy visage of a man admitting a crushing defeat, hesitating over how to bare his deepest shame.
I asked flatly,
"What is it, Young Leonis?"
"...Yesterday."
Leonhardt's voice sank heavily, scraping the floor.
"For the first time before that demon, I drew my greatsword."
"I saw clearly from behind."
"But."
He clenched his fist, swallowing his words.
"I couldn't swing it even once."
"..."
"Before that demon, I wouldn't have lasted a second—I'd have been torn apart. I instinctively knew my sword was powerless against that calamity. So I froze."
Leonhardt's tightly pressed lips trembled faintly.
"Evans. Weren't you truly afraid before that hellish killing intent yesterday?"
I gazed steadily at Leonhardt. Drawing his sword but failing to swing from terror. For this elite boy who valued his frail pride above life, coming to me and confessing his shame honestly took immense courage—his eyes proved it.
I propped my chin and thought briefly, then answered with utter honesty.
"I was terrified."
Leonhardt's eyes shook faintly.
"So I thought we needed to end it quickly."
"Is that why you ordered the Lady?"
"More a request than an order."
Leonhardt let out a small, wry snort—not his usual sneer, but the hollow admission of one facing overwhelming strength.
"...Evans."
"Yes."
"If something like this happens again."
He turned his gaze to the courtyard.
"I'll be there."
I glanced at Leonhardt. He stared beyond the bench at the courtyard, murmuring very quietly but firmly. Pure-blooded macho greatsword wielder, folding his pride to say this. I knew how much deliberation it took this kid.
"Thank you, sir."
Leonhardt turned wordlessly and walked away. Watching his back, I spotted Julian observing from afar. Our eyes met; he nodded once and looked away.
I massaged my stiff nape, thinking. Just this morning: Seraphina, Tristan, Isabella, Leonhardt. More would come. Oscar hadn't shown her sketchbook yet, and Elarra looked like she was tallying something.
"Cadel!"
A dazzling silver head ran across the distant courtyard. Less than ten minutes. Reina plopped down beside me and wordlessly rested her head on my arm.
"Didn't get lost."
"I always find my way back fine."
"Forgot you got lost twice at the bathroom?"
"The layout's weird."
Reina pouted and buried her cheek deeper into my arm. Her slender gloved hand gripped my uniform shirt sleeve tightly. The afternoon sunlight poured peacefully and drowsily over the courtyard, as if nothing had happened.