Classes and Daily Life (5)
"It won't do."
I could sense an uncharacteristic firmness in Rebecca, who had shown up out of nowhere.
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't you say it yourself before? That the Esperand and Grander families have been closely collaborating."
"That's unrelated now, isn't it?"
I remembered we'd reached an agreement when I tipped her off about the hidden piece in the Lacnia Cave. There shouldn't be any loose ends.
"No. There must be a reason you came to see me. Probably the voice of your family."
But Rebecca shook her head. For someone who so rarely showed emotion, this was an unfamiliar sight to me.
"If you came to pay respects on behalf of the Esperand family, then the Grander family must offer appropriate treatment in return. That's the custom—the long-standing tradition between our two houses."
I was momentarily at a loss for words. I could guess what she was getting at, but it felt a bit sudden.
I'd assumed it would just end with the Grander family acknowledging the visit. The Esperand side had only instructed me to "pay respects," nothing more.
"If we've received something, we must give something in return. That's a transaction. Our deal may be over, but the relationship between Esperand and Grander endures. So—"
Rebecca von Anastasia Grander, eldest daughter of Grand Duke Grander of the northern swordsmanship dynasty, and the pinnacle of the student council. For her to speak with such earnest fervor was rare in itself. She probably never argued this passionately even in student council debates—most people just bowed their heads anyway.
"As the eldest daughter of Grander and president of the student council, I grant you the right to use the unoccupied 7th floor."
I nearly choked on air at her words but kept my composure, simply gazing at her.
"You're talking about the 7th floor of this guest house that I rented. The lease runs until I graduate from Arsen, so only a handful of personnel are staying there to manage it now. It's unused space."
So, if I'd understood correctly...
"You're lending me the floor you were using?"
"Yes. Otherwise, my position becomes awkward."
I wondered if there was some ulterior motive, but Telescopic Vision showed Rebecca as resolute as ever, standing tall as if stating the obvious.
She was asking me to consider her position. It wasn't just for show.
As she'd said, if Esperand had paid respects, Grander had to reciprocate. But I'd preemptively washed my hands of it before she could even respond, handing her the hidden piece and unilaterally declaring the deal done.
Strictly speaking, Grander had a point—they were owed something. They could make an issue of it anytime, just as she said.
...Like asking why they'd sent Esperand away empty-handed.
Rebecca, as the eldest daughter, stood at the center of Grander whether she intended to or not. Pressured from above, challenged from below for her position. That's why she'd come to Arsen—to break free from the chains binding her, rising to student council president.
Yet despite her efforts, she couldn't escape her family's stranglehold. She'd demonize and walk the path of self-destruction.
Rebecca's role was Kyle's first trial to overcome. A fate I couldn't change even after 18 tries.
With that realization, I couldn't refuse. Pushing back against her goodwill might even provoke unnecessarily.
"You'll accept my proposal?"
"If you insist that much, I have no choice."
But as Sion Esperand, not Sion Illeionhart.
I accepted Rebecca's offer.
"Mentioning my name will grant access to the 7th floor of the guest house."
"Did you arrange this in advance?"
"I'm the eldest daughter of Grander. I don't have such a loose tongue as to spread unconfirmed information."
Rebecca added the remark belatedly, as if it had slipped her mind.
"However, please refrain from entering the room I used."
That wasn't a big deal...
When the homeowner sets a rule, a freeloader like me has to follow it.
"Finally, this isn't from Grander—it's an investment from me, Rebecca, to you."
"An investment to Sion Esperand, not Sion Illeionhart?"
"Yes. This matter is solely between Rebecca and Sion."
A strange unease prickled my spine. For the first time, the ever-formal Rebecca had called me by name.
Rebecca, who had paused briefly, glanced at my bag strewn on the floor.
"You haven't unpacked yet."
"I just arrived."
"That's fortunate."
With those curt words, she turned and left. No farewell—just a business exchange, so we parted without sentiment.
After Rebecca vanished down the hall, I slumped back onto the sofa. The plush leather seat was comfortable enough, but nothing compared to the luxury furnishings of the 7th-floor suite she'd rented.
I turned to gaze out the window. Normally, this glass should frame Arsen's nightscape, the Ariana River cutting through it. The original work praised the guest house rooms for their stunning views—but only the upper floors. Down here, only obscured treetops were visible.
The top floor, 7th though... The view from there would be something else.
The true bourgeoisie shine anywhere...
Esperand's wealth was substantial, but Grander's far outstripped it. Unlike the shadowy Esperand, Grander operated boldly in the light. Equating them was absurd—they were polar opposites, bound by tangled interests, as the saying goes: extremes attract.
Rebecca had preempted any discomfort on my part by clarifying it wasn't from Grander. A considerate gesture on her end—I'd accept it gratefully.
She'd warned me off her room, but I already knew what she was hiding. I'd seen it in the setting materials and explored the guest house multiple times in the original.
Essentially, a pointless request.
The finale of Act 1.
