The Mad Dog of This Territory (1)
I had never had any hobby that involved sitting down for cozy little chats with men, but if the other party was the Imperial First Prince, that was a different matter.
If he told me to bark, then I’d bark.
After glancing around once, I fell into step beside the student council president, Edwin, and moved away from the platform. By then, the spot where Edwin and I stood was at the very edge of the base camp.
"Cain Reinhardt, you should consider this an honor."
"Pardon?"
"Across the entire continent, the only person who has ever received a shoulder massage directly from me, the Imperial Crown Prince, is my mother. So if some social gathering among students comes up, feel free to brag about it. You can say, 'I’m the one person who got a massage from the Imperial Crown Prince himself.'"
If you cut out all the context and only said it like that, I really would become the center of any social circle. The problem was that the fallout would be mine alone.
I had no interest in being executed for imperial disrespect just because I wanted to make a little noise, so I shook my head in disgust.
"No, thank you. I’ll keep the massage you gave me, President, safely tucked away in my memories."
"And did the training go well this time?"
Edwin seemed to let it slide, as though he’d only been joking to begin with.
"And did the training go well this time?"
"Yes. With President Edwin there, I was able to approach it with a calm mind. I also got good results with Lia."
I was feeling rather proud of myself for what seemed like a decent answer, but Edwin looked at me with a strange expression.
Why was he looking at me like that? Had I said something wrong?
"You’ve picked up some pretty good flattery since I last saw you. Whose handiwork was that?"
At his question, my gaze drifted unconsciously toward Lia.
Edwin followed my line of sight and looked up at the platform.
"Ah, I see. She’s your very own girl, is she?"
"Lia is not exactly my very own girl... but."
"I didn’t say who it was, and yet you volunteered it all so nicely."
"……"
Good grief, what a slippery bastard.
Still, it made sense. Trying to outtalk the Imperial First Prince, who’d grown up in a palace where intrigue and power struggles were everyday fare, was a fool’s errand. I shook my head, admitting defeat.
With a quiet snort, Edwin laughed and patted my shoulder.
"Well, there’s no need to beat yourself up too much even if you didn’t say it yourself. I already figured it out anyway. On the ring finger of your right hand. I saw with my own eyes that you were wearing a ring with the same design as Lia von Elleves’s."
"……Ah."
So I had thought I was hiding it, but he’d already found out. I had been hiding my right hand behind my back, and now I simply brought it forward.
"In the end, secrets only draw more attention the harder you try to hide them."
"That’s a rather meaningful remark."
"If that’s how it sounds to you, then it means there’s something you’re hiding from me."
"Would it be all right if we got to the point now?"
If I talked with Edwin, word for word, for more than ten minutes, every last ounce of my mental strength would be gone.
"Hmm, straight to the point. Very well. Cain Reinhardt, about carrying out the deal we made—when are you thinking of starting? I’d prefer as soon as possible, if you can manage it."
"You didn’t set a deadline, but as you said, I intend to begin as quickly as possible."
"Sounds to me like you’ve only just realized you don’t know where to start."
"……I won’t say that’s not true."
"Good. Honesty suits you. Acknowledging your shortcomings and working on them is also one of the virtues a nobleman should have."
There was something about the way he said it that made me feel as though he were twisting the knife, and then Edwin held something out to me.
"Take it."
"Yes, thank you. But what is this?"
"I picked out the materials from the records Rowen and I investigated that looked like they’d help you two. The organization at the very top is the one that looks like it’s pocketed the most. As for the ones below that, well. You probably don’t need me to spell it out."
I carefully looked through the stack of papers Edwin had handed over, starting from the top.
They were packed tightly with neat handwriting, giving brief information on each organization, along with last year’s budget plan, actual expenditures, and even a list of the students affiliated with them. It was thorough to the point of absurdity—there wasn’t a thing missing.
"You must have had a hard time putting this together."
"Oh, it was nothing. Rowen and I just stayed up a little late."
Edwin shrugged.
He was such a slippery man that there was every chance this was a lie too, but at any rate, I understood why he had suggested we have a cozy little conversation. The conversation had been an excuse; the real reason had been to hand me this file.
In thanks for providing the materials, I bowed my head and kept looking. Among the papers Edwin and Rowen had organized were several of the groups Lia and I had already marked as suspicious.
