Hellish Party Member Recruitment (2)
Arsen Academy's central plaza, smack in the middle of the grounds. Hundreds of people swarm here every day. Factor in the passersby, and you're easily topping a thousand. Most of that foot traffic hits in the afternoons. It's also the spot where upperclassmen kick off their drinking parties right after classes wrap up.
Right now was peak afternoon hours, the hottest time of day. So running into Rebecca here wasn't all that strange.
"What are you doing here?"
"As you can see, recruiting teammates."
"You seem pretty picky about who you take, though."
I figured she wouldn't know, but she'd seen the whole thing.
"Like I told you before, aren't you being a bit too optimistic about life at Arsen? You could end up isolated if you're not careful."
"Advice from a senior?"
"Yes. Even if it doesn't look it, I enrolled a year ahead of you."
Rebecca crossed her arms and took a step back, just like always. A red necklace hung around her neck. A small dagger was tied at her waist like an ornament. Both were hidden pieces we'd scored from the Lacnia Dungeon last time. She noticed my gaze and glanced sideways, pretending not to while dishing out her not-quite-advice.
"Arsen isn't an easy place. There are even repeaters who haven't graduated for years. You have to seize opportunities when they come. People are still friendly toward you now, but forever—"
"Then, would you join my team?"
"...Pardon?"
I cut off her nagging with a casual toss. It was just offhand to me, but Rebecca froze like she'd been hit with stiffness.
"The student council president isn't exactly idle."
"I see. Too bad, then."
"Yes."
The conversation seemed done there. But then...
"That said, I could spare a little time."
...What?
This time, I was the one freezing up. For a second, I thought she was joking. But her calm eyes said otherwise.
Silence hung between us, neither with more to say. Rebecca stood wordless for a moment, then looked across the plaza. A bespectacled second-year, the student council secretary Amelia Secretary, was approaching from afar.
"I'll be going now."
"......"
Rebecca melted naturally into the student council crowd and vanished. Of course, I still had to sit on that bench waiting a while longer. The sunset was already staining the sky.
As Rebecca said, Arsen is a field of opportunity open to anyone—but it's no dreamland amusement park. It propels the capable endlessly, but it's merciless to the incompetent. It pushes the winners from behind. It shoves the losers until they make it—or break.
For instance, if a repeater falls short on grades, they don't graduate until they fill the gap. Arsen doesn't care how old the cadet gets. Expulsion only applies to first- and second-years; from third-year graduation class onward, even that's off the table. All that's left is graduation or voluntary withdrawal.
But after repeating that long, they've sunk so much time into Arsen they can't just quit lightly. Motivation fades, and they can't even perform at half their original capacity. Eventually, they hole up in their rooms, the worst-case scenario.
Take what Rebecca said:
That's not just a warning. There really are repeaters here who haven't graduated in years. Going on eight years now, by some counts. A third-year who's looped the year five times. Among third-years, they're legendary. The community calls them "Osu," borrowed from some kid's anime character.
And the person I was waiting for? That was them. Looks like they didn't show today, though. It was midnight before I knew it.
"Guess they flaked today."
In the end, I had to call in a favor from an acquaintance. We'd just met today, but they'd offered help first, so I had an excuse.
Edel wasn't some name you couldn't say, but she seemed taboo even among second-years. While I waited, replies poured in from Sylvia. The last one had a map pinned with her location.
As I closed the watch, another message popped up.
Sylvia Leopard's favorability has slightly increased.
Looked like I'd planted a decent impression with an upperclassman. Rebecca said to grab opportunities, so I accepted the senior's goodwill. Keeping good ties with second-years would surely help my Arsen life ahead.
The watch now showed navigation to Raonsit Hall. Since Edel Di Bison was a third-year, I had to head to the third-year dorm. At night, no less. As a first-year, it felt awkward.
Raonsit Hall wasn't far, but upperclassmen passing by stared curiously. I pushed through clusters of third-years. Some outgoing types approached readily.
"Hey? First-year, right? Lost?"
