Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: In the Line of Sight
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"Hmm."
The stares were focused on me with unnatural intensity.
I pretended to be calm while eating, casually glancing around without seeming awkward.
Aegis Academy fostered a strong sense of belonging, so even on weekends, a few cadets in uniform were visible.
"Nothing seems different from usual..."
The cafeteria atmosphere was remarkably serene, which made me think some incident must have occurred right before I entered.
That left only one conclusion: I was the one drawing all this attention.
"There are about four major factions here."
It was a situation that should have irritated me, but oddly enough, I felt nothing.
Sadly, I'd grown accustomed to this unwelcome spotlight ever since enrolling in the academy.
A mid-term admittee who created the nonexistent major of marksmanship.
Rumors that my mother's influence had pulled strings—rumors that weren't entirely baseless—had turned me into a dishonorable celebrity.
-Creak.
I finished the last fried beans on my plate, taking my time to chew and swallow before slowly standing up.
"Should I step in, or let it slide?"
The unpleasant stares still followed me, but no one had the guts to confront me outright.
"Good meal."
I greeted the servant who scurried over to clear my spot, then leisurely exited the cafeteria.
Back in my pint-sized childhood, I'd often get caught up in childish brawls from hotheaded peers, but after my miraculous growth spurt, such incidents dwindled.
My mother's prank disguised as a gift—a vital energy pendant from some mysterious eastern land, half-serious—might have worked its magic.
"I've got to handle this quickly."
Unlike my reckless teenage days of letting things slide, I'd learned to watch my step.
I knew well how much attention and effort my isolation forced onto those around me.
Perfect timing: when I entered the cafeteria, four major factions happened to be gathered.
I clearly spotted the hood-wearing guy from basic theology—the one who'd picked a fight with me—among the group that had trash-talked me.
"Writing Club."
The Writing Club was one of the wholesome, ambitious official clubs formally approved by Makina Christy herself.
I spent the day mulling over whether to act on the idea I'd had while eating, then wrapped up my evening.
***
The next day.
Sunday morning dawned.
If this were the capital, cadets would all head to the busiest streets for fun, but regrettably, Aegis Academy floated alone on the sea.
There was a modestly bustling shopping district, but it fell short of captivating the high-year students who'd spent their youth here or the early-maturing low-year ones.
"Arma."
Our wake-up times varied, so we rarely crossed paths at breakfast, but today I ran into Judith in the cafeteria.
Judith had just finished morning training; her face was flushed, body temperature elevated.
"It's been ages since we bumped into each other here."
"I'm more shocked. A late riser like you showing up this early?"
"Decided to turn over a new leaf."
Judith didn't seem to buy it.
She twitched her eyebrows in that "you're scheming something weird again" look and took the lead.
"Egg dishes are the best for breakfast."
"Not for me."
"Picky eaters get hated by their future brides."
"So my future bride cares about that kind of thing."
A nameless, faceless future bride demanding I have the stomach for egg dishes at breakfast—what a greedy girl, or maybe not.
I sat across from Judith at a table laden with breakfast fare, taking a slice of white bread and some fruit.
"Same as yesterday."
Unpleasant stares still zeroed in on me.
The cafeteria's occupants varied slightly, but those four prominent factions stood out as before.
"One of those four is definitely the Writing Club. The others..."
Truth be told, that's why I'd rushed here earlier than usual.
I wanted to identify who was grouping up with whom and which clusters were hostile to me.
-Thud.
While I brushed off the familiar glares, Judith looked outright offended.
She set down her spoon with a grimace, midway through her spicy egg-drop soup in chicken broth.
"Judith. I'm fine."
"Then why hasn't a single bite of bread made it to your mouth?"
"Just woke up too early; no appetite."
Hiding discomfort was second nature.
The merchant's son who bought his title had survived over a decade in this noble academy thanks to such composed facades.
"You can't take your eyes off him for a second without this happening."
Judith glared daggers at each whispering cadet stealing glances our way, radiating a vibe that dared anyone to step up.
"I'm used to it. Don't worry."
"You're a walking storm cloud, sure, but this year's especially bad. There's a limit to childishness."
"Especially? Feels normal to me."
"Walking storm cloud" was the slogan piercing my decade-plus at the academy.