"You seem to be paying special attention to the swordsmanship groups. Is that where your interest lies?"
"Ah, yes. Since I’m a swordsman myself, I thought I might actually be able to talk to them."
"Talking with swordsmen, huh. That won’t be easy."
"Why do you say that?"
"I probably shouldn’t say this as student council president, or even as a fellow swordsman, but..."
Edwin tapped his temple twice.
"The sort of people who dedicate themselves to the sword as a profession are usually a bit off in the head."
"……"
Well, yes. That was true enough, considering the splendid specimen standing right in front of me.
If I said that out loud, though, I’d never hear the end of it, so I swallowed it down and lowered my eyes instead.
The total budget assigned to the swordsmanship organizations was about twenty-one thousand pounds; if you combined the large and small groups, there were roughly ten of them. Which meant that even if twenty percent of the budget was skimmed off, each organization would be losing an average of four hundred pounds.
That might not sound like much when you said it that way, but one pound here was worth eight hundred thousand won in modern Korean money. In other words, four hundred pounds meant the equivalent of 320 million won.
When you thought about it as each group pocketing an average of 320 million won, it was a truly obscene amount. After all, my annual allowance wasn’t even ten pounds.
This was absolutely going to need a thorough tax audit, if only for my own peace of mind. I silently made up my mind and neatly tucked the documents away.
"I understand what it is you’re concerned about, but I’m sure it’ll be fine."
"Fine, is it? So you’re confident."
"Well, it’s not so much confidence as..."
Like Edwin had done, I tapped my temple twice.
"I’m a swordsman too."
The interest in Edwin’s eyes deepened.
"I’m a little crazy in the head too."
In other words, I was saying I was crazy as well.
* * *
The old building of Bern Academy, the practice room of the swordsmanship club ARMA.
It was lunchtime, that leisurely period when every student at the academy was enjoying a break.
The administrative officer for the swordsmanship club ARMA, and the minimum required resident in the practice room, a second-year male student, let out an idle yawn.
"Haaahm..."
According to Bern Academy’s rules, during lunchtime and club activity hours, at least one responsible person had to be present in each club room.
The reason was very simple.
-Knock, knock.
“Excuse me, is the person in charge of ARMA here?”
This was to welcome unexpected visitors who might suddenly come calling at the club room.
Under noble etiquette, turning away a guest who had come looking for you was considered rude. So this had begun as an informal custom in the academy’s early days and eventually become official policy.
"Haaahm... Who is it?"
Who would it be at this hour? I’d said I’d be taking in new members after classes, so had they mistaken the time?
The second-year boy, still dragging his feet through a yawn, rose from his seat and walked to the door. Just as he reached for the locked handle to open it—
“Yes, hello. We’re here from the student council.”
"……From where?"
“The student council. Student council.”
The student council?
Why would the student council come here?
"S-sorry, but... what brings you here?"
“Yes, nothing serious. We just have a small matter to check regarding budget execution procedures. If the person in charge is present, we’d like to review last year’s budget documents in their presence.”
"……"
At the words budget documents, a shiver of tension ran down the boy’s spine.
And no wonder. If they were asking for last year’s budget documents, those were the very papers left behind by his predecessor, a third-year upperclassman, who had run off after helping himself to a tidy little fortune with the boy.
And if he handed those documents over to a student council officer...?
...Unless he’s a complete idiot, he’ll realize we pocketed a ridiculous amount.
That could not happen. No, more precisely, it must not be discovered that it had happened. So the boy cleared his throat and said,
"Ah, well. The person in charge isn’t here right now. You’ll have to come back later."
“The person in charge is out? Then who’s inside right now?”
"Uh, well..."
...What was he supposed to say?
For a moment, the boy’s mind froze.
“No answer, then. If you don’t respond within ten seconds, I’ll take your silence as an intentional refusal to cooperate and force the door open. Ten, nine, eight..."
"What? Wait a second. Force the door open? What kind of ridiculous nonsense is that?"
“It isn’t nonsense. It’s written in the academy rules. Article 17, Clause 12: all persons in charge of clubs and organizations within Bern Academy are obligated to cooperate sincerely with any investigation conducted by student council officers. If they violate that...”
“Hey, listen! I’m telling you, there isn’t any person in charge here who has to cooperate with your investigation! Come back later—just a little later!”
If I can buy time, I can alter the documents or hide them...!