In the original, you could visit the guest house after Act 1. That's when you get the chance to investigate Rebecca's room. Unable to dispose of it under Grand Duke Grander's watchful eye at Arsen, she leaves it—and players get a brief window to explore.
The items found there: research materials on the demon race, never to be exposed. Tied to the final boss.
Either way, Act 1 had begun. Rebecca's condition would worsen, leading to conflict with Kyle soon.
But this time, perhaps I could give the original's mere boss a different ending.
Change had started the moment she accepted my gift. My Sense told me so.
What's this...
My Sense, which had only flared negatively until now, glowed positively for once.
Arsen's student council building. The underground physical training room.
Well past midnight, with only minimal lights on, faint noises echoed.
I descended the stairs cautiously. My right hand was injured, so no intense workouts—just insomnia drawing me here.
Unlike Esperand's facilities, Arsen's training room was open 24/7. Anyone could use it anytime, though cadets managed their own conditioning and routines. Arsen invested generously in cadet growth, so it was lenient here. You could even request a personal coach for free—they'd handle diet and curriculum one-on-one. Gym rats would call it paradise.
I hadn't walked far from the lobby when I reached the noise's source.
A familiar light pink-haired female cadet swung her sword.
I stepped back to watch Iri train. Iri de Sugamond stood alone in the empty space, eyes closed, holding her sword stance.
...!
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. She slashed horizontally.
A charging blue hologram shattered against her blade. More humanoid holograms rose—shadowy figures at first glance—wielding weapons as they rushed her.
The pinnacle of magical engineering, like Esperand's: a combat simulator. Tough for Iri at her current level, yet she stood resolute.
She fiercely struck at enemies from all sides, her form still raw.
But raw or not, Iri was a swordswoman.
Schwick—!
Sizzle!
Her thrust pierced a hologram, scattering light particles. But she missed the last one sneaking behind.
I gripped my Glock left-handed and fired at it.
Bang—!
"Eek?!"
Iri jumped at the sudden gunshot but relaxed once she grasped the situation, shoulders dropping.
Habitually, I spun the Glock toward its holster—then gripped it again. Holster was on my right.
"What level?"
"I... level 3."
"Heard first-years are limited to 2."
"Ah, haha, ha..."
Red light beamed from the ceiling. Stage unfinished.
I pressed the button to end the simulation, sparing the dazed Iri.
"...Uh, how long were you watching?"
"From when you closed your eyes in stance."
"Oh, that was...!"
Iri flailed her hands, eyes blinking like a middle-schooler caught in black history.
She'd chosen this hour for a reason. That stance was Sugamond's secret swordsmanship—her unfinished homework.
"A-anyway, what brings you here? Thought you'd be asleep."
"Passing by, thought I'd check it out."
"You don't need more training, Shion."
A snort escaped me. clueless.
"If that were true, I wouldn't be hurt like this. Actually, you're more impressive."
"Huh...?"
"See." I raised my plastered right hand demonstratively. Despite the same ordeal, Iri was fine while I was wrecked. Esperand training kept it to this.
With the road ahead, slacking was impossible.
Pre- and post-training, my stats were extra-level. Growth happened, but lagged protagonists.
If Shion were strong, settings or story would've noted it.
"But I feel talentless..."
Iri scratched her cheek awkwardly. Half-right. Not talentless—unawakened.
But she'd reached this without it. Impressive.
"The ability to train is talent. Not everyone can."
"Huh?"
"So, hold on... Let me think."
If anything fit here, it was my Esperand days.
"Before coming here, my training was brutal. Talented kids without effort dropped out mostly."
"You trained too, Shion?"
"Yeah."
Iri didn't know, but I'd clawed desperately. To survive.
"Some born talented, some forge it—varies. I'm more forged than born."
But from what I'd seen...
Esperand big data showed survivors were the latter.
"Don't worry. Keep doing you."
Arsen brimmed with talents. Kyle-types had both, impossible to match.
Swallow following stork snaps legs. Consider weight classes.
Different beings, different paths. Do yours... That's what I meant to say.
Dunno if it landed, but anyway.
Iri truly lacked talent now.
Soon, though, she'd awaken one—Unique-grade, like mine.
From rolling in mud with me to surpassing her Joachim-schooled sister, claiming Sugamond's secret art.
Her hidden efforts would pay off.
Iri pondered my words, then looked up with sparkling, envious eyes.
"So you lacked talent too?"
"Nah, I have it."
"Eh?! Total scam—"
Sleep tugged; I turned to leave.
"Anyway, moderate it. I'm heading out."
"Then what was all that? Wait! Where?!"
"Figure it out smarty. You're sharp."
"Praise now?! I—!"
Her shouts trailed as I quietly shut the training room door.
My watch buzzed belatedly.
Arsen A.C: Successfully completed Peltus mission!
Arsen A.C: Gained 0.2 special service points (Current accumulated: 0.2 points)
Not intentional, but I'd accidentally pulled off a Manitou.
...Points are points, decimals or not. Better than demerits.
For tomorrow, time to sleep. Today's classes were orientation; tomorrow dives into Chapter 2 proper.
Time until event: 09:14:59