"Heading to Raonsit Hall."
"Oh... that's the central building. What's up?"
"Nothing big. Looking for someone."
I tried to brush past, but a voice called from behind.
"Raonsit Hall at night? Watch the roads. Rumors of weirdos there."
"Weirdos?"
"Like Edel Di Bison... hasn't graduated in eight years. Better be careful. Heard she's got a weird personality."
I just nodded instead of replying. Eight years at Arsen, and all sorts of rumors sprout. Edel Di Bison had become legend after five years haunting the third-year dorm. The day her door opens? Like unleashing a demon. Third-years avoid Raonsit Hall; even residents head home before midnight. She supposedly prowls at dawn.
But I knew about Edel Di Bison. A bit gloomy, sure, but not the villain the rumors painted. In the original story, she actually helped Kyle out.
I finally reached Raonsit Hall and ascended to the fourth floor to make my way through the dormitory hallway, where the air felt unnervingly thick with a sinister and chilling energy that carried the sharp winds of unease. Despite being situated right in the heart of the third-year dormitories, there was a profound and unsettling absence of any human warmth, making it clear why the halls were so frequently plagued by restless ghost stories.
Plus a five-year repeater lurking—some third-years would rather commute than get assigned here.
I stopped at the end of the fourth floor. The nameplate read:
[B-99 Edel Di Bison]
Knock. Knock.
A light rap. No response, even after waiting. Worried something was wrong, I tried the handle—the door swung open. And hit with a nose-stinging stench. Anyone would've thought an accident happened.
Oddly, my Sense didn't trigger. Meaning this smell was just... ambient here.
I scanned around and stepped in cautiously. Movement from the back. Then a raspy, slurred voice.
"Wha? Who? Booze?"
"No."
Edel Di Bison was slumped over the table like a sloth. Hair a tangled mess, barely tied. Her oversized glasses—smeared with fingerprints—tossed aside. Empty bottles rolled on the floor. Training clothes on, unwashed for a month at least. My Telescopic Vision spotted every stain crystal clear.
'What a disaster.'
Total chaos. Even a maid would scream and bolt.
"No booze? Then who—?"
She looked up and clamped her mouth like she'd seen a ghost.
"Wh-who are you?!"
"First-year, Sion Illeionhart."
"Never heard that name?!"
Of course not—a fresh enrollee. She shot up from her slump and flung open the sealed window. Dust from the sill scattered like dandelion seeds.
"Ack, cough! W-wait! Water! Sit! I'll grab some!"
She bolted to the fridge in a panic. Now the room's mess was fully exposed. Like a rabbit warren abandoned for years. Eight years at Arsen turns people into this. Useless knowledge gained today.
"Sorry! Made you wait!"
Thud! Something hit the table. Looked like water, but no—a green bottle with a red cap.
"Sorry. No water here."
"Don't dorms provide water...?"
"Uh, too awkward going to get it..."
Even so, who chugs booze instead of water? Before diving into talk, I set my prepared gift on the table.
"What's this?"
"Hangover cure. Good for you."
No exaggeration—worth tens of thousands per dose. Standard hunter kit. Clears your head right up.
"Throat's dry..."
But Edel cracked the booze bottle and chugged straight from it.
"Came for senior's help."
"Gulk!"
She set it down—a third gone already.
"Sorry... don't care why you're here, can't help. I'm done for. Gonna die old here at Arsen."
"No pessimism."
"What do you know? You're a first-year! Still green. Look at me. Ruined."
She went for another swig, so I popped the hangover cure. Figured it'd come to this—can't talk like this. I didn't come to babysit a drunk.
Three pills total. I flicked one into her mouth with my fingers.
"Guh...?!"
Too precise—stuck in her throat. Sharp Shooter overkill.
"Ack! Gack!"
"Whoa, calm down. Sip water slow."
"Gahk?! H-help...!"
"That's booze. Here, water. Water."
In the end, I tilted her head back and fed her water myself. Good thing I brought a bottle—meant for me, but hey, saved a life.