The boy, now frantic, raised his voice. The age-old law that the louder voice wins worked just as well in a fantasy world as it did in modern Korea.
But the student council officer standing outside the door, unfortunately, was not the sort of man that trick would work on.
“We would like to do that too, but we’re already buried under a mountain of delayed schedules. I’m sorry that we can’t match the person in charge’s timetable, but if you don’t open the door, we’ll force it after seven seconds as I said.”
“Seven, six, five, four, three...”
"What the hell kind of crazy bastard is this...!"
Still muttering curses, the boy held out hope that this was all just a scare tactic. Surely they wouldn’t really be as reckless as they sounded.
And then, just as that thought crossed his mind—
“Two, one. Grace period over. Commencing enforcement.”
THUD, THUD!
There came a noisy racket from outside the practice room, and the lock on the door began to tremble violently. Then—
CRASH, BANG, SNAP!
With the sound of something being forcibly ripped apart, the lock on the practice room door was shattered to pieces.
-Creeeak.
"Greetings. I am Cain Reinhardt, an officer of the student council. This here is Lia von Elleves, who is also an officer."
The black-haired, red-eyed man who had gently placed the violently torn-off lock onto the table bowed his head politely.
Standing beside him was a woman with such beautiful pink hair that his eyes had flicked toward her before he could help it...
"H-hey! No matter that you’re student council officers, do you really think you can just tear the door off someone else’s club room like this?!"
That was not the important issue right now. The boy, who had been staring blankly at Lia von Elleves’s face, came to his senses a beat too late and raised his voice.
If I give ground here, I’m finished...!
Even if they were student council officers, the moment he let them seem easy to push around, everything would unravel. Then what he and his predecessor had pocketed would be exposed to the world, and he would have no way to escape responsibility.
Having reached that conclusion, the boy opened his eyes sharply and glared at Cain, but Cain only returned the look with indifferent calm.
"I do apologize. But as I informed you, the person responsible for each club has an obligation to cooperate sincerely with any investigation carried out by student council officers. However, senior, you violated that obligation, so we had no choice but to..."
...Wait, senior?
The boy looked the two of them over from head to toe. Cain and Lia’s tie colors were red.
In other words, first-years.
One year below him.
"...Well, what an insolent pair of brats!"
Once he realized that, the boy raised his voice even higher. The reason was simple: he believed Cain and Lia were clueless first-year freshmen, and if he barked at them as a senior, they would be scared enough to tuck their tails between their legs.
"I told you the responsible person wasn’t here, and I told you to come back later. And yet you ignore the words of your heaven-sent senior, force the door open without permission, and then try to intimidate me? I cannot forgive such rudeness!"
With a snap, the boy pointed at Cain with his index finger.
"Juan Drost, rightful heir to the Drost viscountcy, hereby formally challenges you to a duel!"
"……A duel?"
"That’s right, a duel!"
When the second-year student, Juan Drost, made the declaration with great swagger, Cain Reinhardt scratched his cheek awkwardly.
In Juan’s eyes, Cain’s expression made his intentions obvious.
He was probably acting all cocky because he happened to be dragging a woman around with him, trying to show that he wouldn’t be cowed even in front of a second-year senior.
It’s written all over your face, you punk!
But even so, the bastard was still just a first-year freshman. How strong could a little brat like that really be?
If he put the fear of God into them now, they would pretend to back down and come again later. Then Juan could use that opening to alter the documents perfectly and hide them away.
Having worked out a flawless plan in his head, Juan waited for Cain’s reply.
Come on, speak up. Say that no matter what, you can’t possibly duel a senior, that you beg forgiveness for your disrespect...!
"Um, senior."
...!
"Yes, good. You’ve thought better of it. If you’re changing your mind and turning back now, I’m not so petty that I can’t let it go..."
"No, that’s not it. Let’s do it?"
"...What?"
"Let’s have the duel."
Crack, Cain loosened his knuckles.
"Let’s keep the rules simple. The winner gets to do whatever he wants to the loser. Would that be all right?"
"What? No... Hey, you bastard! Are you seriously trying to take me on...!"
"All right, here I come."
The moment Cain spoke in that flat tone—
Clang──!
some enormous blow of pain struck beneath the boy’s jaw, and at the very same instant—
"Ghk...!"
his consciousness sank down beneath the dark depths of the sea...