Midterm Exams (1)
It felt like barely any time had passed since enrollment, and yet the midterm exam schedule had been posted.
The moment the professor set the documents down on the lectern, the atmosphere in the lecture hall shifted at once. Someone let out a low groan; someone else was already scribbling down the exam scope.
The exam was divided into three parts.
Written.
Tactical assessment.
Artificial dungeon practical.
The written portion would cover monster ecology, dungeon structure, basic strategy, and a portion of imperial history. The tactical assessment would require each team to draw up an operational plan for a given scenario and explain its risk factors. And the final practical evaluation would test survival, combat, rescue, and judgment in a broader artificial dungeon than the last one.
Top scorers would receive a scholarship and a professor's recommendation.
The moment those words landed, the hall rippled a little louder. For students who needed money, students who needed a name, students who needed patronage—it was an opportunity none of them could afford to miss.
Far across the room, I could see Roseline standing before the notice board, surrounded by people. Chloe and Marien had approached her first, and a few other students had drifted naturally into her orbit.
Come to think of it—where did the factions that tormented Roseline in the original story go?
If things had followed the original, plenty of people would be sneering at the name Veloa, fallen as it was; they'd be dredging up her circumstances the moment scholarships came up, and needling her before the practical exam. In the original, that was how Roseline had suffered—drowned in one small, petty malice after another.
And yet now, strangely enough, it was quiet.
Well.
At the center of that crowd, there had originally been a gravitational point: Serena Arzen.
With me no longer playing that role, the current was bound to shift. The original's malice had lost its home, and Roseline stood among the people far more peacefully than I'd expected.
No.
Would it really end that easily?
The world was never that careless. The original story I knew had plenty of childish, sloppy parts, but at least in how it dealt Roseline her trials and rewards, it was relentless. After every mockery, someone reached out a hand; after every crisis, a chance came for her to prove herself. Her wounds became devices for displaying her nobility, and the malice became the stepping stone that pushed her to ever greater heights.
Just because I'd vacated the villainess's seat didn't mean the current itself would vanish.
"I'm troubled, actually."
The moment I murmured it, a voice beside me broke into my brooding.
"You look quite worried, Lady Serena."
A greasy tone.
I turned to find a man standing there with an oily smile. His blond hair was carefully swept back, and the coat draped over his uniform sat just barely within the edge of regulation. It was the kind of face that had gotten by on being called handsome, but to my eyes it was simply repulsive.
"Perhaps I could be of some assistance?"
Ah. So that's how it is.
When I step out, the current doesn't disappear—someone else fills the seat. Roseline needs her trials, and the original tacks a reward onto every trial. There's harassment, there's overcoming it, and at the end of it, someone recognizes Roseline's worth.
I thought I'd twisted that current, but the vacancy had been filled faster than I imagined.
"Get lost."
At my flat reply, the man's eyes went wide—then curved into a sly smile.
"Haha, still so frigid. Should I take that as fitting of Lady Serena as well?"
"Make me say it twice and you'll regret it."
"If you dislike me that much, it rather stings."
His face showed not a trace of hurt.
"What do you want."
"Want? Nothing at all. I merely noticed Lady Serena gazing that way with such a grave expression, and came over out of concern."
The man's gaze drifted naturally toward Roseline.
It was only for the briefest moment, but I disliked that look enough that my fingertips tightened without my meaning to.
"You mean Lady Veloa."
The man spoke slowly.
"Her name's been rising lately, hasn't it. She did well in the field exercise, and it seems she's one to watch in these midterms as well."
"So."
"It occurred to me that she might be of concern to you, Lady Serena."
He lowered his voice.
"If you wish, I could arrange the atmosphere for you. See to it that things don't get too heated before the exams, so to speak."
"The atmosphere?"
"You know the type. Students who get a little attention and forget their station."
The man smiled.
"I hear the Veloas are in dire straits these days. When a daughter of such a house reaches for something high without cause, doesn't the fall hurt all the more later?"
This man meant to flatter Roseline down so he could catch my eye. Like the Serena of the original, he'd guessed that the current me would hate seeing Roseline receive attention.
Not a wrong guess—just pointed in the wrong direction.
I hate it when Roseline draws other people's eyes. Friends gathering around her to laugh, professors marking her with interest, outside observers remembering her name—I hate all of it.
But a worm like that daring to put Roseline's name in his mouth was an entirely different matter.
"You. What was your name again?"
The man brightened at the question.
"How disappointing that you couldn't remember. Theodore Graham."
"Ah."
Now I remembered.
House Graham, viscountcy.
In the original, one of the minor branches that sneered at Roseline now and then. Neither a significant villain nor a character who left any lasting mark—a leech who scuttled around the edges trying to please Serena Arzen's moods, then conveniently vanished around the midpoint of the crown prince route.
I couldn't be certain, but if this bastard had really been pushed in to fill the original's vacancy, I couldn't leave him alone.