I nodded sadly at Judith's words, stuffing steaming fresh white bread into my mouth.
"I've already figured out how to handle it."
With some tenure under my belt, little fazed me anymore.
Judith untwisted her annoyed legs and refocused on her meal.
"No point worrying her; I'll sort it quietly and tell her later."
A short while later.
Her belly full, Judith's mood lifted swiftly.
For the record, Judith was a massive eater.
She could polish off five whole roast turkeys at banquets.
Then rummage for cake because she needed "something different"—it was awe-inspiring.
"Ah."
"Hm?"
"They said lunch is fish today. Wanna hit the training grounds to work it off?"
"Eat like that and run? You'll rupture something."
"?
?"
Judith stared at me like I'd spoken gibberish.
But I was the one wondering what she meant.
Would we forever fail to understand each other?
We exited the cafeteria, distance between us grown, when—
"Stop him!!"
"Who... how?!"
Chaos erupted by the small fountain in front of the cafeteria.
Beyond it, two figures tumbled and grappled in a blur.
"Fighting?"
As high-year students, protocol demanded we intervene.
Judith and I exchanged glances and bolted toward the fountain.
"Nothing left to say, huh?"
-Smack!
The dominant cadet straddled the fallen one—who barely shielded his face—and rained down fists.
Purple hair swaying with her shaking torso looked familiar.
"Looks like you've got a lot to lose today."
-Thwack!
"Your honor, pride, and teeth."
"S-stop!!"
The purple-haired cadet cocked her fist for a finishing blow.
It was Shirley.
Our family mad dog!
Shirley was looting some nameless cadet's honor, pride, and teeth.
"Hey, Shirley! What's going on?!"
"Let me go!"
"You think I'd let you?!"
"Then don't!"
"Please calm down! Just this once, Shirley!"
The guy on the ground was already a ragdoll.
One more solid hit, and Shirley's academy days would end in the student council isolation room.
"Judith...! What are you doing?!"
"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, Shirley, stop."
Moments ago, Judith had charged in to break it up.
Now she stood arms crossed, eyes wide, half-heartedly chiming in like she had no clue how to de-escalate.
"Seriously, quit it. One-on-one with Makina Christy is terrifying."
I grabbed Shirley from behind, pinning her arms like a restraint hold, and shoved her back.
Fuming as she was, enough reason remained to distinguish friend from foe; she went limp and let me pull her off.
Only then could I see who lay crumpled on the ground.
"The hood guy!"
The shady swordsmanship major who hid his face in a hood and badmouthed me everywhere!
A high-year swordsmanship major beaten to a pulp without landing a touch—scandalous.
I was relieved Shirley hadn't gone after my honor this time.
"No need to ask why this happened."
"Yeah? Then let go of my arm."
"No can do. Judith! Quit goofing off and watch Shirley."
"Come here, Shirley."
"Tch."
The hood guy had no doubt trash-talked me the second he left the cafeteria.
Shirley must've overheard while passing by.
I flipped back his bloodied hood to check his face.
He'd been pummeled only where visible—a clear warning.
"This guy's mouth writes checks his body can't cash."
The Spencer family's freakish strength was infamous at the academy.
Some called it magic-surpassing.
It explained how Shirley, no magical prodigy, stayed top of her class.
Getting jumped unarmed by her of all people—talk about rotten luck.
"I'll let you off this time. Scram!"
"Cough, cough."
"Not going?!"
Shirley stomped like a toddler while Judith held her back.
The hood guy finally snapped to, shot me a defiant glare with a half-assed bow, then fled Shirley's wrath.
-Clank, clank, clank.
Right on cue, the student council arrived.
In the end, Shirley got hauled off for brawling on academy grounds.
"Oh man. What a mess."
"Shirley's an awesome fighter. I respect her."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
My hesitation had dragged innocent Shirley into this.
Silver lining: she was young, with five years till graduation.
Unlike Judith beside me, a high-year on the cusp.
Shirley swinging fists versus Judith? Different weight class.
To prevent Judith's future seven incidents, I needed to act.
"This won't do. My friends' honors are at stake, not just mine."
So the next day, I signed up for five clubs, including the Classics Club.