Entrance Exam 3: The Prince's Humiliating Defeat and the Red-Haired Challenger
"Ugh, we're screwed... Isn't that Rehem? The Third Prince?"
"Why's a Third Prince taking the exam anyway?"
"Top of all seven subjects? That's chief graduate material... Huh? Wait, something's off. The only subject His Highness passed was history?"
If it were some dimwit like us, sure, but a prince educated in the royal palace on the verge of flunking? Suspicious. Beatus held his breath, scanning the surroundings slowly.
Jealousy and envy toward the prince, mixed with all sorts of petty emotions. Looked like some nobles had sabotaged him out of plain royal resentment.
"...But shouldn't he still ace the exam?"
Magic or archery aside, economics and history should be cake for a prince, right? Still baffled, Beatus tilted his head this way and that.
Kali, stroking her chin while surveying the area, finally dropped her verdict.
"Maybe he's just an idiot?"
"Even royals are human after all..."
Just different blood color, but people are people. The two gazed pityingly at the prince.
Of course, they weren't cheering him on—they wanted their friend, a Witch who didn't even use magic, to win.
"Screw royalty, let's crush his balls!!"
"Wouldn't that be a problem?"
"Grand Duke'll clean it up."
The Grand Duke wiped his beak with his tongue, fluttering his wings at the thought of the prince turning princess in a TS twist. But he quickly reverted to his usual solemn demeanor, calculating the odds.
If it looked really bad, he'd intervene just a tiny bit. Tough break for the prince, but better than fighting a Witch.
A Witch—those who could manifest their imagination into reality. If their talent kept up, anything they envisioned became real. Even without that, their soul held immense value, perfect for contracting with great beings.
Hadn't he himself contracted with the first-generation Witchcraft, trading mana for it? Even now, without a word, he was absorbing the mana leaking wildly from the second-gen girl, who couldn't control it properly.
She didn't even realize, wasting power she didn't know she had. But if she suddenly awakened and swung it around? Disaster—the prince would die.
Not knowing she's a Witch played a part, but her stubborn resolve—wanting to rely on effort, insisting she's a man, choosing her own path—kept her power in check.
Breathing alone leaked it, though; no way she could contain that much. Still, if she'd trained properly, maybe she had an ace up her sleeve. Trusting his second-gen contractor, the Grand Duke calmly watched the two boys step into the arena.
"Sorry to disappoint the lady. Who'd think a prince could be so incompetent, on the brink of failing?"
"Can't you just yield gracefully or something?"
"Got a promise with a friend. Plus, she's a Witch, so I gotta go all out—"
"Quit yapping about witches! I only found out I was one a few days ago!!"
"Match begin!"
At the instructor's signal, I gritted my teeth, gripped my wooden sword, and charged. The prince eyed my move oddly, then seemed to catch on from my words and assumed a stance.
Light seeped from his wooden sword, blooming into the aura I'd only read about in books. Something I'd chased for ten years without even touching its shadow now shimmered beautifully before me.
"Ngh...!"
I had to control my emotions, but my face betrayed me. Not jealousy or envy—just longing for what I lacked, yearning for an unreachable realm.
Being a girl made swinging a sword even harder now. After all that effort—!
Pouring my feelings into the downward slash, a boom echoed as the startled prince staggered back. I was shocked too by the overwhelming power, but I didn't stop.
"Crude and simple—but solid foundation!"
Ten years grinding basic swordsmanship? Praise like that just made me grateful and happy.
Meanwhile, the prince's sword battered my body viciously, even though he'd clearly blocked. I endured the hits, clenched my teeth, and pressed in savagely. His expression grew serious.
"Dunno the details, but swordsmen learn a lot clashing blades... But why all that effort—"
Soon, he voiced his genuine confusion. Yeah, even a dragon would flee a Witch; he could tell they were insanely powerful. But I didn't want that greatness or specialness...!!
I just wanted to do what a man could—make my family happy!! If all that became trivial, worthless, empty just because I turned into a girl? That's too cruel.
"—A man's stubborn pride!!"
I channeled my surging emotions, raising my sword high. An all-out overhead strike—vulnerable to dodges or counters.
But my shout made the prince stand firm, ready to meet it head-on honorably.
"Haaah!!!"
As I maxed out my arm overhead with a shout—
A pop—and my stuffy uniform, already bought oversized, exploded spectacularly.
The buttons shot like bullets from the recoil of my upraised arm and the bounce of my chest, nailing the prince's eye dead-on. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming, frozen in agony.
Obscured by my own chest, I couldn't see—but I slammed my wooden sword down on his crown.
Bam—!
Just before his face hit the ground, the Grand Duke softened the floor with his power. His face got imprinted perfectly on the stone, but no mangling.
The Grand Duke was impressed. Any man would stare at those massive breasts. Lure his gaze by swinging her arm to make them jiggle max, then jack-ping! Brilliant!
He hadn't rushed in because her mom had huge boobs. Regret flickered at the rough road ahead, but he shook it off. Anyway, cutie, right? Victory for his first contractor.
Beatus and Kali rushed to a dazed, happy Wiyu, cheering her fluke win. The fallen prince was carted off, ruled failed for admission.
The Grand Duke watched Wiyu change into a fresh uniform, chatting academy life with friends.
With entrance exams lasting another week, new students got free time. Wearing the red ribbon symbolizing first-years, we explored the first-year building.
Grand Duke handled paperwork as guardian, freeing us up while others suffered forms.
Peering through classroom windows, imagining classes, dreaming of academy life—
"Heard you dropped my pathetic friend—came to see. Yeah, first time for such a vulgar bitch."
A woman with fierce eyes matching her blazing red hair glared at me. No escape in the academy hallway dead-end.
Stranger or not, she radiated inexplicable hostility. But "dropped" gave away her friend.
"He lost, so he flunked. That your excuse to pick a fight?"
"Ha? Loser loses. Loser's fault, right?"
Her rudeness made me snap back, but her response was wild. Blaming the prince for incompetence?
Weren't they friends? They'd called each other that.
"Just checking the winner. Hm—yep."
She propped her chin, scanning me top to bottom with a disgusted gaze.
"Ah, got it."
"Your mom's probably crying buckets over you. A Witch this pathetic?"
"...What'd you say?"
"What, you snap at mom insults? But it's true."
Mentioning my mom to a stranger made my eyelid twitch. She smirked mockingly, provoking more—like I wasn't even worth it.
"Effort? Fine... But too much talent or birth makes it arrogance. How spoiled was your mom to raise such a stubborn brat? Bet she cries nights?"
My fist flew before words. She dodged, eyes flashing surprise, shock—then disgust. Like, really sticking to this?
She sidestepped, stomped my instep, hooked my jaw. Stars burst; I crumpled but recovered, swinging—only for her to bat it away.
Whip-fast arms battered me one-sidedly. She sighed, brushing hair back, griping about wasted time on a kid.
"Sigh, now I see. Just a damn brat."
She tsked down at my pathetic hallway sprawl.
Lots to say, but maybe I was even more pitiful than thought.
"Ephemera Flash."
"...What?"
"My name. Remember the chief's? Chocolate?"
No ask, just slapped on "Chocolate," turned, and left. What kinda bitch is she? I rubbed my throbbing face, swallowing rage.
"Ugh..."
Academy life already tangled. Can I even survive? Marked by the psycho chief day one. Damn.
"I'll pay you back someday."
I grumbled, standing. Time for first-team classroom assignments.