Malice of this breed always leads to the next scene's reward. When Roseline endures an insult, someone recognizes her grace. When Roseline suffers an injustice, someone rages on her behalf. When Roseline holds out alone, someone who witnessed it extends a hand.
That was how the world loved Roseline.
"Theodore."
"Yes, Lady Serena."
"When did I ever tell you to touch Roseline?"
Theodore's smile stiffened for the briefest instant.
"I only meant to be of service to you—"
"Service?"
I laughed.
"From you?"
"..."
"I already told you. Get lost."
Only then did Theodore begin checking the eyes around us. The corridor was full of students. He hadn't been shouted at openly, but a few gazes had latched onto us anyway, sensing the shift in the air here.
I took one step closer.
"And from now on, don't say Roseline's name in front of me."
"Lady Serena."
"Don't call it with your mouth."
Theodore couldn't answer.
How amusing.
I could have left a worm like this attached to Roseline, just as the original intended. Let him torment her, crowd her, fray her nerves right up until the exam. Then Roseline would endure her trial, overcome it, and catch someone's eye all over again.
But that's mine to do.
Shaking Roseline myself is fine. Cornering her myself, squeezing the breath from her with my own hands, driving her until she finally turns to look at me—that's fine.
But a worm like that touching Roseline, and Roseline being discovered by someone else because of it—that I won't allow.
It was no different from having my place stolen.
"Disappear."
At my final word, Theodore bowed his head, his face frozen.
"...My apologies."
He withdrew. Even before he was fully gone, I could feel eyes at my back, but I didn't bother turning around.
I had no intention of ending things at this. I'd stamp him down properly later.
For now, Roseline came first.
From far away, Roseline lifted her head. She must have sensed the shift in the atmosphere. The moment our eyes met, hers dropped immediately.
She's not... avoiding me, I don't think.
Seeing that face, the unpleasantness from moments ago settled slightly.
Yes. That face.
I can't let others lay their hands on Roseline. Shaking her, breaking her, driving her to the wall—those are my tasks. I have no intention of letting worthless worms reach out as they please.
"I'm troubled, actually."
I murmured low.
The original's harassment factions hadn't vanished. I'd vacated the seat, and the world was in the middle of shoving something else into it. And yet I hated the thought of Roseline's surroundings growing peaceful, too.
Then I'd have to change the method.
I looked back at the midterm notice pinned to the blackboard.
Written.
Tactical assessment.
Artificial dungeon practical.
My gaze lingered on the last item in particular.
The practical evaluation is where a student's skill and judgment are laid most bare. Roseline will surely do well. No—she must do well. Only then will more people watch, more eyes cling to her, and she climb to higher places.
If the world intends to hand Roseline her trials and press its rewards into her hands—
Then I simply need to stand at every crossroads on the way to those rewards.
"Lady Serena."
Isabel approached at my side.
Theodore had vanished completely at some point.
"What did that student from Viscount Graham's house say to you just now?"
"Nothing worth hearing."
"Your expression was not good."
"He said Roseline's name out loud."
Isabel fell silent for a moment.
"I beg your pardon? That alone?"
I smiled.
"That alone is plenty."
Isabel asked nothing further. Instead, she glanced once toward the midterm notice and said quietly, "You intend to make use of this exam."
"Yes."
I looked toward Roseline.
Chloe and Marien were speaking to her again, and Roseline was nodding, explaining something.
"Interfering would ruin the fun. Better to let her do well."
"Isn't that more dangerous? If Lady Veloa earns high marks, she could attract a professor's recommendation, a scholarship—even attention from the imperial observers."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Harassment, exams, evaluations—in the end, they're all devices for lifting Roseline higher."
I smiled at the midterm notice.
"So there's no need to ruin them, is there."
"You mean to use them."
"Let Roseline believe she's climbing by her own strength—then let her realize the truth at the very end. When she learns that my hand touched every step she climbed... I can't wait to see what her face will do."
Isabel held her tongue again.
"Isabel."
"Yes."
"Look into the midterm team assignments."
"You intend to change them?"
"Not for now."
Isabel's brow shifted, ever so slightly.
"How unexpected."
"I told you. I'm letting her do well."
Roseline has to perform well on this exam.
Only then will she be noticed. Only then can I make my moves. Only then will hope be born. Only then will more paths open.
And I need only stand at the head of every path that opens.
"That said. I should know where she'll be standing, shouldn't I."
"I will confirm Lady Veloa's team and evaluation route."
"Yes. And the imperial observation roster as well."
"Understood."
"The crown prince's party especially."
Isabel bowed her head.
Only then did I turn my gaze back to Roseline.
She still wasn't looking at me. Standing before the exam notice, talking with her friends, she looked like any ordinary student. Her face seemed, for that little while, to have forgotten her family's troubles, the merchant house's guarantees—even my name.
Forget it. Even just for a moment.
The corner of my mouth curled up, just slightly.
Because I'd make her remember soon enough.